Night of the Templar

It was time for the final test.  Francis Du Chevalier walked down the stairs of the giant Gothic church dedicated to the protection of the Christian Church.  It was housed inside the grounds of the impressive Templar Castle.  He was accompanied by the Grand Master, Robert De Graal.  His imposing figure towered over Francis who was still nineteen.  Next year he would turn twenty but he looked no more than a lad.  Robert turned to Francis slowly and placed his hand on his shoulder.  His face was scarred and he was missing parts of his fingers and left thumb.  He was a King amongst the Templars if such a thing could be said of them.

"I was no older than you when I underwent the final test," he said.  "You are a better swordsman than I was at your age."  He smiled a little.  "Never forget, we are all soldiers of Christ.  We do God's work."

Francis nodded solemnly.

They walked on.

There were torches burning in the underground passages of the Church.

At the end of the hall were two Templar guards who stood impassively by a small wooden door.  Their expressions were frozen in place.

Francis could smell the burning oil from the torches but only he seemed to notice it.

"Behind this door lies the treasures of Solomon's Temple and proof of Gods presence on Earth.  Are you ready to spend the night here?"

"I am," said Francis.

"Give me your sword," said Robert.

He took it and then Robert nodded to the guards.

The two Templar Knights moved apart and let Francis pass.

The lightly greased door was opened slowly.

Francis stood in the growing shadows as the door slowly closed.

"May God have mercy on your soul," said Robert.  "Tomorrow you will begin God's work."  He took out a symbol wrapped around his neck which was that of a Horned Demonic goat.  "Baphomet, welcome this child into our flock," he whispered to himself.

Francis frowned and then was left in complete darkness.

It grew quiet.

He felt his heart beating in his chest.

But there was a sound.

In the darkness, he heard the noise of something sliding along the floor.

Or crawling? wondered Francis.  He tried to listen for it.  His heart beat picked up.

He felt a strange fear growing in him.  He reached out into the darkness, wondering if it was some kind of cruel trick but then heard the deep inhuman breathing.  He jumped as he felt something touch his shoulder but it was more like wind.  He backed against the door.

He kneeled and tried to pray but he knew there was something coming for him in this dark room.  He tried to make it out but there was almost no light.

I am being tested, thought Francis.  He clasped his hands together and recited the Lord's prayer.

Whatever it was seemed to be crawling into his mind and body.

Come here boy, it said in his mind.

Francis clawed at the skin on his arm.  It felt like spiders were crawling all over him.

He slid across the floor like someone had pushed him but it was more like the wind had done it.

You are now blood of my blood, the thing hissed in his mind.

Francis felt himself falling back into a dark abyss but his body had not moved.  The creature in the room manifested itself in front of him glowing like a dark red bloody hue with no form initially.

I am Baphomet, it spoke.  I am your creator.  We have much work to do, you and I.

Francis shook his head.  There was sweat pouring from his face now.

I must resist! thought Francis.

Then he felt the flames growing within him, consuming him.

The Daemon took form in front of him.

I AM BAPHOMET! it roared at him and the red flames passed through his young body, filling him with excruciating pain.

Outside the small room, the screaming began but the Templar Guards did not move.

In the narrow corridor, Robert De Graal put away the small symbol under his chain mail as he walked away.

He blessed himself, climbing some stairs, and walked out into the Castle sacristy.

The voice of the screaming boy disappeared behind the closed door and he prayed for guidance.

Outside a full moon climbed over the Templar Castle in the Syrian city.