Going Deep

by L. J. Vickery

  In unspoken agreement, Marduk and Anshar gave over a sandwich to Kulla, then moved closer to see what would transpire.

  Kulla approached the war god who lingered on the outskirts of their protective barrier, sandwich in hand. I’ve acquired a Greek antipasto sub filled with Kalamata olives, red peppers, and feta cheese whose flavors you might find familiar. I knew what you would prefer, but alas, he shrugged invisible shoulders, Americans aren’t particularly big on lamb. I also grabbed a bag of chips and a soda, just to mess with your head.

  Erra clearly attempted to tell by Kulla’s face if the latter was a joke, and figuring it must not be, tried to smile, even though those muscles were more than likely stiff from disuse. Erra shadowed Kulla as the architect located a large, flat rock that straddled the invisible force field Erra would be unable to breech. It was sunny and inviting.

  Kulla settled on one side and Erra perched on the other. Kulla un-acquired the sub over to the war god, and Erra stayed motionless for a moment, looking at it. I’ve been eating things in pouches that have no flavor.

  Then you’ll really like this stuff. It’s supposed to be good. Kulla raised his hands to his mouth, mimicking a big bite, demonstrating how to handle the laden bread.

  The god of destruction followed suit, and bit in. His eyes lit up. By the gods. This is manna from the heavens. Have you had this fare before?

  Certainly. Well, some of it…when I was corporeal. Admitted Kulla. Not the soda or the chips. Those are modern inventions. Kulla pointed to the brightly colored can and shiny bag, shaking his head. But what you have is a sandwich. Kulla grinned. I’ve had the equivalent of it several hundred years back. Only things are easier now. You don’t have to go slaughter your own meat or pick your own produce. There are places here called grocery stores. They sell these things to the humans in exchange for coins.

  Marduk knew what came next. Good for Kulla. He reeled the war god in.

  But the household is running out of fresh ingredients for the few here who can eat, and Marduk’s Chosen needs fresh food since she’s pregnant.

  Erra became silent while digesting this bit of information. Marduk held his breath. All the gods, no matter how violent or destructive, cherished and protected pregnant women, as well as the children of their kind. It was unknown for an immortal to ever kill or hurt a woman with child…or a child. To what conclusion would Erra come?

  Who would go to buy these things? Erra took another large bite of his sandwich and looked to be savoring the taste as he chewed slowly, awaiting Kulla’s answer.

  Either Marduk or Anshar.

  I can’t allow that. They are far too powerful, and if Nergal found out I let them leave the compound, he’d have my head. No. Let the goddess, Tess go. I will accompany her.

  Kulla’s mouth dropped open, and Marduk knew his own did a mimicking fall.

  I’ll ask, but I don’t think Marduk will be particularly anxious to have Tess out of his sight…nor have her within yours.

  That is my offer. You know full well I will not harm a gestating female. You can take it or leave it. It is of no consequence to me. Erra shrugged and turned his back. Marduk choked on a bit of cold cut, and Anshar slapped him on the back.

  “Don’t answer just yet,” the all-sky god cautioned Marduk. “It might not be such a bad idea. Tess could glean all kinds of information from Erra.”

  Kulla continued while Marduk cleared his windpipe. Fine. I’ll let you know, tomorrow. The boss will have to call a meeting on this. Kulla arose from the rock and Erra eyeballed the chips and soda, clueless as to how they opened. Marduk would have been amused if he wasn’t so horrified at the thought of Tess―pregnant Tess―going out into the world with War.

  Kulla took pity and gave the god of destruction instructions, before turning away with one last comment. I don’t think there’s a demon’s chance in hell of this happening.

  Erra arched his eyebrow. Depends on your demon now, doesn’t it? He smirked, and Marduk choked again.

  What the fuck was happening? War just made a joke.

  Kulla quirked up the corner of his top lip, and gave a salute before misting away.

  ****

  Minutes later, the meeting room erupted in shouts.

  “No fucking way!”

  “What is he, crazy?”

  “You can’t be serious?”

  Kulla told everyone assembled of his conversation with Erra, and held up both hands to ward off the negative reaction. “I’m only relaying what he said.” The censure continued to rain down upon him. “Don’t kill the messenger.”

  Marduk had yet to speak. His initial reaction had been the same, but now his mind churned.

  There had already been some grumbling about Kulla talking to the enemy, so the architect clearly felt defensive, but Marduk had heard enough.

  “Listen up,” he barked, and got everyone’s attention. “Kulla is acting friendly to Erra at my behest, so quit your bitching.” He ground his teeth. “As for the grocery thing, Tess can’t go, but maybe the war god will make do with one of the other women.” It sounded cowardly, but he just couldn’t risk his pregnant wife. “Or perhaps we can get Erra to follow a couple of decoy gods away from the compound while Anshar and I go for supplies. We’re not desperate yet. We can think on it for a few days.”

  He noticed the witches had slipped into the room, and stood at the back conferring in whispers. Angie opened her mouth to speak, but Tess beat her to it.

  “I want to go with Erra.”

  Voices erupted all around at his wife’s outrageous statement, and Marduk’s was the loudest of all. “Absolutely not. I won’t have you or our unborn child subjected to danger. You’ve never met Erra. You have no idea what he’s capable of.”

  Anshar’s voice joined the protests. “Remember what Dagon told us. Erra killed my parents, the asshole—”

  Tess interrupted. “Upon the orders of someone else, if you recall, and even though he had the chance, he didn’t kill you. The bunch of you have told me again and again how pregnant Chosen and children are sacred to the gods. Do you really think Erra, as bad as he’s supposed to be, could bring himself to harm me?”

  “We agree.” Angie’s voice rose from her position against the far wall. All eyes turned toward Lenore’s mother, one of their two resident witches. “We have attempted to reach far with our scrying bowl, and have seen that Erra, reputation notwithstanding, will not be a danger to any of you. We sense he has acute inner turmoil. Something troubles him greatly and constantly roils in his guts. His insecurities first arose when he heard that the women he needed to abduct were your Chosen. We feel that his disquiet regarding this issue comes from some unresolved issue with a female. He may fight you…or let his men do their worst, but he will not kill any of you, nor harm your brides.”

  Vague murmuring moved around the room as Marduk waited for her to continue.

  “But there is someone else at work behind the scenes. Someone who controls him in a way that we cannot see.”

  “Nergal.” Enten let the name drop, coldly clear on that score.

  “It is not.” Addie May took over from her daughter. “We have him under surveillance in order to keep Lenore safe. You remember we have factions of our own who will intervene to assure she gets back in one piece.”

  Marduk recalled being told by Tess, who had it from Lenore, that the witches had ties to an immortal warlock as well as to the famed Lauernley of the Rhine Gorge.

  “This new threat became apparent when Kulla tried to distract Erra from finding out that a god left the compound.” She barely looked in Kulla’s direction as he let out an indignant and unbelieving snort. “It has taken us all day to unravel the vapor trails in the scrying bowl to find out where this new threat originates, but we have found its crux. Whoever Erra is receiving orders from, it is emanating from the Underworld.”

  “We’ve told you,” insisted Kulla, “it’s Nergal.”

  “And we say again that it is not.” Angie’s eyes flashed an
d she looked as if her fingers itched to do something about the disdain she received from the divine architect. She, with obvious effort, brought her temper under control when her mother touched her arm, indicating with a nod that she should talk directly to Marduk.

  Angie breathed deeply and faced the thunder god. “Nergal is being monitored by us. Have no doubt of that. But this other energy…this power tracked Lahar to the hotel where Huxley and Dani-Lee stayed. We are sure that people must now be following your humans as they travel west.”

  Tess gasped. Marduk became instantly alert.

  “Lahar, get to Huxley right now and warn him. It doesn’t matter that the PP might have our phones bugged, or who might follow you. If they already know his whereabouts, we’re not giving anything away.”

  Tess shot daggers at him in response. “And here is all the more reason I need to take a shopping trip with Erra. If he’s not working for Nergal, we need to find out who he’s in league with, especially since it’s someone in the Underworld. What if that person decides to go against Ereshkigal’s agreement with Nergal and harms Holly or Lenore? And what about your queen? Is she in danger as well?”

  “It could be the queen who’s behind all this,” Marduk speculated, reluctantly.

  “I don’t think so,” scoffed Tess. “She’s shown too much concern for me, our unborn child, and even the safety of Lenore and Enlil. I’d bet anything she’s not the culprit.”

  She pinned him with steel in her eyes. “I need to make friends with Erra, and we need food.”

  Angie waved her hand to get Marduk’s attention. “Again, I agree, but you don’t have to do it for groceries.” The god turned a questioning face in her direction, and she answered. “I can conjure all the food you need.” She waved her hands, and a bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables appeared on the meeting room table. “I was going to tell you as the larder started emptying, but we’ve spent all our waking hours trying to decipher what’s been happening and keeping abreast of Lenore.”

  Tess picked up one of the conjured apples and bit into it. “Mmm. Good.” She squared her shoulders. “But I’m still going.”

  Marduk’s Chosen was stubborn…and she was also a goddess, and therefore not without defenses. With the witches assurances about Erra, the thunder god’s worries decreased by a small percentage. He turned to his beloved. “All right, but we’re taking the rest of the night to make sure everything goes exactly the way we want it to.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When Dagon awoke, his head was quiet. He remembered what had happened, and remained awed. His new friends had saved him from the mind-wraiths. Not only that, but they had sung him into the deepest sleep he’d enjoyed since before meeting Holly. With his whole being refreshed and invigorated, he stood poised, ready to slay a hundred more demons if that’s what it took to free himself and those he cared about from the Underworld.

  “Slaggat?” Hundreds of folded creatures attached to the walls. Poor things must be exhausted. He’d dragged them from their dark, oven-like level, where they’d been existing peacefully—albeit impoverished—for so many years, and thrust them into turmoil and battle with enemies they never would otherwise have encountered. He felt like the worst kind of asshole…yet they still liked him.

  Slaggat heard his name, and disconnected himself from a rock. “You needed me, Master Dagon?” The glowie yawned.

  “I wanted to thank you for saving me,” Dagon said humbly, then grimaced at the title he’d been given. “Can I ask you once more if you’ll stop with the ‘Master’ business? It really bothers me.” He looked at Slaggat speculatively. “Why is it you feel the need to elevate me to such a status? Have you had masters before?”

  Minrella quietly unfolded herself from sleep and joined her husband.

  “We have.” She said, her dark eyes swirling with emotion. She looked to Slaggat. “Perhaps it is time to tell him our history.”

  Slaggat glanced about with fearful eyes and lowered his voice to a whisper. “What if the evil one hears us? We received a warning that if we ever told anybody, our people would be wiped out.”

  “And how long has it been since that threat was made?”

  Dagon was intrigued and amused. He listened avidly while Minrella chewed her husband a new one.

  “No. Really. How long since we’ve been contacted by the evil one? Centuries? Millennium? Slaggat, really. Do you truly believe the danger exists anymore? Besides, now that we know how stark and useless our existence has been, so far below, are you anxious to crawl back to it?” If Minrella had eyebrows, she would have raised them.

  “I, for one, would rather die than go back. My vote is that we tell mast…uh…Dagon.” She nodded her head in Dagon’s direction and got an approving smile from him when she skipped the unwanted prefix.

  Dagon was delighted with the petite glowie. It seemed—if he could use a rock-like metaphor—that little Minrella had grown a pair of stones.

  Glowies woke up all over the walls now, being privy to Minrella’s harsh words to her husband. Dagon waited to see what they would all say.

  “We need to take a vote from the collective.” Slaggat would clearly die for his wife, but apparently if they had learned anything throughout their years of banishment; it was that everyone needed their say. “You understand M…Dagon, that this is not our decision alone to make.”

  “Agreed.” Minrella went from hard-ass to diplomat in a blink, relaying her wishes to the collective. I want to tell our story, our history to our new friend, Dagon. She sent her words far and wide. If I am putting anyone in danger by doing so, I call on the great evil power this very instant, to strike me down as a warning that we are still forbidden to tell all.

  Slaggat grabbed for her hand with a gasp. “Minrella! What are you saying?”

  The entire collective waited, holding its breath for something terrible to happen. But Dagon quickly realized there was no danger. During her sacrificial plea he had sent out feelers, and he detected no all-encompassing evil or force coming after Minrella or anybody else.

  “There,” Minrella stated satisfactorily. “I think that answers the question.” She switched into head speak to encompass the vast group. Am I going to tell the tale, or will somebody else step forward?

  The rows of glowies parted with that uncanny ability to agree on things without conversation, and an older, not so glowing figure emerged from the crowd.

  “Dagon.” Slaggat stepped up—now that his wife had made her very dramatic, yet affirming point—to make introductions. “This is the eldest member of our collective, Magmanna. She is our storyteller and the one who keeps us connected to our past.”

  Dagon arose and bowed over the slight figure’s hand. “It’s my pleasure Magmanna.”

  A throaty chuckle emerged from the delicate frame, and also from several young glowies surrounding her. Dagon looked questioningly at them.

  “These are my storytellers in training,” she explained in a deep, rich voice. “At times I may turn my narrative over to them so that it becomes embedded in their joint consciousness.”

  “Might I ask why that is necessary?” Dagon wanted to understand everything about the glowies. “It’s obvious that your kind ages from what I’ve seen, but are you susceptible to death from aging?”

  Dagon’s friends could be killed by enemies, or by the loss of a partner who shared their essence, but the idea of dying from old age was foreign to him in the immortal world.

  “Not necessarily,” the old one answered, but she continued. “We allow ourselves to age as our experiences merit. There are some here who are as old as I am, but look thousands of years younger. I, myself, have chosen never to take a mate, but have instead steeped myself in our history, making it my business to keep our past alive. As the burdens from previous collective-historians have worn me down throughout the millennium, I have let myself show the years that have accumulated.” She looked shrewdly toward Dagon.

  “I also will know at which point I should cease to
be. If, at some point, I feel my usefulness is over and there are adequate youngsters who will carry on my traditions, I will fold into myself and sleep the sleep of our great ancestors.”

  Magmanna gave a long sigh as she laid a hand on Dagon’s arm. “I have selfishly hung on to see if our kind will ever find their way back to an easier life, and I finally feel that with your help, we are on the cusp of such a possibility.”

  Dagon felt once again humbled. “I would be honored to bring your people a better existence and will do everything in my power to make it happen.”

  “And because of that,” Magmanna said in a much cheerier voice, “you deserve to hear our story.” She indicated a grouping of rocks. “We should all sit down.”

  Many in the collective had obviously heard the full tale before. Others, younger ones, had not. Two thousand, three hundred and forty some-odd souls settled in.

  Magmanna began. Thousands of years ago, before our friend Dagon existed, before I existed, our kind lived a very different life. We flourished above the land, and below the land, taking our sustenance from the earth and our well-being from a glowing orb given to us by the god, Ra.

  She spoke of the sun, but none here had ever seen it, so Dagon chose to hold his tongue.

  Our gods-given profession, which we excelled at, was mining. Our ancestors could extract anything from the earth that god or man coveted. Many beings needed gold, some silver. Others craved osmium for its indestructible qualities. She looked, impishly, toward Dagon, who earlier had confessed all of his sins, including his use of osmium to further his own selfish needs.

  For a price, we would cheerfully bring forth what was wanted. We were rich from our labors and life was good. One day, a god more powerful than most, one that some called the overgod, came to us with a special request. There was an ore, deep within the Earths’ mantle, near to the inner core, which was extremely rare and very special. Purportedly, there was said to be no more than ten pounds of it, total, in all the worlds. We were asked if we would move our people to the center of the earth to mine it.

  Dagon nodded his understanding.