Of course, he never expected to find him like this—actually inside the mountain.
“Hello, Nicolas. I’ve been looking for you.”
The old monk smiled at the sound of Dial’s voice. “I thought as much.”
“You’re a tough man to track down.”
“I apologize. I have been busy.”
Dial turned on his flashlight. “Doing what?”
“My duty.”
He took a step forward. “Your duty? I’m not sure what that means.”
Nicolas grinned. “You have come this far. You must know something.”
“Maybe so, but I was hoping you could fill me in on the rest.”
“My pleasure, Nick. What would you like to know?”
Dial raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting such an offer.
But he planned on taking full advantage of it.
74
Dial crept closer, wondering what he should ask first. With so many questions, he didn’t know where to start. He opted for the very beginning. “Why were the seven monks at Metéora?”
Nicolas answered. “That was where we always met. It gave us what we needed.”
“Which was?”
“Protection from those who sought the treasure.”
Dial glanced at Payne and nodded. This was about the lost throne.
“Why weren’t you killed at Metéora like the others?”
“I did not arrive until after I was told of their deaths.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was not invited to their meeting.”
“But earlier you said we. You said Metéora was where we always met.”
Nicolas nodded. “I also said was.”
“You were no longer a part of the group?”
“Age has certain limitations. Travel is one of them.”
“And yet here you are.”
Nicolas smiled meekly. “I had no choice. I am the only one left.”
“The only one?”
“The only one who knows where we moved the treasure.”
“You moved the treasure?”
“Long ago. Long before these recent threats.”
Dial paused. “Hold on. If you moved the treasure, why are you here?”
“Why? Because this is where the Brotherhood comes to die.”
“The Brotherhood?”
Nicolas nodded. “That was the name we were given long ago.”
“By whom?”
Nicolas smirked and pointed to the back corner of the cave. “By one of them.”
Dial shined his light in that direction and was shocked by the sight. Hundreds of human skulls were stacked in a massive pile against the side wall. Many of them faced forward, creating the illusion that their empty eye sockets were staring at him. Fortunately, he did not scare easily. Or else he would have bolted from the cave.
He considered the presence of the skulls. “Were they your brothers?”
Nicolas nodded again. “All of them died with one thing in common.”
“Which was?”
“They died nobly, without revealing our secret. For that reason alone, they were brought here to share eternity. This is where we honor them. On our holiest mountain.”
Dial nodded in understanding. “Which explains why you’re here. None of your brothers are left to move your remains, so you came here on your own. You’re sitting in the dark, waiting to die, so you can rest with your brothers in peace.”
Nicolas smiled. “From the moment we met, I knew you were smart.”
Dial ignored the flattery. “Trust me, I’m not that smart. For instance, I don’t know why this mountain is covered with Spartans. Or why they killed your brothers.”
“The reason is simple. Over the centuries, many forces have sought the location of our treasure. Some of them were evil men, willing to kill us for our knowledge. Eventually, we opted to fight back. Blade against blade, blood against blood, all in the name of secrecy.”
“But you’re a monk. Doesn’t violence go against your religion?”
Nicolas grimaced. “Not if done for self-preservation. And that is what it was. We pursued those who pursued us, and struck them where they stood.”
“And the Spartans?”
Nicolas paused in thought. “Somebody struck us.”
“Any idea who?”
He shrugged as the color slowly drained from his face. “I was given no names, since my involvement with the Brotherhood was . . . fleeting. However, from what I have gathered, our treasure . . . has been the source of recent interest . . . from several collectors.” He paused to catch his breath. “Including some . . . from . . . your homeland.”
Dial stepped forward, concerned by the anguish on the monk’s face and his sudden shortness of breath. “Nicolas? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”