Thoth, the Atlantean

by Brendan Carroll

  Konrad related this story to Luke Andrew while Mark Andrew sat toying with the picture of Meredith Sinclair.

  “So what are we looking for, Papa?” Luke asked his father when Konrad had finished.

  “We are looking for the Word.”

  “The Scriptures?” Luke Andrew frowned.

  “No… the Word that can send Sabaoth, Azog-Thoth back to oblivion,” Mark Andrew told him quietly.

  “Thoth? Thoth. Thoth of the Emerald Tables of the Hermeticum?” Luke was confused.

  “No… Azog-Thoth. Anti-Thoth. His arch enemy. The Ancient One who destroyed Jozsef Daniel,” Mark Andrew explained. “We must send him back. He is searching for the crystal skulls. Already Aristoni has constructed… nay! Himmler constructed the mechanism… the sacred geometry that would allow him to bring Tiamat back to the earth. He needs the skulls. The crystals of the Atlanteans.”

  “And this Word is in America?” Luke’s frown deepened.

  “Aye. Contained in the Emerald Tablets.”

  “But the Emerald Tablets were buried at the…” Luke slapped his forehead. “You took them to France. Why? No! I know!” Luke pushed himself off the dresser and stood staring at them. “You! You were there. I remember… no! You remember.” He clutched his head in both hands. “Why did you do this to me? I was perfectly happy being an asshole!”

  “I didn’t do it.” Mark Andrew stood up. “You did it! And it serves you right. If ye ’adna meddled with me ’ead, ye wud nevar ’ave ’ad these problems.”

  Luke knew very well that there were many memories in his head that were not his. Vague and distorted, but there, just like the ability to render the Key of Death. When he had gained the white braid of the dead King in the underworld, he had gained much more than he had bargained for.

  “And now ye’ve meddled with me mail and ye’ve larned more than ye need t’ know!” Mark Andrew told him in disgust.

  “I’m your apprentice. I should know these things. How can I learn to be what you are if you keep things from me?” Luke seemed close to tears. “I thought you finally trusted me!”

  “I do trust ye. I just dunna want t’ burden ye unnecessarily son. So now thot ye know, wot d’ ye intend t’ do?”

  “This is worse than I thought, but I think I know why Guy didn’t make it.”

  “Why?” Konrad took his arm and helped him to a chair.

  “Guy de Lyons had cancer when he took the Tree of Life,” Luke told them.

  “What?!” Konrad backed away from him. “Impossible!”

  “Not impossible.” Luke looked up at him. “I found his medical records. Not the records at the infirmary. Guy was seeing another doctor in Naples. He didn’t want anyone to know. He had leukemia. When he became a Knight… an immortal Knight… he stopped going to the doctor there. He simply believed that the cancer could not kill him because he had taken the powder. All it did was prolong his life. It didn’t save him! It didn’t save him because he was not a Merovingian. He did not possess any of the Holy Blood in his veins and he didn’t have any of the weird shit that the rest of us have. He was not a Halfling. Neither of his parents were… well, he didn’t have anything unusual in his genes. He was not a descendent of the gods or the Master Race as the Nazi's called it… call it. He was just a normal human being. Not like us!”

  Mark Andrew stood staring at him.

  “What about Louis Champlain and Barry of Sussex? What about the others before? James Argonne? Hugh de Champagne? What about them? They lived for hundreds of years,” Konrad countered.

  “First of all, they were probably not ill when they took the Tree of Life. And most of them were French. Louis Champlain is not even French in the strictest sense of the word. He is Frankish. Frankish! The Merovingians were Franks. Edgard d’Brouchart handpicked them. He knew what he was doing. They were all descendents of the Cathars or something similar. They were Celts, come over through the Alps to France from Macedonia and the Aryan Mountains in the middle east. The same place that Abraham came from. Lost tribes of Israel. You know the story. They all had the Holy Blood in their veins.”

  “Really?” Konrad was unconvinced. “That doesn’t explain Barry and what about Lucio Dambretti? He is almost a thousand years old. What about him? He’s not French or Frankish or… or…”

  “I can answer that,” Mark Andrew told them and they both looked at him.

  “He is a descendent of Edgard d’Brouchart. The same blood line as Jesus Christ. Descended of King David and Solomon. The Merovingians were descendents of the line of David and of Christ.”

  “Holy Mother of God,” Konrad muttered and fell sitting on the floor, clutching the bottle of whisky to his chest.

  “And furthermore, he drank the blood of Aristoni’s sister Melodia. The Holy Communion of the Blood of Christ.”

  “And I have learned that Barry of Sussex was once a member of Himmler’s elite SS as an undercover agent embedded there by d'Brouchart's contacts in Berlin and where do you think he was stationed?” Luke’s eyes blazed with excitement. “At Wewelsburg Castle! Himmler’s special project! Himmler sent people all over the world… scientists… to search for ancient relics and especially the Ark of the Covenant and the Holy Grail. He did all kinds of weird shit. Most likely, Barry drank some Holy Blood at some point when he was in Himmler’s service.”

  “That might be true.” Mark Andrew narrowed his eyes. “I remember that assignment. I didn’t approve, but Edgard d’Brouchart could not be dissuaded. Edgard was looking for something very similar himself.”

  “Mark Andrew!” Merry’s frantic voice accompanied a panicked pounding on the door.

  Luke hurried to the door and threw it open.

  “Merry!” Mark Andrew frowned at his sister-in-law.

  “Mark! You must come quick. It’s Ruth.”

  “Ruth?” Mark blinked at her in confusion. He had forgotten about Ruth and Omar. They were supposed to be meeting with Bari Caleb at Luke Matthew’s house. The meeting had been set directly following Guy’s funeral. Simon had gone with them.

  “She’s lost her mind!” Merry shrieked as she took his arm and dragged him from the room.

  Luke rushed after his father, grabbing his other arm. “And what about the Statue of Liberty?! What is this about the Statue?”

  Mark Andrew turned around, frowning at him in wonder. “I dunna know wot ye’re talking aboot.”

  “Yes, you do!” Luke almost shouted at him. “It’s right here! Right here!” He popped the side of his head with his open palm.

  “Luke.” Konrad took his arm and pulled him away from his father. “Let him go.”

  “I have to know!” Luke shouted again. He struggled with von Hetz as his father followed after Merry and then turned on the German Knight. “I have to know, Konrad!”

  Konrad looked up and down the deserted hall. Apparently everyone had gone downstairs earlier on or had already left for Luke Matthew’s house.

  “Look.” Konrad closed the door and set the whiskey on the dresser. “I know all of this is very confusing to you, but you need to get hold of yourself. The Statue of Liberty is a statue of Semiramis.”

  “No way!” Luke shook his head, but Konrad’s words matched exactly what was in his head.

  “Yes. Your father knows this. It is all part of the same thing. Always. From the very beginning, some have known and others are oblivious. She knows.”

  “Dammit, Konrad. You mean to tell me that the whole world has been deceived all these years?”

  “Exactly.” Konrad nodded. “For the most part the world wallows in ignorance. If not ignorance, denial. If not denial, rejection. Things are not always what they appear to be. Your father has been around a very long time. Even he suffered from denial and rejection. He spent a great many years denying his own identity. He then spent a number of years rejecting what he knew to be true. But even as powerful as he is, he cannot change his destiny. He has put it off for as long as he can.”

  “You must stop thinking of him as sim
ply your father or the Knight of Death. You know as well as I do that he is much more than that. He even thought to submerge himself in humanity and become a man. Not possible. To father children and have a wife. A human wife! Not possible. Just as it is not possible for you or I to live such normalcies. You have to accept what you are, Luke Andrew.”

  “No. You’re a freak, Konrad. You should be in a damned monastery! You’re not normal!” Luke backed away from him, eyes wide.

  He did not want to be anything other than a man. Just a man. Even as he reacted, he knew what Konrad said was true and he was the biggest case of rejection in history. Even if it meant giving up his immortality, he just wanted to be a man. He had never thought he would think such a thing in his life. He’d always had such great contempt for the simple mortals with whom he had associated. Only Jasmine had been special to him. Only Jasmine had meant something to him. But Jasmine was not a mortal woman! Not even Jasmine. Tears sprang to his eyes and he brushed at them angrily like a small boy. He had been foolish and naive.

  Konrad advanced on him and took a handful of his hair including the white braid with the silver ornaments.

  “Am I? Am I a freak, Luke?” Konrad leaned into his face as he spoke. “And what is this, Luke?” He pulled the hair around in front of Luke’s face. “Do normal men have such things? You can no more be a man than your father. What is more, he is depending on you to help him. He trusts you now and loves you. Yes! Loves you.” Konrad let go of him and shoved him away. “You think I am happy to know that I am a freak? I only wish this to all be over and done, but then what? Will I be expected to be a King? Will I be expected to take over the new Hapsburg Empire? Yes! This is exactly what I will be expected… no, required… to do. And you? What empire will fall to the son of Mark Ramsay, Adar, Uriel? What empire, Luke?”

  “What are you talking about?” Luke lost some of his anger.

  “I am talking about the grand scheme. The Grand Master Plan. The plan my father had outlined so neatly on his little Commodore 64 Computer. You have no idea. You are the new blood. The new line. The New World will be yours. America! You were born for a reason. You didn’t just happen along as an accident. Twins! You and Nicole. One for the north and the other for the south. She will be the Queen of the South, the positive to your negative.”

  “My father was no god, Luke Andrew. I merely took his place. If he had lived, he would have inherited the Crown of the Hapsburgs. Now I will have the honor in his stead. Omar has Babylon, New Persia and all of Eurasia. Simon will have all of Israel, Jordan, Egypt, Ethiopia… need I go on? Luke Matthew will have the Celtic Northern Kingdoms: Scotland, Ireland, Finland, Norway and so on. Champlain? The Frankish Empire including Canada! And to the east? Aristoni and his sister will divide the Asian continent and who do you think she will have as her King? Why, the Golden Eagle, of course. Lavon de Bleu? Africa. Australia will fall to Barry of Sussex and who better? Was he not a prisoner when the Temple picked him up and dusted him off? Who better to take over the old prison colony down under? It's all in the plan! Shall I continue? Don’t you see?”

  “No. I don’t see,” Luke answered softly. “I don’t see at all.”

  “Well, you will.”

  “What about my father and the Grand Master? What about Christopher Stewart?”

  “Christopher is from America, descended of the house of Stewart. America is a big place. I’m sure that you and Christopher will get along quite well.”

  “And Simon’s sons?” Luke asked.

  “Simon will need many princes to rule his lands.” Konrad smiled at him. “Just as I will need my princes. Apolonio. William. And your father? He will serve as he always has. As he was meant to serve. He is the watcher of watchers. And the Grand Master? Another watcher. They will watch over the underworld and the Abyss. It is the Divine Right. The Will of God.”

  Konrad picked up his boots and sat down on the bed and tugged them on wearily before dragging a black garment bag from under the bed.

  “Wait! I am going with you,” Luke told him.

  “No, you are not. You will stay here. You will take the place of the watcher and you will watch to see that Lucio takes his son safely to Italy where the Master can take up the watch. Then, if we are not back, you can come in search of us,” Konrad told him evenly. “If we all go together, we could all be imprisoned or worse. Someone has to stay behind who knows.”

  “But how will I know? How long will you be gone? How long should I wait? Are you going to call me? Text me?” Luke asked desperately and made motions of texting with his thumbs. He did not like this.

  “You will know. We will keep in touch. And now there is this new problem with Bari Kadif. I have looked there, Brother, and I do not like what I see.” Konrad walked across the room to the window and looked out toward Luke Matthew’s house though he could not see it. Luke waited quietly while the Knight of the Apocalypse squinted out the window. The German turned slowly and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes and Luke realized for the first time just how haggard the Knight appeared. Luke knew that he was using his powers to see what was going on in Bari's head. He wanted to ask what he had seen in the boy, but something held him back. He really did not want to know.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  Omar sat on the back steps of Luke Matthew’s house. He was lost. Inside the house behind, chaos reigned. Everything had been going quite well until Ruth had begun to tear at her hair and scratch her own face as if possessed by a demon. He and Luke Matthew had subdued her physically, but it had taken both of them to hold her while she kicked and screamed and cursed them in Italian and several other languages. Simon had finally placed his hands on top of her head and she had fainted. The Healer had sent Merry for Mark Andrew. When Mark had returned with her, Omar had slipped silently out of the house.

  Lemarik was out in the meadows beyond the fenceline with Bari and Omar was glad that his father had taken charge of the boy. Whatever was happening, Bari did not need to witness it. Lucio was in the kitchen with his son, Vanni, making coffee for everyone, trying desperately to keep his son busy and out of the way as the boy asked a million and one questions. Omar meant to follow his father and Bari, but, instead he had sat down on the steps in confusion, unsure of what to do. He had been shocked to see his son, almost fully grown. Ruth had, at first, seemed to be handling it well enough and had asked Omar if the boy’s accelerated growth was ‘natural’ for them. Exactly who she meant by ‘them’ was unclear, but he had to assume that she was referring to the Halflings. Omar knew that some of the Halflings had displayed this same remarkable growth, such as Luke Andrew and his sister Nicole, just as he and Dunya had reached physical maturity at an accelerated speed.

  But he and Dunya, were not Halflings but something entirely different. He had not expected Bari to grow up so fast, but it had only been the vestiges of his desire to be a ‘normal’ man that had caused him to overlook this little quirk. Bari had grown almost as rapidly as elven children. Ruth's knowledge of the various members of the ‘family’ was sufficient to cause her to expect the unexpected. He could only assume that her sorrow at being denied the right of a mother to bring up her son had finally caused her to snap though there had been no warning… nothing. One moment she had been sitting next to him holding his hand while they spoke with Bari and the next, she had been a madwoman. It was too much even for him. He wanted to destroy something.

  His heart cried out for vengeance that he and Ruth had been deprived of their son’s very brief childhood. It was not fair. But guilt and the atrocities of the past committed in his name, brought him to the brink of mental collapse. Surely, Jesus Christ and Mohammed the Prophet knew well what he suffered at that moment. His entire ideal, his dreams and hopes had been dashed and destroyed one by one as the world took his plans for a new world and turned them into to something very different than what he had envisioned. Everything he had done returned to him with crushing reality, the deaths of so many were on his head. His hands drip
ped with blood and no amount of consolation from his close friends and relatives could soothe his anguish. For these immense sins, he could expect no forgiveness and nothing he could ever do for the rest of eternity could change anything. If he did not bring his mind back to the present, he would be destroyed and nothing else would be accomplished.

  He focused his mind on a blue flower growing next to the steps and drank its beauty into his mind until the ghosts from the depths of the Abyss were banished. When he returned his gaze to the fenceline, he focused on another matter nagging at him. The Prophet was extremely concerned about the trip that Lucio and Mark Ramsay had taken to Romania. He’d learned nothing satisfactory from Edgard d’Brouchart in explanation of the visions he had seen when he had found Mark, Lucio and Luke Andrew in his scrying dish. His subsequent trip to Haiti and his close encounter with Jozsef Daniel had pushed the incident from his mind, but now that he was back among them, the questions were refreshed. The passing of Guy de Lyons also bothered him immensely. They weren’t supposed to die, were they? None of the immortal Knights had ever just died… dropped dead, literally. He had intended to speak with d’Brouchart about that as well. Ruth’s immortality was after all provided by the same source as de Lyons’ had been. This worry was now compounded by Ruth’s condition. He could not help but think that she, too, might be succumbing to the same foul malady that had taken the Knight of the Sword.

  Lucio emerged from the kitchen bearing two mugs of coffee. Very sweet with cream. He handed one to Omar and sat down beside the Prophet.

  “Caffè dolce,” he muttered as he took a deep breath over the steaming mug. “Le nostre difficoltà sono infinite.”

  Vanni continued on down the steps and took up a position on the firewood stacked near the garage. Greta came from the house, spied Vanni and skipped toward him, calling his name. Lucio watched his son with obvious pride. A sin.