Christopher Stewart, not asleep. Armand de Bleu, not asleep.
“Damn it!” He spoke aloud and the words seemed to flow physically away from him into the void pushing him backwards. His mind drifted randomly to Luke Andrew, and he was suddenly falling again. Luke Andrew was not asleep, he was unconscious.
Mark’s feet hit the stone passage hard; jarring his bones. He stumbled and then caught himself against a cold stone wall, almost physically stepping on his son, who lay in a crumpled heap in the pitch blackness of a stuffy cave.
“Good God!” Mark shouted and struggled backwards before kneeling beside the oblivious form. “Luke!” He shook his son’s shoulder, and Luke groaned softly. “Wake up, lad!”
Luke reached one arm toward him and felt for his face. Mark grasped his hand and pressed it to his cheek.
“Can you see me?” He asked with growing alarm.
“Of course not!” Luke answered him, and then spat on the floor. “It’s pitch black in here.”
Mark blinked, and then realized he was seeing Luke only in vague, bluish tones, a particularly convenient aspect of his latest form. Angels have no problems seeing in the dark. But then, neither do demons and ghosts and ghoulies and…. Mark shook his head. He had to concentrate. “Take my arm, son.”
Luke groped for his father’s arm, and then stood up shakily.
“How did you get here? Who put you here?” Mark asked him when he was on his feet.
“I don’t know exactly, but I think, we should try to get the hell out of here before they come back.”
Mark surveyed their predicament and came to another startling realization. They were sealed inside the small rock chamber. There was no door, not even a crack.
“Oll roighty then,” Mark nodded to himself. “Look, son, I’m going to have to put you back to sleep now.”
“What? Whattar ye talkin’ aboot?” Luke clutched his arm like a drowning man.
“Just relax and trust me,” Mark pushed him back down on the rock floor.
“Trust you? I can’t even see you. They’re taking me to Saturn, Papa! I didn’t even know Saturn had a surface. They’re going to leave me there for thousand years. You have to get me out of here now,” Luke complained, but sat down hard on the rock.
“It’s going to be all right now, Luke.” Mark knelt beside him and was again surprised, when Luke clutched his neck and began to cry into his shoulder, like a small boy. Mark Andrew patted Luke’s head and held him close. “I’m going to get you out of here. No one is going to take you to Saturn. I promise.”
“I didn’t know, Papa,” Luke continued to sob. “I never gave it much thought. I didn’t know just how terrible I was. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I’ve been awful, horrible.”
“Now, look, son,” Mark said more forcefully, shaking him loose at the same time. He forced him to lie back on the rock. “I’m going to make you go to sleep. I want you to think of a pleasant place. I’ll be with you. I won’t leave you.”
Luke wiped at his eyes, and then wiped his nose on the back of his hand and sniffed loudly. He laid his head on the rock and closed his eyes tightly.
“Relax and think of a pleasant place,” Mark told him and laid one hand over his eyes. “Relax.”
Luke let out a long sigh, and they were falling.
(((((((((((((
Nergal rode hard across the moonlit meadow. His horse’s hooves kicked up great chunks of turf behind him. The Boggans riding with him howled as they kicked their own beasts viciously in an attempt to keep up with their Lord. He pulled up short in front of a cave from which a yellow glow emanated. The light flickered on the walls, indicating the presence of firelight or torches within. It was the first sign of life he’d found since arriving in the Seventh Gate. The beautiful passageways of Adar’s lair were barren of life. The great house he had built in his phantasm was a mass of horrid webs full of crab-sized, winged horrors. The sight of the mansion taken over by such creatures had been disconcerting in the least, but when the spiderlings had come after him and his troop of soldiers, he’d been horrified. Is this what had happened to Lord Adar and Lord Marduk? The horses had outdistanced the creatures in the open fields, and then they had turned aside upon seeing the glowing opening in the base of the bluff.
“Hold!” he ordered the Boggans as he slid from the horse. Their clatter had certainly eliminated any element of surprise. The Boggans dismounted and loosed their various weapons as they made ready to accompany their Lord into the caverns. They actually would have preferred to be inside the caverns rather than out in the open.
Nergal adjusted his silver and black cuirass and helmet and drew his long, silver sword. The hilt twinkled in the moonlight, and he shook back the horse-hair plume on his helmet. He held the sword in a defensive posture in front of him and waited to see if anyone or anything would come out to meet them.
“Avast, the cave!” He shouted and then frowned. Avast was a nautical term meaning stop. “Ahoy, the cave!” He tried again and then realized that ahoy was also a nautical term. He’d spent too much time at sea in a previous existence apparently. “Come out of there!!” He raised his voice in aggravation.
He stepped back automatically as a lone figure appeared in the light.
Marduk hurried toward him, waving his hands frantically, but it was too late. The Boggans set up a loud wailing as they saw that they were surrounded by a host of well-armed warriors bearing long bows and lances.
“What is the meaning of this, Lord Marduk?” Nergal demanded as he turned completely around, pointing his sword at the warriors. They were hopelessly outnumbered.
“I’m afraid you’ve ridden into a trap, my friend,” Marduk told him quietly. “Keep your voice down.” He came closer and put one arm around Nergal’s shoulders. “You look right pretty, my Lord. What were you up to?”
“I came looking for you, if you must know,” Nergal told him haughtily. “Reshki told me not to come. I should have taken her advice.”
“Come inside and see what goes, my Lord,” Marduk pleaded with him. “The sentries will allow your soldiers free rein. Lord Kinmalla is here. There is no going back.”
“What? I owe him nothing,” Nergal protested. “He holds no sway over me.”
“That is exactly what I thought myself,” Marduk nodded. “But times are changing, friend.”
Nergal glanced toward the cave entrance and then back at the Boggans. The strangely silent warriors had herded them off toward the meadow and only his stallion was left, pawing the ground nearby. One of the warriors held its bridle.
“Come and have a look.” Marduk tugged on his arm. “If you still believe you can leave afterwards, then, by all means, go.”
Nergal allowed himself to be pulled into the cave. Once inside, he was startled to see the great Kinmalla sitting behind a stone table. A guttering oil lamp cast harsh shadows on his face, and his eyes gleamed from deep sockets as he listened to a man standing in front of the table.
“Shhh.” Marduk put one finger to his lips and nodded toward a low stone bench. Nergal sheathed his sword, took off his helmet and sat down, already enthralled by the words of the ‘defendant’. He recognized the form of the diminutive daughter of the mighty Djinni sitting stiffly on the front row. She did not even look back as he and Marduk entered the chamber.
“Surely, one such as yourself must have heard of the Lamb of God,” Omar was saying. “Such news could not have escaped you.”
“It is possible I overlooked such news on purpose,” Kinmalla answered him. “I am not given to listening to tall tales, spiritual mishmash and idle gossip. I am concerned only with facts, laws, records, deeds, truths.”
“Ahhh.” Omar held up his right hand and pointed upward. The judge’s eyes followed instinctively. “Truth! Above all, truth should and must interest such a one as yourself. Nothing less would be fitting to bring before you. Truth is all one needs to know in order to make the decisions that must be made. Decisions based on falsehoods
are crimes in and of themselves. Truth is only perceived by truth.”
“That is truth, indeed.” Kinmalla nodded his hooded head slowly. “Truth begets truth.”
“Truth is the core of being for those of honest nature. Nothing matters beyond honesty, earnestness and conviction of purpose. Without these, existence would be fruitless. What good can come of anything less? A judge must base his judgments on the truths presented in his court. When the truth is revealed, he must readily recognize it. A great judge must be able to discern the foundations upon which these truths are built. Would it suffice to say that truth is of itself a good thing?”
“Oh, most decidedly so, Young Master,” Kinmalla agreed. “If one is given to truth, one is given to goodness. Falsehood begets evil and evil begets misery. Misery begets hatred and hatred begets criminals. Criminals cannot discern the truth because it burns them and blinds them, and they are driven into darkness to seek relief.”
“God is Truth,” Omar said as he raised both arms. “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was Truth and Truth is God. We bow our heads to God and to Truth.”
“Most assuredly,” the judge again agreed. “But truth does not always reflect godliness, young Lord. Truth may also be truth of evil deeds accomplished by evil doers. We may speak the truth about what was done, but it will not make it less of a crime.”
“But the great sages have said that the Truth will set us free,” Omar countered. “These are the things that ye shall do; speak ye every man the truth to his neighbour; execute the judgment of truth and peace in your gates: And let none of you imagine evil in your hearts against his neighbour; and love no false oath: for all these are things that I hate, saith the Lord. Let not mercy and truth forsake thee: bind them about thy neck; write them upon the table of thine heart.”
Kinmalla pushed back his hood and leaned both elbows on the table. He twirled his beard nervously in his long, bony fingers.
“These are the words of the great sages?” he asked after a moment.
“Of the great prophets of God, Your Honor,” Omar told him and looked back at his sister. “I am called a prophet, Your Grace, and I accept the title with humility. I speak my heart, great Lord Kinmalla. I speak from the depths of what was written in my heart by our Father, the Creator.”
“Speak to me, Prophet,” Kinmalla commanded.
“I speak the scriptures as recorded by the fathers and grandfathers of men,” Omar said. “I pass these words to all who would listen. To all who would hear them for they belong not only to man, great Lord, but to all of God’s creatures. Surely of all God’s creatures, one such as yourself, is a most precious prize, who knows the Truth. Who perceives the truth wherever it may be found, no matter the vessel of its telling. So shalt thou find favour and good understanding in the sight of God and man. Mercy and truth preserve the king: and his throne is upholden by mercy. Plead my cause, and deliver me: quicken me according to thy word. Salvation is far from the wicked: for they seek not thy statutes. Great are thy tender mercies, O Lord: quicken me according to thy judgments. Many are my persecutors and mine enemies; yet do I not decline from thy testimonies. I beheld the transgressors, and was grieved; because they kept not thy word.”
“You have a golden tongue, Young Master.” Kinmalla actually smiled and they were surprised to see he had pointed teeth. “So say the ancients of the prophets of God. Your tongue is surely a gift from the Father, Himself. If the Father found favor with you and granted you such a gift, then surely the Truth is in you.”
Omar seized the opportunity to continue his bid for redemption for himself and his sister. “Consider how I love thy precepts: quicken me, O Lord, according to thy loving kindness. Thy word is true from the beginning: and every one of thy righteous judgments endureth for ever. Princes have persecuted me without a cause: but my heart standeth in awe of thy word. I rejoice at thy word, as one that findeth great spoil. I hate and abhor lying: but thy law do I love. My lips shall utter praise, when thou hast taught me thy statutes. My tongue shall speak of thy word: for all thy commandments are righteousness. Let my soul live, and it shall praise thee; and let thy judgments help me. I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek thy servant; for I do not forget thy commandments.”
Kinmalla’s mouth was half open now as he listened to these words, also taken from the Holy Scriptures.
“I believe you speak the Truth, Young Master,” he said when Omar paused. “I am convinced you are indeed a Prophet. Tell me more of this Lamb of God… but wait!” Kinmalla called his ‘bailiff’ over and whispered in his ear. “We will have some refreshment with our hearing.”
Omar let out a long sigh and tried not to smile as the disgruntled assistant was sent to fetch these refreshments. He put his hands on his hips and dropped his head, before turning to look at Marduk and Nergal. Marduk clapped his hands silently and smiled at him. Nergal sat watching him solemnly. He’d not heard the Lord of the Fifth Gate come in. Omar felt even more weight descend on his shoulders with the fate of one more soul in his hands, and he still had to learn what had become of Luke Andrew.
Chapter Six of Twelve
Look on every one that is proud, and bring him low
“What place is this?” Mark Andrew asked his son as soon as they regained their footing. The beach stretched away on either side of them. A stiff ocean breeze struck their faces, whipping their clothes and hair behind them. A bright full moon reflected endlessly on the dark seas beyond the whitecaps.
“I don’t know…” Luke answered, then brushed his hair from his face and squinted at the vast ocean before them “I was thinking of Jasmine,” he said softly and looked at his father apologetically. “We picnicked together here some years ago. I don’t remember when exactly. This has to be the place. I remember the breakwaters there and that promontory.” He pointed away to their left before turning completely around. “Yep!” he said more loudly as the wind was blocked behind him. “This is the place all right. I remember those.”
Mark Andrew turned and stared up at the silent figures carved in dark stone. The statues towered over them, silently staring inland.
“Some island,” Luke continued and started up the narrow beach toward the low stone wall where fifteen or sixteen of the backwards facing sentries kept watch over nothing. “Christmas Island, I think,” he called over his shoulder to Mark, who followed him more slowly. “It was one of those places Jasmine always wanted to visit, you know? I brought her here for her birthday or something. She was thrilled and kept me up all night long out here with these guys.”
Mark stopped to watch as his son made his way down a narrow path and stopped to examine part of the wall in the light of the moon.
“Yeah!” Luke shouted and waved to him after a moment. “This is the place. Right here. Come and look.”
Mark made his way to the end of the platform and squinted at the markings in the black stone.
A large heart was carved in the rock, replete with an arrow and a childish rendition of ‘Luke loves Jazz’ in the center.
“I made that,” he said and smiled up at his father proudly like a small boy, then the smile faded. His eyes, already red-rimmed and bloodshot from lamenting his fate in the caves of the Abyss, watered again. “I really loved that woman, Papa.”
“I know you did, Luke,” Mark said with some genuine measure of sympathy. He frowned at the scratchings and then straightened up. He looked toward the center of the island following the statues’ hollow gazes. “Easter Island.”
“What?” Luke wiped away yet another tear and frowned toward the center of the island himself.
“Easter Island. Not Christmas,” Mark said as he climbed onto the wall between two of the monstrous figures. “They were such proud ones. Full of themselves and vainglorious,” he muttered to himself as he ran his hands over the rough stone.
“Oh, yeah, right,” Luke climbed up after him. “Christmas Island is the island with all the spiders.”
“Crabs,” Mark corrected him.
“Crabs? Oh, yeah, right. Crabs,” Luke muttered.
Mark examined the face of one of the shorter statues. He leaned close and gazed into the empty eye socket.
“Still here after all these years,” he said after a moment’s silence.
“Of course, they are,” Luke patted the arm of a taller figure next to him. “Jasmine said they were thousands of years old.”
“Older... much older.” Mark’s voice held a strange quality somewhere between fear and awe. “I hoped never to see them again.”
“Who? You’ve been here before? Is there any place you haven’t been?” Luke asked several questions when he perceived something was not quite right with his papa. “What are they looking at? Jasmine said the scholars think they watched over villagers here. She said the natives who built them used up all the trees and then killed each other off in a final battle over the last tree. Can you imagine it? Here’s these half naked mumbo-jumbos dancing around the last tree, trying to save it and then, in the middle of the night, the other side comes and chops it down to make arrows so they can shoot anyone who threatens the tree?” Luke laughed nervously.
“That’s not how it happened,” Mark told him softly. “The mumbo-jumbos, who lived here, did not kill each other. They died of old age. The natives that came after them used all the trees. Not much on conservation, natives. Besides they were shipwrecked here, and thought to move on when the food ran out. They built a few villages eventually, and worshipped these statues, but they did not build them.”
“Then who built them? The mumbo-jumbos?”
“Nay,” Mark chuckled and moved further down the wall, checking another of the statues. “The mumbo-jumbos as you call them were watchers. They watched over the stones.”
“But who built them? Whoever it was didn’t finish them. Jasmine took the tour and dragged me along. There are some more unfinished ones in the quarry and a couple of them were apparently broken on the way to the sites where they were supposed to be set up. I remember how excited she was, telling me all about it. I thought it was really dumb. I couldn’t imagine how stupid someone would have to be to expend such energy to build these things and move them around. For what purpose?” Luke stood looking up at the tallest of the Moai. “Yeah, and some of them had hats on their heads that weighed thousands of pounds.”
The Wayward Godking Page 13
