by Darren Swart
Marty shook his head. “The stones in the duke’s vest were the key. The Sappirs were the lock. The duke still has the key. Besides, I think Digger knew what he was doing. He’s there because he wants to be.” He smiled. “Besides, we can always visit him in our dreams.”
They held each other. He winced, as she squeezed his knife wound. It was good to be back.
Chapter 41
They sat quietly for the longest time. The sky above them began to clear, enough so that they could see a waning sun on the horizon. Silver-lined clouds of orange and salmon seemed to reward them for surviving. Marty could feel his strength coming back. In fact, he was beginning to feel quite normal. They both stood before the Ark. He placed his arm around her shoulder and she leaned back with her arm around his waist. In a quiet voice, he said, what they both were thinking. “Now what do we do?”
She smiled and she looked up at him. “I guess we go see if we can get a good deal on a late modelused Hummer.”
He smiled. “Sure hope they left the keys in it.”
Suddenly, her arm dropped. He felt her body go rigid beside him. In less than a heartbeat, she was all business. In a voice barely above a whisper, he heard her say, “We have company.”
His arm dropped. He could make out nothing against the onslaught of darkness. The torch looked odd, as it appeared from behind the monolith. Perhaps it was not the torch that looked odd, but the pair accompanying the torch? Even at the sight of the wizened old man and his companion, Gillian did not relax.
“We’re surrounded,” she hissed beneath her breath.
Marty didn’t think he would ever get used to her ability to sniff out trouble. He hoped he would have a long time to consider that about her. The old man moved slowly but steadily to their position. He seemed completely unafraid of either of them. His voice rang of purpose. In a long-forgotten language, the old man called out. They looked at each other. It didn’t sound remotely like anything either one of them had ever heard. In retrospect, it was not a language that been spoken in two millennia. They were close enough that Marty could see the old man’s face. His eyes were quick, intelligent and purposeful. It was evident that his mind was sharp even though his body appeared frail. The companion spoke for his master. “My Master asks if you need help.”
Marty gave him a bemused smile. “I think we probably do… thanks.”
Gillian’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t so sure they wanted their help.
The old man spoke again. “He would like to know where the other Golden Hair Warrior has gone.”
Gillian spoke to Marty, without taking her eyes off the cliffs around them. “I think he means Digger.”
Marty looked at the old man. “Our friend has gone to the other side.” He didn’t think it would make sense.
The companion relayed this. The old man nodded in understanding, which surprised Marty. Much to the companion’s surprise, the old man spoke in English for himself. “You have performed a great deed. You have saved this world from the Shadow Man. You have brought the Sacred One back to the guardians. For this, we are grateful. We will help you find your way back to your world.”
Marty gestured to the Ark. “How long have you guarded the Sacred One?”
He smiled a toothless grin. “Solomon’s ambassadors brought Her to us to protect Her from the Romans. That was over forty generations ago.”
Marty asked openly, “What will happen to Her now?”
The companion spoke. “We will return Her to the sanctuary, where we will care for Her until she is called for again.”
Marty found it interesting that they referred to the Ark as Her versus It. He was sure this would all make sense someday, but he was too tired to think. From the darkness, several men dressed in ceremonial frocks approached the Ark. Several more appeared with torches to surround the Ark. A fabric cover was placed over the Ark, as they readied it for movement. Marty could feel Gillian gearing up for a fight. He gently placed his hand on her forearm and said softly, “It’s okay. They’re taking Her home.”
She looked up at him, expectantly. “You mean—She belongs here with these people?”
He nodded. “This is where she was taken from.”
The Litter Bearers gently raised the Ark and began carrying it in the opposite direction from where they had come up. The old man carefully supervised the team. As they all moved forward, he would give short direct commands to them, as they walked. The Ark bearers stepped carefully, and together. The Ark barely jostled, as they moved. It was most impressive. The companion walked with Marty and Gillian. He began to tell them some of their history with the Ark. “The Shadow Man took the Sacred Vessel from us many years ago. He took it by force. Many of our priests were killed trying to defend Her.”
Curiously, Marty asked, “Couldn’t you use the power of the Ark to defend yourselves?”
The companion shook his head. “We are the Vessel’s guardians, not the Chosen Ones. We are not allowed to use it. Only the Children of Moses may use the Ark.”
“Why do you call him the Shadow Man?”
“When he came for the Ark, he always traveled in the shadow of men. That is how we know him.”
The companion continued, “Millennia ago, the Children of Moses brought us the Holy Vessel to hide until the time of turmoil had passed. When the time of turmoil has passed, they will return for it.”
“Turmoil?”
“The time of turmoil…that is when the soldiers of Rome occupied the great temple of Solomon.”
Marty felt a little confused. “I thought Solomon’s Temple was a myth?”
The companion laughed. “A myth? Oh, no. I can assure you that it is quite real. The Hebrews worship on the Sabbath there. Our tribe chose to live here at God’s Mountain and worship. We are the Edomites.”
Marty changed the subject. “Your English is remarkable. Where did you learn to speak it?”
“The strange little man who traveled among you taught us before the Shadow Man arrived. He told us many amazing tales about the outside world. It has been many years since we have seen him. We are sad that he is gone.”
“Which strange little man?”
“He called himself Franz.”
Gillian bristled slightly when she realized that they were talking about Franz. Marty placed a hand on her arm. She breathed deeply to relax.
Marty asked the companion, “Did you show Franz the Ark?”
The companion looked down, but said nothing. Marty suddenly understood how the duke knew where to find the Ark. He did not press the companion further.
The small group continued to walk for a while. Wide trails dwindled to narrow paths. Other trails crisscrossed over them. The barren terrain all looked the same.
Within minutes in the smothering darkness, neither Marty nor Gillian could distinguish where they were. Every so often they would pass the yawning mouth of a cave in the hillside. After a while, they all looked pretty much the same.
After ten minutes of walking with the aid of a meager glow of torchlight through ravines and short sandy tunnels, Marty was beginning to feel uneasy. There was no possible way for them to find their way out of the place without guidance. If this was a trap, they had no hope of escaping.
At last, they stood before a roughly hewn maw in the side of the mountain. It was like many of the rest, with the exception of an amber glow from torchlight inside. The brawny litter bearers ducked down to ensure that they did not strike the top of the Ark on the low entrance, while they barely squeezed into the opening on either side without scraping their arms.
While the opening was narrow, the interior was quite a different story. Inside, the amber glow came from a ring of one hundred torches spaced out on the walls, forming a large open oval with a pedestal in the center.
As they entered, hundreds of men, women and children silently bowed in revered silence. A weathered old stone pedestal waited patiently for them in the center. Each leg was intricately carved. The four columns with roses rode each column,
forming a bed of leaves at the top. The Litter Bearer team carefully set the Ark in place. Marty watched in amazement as the cover was removed and the room transformed before him. The torchlight glittered against the gold of the Ark, reflecting off of the torchlight and leaving the room basking in a golden light. Painted figures on the wall aligned with the amber glow of the Ark. He nodded, realizing that this chamber had been designed for the Ark.
Not a single whisper was uttered. They silently filed out, each leaving a single flower at the pedestal. In a while, they were alone in the cavern with the companion and the old man. The fragrance of fresh flowers wafted from the mound of flowers, making Marty ponder which was more amazing; the utter reverence on the moment, or how so many flowers were gathered in the middle of the desert. Marty looked at the old man and asked, “Aren’t you afraid that someone will find it here?”
The old man winked at him. He chuckled, as he responded, “You are connected to the Ark like few others. Could you find this place in broad daylight?”
Marty smiled, shaking his head. “I see your point.”
He patted Marty on the hand, “Come with us. You can rest in our village and we will take you to your vehicles in the morning.”
Marty put his arm over Gillian’s shoulder. She smiled at him with dark, warm eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter 42
The brilliance of the bluish white light had blinded him. He stood still, feeling the breeze across his cheek and enjoyed the spicy sweetness of a nearby bloom. It was a few moments before he began to blink and make out images around him. He looked around the peaceful blue grass of the alien landscape. He couldn’t help but smile. He had been right, all along. He looked up into the twilight and watched as clouds moved past quickly, high above his head. Yet, the hint of a breeze on the ground was light and pleasant. The big chunky clouds looked like every other cloud he had ever seen, with the exception of color. He couldn’t put a finger on it. He didn’t recognize the color at all. The ground was thick with swirling gray fog which eddied and rolled like the surf.
In the distance, he could make out the tall round spires of a city. Long, thin bases, with bulbous tops reminded him of the Space Needle. He carefully maneuvered through the layer of mist to a small hill that gave him a vantage point to survey his surroundings. At the top of the hill, he stood under a fragrant tree with dark blue bark, bearing a fruit that looked like a white plum. Frederick thought better of trying it. He had no intentions of being poisoned so early in the game. He stood under the tree, breathing in the alien air which was cleaner than the Alpine forest air he was used to. He pondered on how he would approach the leaders of the city, all-the-while relishing the first experience of an alien world.
As light as a feather on the wind, a tiny blood red scorpion dropped to his shoulder. The duke stood lost in thought. The scorpion crisscrossed closer to his neck, its tiny eyes assessing where to strike. The tiny creature maneuvered toward the hair line at the base of his skull. The duke crossed his arms and mused about how long it would take to learn the alien’s language—or if they even used language. The small creature balanced itself precariously on his collar at the closest vertebral notch. He considered the strategy—convince them he was here to warn them of an impending attack by foreign aggressors and offer himself selflessly as an ambassador of peace…
Like a bee sting, the duke slapped his neck too late. The tiny body was gone, swimming in his spinal fluid up toward his brain. The sudden ringing in his ears followed by numbness in half his body signaled the beginning of the living nightmare. He stood, wondering why he had a sudden feeling of dread. The spasm that coursed through his body threw him to his knees. His entire body writhed against the unseen invader, as he frothed at the mouth like a rabid dog. The fit passed. He rolled over on his back in the dewy grass and gasped for breath. A passing wave of nausea washed over him and was gone. His eyes were wide as he sat up, involuntarily, unclear as to why he had. He convulsed involuntarily. As he sat gulping in fresh air, his body stood somewhat awkwardly and began to lurch forth. A constant pain in the back of his skull made him feel weak and disoriented. Still, he continued to lurch and sway like a drunk.
A new sensation gripped him. He whirled around, expecting to find someone behind him. He was alone on the knoll. Paranoia gripped him. He scanned the tree line around him. He sensed someone or something was watching him. He could feel it intensely. From out of the blackness of his own mind, he heard the voice. It spoke without pretense or subtlety, “Greetings, Duke. We have been expecting you.”
****
Rachel held out her hand and took his in hers. They kissed for what seemed like an eternity. She kissed his earlobe, as she whispered, “Hello, David. You’re finally home.”
His arm around her waist felt like it belonged there. He pulled back slightly to drink in her eyes. The deep blue crystals which danced in the light around them almost rendered him to tears. “You know my real name. Only my mother calls me David.”
She smiled and her eyes shown brighter. “Of course, I know your name. I know more about you than any other creature on earth. I have watched you through many lives through the eons. Yours is a very old soul, indeed.”
He blinked. He didn’t really understand what she meant. She kissed him gently on the lips. “It’s all right, my love. We have ages to understand this.”
They walked slowly, hand-in-hand. The library lifted in a million pieces, leaving them in the salty tang of warm sea air. Digger lifted his face to the wind like a dog in a car window. He soaked in the moment, as the beach formed around them. Echoes of crashing waves filled his ears, as a light breeze ruffled his hair. Giggling, squirmy children surrounded them with their small nut brown bodies. Sandcastles emerged in the light of a sparkling sun. A small boy rushed up to Digger and hugged his leg. His blonde curls shimmered in the sun. “Come play with us, Uncle Digger. Pleeease…”
Digger looked expectantly at Rachel. She smiled and kissed him gently on the lips. “Go ahead. Go play.”
The tot scampered off, with Digger not far behind. Rachel looked to find Peter standing beside her. His white beard and hair was now neatly trimmed against a backdrop of a Hawaiian shirt of surfboards and orange flowers.
“Better?” she asked.
“Much. Thanks. That whole Peter thing was beginning to wear a little thin.”
“And how is our guest on Oronas?”
“Adjusting. I don’t think it was what he had planned on. I guess it’s always a little easier to be born into aristocracy than forging it on your own.”
She smiled. “I suppose. Our King was a shepard, as I recall.”
“We each have our paths, Gatekeeper.”
The surf licked at their heels, as they stood quietly for a moment. They watched, as Digger laughed and dug in the sand with an enclave of laughing, wiggling little bodies. Some were light, some were dark, but all relished the warm sand and cool ocean. Peter smiled, as he watched. “He really is the one, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is. Through it all, he never lost his innocence. He is quite remarkable, as mortals go.”
Peter sighed deeply. “I’ve got to go. If I don’t get back soon, they’ll think the world is ending or some such nonsense.”
She reached over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “My best to the family.”
“Always.” He smiled and dissolved until there was nothing left but his smile, and then it was gone.
Chapter 43
Marty flipped through a pre-release copy of the Washingtonian. He stopped when he came to an article on the US Mint and the history of the pyramid on the One Dollar bill. He stared at the inscription beneath it: Novus Ordo Seclorum. It was the same inscription from the duke’s crest. He was almost irritated when the secretary spoke to him. “Mr. Wood, the President will see you now.”
He sighed and put the magazine down. She used a practiced mask of a smile that had been worn for heads of state and diplomats. Marty returned the smile with one of his own,
one far more genuine. “Thank you.”
His disarmed her, as did almost everything about the young man. The door opened to the Oval Office and a muscular man met Marty at eye level. The young Secret Service Agent checked him with a metal detector before patting him down. It was Marty’s fourth such screening and he was getting used to them. The room was empty, except for another statue-like agent standing in the corner. The agent spoke. “Feel free to sit anywhere you would like, except behind the desk. The President will be out shortly.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded ever so slightly, never taking his eyes off him. Marty walked past him and settled onto a small comfortable settee facing the agent. He took in the series of photographs on the wall across from him. He was too far away to see much detail, other than there seemed to be a lot of pictures of handshaking. Typical of a politician’s office, he supposed. Benedict Fawkes emerged from a hidden doorway. He moved as gracefully as a cat from across the room toward Marty. He smiled like an old friend at the sight of him. Without hesitation, he extended his hand, smiling. “Benedict Fawkes. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Wood.”
Marty rose to greet him all-the-while thinking Well you are the President. Instead, he smiled warmly. “Thank you Mr. President. It’s an honor to meet you, I assure you.”
“You can lose the Mr. President if you like. Ben is fine, if you’re okay with it.”
He continued to smile. “Thank you, Sir. Please call me Marty, if you would.”
“Swell, Marty, just swell.” His capped teeth and tan made him look like an actor.
The young Secret Service Agent never smiled. He watched the two from a distance, never missing a single movement of Marty’s hands.
“Marty, have you ever heard of our Rose Garden?”
“Well yes, Sir. I have.”
“It’s such a nice day. Let’s walk in the Garden, if you don’t mind.”
“That would be very nice, Sir.”
President Fawkes eased toward the door, putting his arm on Marty’s shoulder. Marty could see why this guy won by a landslide during the last election. He’d never met a stranger. The President spoke to the Secret Service Agent, as they moved forward. “Bob, give us a little room, please?”
