Echoes of Avalon (Tales of Avalon Book 1)

by Adam Copeland

  The wagons were uncovered to reveal brick upon brick of lustrous gold neatly stacked into trapezoids. The smaller load was silvery in the sunlight.

  Lokutis’ back went rigid and color entered his fair face. “This, for my services and my product? Even if your mines were empty of gold, there should be four pillars’ of silver to compensate, not half of one!”

  “Lokutis! Be still!” Marduk’s otherworldly voice stirred the black and purple flags. “It is not silver.” Marduk gestured, and one of the wagoneers laboriously removed an ingot of the material and walked it towards the throne and altar.

  “You may be the master of converting gold into the highward firestone, what you call Mizkift, but I am the master of smelting gold from ore.” Marduk’s voice was calm, and bore a touch of pride. “Only those accustomed to mining and smelting as much gold as I in my empire are aware of this material.”

  The ingot was half the length of the servant’s forearm and twice as thick as his wrist. He approached the altar, and Akahamet intercepted him and took the object. In doing so, a surprised look crossed his face. He hefted it and carried it to Lokutis.

  “At first we deemed it a troublesome impurity that was difficult to separate from gold in the smelting process...”

  Akahamet handed the brick to Lokutis, murmuring, “It’s true my lord, it is not silver. It is much heavier.”

  “...but then we performed experiments on it. It is its own noble metal. More lustrous than silver and more dense. It does not tarnish nor corrupt. It is harder and stronger than both silver and gold. And most of all…” Marduk paused for emphasis. His smooth voice would have belied his brutish appearance, but when he smiled, he revealed many sharp teeth. “It produces almost twice the amount of Mizkift as gold when fired.”

  Lokutis examined the metallic brick in his hands with raised eyebrows. After a moment he handed it back to Akahamet.

  “Platinum,” he said simply. “I am not ignorant of its existence.”

  Marduk motioned to his herald, who approached the altar with a clay tablet. Again Akahamet intercepted and took the item.

  “The calculations for formulation are noted on this tablet, and the resulting yield,” Marduk said.

  Akahamet handed the tablet with a multitude of cuneiform chicken scratches to Lokutis, who merely glanced at it and handed it back to his advisor.

  “Being the Lord of the Forge, whose prowess for creating the purest of Mizkift is legendary, you should be able to coax more than three quarters of potential yield from the platinum. Right?” Marduk flashed his sea-monster teeth in the most condescending of smiles.

  “You assume a lot.” Lokutis sounded none too pleased. “None of this was agreed upon. Despite your calculations, I could stand to be at a disadvantage. You could walk away with more Mizkift than I with noble metals, and that’s even taking into consideration the ten percent extra you are to have brought in consideration of my stores. Do you have any idea how far you’ve depleted them, ordering your ridiculous amount of Mizkift?”

  “I understand.” Marduk sounded uncharacteristically contrite. “It is unexpected, and some measure of risk comes with accepting new terms. That is why I am prepared to offer you these to offset any potential shortfall on your part.” Marduk swung a hand in the direction of the chained women. His herald moved towards them. “Personally, I think you are getting the better end of the deal. But this transaction is important enough to me that I’m willing to pay a premium.”

  His herald tugged the foremost woman’s veil; it hung from her bound wrists. She certainly was an exquisite creature. Narrow of waist and broad of hip, she stood gracefully in gauzy pantaloons. Two strips of the same transparent material crisscrossed her torso, covering but not concealing her breasts. Her abdomen rippled with muscles, as did her arms. A dancer’s physique. Her skin was the color of coffee, her lips full, and her hair was a dark silky mane hanging down her back, braided in gold strands. Her eyes were almond shaped, and despite looking down demurely, Lokutis could see that they were a strikingly rare emerald color.

  Lokutis took in the sight, and Marduk let him, remaining silent. Lokutis cleared his throat and mentally slapped his own face to recompose himself. Marduk certainly knew his weaknesses.

  “You are very fortunate that I have knowledge of platinum, otherwise I’d put an end to these proceedings,” Lokutis sniffed. “As it is, I accept your gift and we can proceed.”

  “I thought you might,” Marduk said, not-so-contritely. “But that does bring us back to my original question: Where are the nine pillars of Mizkift?”

  “Why, they are right here.” Lokutis gestured to Akahamet who moved around the amphitheater seats and gestured to yet another helper. He stepped out from behind the seating and approached a clay amphora situated among the rubble. He was dressed all in white, in a material that looked more like finely woven metal than cloth. He wore gauntlets and a hood of the same material, and the hood was fitted with two glass disks over the eyes. A breastplate on his chest bore several stones that glowed with an inner light as he drew near the amphora. He reached up to its lip, which was a little higher than his head, and removed a loop of densely woven copper wires from a metal pole in the lid. The copper loop was the terminus of a copper cable leading away from the amphora, partially buried in the sand. The cable split in many directions, and drawing a subdued collective gasp from Marduk’s entourage, their terminals revealed themselves.

  A multiple sunburst of white light strobed the area. Nine objects slowly materialized in the air. Each object was a trapezoidal stack of white ingots similar in size and shape to the gold and platinum bars. A line of the copper cable ran to each stack and was sandwiched between the bricks. And just as Marduk’s mobile throne had been levitating above the earth, so too were the piles of white material. But the moment the copper loop was lifted from the jar, they slowly descended to the ground.

  Marduk raised an eyebrow, and then said somewhat grudgingly, “Truly you are a magician of the highest sort, and with a flair for the dramatic.”

  “Why thank you.” Lokutis bowed to the rare admission. “Please have one of your people choose a sample at random.”

  Without having to be told, Marduk’s herald scurried forward and gingerly removed a brick from the nearest pile.

  “That is clever to hide the Mizkift within the Plane of Light right before us,” Marduk said, then gestured at the amphora. “Though I can’t imagine what your plans would have been had the negotiations gone sour and had the charge of electrikus in the capacitor had been depleted.”

  Lokutis shrugged. “I knew you were good for payment.”

  Marduk smirked.

  The herald placed the white substance on the altar and another red-clad servant came forward with a tray holding cups and a flagon. Akahamet positioned himself before the altar. The herald placed a cup before himself and Akahamet. He then raised the flagon with one hand by an ornate handle on its side and steadied it with the other hand at its base. He presented it to both camps. “This is Nektar, drink of the gods. This I attest to.” He placed it back on the tray.

  Akahamet reached over and took the brick of Mizkift and raised it above the flagon. “This is God-Cake,” he announced loudly, and broke off a chunk of the substance in his hand, crushing it into a powder that dropped into the flagon. “Purest of Mizkift, the highward firestone. This I attest to.” It was Akahamet’s turn to grasp the container. He moved it in a circular motion, mixing the contents inside. He then re-presented the flagon, stating, “Nektar and Mizkift create Ambrosia, food of the gods.” He then set it back on the altar.

  The herald picked it up and delicately poured into each cup. A pale rose-colored liquid filled each one. When this was complete, each servant dutifully carried his chalice to his respective master. Marduk and Lokutis saluted each other with their cups and took a long drink.

  Though he had drunk the Ambrosia elixir many times before, it always felt like his first. By itself, Nektar was heavy and sweet and im
parted a deep-seated euphoria. With Mizkift added, the sweetness was tempered by the metallic bitterness of the powder, which transformed the Nektar euphoria into an acute awareness of the universe.

  Lokutis was vaguely aware of handing the cup to Akahamet as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, which lolled towards the sky. The taste assaulted the back of his tongue, first smothering it with an overwhelming berry-honey taste, and then followed it by a metallic tartness that drilled ruthlessly into his taste buds. As the euphoria settled in his chest and loins, the tartness shot through nerves like lightning to his brain. A simultaneous burst of light exploded at the center of his mind and across his vision, leaving an afterimage even as the initial explosion turned to sputtering shooting stars. As the initial sensation receded, Lokutis opened his eyes and looked around.

  The world around him was transformed. Everything was sharp and crisp. Colors were more vivid. Lokutis could count the pores on Marduk’s skin, which had previously seemed as solid as polished bronze. He could hear the heartbeats of all living creatures around him and the hum of the giant jar-capacitor. He heard the frenzied work of fire ants under the ruins―it was scrabbling, hurried, frantic work, exceptional even for their hardworking kind.

  The swirling dust and sand and the flapping banners had meaning. Their movements were not the least bit random. The rocks themselves had a story to tell by their very resting positions and Lokutis could hear them whispering their deepest desires, where they wanted to move to next...and when. Their desires were urgent and immediate; the stones were impatient to go. If he had the time and elixir to spare, Lokutis was certain he could study the air and discern the equation Jhove used to create it. Maybe even improve upon it. Lokutis became more and more aware of his people and those of Marduk. Their heartbeats became a deafening drum and their breaths a howling wind. The blood flowing in their veins was a rushing river and their minds were screaming in awe at being in the presence of gods. Their adoration and their love were suffocating.

  Lokutis squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by it all. He rubbed his temples and took deep breaths until eventually, inevitably, the sensation passed and he was left with a more manageable feeling.

  When he opened his eyes, he was gratified to see that Marduk was still under the effects of the elixir. The big man was laid back in his throne, massaging the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger.

  Lokutis was also pleased to see that Marduk's head servant, the herald who had introduced the Ambrosia, was swaying himself from having partaken of the ceremonial drink―unlike wise Akahamet, who still held the cup, alert and ready for action should it prove necessary during his master's brief moment of vulnerability.

  It wasn’t much longer and Marduk stood.

  “The quality of the product is satisfactory,” he sniffed.

  “Your Nektar isn’t half bad either,” Lokutis smirked, knowing full well the Mizkift was more than just satisfactory. “Someday you must tell me who your supplier is among the Olympians.”

  Marduk ignored the comment.

  Several crimson-clad individuals moved among the stacks of Mizkift with clay tablets and styli, tallying the product for their accounts.

  Likewise, black and purple clad men moved among the women, removing their robes to ensure the quality was consistent. Lokutis wouldn’t put it past Marduk to hold up one beautiful flower as an example among many concealed weeds. So far, Lokutis liked what he saw.

  Marduk sat and glowered while his people counted the Mizkift. Lokutis sat as well, throwing a leg over an arm of the stone chair.

  “So Marduk, what on earth do you need so much Mizkift for? Such a quantity is unprecedented.” The big man did not react immediately to the question. He merely drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. “Do you need a lifetime supply of repelling force for your floating chair? Hmm?”

  “It is none of your concern,” Marduk said at last, glancing at the accountants anxiously. “You have been paid in full. What I intend to do with it is my business.”

  “You see, that is where I disagree,” Lokutis said. He swung his feet to the ground and stood, and his tone was still deceptively light. “This is a huge amount of Mizkift to be loosed upon the world all at once. Surely something unusual is afoot, and I don’t like the sound of it.”

  Lokutis made a waving gesture with his hand in the direction of the Mizkift. The stacks levitated and disappeared in a sunburst of white light, leaving Marduk’s accountants stumbling back with open mouths.

  Marduk was on his feet, looking in disbelief at the empty space. Lokutis had accomplished the feat without having the capacitor jar reconnected to the Mizkift. “What is the meaning of this?” He turned to Lokutis. “Do you dare forfeit on the agreement?”

  “I am not forfeiting! You will get your God-Cake, just as soon as you tell me what you are going to do with it! However, be quick about it. The longer it rests in the Plane of Light, the greater the risk of it being lost there.”

  Marduk’s entire head turned scarlet and the cords in his neck stood out. Men in both camps put hand to sword hilt, but stopped short of drawing them. Despite the escalation of tensions, Lokutis suppressed an urge to chuckle at Marduk’s comical appearance. That alone was worth the trouble to meet.

  “Disclosure was not a part of the original agreement, Lokutis. Why do you care?”

  “Because I care not for letting you manipulate me into slitting my own throat.”

  Marduk raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and just how do you come to that conclusion?”

  “This amount of highward firestone is only meant for one of two things.” Lokutis’s voice was becoming shrill and his movements agitated. Eclipsed by his legendary temper, what little mirth he felt withered. “Either you plan on weaponizing it and using it against me,” he continued, “or you plan on disseminating and selling it yourself at a considerably lower price just to drive me out of business and out of the region.”

  Marduk bared his teeth, shook his head and laughed. “You are truly paranoid, even to the point of destroying a perfectly good business transaction.”

  “You deny it?”

  “I don’t need to convert Mizkift to light energy or even to bankrupt you so elaborately. I can crush you anytime. Take my gold, my platinum, my women and leave. You needn’t concern yourself with me any longer. Now bring it back!”

  Lokutis’s face felt hot. “How can I possibly leave you with this much power and turn my back on you?” Spittle was flying from his mouth. He was losing control of himself, letting fear get the better of him, and yet he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “You had to have emptied your entire treasury to come up with this much gold! You must be preparing for some sort of final attack to consolidate your power!”

  Marduk paced back and forth in a rage. He glanced between the empty spot, his soldiers and those of Lokutis, weighing his options.

  “Very well!” Marduk boomed. His voice echoed up and down the valley, shaking the rocks. “If it will get me out of here sooner, I will tell you.” There was a moment of silence. He paced closer. “I intend to permanently enter the Plane of Shar-On, the Plane of Light.”

  Another moment of silence as the gods faced off.

  Lokutis blinked and shook his head as if to clear it. “Come again?”

  “You heard me. I intend to use the Mizkift to open a portal into the Plane of Shar-On and enter.”

  Lokutis once again shook his head in disbelief, but on a grander scale. “What? Are you mocking me?”

  Marduk stood with arms crossed, unresponsive.

  “Nobody enters the Plane of Light! It is a dimension of energy where Mizkift goes when sufficiently energized. That is all.” Lokutis scoffed. “The only ones who believe otherwise are the pharaohs who have some notion that, after a lifetime of ingesting the cake and saturating their flesh with it, they will wake up there after death. And I know what you think of the pharaohs.”

  “You don’t exactly dissuade them from that belief, Lokutis, do you?”
<
br />   Lokutis feigned shock. “Of course not. Who am I to trample all over somebody else’s dogma? It would be bad for business.”

  “Bad for business indeed,” Marduk sneered. “Which is why I don’t understand why you’re willing to make an exception in my case.”

  “The Egyptians do not demand this much all at once! It is suspicious!”

  “This much Mizkift is necessary to force a doorway open. And as I pointed out, if I am successful, you’ll never see me again. There’s as good a reason as any to bring it back now.”

  “Even if you were to force your way into the dimension, assuming you didn’t blast yourself out of existence in the process, what do you expect to find there?”

  “A new beginning,” Marduk said solemnly. “An escape.”

  Lokutis stared. “From what? Reality? All you have to do is mix a little Mizkift with Nektar to make Ambrosia to do that. You don’t need nine pillars of it.”

  “I do not intend to hide in a drunken stupor, but to literally escape this world.” Marduk took to pacing again like a caged animal.

  “Another world?” Lokutis scoffed. “You wish to conquer another world? Then invade one of the sanctuaries of the Elohim. Again, a feat that does not require a mountain of highward firestone.”

  Marduk stopped his pacing. He did not respond. Rather, he looked sidelong at Akahamet and to his own herald. Something about Marduk’s manner struck Lokutis as strange. Over the ages he had come to expect certain behavior in his dealings with Marduk as normal: pomposity, arrogance, bravado, megalomania. The sort of fare that afflicted all the gods. The sort of conduct from which Lokutis himself was not immune.

  But now, there was sincerity in his voice, as well as something else. That same something that was in Akahamet’s voice when his advisor had spoken of the approaching storm, his misgivings of the meeting place, the appearance of the sphinx, and the mention of the madman, Noam, building his ark on dry land. It wasn’t just concern—it was fear. But this was coming from a god.