The Centaur
Page 20
“Your grandfather has some strange notions, no?” The Captain eyed Nicholas closely in the growing gloom.
“He is not my grandfather. My grandfathers are in Arabia with the Templar forces. I wish he had not sent us here to look after this one. He is not right in the head. I can sense something very odd there.”
“Odd? What do you mean by that? Is it something I should know about? I am responsible for the safety of the people here and my men.”
Nicholas turned his head slowly and looked up at the slightly taller man.
“It is nothing that my brother and I cannot handle.”
“If there is anything that I can do, please call on me. It is what I am here for.”
Nicholas remained on the porch as the Captain started out for home. There was something odd about Mark Andrew’s behavior; that much was certain, but there was also something very odd about Captain Galipoli. Something that he had not noticed before. Nicholas was adept at reading the luminous bodies surrounding living creatures. His grandmother had taught him the value of mastering such a trick. The Captain’s glow had changed perceptibly since they had come to the church. Previously, it had been a deep blue with varying streaks of rose interlaced with gold. The Captain had been a good man, a devout believer and a stalwart defender of the weak, but now his glow was diminished as if shrouded by a gray mist. Nicholas had never seen this happen before, but he had been told that he would see many things as time passed and that he should never jump to conclusions nor make hasty judgments.
(((((((((((((
The bird cages and mysterious bundles swung to and fro as the tremendous, but unwieldy vessel rocked upon the waves. Lucio lay on his stomach next to his son-in-law, looking out one of the small slots passing for portholes under the eaves of the upper deck. The ship truly must have resembled a floating barn. Instead of deck, it had a roof and overhanging eaves. There was no steerage, no rudder and no power, not even sails. This boat, like the historic boat built by Noah was at the mercy of the waters upon which it floated, like a huge wooden crate filled with booty.
“It is truly amazing,” Konrad commented once again. “If only these clouds would clear a bit, we might be able to triangulate our position using the stars like the ancient mariners once did. I think I might be able to work it out with little or no trouble. I used to go out on the boat with William occasionally; he used sails most of the time to reserve his fuel. Of course, he knew his way around a boat and the coast.”
“I think we are not exactly out of sight of land, but rather the land is out of sight of us,” Lucio remarked glumly.
Konrad frowned. “It is unlikely the entire world has drowned, Brother. Judging from the cloud cover, I would guess some of the Centaur struck solid ground while, hopefully, the smaller parts struck in the sea. A sizable strike in the Indian Ocean could have caused this flood, and yet it would be confined to a small percentage of the exposed land masses surrounding the impact zone.”
“You make no sense,” Lucio refused to be consoled. “The story of Noah has been repeated because we have sinned greatly in the eyes of the Lord. As soon as the upper decks are opened, I am leaving this place. I have to know what happened to Catharine and the others. I can fly home and judging from the initial surge, I would say we have been pushed into Eastern Europe at least. I have no intention of drifting about any longer. The Master could have left any time before the flood, yet he chose not to. I don’t understand. Doesn’t he care about his grandchildren? What about Oriel and Father Andrew?”
“Of course he cares,” Konrad said, slid the door closed and rolled on his back in the straw. “He simply feels an obligation to the Order, and I think he might not want to anger both his sons and his grandsons by leaving them here. They all want to go home, Lucio. We all want to go home.”
“Do you think the flood reached New Babylon?”
“Impossible to say. Perhaps.”
“Mark Andrew said he was going to New Babylon to help his sons win back the city. Surely he would not have said that if he knew the flood was going to consume them.”
“That’s a reasonable assumption,” Konrad agreed and stuck one of the blades of grass between his teeth.
“Do you think this has affected the underworld? As above, so below.”
“Perhaps not. I would hate to think our actions or inactions would bring disaster upon Il Dolce Mio’s people. I am considering retiring there.”
“Are you kidding?” Lucio sat up cross-legged.
“No, not at all. I was very happy there. It was as if the past, that is, the past before I became part of the Order didn’t exist. Lucia was… is a wonderful person. I only hate I never made peace with Marco. At the time, when it first started, it was more of a joke than anything else. I knew he could never breach the fortress with his contrivances. It was all for show. I am sorry, Brother, I have seen what jealousy and uncontrolled hatred can do to a man. It is just as well you did not witness it. By the time I realized it was no joking matter and he was being consumed by his hatred for me, it was too late. I tried to make peaceful overtures to him from time to time, offering him a home with us, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He always said he was trying to look out for his sister and doing what you would have done. He truly loved you and thought a great deal of you.”
“Marco is one of my greatest sins, Konrad,” Lucio shrugged and looked away from the Knight of the Apocalypse. “I let him down from the beginning and it was the same pig-headed jealousy that caused me to neglect him which caused him to hate you. I can only thank God that he gave me another chance with Galen Zachary and I ended up losing him as well.”
“You didn’t lose him. He chose to go. There is a difference.”
“I suppose so,” Lucio brushed the straw from his lap and stood up. “I wonder where he is now. Do you think that Lucifer will take care of him now? He didn’t seem to be the type to care about humans.”
“You are forgetting that Michael Ian is with him. If anyone can survive, it would be Michael. He is truly beloved of God.”
(((((((((((((
The Giza plain was one great sea after the initial surge and then, after the backwash and the second surge, myriad lakes sparkled in every depression when the heavy clouds separated long enough to allow the sun to shine through. The water had rushed up the Red Sea, inundating much of the Sudan, parts of Ethiopia and the Sinai Peninsula. The waters had washed across the delta on into Libya and up into Jordan, Israel, Lebanon and Syria. Most of the towns and monuments which had withstood the ravages of time, desert sun and perennial floods were washed into the Mediterranean. The tremendous influx of water had done massive damage to the low-lying areas of Turkey, Greece, Italy, Sicily and Tunisia.
Nothing was left standing on the island of Crete or any other of the numerous Mediterranean Islands. The entire northeastern coast of Africa, the western coasts of the Middle Eastern nations and much of Southeastern Europe was irrevocably changed.
One of the myriad new lakes scattered across Giza was most peculiar indeed, having a distinctly rectangular shape. Nearby, the upper third of the Great Pyramid rose against the clear blue sky, white as snow, capped by glistening gold. The lower two thirds was stained, streaked and dirtied by the flood waters sweeping around it, first from the southeast to the northwest and then back again in the opposite direction. Tremendous piles and drifts of debris lay scattered across the plain between the ‘puddles’ left in low spots and the three pyramids. The restorations so meticulously carried out by the Egyptian Antiquities Authority were gone, washed away and destroyed.
The desert surrounding the ruins was rippled mud, drying out quickly in the sun. Nothing moved in the landscape which appeared almost to be holding its breath. The scene could have been one from an alien world completely devoid of life as there were no discernible signs life had ever flourished on the plateau. The former tourist centers, businesses, homes, roads, all the signs of civilization formerly encroaching on the pyramid comple
x were completely destroyed, unrecognizable. Palm trees were pulverized; animal remains had been shredded, turned to mush and washed away. Only the regular shapes of the Pyramids themselves and the rectangular pool nearby betrayed intelligent design.
The dry breeze blowing in from the southwest ruffled the surface of the water and sifted a layer of fine silt atop the ripples, producing a shirring noise as the crystals slipped past one another. An eerie sound would have met any ears there to hear, but there were no ears present. No eye to witness the devastation. No lips to mourn for the final loss of one of the world’s greatest civilizations of all times. No heart to yearn for the past forever buried under the sands.
The Sphinx, not yet returned to his resting place, touched down lightly near the blue pool of water covering its ancient home in the bedrock of the plateau. The great creature folded his wings against his tawny back and half-crouched, ready to pounce or flee as he inspected this unexpected development. His master had released him and sent him home, ordered him back to his endless dreaming sleep, and he was quite ready to resume his rest until the day when he might be called upon again. The floodwater covered his bed, spilling over the edges of the pit that had once surrounded the Sphinx, veiling the crumbled ruins of the temple that had once stood between his paws. The world’s only living example of the mythological gryphon walked all the way around the pool, stopping occasionally to sniff the water. He curled his nose and bared his teeth at the smell of the salt water in which the indiscriminate remains of many dead things. After a thorough investigation, the creature lay down nearby and crossed his front legs, apparently settling down for a long wait. His yellow and gold flecked, green eyes grew heavy with sleep as his eyelids drooped lower and lower. The sun was hot on his back and the wet sand, cool under his body. He lowered his chin onto his paws and slept.
High above him, the sleek, black dragon circled, only a barely discernible black speck against the deep blue backdrop. Inanna surveyed the devastated plateau with her keen vision, finding no threats in the immediate vicinity of the sleeping Sphinx. When she perceived he was sleeping, she swooped low over the plateau, casting a wonderful shadow on the desert before coming to rest several hundred yards from the gryphon. Her landing was graceful and almost soundless and within minutes she had changed her color from black to tawny brown, blending almost invisibly with the scenery. Only her deep, emerald green eyes and the tiny movements of the sand in front of her nostrils would have given her away. She settled into a comfortable position from which she could observe the Sphinx and closed one eye. She would rest first one side of her brain and then the other, while remaining ever vigilant. She could not, however, see the surface of the rectangular blue pool from her vantage point and did not notice the hundreds of tiny bubbles beginning to break the surface of the water.
(((((((((((((
Omar’s mouth hung open in shock as he surveyed the damage that had been wrought upon his once beautiful city. The binoculars whirred and hummed as they automatically adjusted and readjusted the focus on the scene in front of him. There were huge breaches in the walls he had built around the city, smoking ruins and ragged black edges sticking up like rotted teeth. The graceful minarets that had adorned the length of the wall were all gone, tumbled to the plain below the base of the wall. Fires raged within the remains of the wall, sending black and gray plumes of smoke into the clear air. The fierce storm that had swept in from the southeast during the early morning hours before dawn, had cleared away much of the smoke, but now the city was shrouded in a deadly gloom. Hundreds of people could be seen streaming out the gates, walking, running and riding anything that would carry them. The besieging forces were meeting them with food and water on the highways leading from the city and ushering them on to points further south, north, east and west.
“Omar!” Semiramis kicked at her grandson with one booted foot. “You are letting flies out.”
Omar clamped his mouth shut and gritted his teeth. He wondered if his lovely grandmother had been the originator of that most irritating taunt. She cared nothing for his beautiful New Babylon. Her Babylon lay to the south in the desert plain. His city, she claimed had no grace, no style and no redeeming qualities. All she was interested in was driving Huber from her hole in the center of the city.
“What did you expect, Father?” Aurora looked up at him. “She would destroy the entire world and lay it all to waste such as this you see before you. She will come out. She has no choice.”
“And just what makes you so sure, my daughter?” Omar raised one eyebrow at the beautiful, brunette. She looked at him from his great-grandfather’s blue eyes, which she had inherited from her mother, Nicole Ramsay, but her chin sported another of Lemarik’s deep dimples.
Aurora pulled her white mantle around her against the chill wind blowing in from the north and walked around her father’s horse. She looked up at her great uncle and smiled.
“Tell him, my uncle,” she smiled and Luke’s heart melted. She had never addressed him as uncle. She was almost as intriguing as Semiramis.
“Why? What do I know of the great Huber other than the fact she is to be avoided at all costs?” Luke returned her smile and winked.
“I think you may know a great deal, if you reach into that quagmire you call a brain,” she did not blink as she insulted him. “Surely the son of the Great Adar would know much of magick and tales of the Ancient Terrors. Did he never tell you haunting stories at bedtime?”
“What?!” Luke had to laugh. One thing he could never imagine Mark Andrew doing was sitting on the side of his bed, telling him a bedtime story. “My father is a haunting story. Didn’t you know?”
Semiramis nudged her white stallion forward and brushed her leg against his. Luke looked at the gold and white clad goddess in surprise.
“You are very much like your father, little one,” Semiramis said languidly and smiled. “Tell us what you learned of him in the underworld. I have heard you had a certain… bond with him there.”
Just the sound of her voice and the melodious, yet seemingly uncaring manner in which she communicated placed her far beyond the scope of his comprehension. He found it hard to keep his composure in her presence and found it even harder to speak with her in a normal manner.
“He told me many things when we were in the underworld. Isn’t that right, Omar?” Luke looked to his nephew for help, but Omar was again gaping at the ruins of what once was his city.
Semiramis looked him up and down with an appraising eye that surpassed even Jasmine de Bleu’s sultry style and then smiled even broader, indicating she approved of his looks at least.
“I think you know the Word,” she said.
“The word?” Luke heard his own voice croaking like a rain frog and felt his face grow red when she placed her hand on his horse’s head. It was as if she was stroking his face instead of the horse, and he wished somehow it was so, but he was terribly afraid of her.
“Yes, my uncle,” Aurora spoke up again. “The Word as your half-brother taught us.”
“Oh, that Word. I know something of it, yes.”
“Good. You may need it before we are done here.”
Semiramis looked a bit relieved when she turned her horse again. She rode very close to him again and brushed her leg against his.
“Won’t you join us for dinner?” She asked.
“I don’t know…” he started and then frowned. She was laughing at him.
“Oh, I see. You want to play? You think I am a spoiled brat? That I am only a shadow of my father? Is that what you think, my lady?” The red in his face grew even deeper as his discomfiture turned to anger.
“You have said it.” Semiramis tossed her silver-blonde hair over her shoulder where it lay on the white fur lining of her mantel like strands of precious metal. She looked a great deal like her dark eyed son, Lemarik, at that moment.
“What’s for supper, then?” He asked and raised both eyebrows, suddenly feeling a bit more confidence.
“Beware, Grandmother,” Aurora pretended to whisper in the goddesses ear “he will use his great magick on you and ensnare your heart.”
“Only if he can make me forget his father and I doubt he has that kind of magick.” The ancient queen laughed again and kicked her horse. Luke swiveled about in his saddle to watch them ride away together toward the encampment.
“Omar!” Luke turned with aggravation back to his nephew. “You’re letting flies out!”
Omar lowered the binoculars and frowned at him.
“Look what they have done to my city,” he mourned. “There is nothing left.”
“The people are still there, Omar,” Luke nodded his head to the streams of refugees still leaving the city. “Semiramis assured me none of the citizenry has been harmed… or, at least, nearly none. When this is over… just think… you will have a whole new world to build and notice I said ‘build’, not conquer. You will be able to regain the admiration and trust of your people by rebuilding the city and offering them your support and your wisdom. You can achieve great things here, Omar. Real things. Real progress and a real difference.”
“Are you becoming philosophical in your old age?” Omar placed the binoculars carefully in the case hanging from his saddle. Such things were rapidly becoming relics of a bygone age. “What was grandmother talking to you about?”
“Oh, nothing much. She invited me to dinner.”
“Did she invite you to dinner or for dinner?”
Luke turned his horse and they rode slowly back toward the camps.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do. Let me warn you, my uncle, I have seen her in action. She may be a great, great, great grandmother, but she doesn’t let that bother her. She has always been interested in mankind, but her interest usually leads to desperation and untimely death or so I’ve heard.”