The Grey Templars: Humanity's Haven

By Anthony Condos

Set in a post apocalyptic world, humanity now led by the religious sects, is besieged by the forces of hell. Cults of demon worshippers, Vampire Covens, Necromancers and many others in the ranks of evil forces whose only goal is submission or death. All that stands in their way are the warriors known as the Grey Templars, genetically modified warriors of God. They are blending of faith and science all in the name to save humanity.

Our story follows the adventures of one of the many Templar units, led by the story’s protagonist Templar Captain Donis. Many are the perils our hero will face on this grand adventure. But he won’t face them alone, by his side are his brother warriors, vigilantes and many others both friend and foe. Join the ride to save the very soul of humanity in The Grey Templars: Humanity’s Haven.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Condos
• Release date: Jan 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370568772

Anthony Condos

My name is Anthony Condos, For as long as I’ve been able to read I’ve also wanted to be a writer, I wanted the opportunity to put my own stamp on a storyline and this is my first offering. As a martial arts exponent I find that action books don’t always depict action in an exciting believable way, often bogged down with too little or too much detail I hope I’ve got the balance right.

Book preview

Contents

Copyright

Novel Philosophy

Seeds of Corruption

Memories

Humanity’s Haven

Getting Acquainted

Welcome Home

Bloody Mary

Trials of the Heart

Vampire Nest

Ambush

Dead Men Walking

The Gathering Part 1

The Gathering Part 2

The Uprising

The Many Faces of Battle

The Right Flank

The Centre

The Final Confrontation

Epilogue

Acknowledgements and Contact

Copyright

The Grey Templars: Humanity’s Haven

By Anthony Condos

Copyright 2016 Anthony Condos

Smashwords Edition.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Novel Philosophy

I am the punishment of God... If you had not committed great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you…Genghis Khan

CHAPTER 1

Seeds of Corruption

…SUBJECT: Possible heretical takeover…

…TARGET: St Andrews Cathedral, Bishop Laris presiding…

…Grey Templar Unit enroute…

…Unit arrived at destination at 06:00 hours…

…Officer in charge Templar Captain Donis…

VOICE 1: Having sighted target, sir!

VOICE 2: Any signs of activity, enemy or friendly?

VOICE 1: Neither, sir! Not even parishioners, sir.

VOICE 2: …Alright, men, we’re going in.

The large entrance doors to the cathedral loomed ahead of the five armoured figures in the morning twilight. Templar Captain Donis ordered his men forward, Pistols ready and keep a sharp eye.

He pointed two fingers at his eyes then his index finger at his chest as a signal for them to cover him as he stepped forward. He cautiously attempted to open the doors to no avail. Even when he used his superhuman strength, it did not budge. Seeing his plight, his men moved to help, but he pushed himself away from the door, waving them back. They watched as he took one deep breath and commanded them to cover him.

They all watched in amazement as he spun and charged his heavily armoured shoulder guard into the difficult doors. Hitting with the power of a charging bull and encased in armour strong as a tank, he burst through the entrance, shattering both doors in his wake. He tumbled into a crouch position, with his pistol out and level with the ground, his men automatically at the ready behind him…

The cathedral was empty and void of any common sound. However, their keen sense of smell could detect a rotten stench, as they walked further into the cathedral. This was an uncommon pungency that could only be decay, filth and detritis.

Looks like no one has been caring for the place in a while! noted Templar Pellos.

However, the troops also sensed something else…the unmistakable pall of death, but there were no bodies to go with it.

Taking in the scene before them, they saw an altar at the front of the room with a door on either side. Rows of pews led up to the altar, behind which, in the corner of the room, was a birdcage-shaped object. It was covered by some sort of felt material. Judging it to be of no importance, they moved toward the door on the left.

After a signal from Donis, Templar Brackis kicked the door open; it was empty except for another door on the right. Standing in front of it, Donis nodded to Templar Pellos, who with a wide grin aimed a low kick at the door.

The grin disappeared as his foot punched a hole the size of a man’s head through the door. Donis rolled his eyes and smirked as realisation set in. He punched his hand through the door, grabbed the locking mechanism and wrenched it out. The doors swung open slowly toward them. Inside were nine finely handcrafted relics.

Templar Rictus teased Pellos, Usually you kick open a door that opens outward not inward! Pellos’ reply was short, rude and rather dexterous in nature. Donis chuckled at their childishness. Then deciding there was nothing else of interest in the room, he cut the jokes short.

Alright, that’s enough, ladies, next room. Without another word, they re-entered the altar room and continued through the door on the right side of the altar. Again, this room was empty except for a small pool of holy water.

Doesn’t make sense, where is everyone? asked Templar Daedelis in a frustrated tone; Donis couldn’t blame him.

They all spun around, as their superior hearing picked up a sound, barely audible even to them. Stepping out of the room, it sounded like it was coming from under the altar. Donis stepped forward and rapped his knuckles against the marble altar; a solid ‘tonk’ emerged from it.

Can we move it? queried Brackis.

Calculations stormed Donis’ mind; genetically modified servants of God as they were, they each had several times the strength of a silverback gorilla. But even they would struggle to move the altar. Even if they did manage to move it, they would exhaust a lot of energy in doing so; Energy they might need for any hidden foes that might linger below…

No, he thought, there has to be some way of getting down there. From the corner of his eye, he spied the stand with the felt-covered birdcage object on top of it. Its position in the corner of the room is the reason why he dismissed it earlier. Stepping over to it, he removed the felt cover. Inside the hollowed-out object was a base with a peculiar shape imprinted deeply into it. Rictus seeing it over his shoulder said, Looks like something is supposed to fit in there.

Raising an eyebrow in amusement, he turned away, Daedelis! Donis called. Sir? was the Templar’s reply from the other side of the room.

Retrieve those relics for me, a few moments later, he appeared with all nine in his arms. Thank you, said Donis.

The first relic didn’t fit nor did the second, but the third slotted in perfectly. As Donis twisted the relic, it rotated. After it reached about a 180 angle, a rumbling sound could be heard from behind. He saw as he turned around the marble splitting into sections and lowering down into the ground to form a flight of steps descending into the dark.

Peering down, Donis heard Brackis mutter, Doesn’t look like what’s in your average cathedral these days.

Donis looked at his men and nodded; Brackis pulled out his flame blaster; Rictus connected ammunition feed chain to his large automatic machine gun, which resembled a shorter version of a mini-gun clipped onto the underside of his gauntlet. Daedelis and Pellos both kept their pistols on hand, while Donis ratcheted his bolt launcher, an advanced version of a crossbow, thinking it might come in handy for a silent kill, due to its special ammunition, which delivers a powerful electric charge capable of killing a man easily. Weapons ready, they descended the stairs.

Walking down into a narrow corridor illuminated by an occasional lantern on the wall, again they heard the sound from before but louder now. Donis’ acute hearing heard another closer sound, muttered speech coming from around the corner ahead of them. Signaling for a halt, he walked forward slowly, his back against the lichen-covered stones of the walls. Reaching the corner, he peered around it. Ten metres up were three guards standing in front of a door, wearing cloaks with the cowls pulled down, holding automatic rifles. Cultists, he muttered after taking in their regalia. The centre cultist was talking aloud.

Oh man, last night was one in a million! Boy did that girl know how to scream, with the other two egging him on, he continued to explain the rape and torture of his victim. Feeling revulsion at some of the acts committed, Donis was relieved when he saw what he was waiting for. Both men on either side were patting the centre cultist on the shoulder in approval.

Donis smiled wickedly as he quickly stepped into the open, raised his weapon and fired. He took great pleasure in seeing that the centre man’s shocked look froze on his face, as the bolt flew straight into the middle of his chest, killing him instantly. The other two died moments later, as the powerful electric charge passed from the dead man to them. Before their bodies had hit the ground Donis and his squad passed them and went through the door they had been guarding.

As they continued down another corridor, an overwhelming stench hit them; fortunately for the group, the auto filters in their facemasks kicked in. They stopped as the corridor opened up into a larger room. All five of them felt a deep revulsion at what they saw. The bodies of monks and priests hung from the ceiling, mutilated, skinned and some with limbs missing. Large pools of coagulated blood had formed on the floor underneath the bodies. They heard chanting coming from a door up ahead, which they recognised as the sound heard earlier upstairs.

Standing in front of the door, Donis looked to his men who nodded they were ready. Putting away his bolt launcher, he drew back his fist and struck. The door flew open and partly shattered. As they moved in, they heard the booming sound of a large beam of wood, which had been attached to brackets on the back of the door as it bounced to the ground.

As they stepped into the hall, the chanting stopped as the fifteen cultists standing in a semicircle turned to look at them.

Oh, I do hate interruptions! announced an inhuman voice, which sounded more amused than annoyed at their interruption. The cultists parted and what strode forward from the centre of the assemblage was a creature that could only be called a demon. Two human-looking feet, large talons extending from them, joined to two goat like legs. The torso and arms also resembled a human’s, but the head looked like a goat skull with brownish skin, stretched tightly over it. The eyes that stared at them were merely black, lifeless orbs.

Donis stepped forward, By orders of the holy church and the Grey Templar order, we are here to retrieve Bishop Laris; tell us where you hold him, demon.

My name is Lo-an-Gorg, as for your Bishop, he is in the safest place possible! the demon responded full of mirth as it touched its chest, drawing their attention to the scraps of clothing on its body. They resembled the vestments a bishop would wear.

Donis’ eyes narrowed as he asked the already answered question, You possessed him?

Yes! it said. With a laugh it added, A worthy gift for a worthy servant.

Donis’ eyes burned with rage, as the full meaning of the demon’s words hit him. The bishop had betrayed them, those poor monks and priests who had trusted him, and their reward was a horrible death. With as much control as he could muster in his enraged state he shouted, Then prepare to die, foul traitor! Templars advance! And with that command, they moved forward.

The cultists charged bearing rifles, knives and other assorted weaponry. Brackis fired his weapon into the advancing men, the foremost who was hit and screamed as his flesh melted. After the impact, the screaming only stopped as the white of bone could be seen. Moments later, all that was left was a puddle of ooze. Two more cultists fell as the large-calibre bullets of Rictus’ heavy weapon blew massive holes through their bodies.

As bullets pinged off the Templars’ armoured bodies, the fight came to close combat as Pellos unsheathed two mantis-like short swords. Like a speeding cheetah, he charged. Leaping through the air, he landed his heavy form onto a cultist and bore him to the ground. Even as he landed, his hands shot out, gutting the two men on either side of the fallen cultist, whom he decapitated with a scissor blow as he tried to rise.

There was an earth-shattering roar, not unlike that from a bear as Daedelis charged in, bearing two heavy military picks in his hands. As his first blow landed, the cultist it was aimed at tried to block it with his rifle. Such was the power of the blow that it cleaved through the rifle and right through the unfortunate cultist behind it. The second blow caught another in midair, cutting him in two.

Brackis vaporised another cultist before putting away his flame blaster and quickly pulling out his glaive as another attacked. Swift as a viper, he ducked into a low crouching stance, avoiding the charging cultist’s knife. Such was the man’s momentum that he impaled himself on the outstretched glaive.

Rictus laid about himself with heavy blows of his two-handed sword, unleashing a loud tiger like snarl as he sent two cultists’ ruined bodies flying across the room.

Donis strode forward toward the demon through the carnage that his squad had caused. Before he could reach his quarry, the last three cultists intercepted him. These men stood out from the others his men had faced. Firstly, their beige robes had golden-trimmed edges and they had the look of experienced killers, scarred veterans, cold-blooded men who wouldn’t hesitate to kill anybody. All three charged Donis.

It was over in a matter of seconds; one moment Donis was just walking toward them, his religious symbol-encrusted Templar sword still in its scabbard at his side. The next he exploded in movements too fast for the human eye to see; he became a blur, a shadow of his silhouette moving between the men. He came to a halt behind them, his sword in his hand now dripping with fresh blood. The three adversaries’ bodies fell limply to the floor, like rag dolls, spurting fountains of blood from their copious wounds.

Impressive! But it won’t be enough to stop me! gloated the demon as it flexed its muscle laden body, its talons gleaming in the dim lighting of the underground chamber. Donis sunk low as he prepared to leap; he bared his teeth and a low hiss came from his mouth, which changed to a roar, like a mythical dragon from one of the ancient stories, and then he attacked. Donis’ men watched as they charged one another, demon to Templar, talons clashing with sword, the sound emitting from it was that of metal striking metal. They stepped back from each other and then circled one another.

The demon shot forward, the brutal swings of his arms parried by his opponent’s gleaming sword, whose return sent a cut across the demon’s chest. The demon unleashed a scream of pain. But the fight was far from over as it backhanded Donis off his feet. He rolled backwards and back onto his feet as soon as he hit the ground, just as his opponent landed where he previously lay.

Breathing hard while preparing for another attack, he was surprised as the demon just stood there, staring at him. It was then that he felt the pressure building inside his head.

The demon could feel Donis’ mental resistance; it was like an elastic being pulled. The further it was stretched the harder the resistance against the pulling. Lo-an-Gorg was forced back slightly, but continued and the elastic continued to stretch. Looking at Donis, he saw his opponent’s face sweating profusely from the effort of resisting the demon’s advances. Then suddenly the fight was over, the elastic had snapped and Donis’ straining face went slack.

These humans are so weak! the demon thought to itself. Will you obey me? he asked of his new puppet.

Donis’ reply was low, almost a hiss, Yesss.

Are you mine now?

Again, in a low voice came the reply, Yesss.

Then kill your companion! without a reply, Donis leapt at Daedelis before anyone could react. He slapped aside one of Daedelis’ military picks with his sword and snatched the other out of his fist with his free hand.

Donis stood in front of Daedelis poised to attack, a crazed look on his face, and then it happened.

Laughter, hysterical laughter, loud and full of mirth, its source…Daedelis.

Lo-an-Gorg was confused; was the human insane, laughing in the face of death? He snapped out of his shocked state, Kill him! he ordered to the now prone Donis, but Donis didn’t move.

Obey me and kill him! Lo-an-Gorg screamed in frustration at his pawn’s unresponsive manner. Then Donis suddenly grinned, Not today!

Lo-an-Gorg’s shocked look from Donis’ words remained on his face as he was hurled from his feet. Both military picks stuck in his chest from simultaneous throws from both Daedelis and Donis. He stood back up to find Donis facing him, sword in hand and ready. He seethed with anger; the human had tricked him so he could regain his breath. How? How did you resist me? he asked.

With a look of contempt on his face, Donis replied. I’m a Captain of the Grey Templars. Did you really think your little parlour tricks would affect me, asshole? Lo-an-Gorg trembled with rage at this insult, his black orbs burned with fire and he charged with Daedelis’ weapons in his hands. Donis met his charge with one of his own.

The ensuing conflict was expedited so quickly that it could hardly be seen even by the Templars’ enhanced vision. Such was the power of the blows being traded; sparks flew from their weapons as they clashed.

A large explosion of blood flew from the whirlwind of their combat and they spun away from each other, both huffing and puffing like blown-out horses. During their melee, Donis had miscalculated a parry, and the result was a huge gash in his shoulder pad, but Lo-an-Gorg’s triumph was fleeting as Donis’ return stroke, sheared his left arm from his body, sending it flying across the room

They were staring across at each other, both still breathing heavily. Suddenly, in a flicker of movement, Lo-an-Gorg dashed forward, his speed astonishing, the blow aimed at Donis’ midsection.

Donis was tired as he had kept toe to toe in his dance with this demon. But in the end, despite his enhancements, he was only human. Especially when compared to this supernatural being of the underworld. The attack coming at him would disembowel him at the very least. Fast as it was coming, he wasn’t going to get his guard down in time to stop it. He couldn’t jump back or dodge to either side as his opponent would expect this and be able to compensate for it and still hit him. So he did the only thing possible to get out the way. The last thing anybody, especially the demon, expected him to do was dive over the low blow. Such was his momentum that missing his target sent Lo-an-Gorg sliding along the floor, underneath his intended victim, missing him by inches.

Donis tucked and rolled, coming to his feet, and reversed the grip he had on his sword. He spun on his heal and hurled it like a javelin. Having missed his target, Lo-an-Gorg turned to face his quarry in time for the sword to enter his throat up to the hilt. He slowly sank to his knees, blood flowing from his nose and mouth. Fool! I cannot be killed, I am immortal! he choked out a defiant look on his inhuman face as Donis came closer.

As Donis’ hand gripped the hilt, he looked at his downed foe. Even as it spoke, its wounds started to stop bleeding; soon it would begin to heal. I know, I know that even such a grievous wound as this won’t kill you. If I was lucky, the best I could hope for is to destroy the human vessel that contains your essence. But then it would only be a matter of time before you possess another I know all of this! he stated.

Then an evil grin played upon his face, But it never was my intention to kill you in that exact sense. I have a worse fate planned for you! With that said, he closed his eyes and began to chant in Latin using a low whisper. As he did this, the sword began to glow. The defiance in the demon’s eyes was replaced with fear as he comprehended what Donis had proclaimed and was proceeding to do.

Lo-an-Gorg started to moan as smoke began to drift from his body. Soon his body itself started to become incandescent and turn into smoke. As it did, the blade grew brighter and another form became visible through the misty haze: the treacherous Bishop Laris. Eventually, the wraith-like form that had been Lo-an-Gorg was drawn into the sword and its blade glittered with a light too bright to look at. Then it was over; the glow was gone from the blade. The chamber was silent, and all that remained of the demon was the body of Bishop Laris lying on the floor. His chest shredded, left arm missing and a gaping wound in his throat. Looking at the corpse, none of the group felt pity. The man had been a traitor to God and would burn in hell for it.

Putting the matter from his mind, he turned to his men just as Daedelis was picking up his weapons. With a smile and a mocking tone, he said, Dae, mind explaining what happened back there?

Daedelis chuckled as he answered with, Sorry, Don, but I couldn’t stop laughing, you’re a very bad actor! I almost pissed myself laughing, imagine the rust stain that would’ve left!

Donis laughed as Rictus gasped in fake shock, Such language from a warrior of God! A raised middle finger let him know what Daedelis thought of it. They all burst into laughter at their childishness. After the laughter had finished, Donis said to these men who were like his brothers, Good work, guys, now what, say we go home? Their wide grins were all the answer he needed.

Demon Hell

Lo-an-Gorg found himself in an alien environment; it looked to be a nexus of energies, colours of all different hues were floating around, acting as the walls of a room. Before him appeared a loathsome creature that looked as if it had been pieced together with different body parts. It was a writhing mass of arms, legs, fur, scales and tentacles. The beast also boasted several heads that all looked at him.

Who are you?

I am the Collective. I am all that remains of the previous inhabitants of this place! it replied as it moved toward him, it sounded as if several voices had spoken.

Stay back, or prepare to fight me and die! he said as it came closer.

With a tone that bordered on sadness, Yes, you must as only one can exist inside this prison. But in the end, no one wins; if I win you will be added to the Collective, another voice to be heard among the many, with no control. If you win, you become the Collective…You will be the master voice that no one will hear…Yours will be the ears that hear all our pain and eternal torment…Now, no more words, now we fight!

When outside, Donis stopped, letting his friends go on without him, looking down at his sword. You fed well again, my friend! he said with fondness. Donis smiled as he felt the hilt of his sword grow warm. Lo-an-Gorg was no doubt fighting for his very existence with the other inhabitant of the sword, he thought to himself. And the winner would continue to exist; if you could call living in a sword existence. The warmth died away, signaling the battle had been fought and won. However, it would be a hollow victory for the winner. It just meant that they would have to wait alone in the dark until another came and the cycle would start over again. This is the fate Donis had mentioned. It was indeed for a demon the worst fate they could endure, eternal imprisonment in a place where their powers mean nothing until their death, and being immortal makes this an eternal wait. To them it would be hell and he was glad to be the one to send them there.

He soon found himself drifting into reminiscence of the sword’s past.

CHAPTER 2

Memories

In the year 2090, man had finally taken steps into the dawn of his self-destruction. Nations of the world set upon one another, alliances were made between countries and then broken, neighbor battled with neighbor. World War III was upon them, on a scale incomparable to any other war in this world’s past. It was fought by all, not against oppression or against tyranny, but for greed; led by politicians full of deceit and malice. They saw no consequences in sending men and women to die for their own purposes.

In the last stages of the war, it turned nuclear...

Small nations with no allies were decimated as examples. Finally, after more than a quarter of the world’s population had perished, revolution started worldwide. Civilians tired of war, led coups all around the world and governments were overthrown, politicians were killed and those that weren’t fled. The depleted military forces couldn’t contain the crowds, and most deserted their units to join the people.

Now leaderless, the people wanted to know who would take charge. No one stepped forward until disaster struck. Word spread that a few countries including America, Australia and England in particular reported paranormal activities occurring. People were disappearing, there were sightings of in-human creatures and strange cults began roaming the streets at night.

The holy church stepped forward to deny these reports as rumors and hearsay. They comforted the populace by offering the leadership they craved and encouraging other religions to do the same, which they did.

The people accepted that perhaps religion could succeed where politics failed. Officially, they weren’t aware of any extraordinary activities. Unofficially, the religious sect’s trusted clerks were undertaking clandestine operations in order to confirm their worst fears.

At some point the denizens of hell decided that man’s total lack of unity was a signal for the advancement of their domain into our world. As a result, unnatural creatures were seen roaming about at night. Some with fur, some with scales, even some with horns. The dead were starting to rise from the grave, evil necromancers leading them. Vampires creating brood nests, bolstering their numbers by making thralls out of their victims. More frightening of all were the cults, dedicated to the dark one or his minions, turning their backs on humanity.

Keeping the populace ignorant of these events was paramount to keeping panic from mounting while they organised countermeasures to combat this burgeoning hell on earth with the remaining military servicemen, mostly made up of the elite units that didn’t desert.

Things were looking bleak, with the original attempts of military men forming hit teams using state-of-the-art technology weapons and armour failing. They performed a number of raids against the satanic cults, which were successful as expected considering they were only treacherous humans.

But as the hit teams came against the cultist’s demonic masters, vampires and other supernatural creatures, they found their weapons in the main ineffective. Neither bullets nor steel blades could pierce their inhuman hides. If they did, it was a minor irritation for the creatures as they tore the teams of seasoned veteran soldiers apart, or at least that’s what the survivors, if any, would say.

It all came to a head, on January 5th, 2091, in Sydney, Australia, at St. Mary’s Cathedral. Father Rodriguez Morales was conducting his daily sermon to his usual crowded service. His quiet aid, Brother Lucien, was standing off to the side. He stopped speaking as five dark figures entered the front entrance. Four of them had the obvious look of cultists based on descriptions obtained from successful raids: black-hooded robes with red blasphemous symbols adorning their clothing. But the fifth figure is what made Father Morales stop. It obviously was once a man, dark skinned with dreadlocks wearing a dark leather coat. On particular parts of his skin, dark green scales had emerged. He had thick black talons instead of nails and his eyes glowed red with an unearthly light.

Woo hoo! Now look at this beautiful place with all these fine people hiding inside! he screamed excitedly as he strode