The Ardoon King

by Samuel Fort

  Chapter 70: Recovery

  Ben had been placed in a medical pod beneath the Anzu. A saline drip was attached to his left arm and his injured foot had been examined and placed in a new splint. Dressed in only a tee-shirt and boxers, he took catnaps for several hours, more fatigued than sleepy. He’d slept plenty in the cave. He’s spoken briefly with Disparthian, wanting news from Steepleguard, and was not pleased that there was not much to be had. He had no reason to think anything would be amiss, either. The only thing that worried him was that radio contact had yet to be established. Even that could be blamed on atmospherics.

  Fiela had never left his side. She lay next to him on his narrow bed, a hand on his chest, her eyes on his face. She had changed out of her combat uniform and now wore only a pair of denim shorts and a black cotton tee-shirt.

  When the man seemed fully awake, she said, “I tried to reach you, Mutu. Truly. The snows went on forever. Our horses would have frozen to death. And the bashmu were everywhere!”

  “Never mind all that. Are you okay?”

  “Of course!”

  “How’s Thal? Vedeus? Sam?”

  “All fine. Better than you! Vedeus is dehydrated but he’s not hurt. He’ll be up and about in no time.”

  “Good. I heard you got into trouble in Cash.”

  “I heard you got into trouble in Nebraska,” she countered happily. “I heard you killed a bashmu.”

  “A what?”

  “Bashmu. A temple monster.”

  “They’ve got a name? Huh. Nope, mine just fell into a hole. I heard you killed yours with a knife.”

  “I could not have killed it had my Peth not distracted the creature. They were very brave.”

  Ben took her hand. “We lost a lot of brave people.”

  “Yeah.” She squeezed the man. “Anu and Antu! I had almost forgotten what it was like to be next to a man! Thal is so soft! I felt I might crush her if I rolled over.” She ran her hand across the man’s chest. “Muscles. Oh, how I missed muscles!”

  “Stop. You’re embarrassing me. Anyway, I haven’t exactly been working out these past few weeks.”

  “You do kind of stink.” She sat up. “I did not allow anyone to bathe you. I would not have another woman – or man – touch you like that. I have what is required.”

  She leapt from the bed and grabbed a nearby tray which contained a small pan of water, rags, and alcohol wipes. “The water’s going to be a little cold.”

  “I’m used to cold.”

  As Fiela began to wash the grime from Ben, she said, “Hey, guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I’ve found a priest. He has the same god as you.”

  Of all the things the young queen might say, this seemed the most unlikely. “Well…good.”

  Fiela rung out the rag and nodded. “He said your god will be angry with us if we do not have the proper ceremony.”

  “Why is my god angry, again?”

  “Because we were not properly married.”

  Ohhhh. “Where is this priest?”

  “Here! It’s Sam.”

  Ben drew from his very core to maintain a straight face. “Sam? Sam is a priest?”

  “A minister.” She eyed Ben worriedly. “It is the same thing, right?”

  “It depends on your denomination.”

  “What about yours?”

  Ben had no idea but had anticipated the question. “Sure.”

  Fiela’s eyes lit up. “Good. It is proper that we observe your rituals.”

  Scratching his newly shaven chin, the man said, “Is Lilian going to be part of this, too?”

  Fiela’s eyes wandered as she opened an alcohol wipe. “I had not thought of that.” The girl had no intention of waiting until they arrived at Steepleguard to conduct the ceremony. Sam might lose his nerve by then, or Lilian might protest the ceremony, or call for the Ardoon’s credentials.

  She said, “Sister will not abandon her gods, Mutu. She is beholden to them.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Yeah…” Fiela’s voice trailed off. A huge smile appeared on her face. “Ho-ho! Wow.”

  Ben bit his lower lip. “Um…sorry?”

  “Don’t be sorry. Wow.”

  “I’m just really glad to see you.”

  “I haven’t even got to that part yet.”

  “Yeah, well, you were ‘danger close.’”

  Fiela stood over the man, rag in hand, hypnotized. “I have missed you so much.”

  “Well, then…”

  She nodded, but a second later her demeanor changed from one of excitement to fear.

  “Oh, no!”

  “No?”

  The girl groaned and dropped the rag to the floor. She placed one hand over her mouth and another over her stomach. Her breathing became erratic, her face ashen.

  “Fiela, are you okay?” asked Ben, alarmed.

  The girl managed to nod. She reached forward and hastily threw a sheet over Ben’s body, tears in her eyes. “Sorry, Mutu,” she gasped. “I’ll be…”

  She flung open the cabin door and raced out, leaving the door to swing closed behind her.

  When Ben next awoke, he found Fiela sitting across from him on a fold-out chair, her legs crossed. She was breathing hard, her face pink, her eyes glassy.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, smiling weakly. “I was just, um, exercising. Sorry I ran out on you. I guess I got a little airsick before.”

  Ben squinted. “You became airsick, so you exercised?”

  “Uh-huh. Not much. Just a lap around the perimeter.”

  Ben knew she was lying but couldn’t fathom why. “You did a single lap and you’re winded? You? How big is this airship?”

  The girl shifted her eyes. “What? Oh. I mean, I planned to do one lap. Then I, uh, enjoyed it, so I did two more. Maybe three more.” She managed a strained, high-pitched laugh. “You know, ‘better safe than sorry.’”

  Ben stared at the girl, waiting for some other bit of craziness to escape her mouth, but she seemed to have realized she’d said enough. He closed his eyes and did a mental reset.

  He said, “Okay, never mind all that. I was thinking about what you said about a Christian ceremony. I get it. You want a formal wedding, right? All the bells and whistles? I was thinking we could set up the Great Hall-”

  “What? No, Mutu, not there!”

  “Okay, where did you have in mind?”

  Fiela jumped up and rushed to his bed. “Here! In the heavens! Like the gods!”

  “In the heavens? You mean now?”

  “Yes!” she said. “Now! It has to be now. I’m ready and it’s all prepared!”

  There was a knock on the pod door.

  She yelled, “Come in, Sam!”

  Sam tugged at his collar. “God, it’s warm in here, ain’t it?”

  “It is not,” observed Fiela, giving the man a weird look. “It is quite comfortable. Are you alright? Do you have a fever?”

  “Um, yeah. I think I do.” Sam ran a hand across his forehead, collecting the perspiration in his palm. He brushed it against the purple scarf he’d purchased in the Twin Cities a decade earlier. It hung around his neck in the guise of a vestment.

  “He wears the vestments of Thor,” Fiela said, looking down at Ben, “but he says your god will not care, because your god is a supporter of the Vikings.”

  “The football team?”

  “The what?”

  Ben gave Sam a look. “Thor, huh?”

  Sam pointed at the logo on the scarf around his neck. “Yeah, Ben. See the little head of the man in the helmet with the horns? Thor. He was a god, you know.”

  “The folks in Wisconsin might take issue with that characterization.”

  Fiela looked alarmed. “Sam? What is he talking about?” She turned back to Ben. “He can remove the vestment, Mutu, if it offends you.”

  The “priest” looked at Ben questioningly. Seeing Fiela’s worried expression, Ben said, �
��Just do it, Sam. Do the quick ceremony, okay?”

  “The quick one?”

  “Right.” The king made a motion with a finger. Get on with it.

  “Okay, yeah. The quick one.” Sam cleared his throat and said, “Um, okay…do you, Ben-”

  “Anax Sargon,” interrupted Fiela, rolling her eyes.

  “Oh, yeah, yeah,” acknowledged Sam, nodding profusely. “Anax Sargon. Do you, um, promise to have and protect and to hold, Fiela here?” He looked at the girl expecting another correction but she only stared at him. “That is to say, to have and to hold and to protect Fiela, in happiness and in health, so long as you live?”

  “I do,” said Ben, closing his eyes.

  Sam nodded, pleased. “Yeah? Really? That’s good.”

  “Next,” prompted Fiela.

  “Right. Fiela, you consent to have and hold this man, too? And be held by him?”

  “And protect him? Do you not require him to protect me?”

  “You’re right. Goes both ways. It’s implied, that’s all.”

  “Shall you not require me to obey him, Sam?”

  Sam pursed his lips. “That’s the older ritual, really. Not necessary anymore.”

  The girl looked crestfallen. “Is it not still allowed? I have read about it in my novels. It is my favorite part.”

  The old man scratched the back of his neck. “Allowed? I guess so. Plenty of folks write their own vows. Seems to me you can have it any way you want.”

  “That is what I want,” said the girl firmly.

  Sam looked down at Ben, who muttered, “Just do it.”

  “Okay, I don’t judge. Fiela, do you-”

  “I swear to hold and protect and love and obey him. Lilitu, also. I mean, Lilian. She’s not here, though. Can I commit to her without her being here to commit to me? Or Ben? I am her sister, after all.”

  “Um, maybe?” asked Sam, looking at Ben.

  “For the love of…” wailed the other man. “Sure. Just finish this, Sam.”

  Sam wasn’t really sure how to finish it. After a very awkward and long moment, he shakily made the sign of an “x” in the air with one finger and said, “Ipso facto, I pronounce you man and wife. In other words, you’re hitched. You can kiss each other.”

  Fiela began to remove her shirt.

  “Or you can do that,” said Sam, averting his eyes.

  Ben cleared his throat. “Thank you, Sam. That was very efficient.”

  Fiela, not turning, threw her shirt to the floor. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She said, “Leave, Sam.”

  Sam fumbled for the cabin door, and left.

  Ben, seeing the determination in the eyes of the red-headed queen, said, “Serretu, the drugs...I’m not sure-”

  Fiela placed a finger on his lips. “Shhh. I will make you sure.”

  Part 6 –

  Raise your army!

  Strike with your terrible wind!

  Conquer flying Anzu!

  Devastate the place he was created,

  and wreck his home.

  - The Epic of Anzu, First Millennium BC