Ember met the priest’s kind gaze, finding no judgment, hope, or expectation, only kindness and patience. She could walk away from the violence she’d chosen by walking through war’s doorway. The stink of death that pursued her in the cellar would be forgotten.
It had been horrible, yes, but something else as well. Ember shivered with the thrill of it. She’d been pitched into darkness to face an unnameable terror. And she’d won. Her blood sang with that knowledge.
“How did you come to fight these creatures?” she asked.
Father Michael leaned back in his chair. “You know of the Templars. The knights of faith, born out of the Crusades and sanctioned by the pope himself.”
Ember nodded though unease slithered over her limbs, muting some of her excitement. Talk of the Templars offered no comfort. It had been nearly one hundred years since those knights, however renowned, had met a terrible end. An end filled with betrayals. Sins punished by fire.
“But they are no more,” Ember said quietly.
The priest shook his head slowly. “When the servant grows too strong, too willful to offer his master obeisance, the master will sometimes destroy the servant to save himself.”
Her eyes widened; it was more than a little startling to hear a priest suggest that the Templars had become more powerful than the pope.
At the sight of her shocked face, Father Michael laughed. “You think I blaspheme, child?”
She blushed, looking at her hands, which were folded yet trembling on the table’s surface.
“Do not fear, Lady Morrow,” he said. “I do not speak ill of the Holy Father, only of the nature of power. A nature that does not lend itself to sharing.”
When she didn’t reply, Father Michael said, “Conatus was born within the Templar order. Where the knights pursued the conquest of the Holy Land, our small contingent confronted the secrets of the arcane, the mysteries beyond the veil.”
Ember swallowed the thickness in her throat. She had so many questions but no idea how to voice them. Their shapes remained unwieldy in her mind.
The priest’s gaze was sympathetic. “The Church teaches of evil spirits, of darkness and the craft of witches and sorcerers.”
Ember nodded, hardly able to draw a breath in her eagerness to hear the story.
“The Crusades offered the means by which we might tap into the very font of that knowledge and harness it for good,” he said.
“Why?” Ember frowned.
“Conatus emerged when a few of the knights learned the secrets and wisdom of our Saracen counterparts,” he said.
Ember jolted upright in her seat. “The heathens?”
The priest held up his hand. “What makes our order unique is that we place the value of good over evil. The pope himself agreed.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Encounters in the East did not always end in bloodshed,” Father Michael answered. “And we’ve learned a great deal from the holy texts of our adversaries. For example, did you know that King Solomon had the power to command devils?”
Ember barely stopped herself from laughing. Only the calm, serious eyes of Father Michael choked off the mirth trying to rise in her throat.
He held her gaze. “‘He subjected the wind to him, so that it blew softly at his bidding wherever he directed it, and the devils too, among whom were builders and diverse others and bound with chains.’”
“What words do you speak?” She frowned.
“Those of the holy text of our adversaries in the East,” he said. “One that contains many mysteries of which we must learn.”
Ember’s frown deepened. “What mysteries?”
“Perhaps you think of spirits, demons, and witches as frightening tales spun for children?” He stood up, clasping his hands behind his back. “I trust that your trial in the cellar made you see the truth.”
Ember’s pulse began to thrum again. Father Michael was right. Hadn’t she just faced an unfathomable horror in the darkness below? The revenant had been a creature of nightmares, not anything she would have believed part of creation except for her life-and-death struggle with it. This was the war. And it was incredible.
“King Solomon, in his wisdom, could harness dark forces without letting them corrupt him.” Father Michael paced beside her. “But his spirit was a rare thing. We know that from some other place, some dark place, monstrous beings thrive. Sometimes the beasts steal into our world, corrupting everything they touch. Some arrive of their own free will, hunting poor souls who stray across their path. But others are summoned at the will and power of the prideful wizard, witch, or sorcerer who believes himself able to command the dark.”
The priest stopped in front of Ember, leaning down so his gaze pierced into her. “The wandering evil is the prey we hunt and slay. But the true mission of Conatus is to find those evildoers who willfully bring these monsters into our world.”
“You hunt witches?” She watched Father Michael in amazement.
He smiled. “Among other things.
“The affairs of men are filled with blood, violence, and sin.” Father Michael straightened, turning partly away from her. “That cannot be helped, for we are a fallen people in need of redemption. But to invite more darkness, unnatural evil, into our midst—that is a sin greater than any other. It must be stopped. Conatus serves that purpose.”
“And the Church?” Ember asked, remembering the fate of the Templars.
Father Michael nodded. “When the Templars were disbanded, and many of their number executed for heresy, Conatus was unharmed, but hidden. The Church knows that our work in the mysteries of the spirit world remains essential. We deal not in the world of men, but the world of darkness and demons. Our war is endless, and our enemy cannot be allowed to go unchecked. And we do not sojourn alone. The evil we fight overspreads the world. Our allies do as well. Lukasz joined us as a token of goodwill from our brothers in the East. And we benefit from the continued studies of our counterparts in the Holy Land.”
Ember was shaking her head. “Are you saying you still rely on the knowledge of the Saracens?”
“Any wisdom that lights the darkness we face cannot be ignored, no matter the source,” he said. “The libraries of our sometime enemies boast stores of knowledge far older and broader than any found in Christendom. The roots of our order lie in the Holy Land. Did you recognize the tree in the great hall?”