The Paladin Prophecy

#25: WHAT YOU’RE TOLD TO BELIEVE ISN’T IMPORTANT: IT’S WHAT YOU

CHOOSE

TO BELIEVE. IT’S NOT THE INK AND PAPER THAT MATTER, BUT THE HAND THAT HOLDS THE PEN.

And here’s what I choose to believe, thought Will. The one answer I couldn’t tell my roommates about: Dave said the Never-Was wanted me dead because I’m an Initiate. And they somehow realized it even before the Hierarchy did.

“I’m an Initiate now,” Will whispered. “Deal with it.”

If that’s why the Caps are afraid of me, I’m going to give them damn good reason to be. If the shag-nasties from the Never-Was think they can bust in here and take our planet from us, they’re going to have to go through me. I’m going to stop them, for my parents, Dave, and my friends. And if anyone else feels like helping me, like Coach Jericho, well, who knows, maybe I’m not even the only Initiate around here.

A soft bell sounded from his tablet. His syn-app appeared inside the photo on the screen, standing next to the still figure of Dave.

“An email just arrived from Nando,” the double said. “It’s a video file.”

“Open it, please,” said Will.

The photo dissolved into a video file. A moment later he saw Nando, speaking into his cell phone camera in an intense whisper. “Wills, I found something you gotta see.”

Nando moved the camera to an object sitting on a table: the black doctor’s bag he’d retrieved from Will’s house in Ojai. He moved in on the pair of worn initials embossed in gold below the handle: H. G.

“The bag was empty but I found something in the lining. Take a look.”

Nando opened the bag and moved the camera inside to a small label, sewn into the interior fabric of the bag. The label read THIS BAG BELONGS TO.

A name was on the blank line, block-printed in old, faded ink: DR. HUGH GREENWOOD.

Will froze the image and stared at it, his mind racing in a dozen different directions. The black phone on the desk rang, jolting him. He picked up on the second ring. “Hello.”

“Will, the headmaster would like to see you,” said an operator. “In his office, at Stone House.”

* * *

Rourke shook Will’s hand and asked him to take a seat on one of the heavy leather sofas in his inner office. Coach Jericho, already there when Will arrived, sat across from him. Rourke stayed on his feet in front of the roaring fireplace and talked him through it, calm and clear.

The ten captured members of the Knights of Charlemagne had all been expelled and were being held by state police on charges of kidnapping, accessory to and conspiracy to commit kidnapping, and attempted murder. The same fate awaited any other Knights they subsequently found, like Todd Hodak. Rourke said he had already called for a special assembly of the entire school to explain all this and to halt the spread of the rumors that would inevitably follow.

“Will, it seems clear to me,” said Rourke, “that in your haste to respond to these outrages, you gave no thought to the consequences of your actions. Most of which were shockingly reckless.”

Will glanced at Jericho, who gave nothing away. Will’s eyes went to the portrait on the wall of the school’s founder and first headmaster, Thomas Greenwood, staring down at him, solemn, stern, and wise.

Rourke sat on the edge of the table in front of Will. “They were also selfless, valiant, and almost unimaginably brave,” he said. “You’ve suffered a loss that by any civilized measure is impossible to calculate. How you respond now, and in the months to come, may set the course for the rest of your life.” Rourke gestured at the portrait on the wall. “Dr. Greenwood always used to say that it’s not the ink and paper that matter, but the hand that holds the pen.”

Will’s eyes opened wide. Rule #25. Word for word.

Rourke lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “Will, I checked on that officer who questioned you at the airport in Madison. The FAA has no record of ‘Agent O’Brian.’ Tell me, had you ever see that man before?”

“He’s one of the men who chased me in California,” said Will.

“I thought so,” said Rourke, and glanced at Jericho. “Until we know the exact nature of what’s going on, I want you to observe a strict curfew: in your quarters by nine, without exception, every night. I’m putting Coach Jericho in charge of your security. You’ll be safe here. I make you this promise: No harm will come to you.”

Rourke’s eyes held him with such kindness, Will had to look away.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely.

Rourke put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “There are things in this world more dreadful than you know. Things a young man your age should never have to face—certainly not alone. But we have two families in life. The one we’re born with that shares our blood. Another we meet along the way that’s willing to give its blood for us.”

Will looked up at both of them.

“You have found those people here,” said Rourke.

Coach Jericho held out a small leather pouch. Will took it from him and opened it. A small figure of a falcon, carved from dark rock, fell into his hand.

“You let me know if you have any more dreams,” said Jericho.

Will met his eye and nodded his thanks.

Rourke stood. “Will, do you have any questions for me?”

Will stood as well, clasping the falcon figurine tight in his hand. He looked at the portraits of the previous headmasters on the walls, Thomas and Franklin Greenwood, and thought back to his father’s medical bag.

“Do you know a man named Hugh Greenwood?” he asked.

Rourke and Jericho glanced at each other before Rourke answered. “Hugh was Franklin’s son.” Rourke nodded to his portrait. “Our second headmaster.”

“So he was Thomas Greenwood’s grandson,” said Will.

“That’s right. He used to teach here,” said Rourke. “Before I came on board. What was his subject, Coach?”

“Science. Biology, I think,” said Jericho.

Will tried to keep what he was thinking from his eyes. “Where is he now?”

“He and his wife left the school,” said Coach Jericho. “Resigned about sixteen years ago. I had just started here then, but I knew them both.”

“Was he a doctor?” asked Will.

“Yes,” said Jericho.

“Why do you ask, Will?”

“His name came up in a conversation,” said Will. “I was just curious. Would you mind if I had another look at the Infinity Room, sir?”

“Of course,” said Rourke. “May I ask you why?”

“Because I was afraid before. And I’d like to see how I feel about it now.”

Headmaster Rourke walked Will to the door leading to the long strange hallway and opened it for him. “Shall we wait here for you?” asked Rourke.

“If you don’t mind, sir,” said Will.

“I don’t mind at all,” he said. “It’s a beautiful night. Believe it or not, after that storm, they say we’re about to have Indian summer.”

Will walked out along the narrow suspended corridor, lit by silver moonlight reflecting off the new-fallen snow. He looked straight down through the clear panels to the ground far below his feet and out the windows lining either side. The whole room felt different in the dark, when you couldn’t see as much—far different.

And so, as he’d hoped he would discover, was he. His heart beat a little faster as he moved along, and maybe he took in a few extra breaths. But he wasn’t afraid.

He reached the far end of the corridor and stepped into the peculiar glass observatory bubble, where the night sky opened up around him. The lights of the campus off to his left cast a warm, reassuring glow—evidence of civilized life, solid grounded lives, safe and secure. Stars scattered, an immensity, an almost indulgent surplus of them, overhead.

No, Will wasn’t afraid. Even with the hardest truth he’d had to face in front of him. He didn’t feel afraid of that, either. Because he knew now, after coming this far, that he would find a way to reckon with it.

Something in his pocket buzzed. Oh my God, did I leave it there? Really, Will? The iPhone had been in his front pocket the entire time he was in Rourke’s office. What a knucklehead.

He flicked it on, saw he’d received a text. It came up on-screen, all in caps, and time stood still:

THEY HAVE ME, WILL. I DON’T KNOW WHERE. ONLY YOU CAN FIND ME. 51. 51. 51.

Through a heart-pounding haze, Will fumbled through the rules in his mind, until he remembered #51: THE ONLY THING YOU CAN’T AFFORD TO LOSE IS HOPE.

Will’s father was Dr. Hugh Greenwood. And he was still alive.

OceanofPDF.com