“Your Majesty!” Steppet and Prado went down on one knee before him.
“My King.” The gruguach also bowed before him. “We have looked far and wide for you.”
“I was just dreaming of you,” Il Dolce Mio said. He climbed down from the bench and hugged them warmly. “How did you get here?” He asked and then frowned as he noticed some of them were already showing signs of illness. His people could not prosper long in the Abyss. He noticed, as well, his Captain and Lieutenant wore pointed metal caps. Two of the nearest elves were dressed in tattered black mummer’s outfits. “You used the book!” Il Dolce Mio exclaimed.
“Aye, that we did,” the gruguach sighed and then pressed one hand to her heart. “It is most oppressive here, Your Grace. Perhaps, we could speak of these things in a more appropriate setting for elves.”
The elven company began to split and scatter amidst moans, groans and shrieks as the Queen made her way through them.
“What is the meaning of all these elves presenting here?” She asked as if she were describing a disease. She swept through them and drew up short in front of the King.
“I’m afraid I dreamed them here, You Majesty,” the King said and bowed his head to her briefly. “I would beg that they be allowed a bit of your sweet nectar, my Queen in order that they might not suffer the glory of your over-powering presence.”
Ereshkigal looked around her at the frightened faces of his subjects. Two or three of them had already succumbed to fear and the oppressive nature of their surroundings. They lay here and there while their comrades wept and moaned over them futilely trying to wake them.
“More unscheduled guests,” the Queen muttered as Oriel and Louis pushed their way through the crowd. They were followed closely by Christopher and the others.
“Greetings, my small friends!” Lucifer’s clear voice rang over the general hubbub like a church bell on a clear winter’s morning. “You have come to pay homage to the child of the Dove. Come, come and let us praise him with song and dance! A great noise shall we make unto the Father!”
Ereshkigal threw her hands up in frustration. The baby was upstaging her party and she could get nothing done with all these interruptions, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
“Pick them up. Pick them all up and bring them to the Queen’s chambers,” she ordered Plotius as soon as he could elbow his way through the milling throng. “Single file, please! No running!” Ereshkigal started back toward her boudoir as her Boggans made a path clear for her. As she walked along, the elves fell back in fear, some of them fainting outright.
Lucifer had gathered a great number of them to himself and was already singing to them about Adar’s grandson. It was a fiasco in the making, and she would have it cleared up right away. She muttered to herself as she walked along, about Nergal’s absence, and the fact that he’d taken a large number of her Boggan guard with him.
“My Queen.” Plotius caught up with her in the caverns. “My Queen, I beg your indulgence.” He took off his helmet and bowed before her.
“What is it now, Plotius?” She asked. “I have to make more of the potion. I’m turning into a hag by the moment. If this doesn’t cease, I’ll end up spending eternity stirring a cauldron in some damp cave somewhere.”
“My apologies, Your Eminence,” Plotius muttered, fearing to look up at her. “My Boggans have returned from the foray into the Seventh Gate, and their report is not good.”
“Walk and talk,” she told him and dragged him along physically with her. They could hear the murmurs and scurrying feet of the countless suffering elves behind them. “Now what is all this about Nergal?”
“Madam Queen, do you have any knowledge of Omar, the Prophet, ibn Adalune, Son of the Moon, ibn Adar, ibn…?”
“Of course, another blasted grandson of Adar, the Mighty Hunter. Yes, yes, of course, I’ve heard of him.” They entered her golden chamber, and she went directly to the fire pit where the black cauldron still simmered upon the coals. “What of him?”
“And my Gracious Mistress, have you heard of another called Zaguri? One of the powers of Marduk?”
“Great vapors of my father’s breath!” She spun on the Captain, and he cowered away from her. “What of him?”
“He is loose in the Seventh Gate,” Plotius gasped quickly. “Lord Marduk and Lord Nergal are being held prisoner in a cavern there.”
“What?! Who would dare hold Nergal and Marduk prisoner… Aha! It’s that bitch, Huber, isn’t it?” She grabbed Plotius’ shoulders, frightening him horribly.
“The Great Huber is there, yes, they say,” Plotius squeaked until she let go of him. “But it is not she, who holds your Lord Nergal in thrall, my Queen, but rather one nasty fellow by the name of Lord Kinmalla. My Boggans say he is holding court in a cave near the nest of Huber, and they say the Prophet Omar is speaking in defense of the gods.”
Ereshkigal was speechless for once in her very, very long life.
Chapter Seven of Twelve
(A tribute to Seven of Nine for those of you who remember the Borg and know that resistance is futile)
Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?
“That is all well and good, Lord Omar,” the Judge swung his legs down from the table on which he had been resting and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. His ‘bailiff’ was slumped against the wall, snoring soundly. “I will credit you with righteousness of purpose and goodness of heart. I will withhold judgment on you and your sister and suspend your sentences. If you should continue in the future to influence the workings of the destiny of men, you will pay in full.”
“I am grateful for your indulgence,” Omar said gravely and bowed his head to the Judge. His dark hair was damp and sweat trickled down his face. He turned at the sound of slow clapping from behind him. Both Nergal and Marduk were applauding slowly and smiling at him.
“Well done, young Lord.” Marduk stood up. “Such a tongue have I not heard in ages passed. I am converted.”
“You blaspheme,” Nergal growled as he stood alongside him. “Omar speaks the truth. There is no guile in him. Did you not listen? We have all been… fools, I tell you!”
“Aha!” Marduk looked at his old friend in consternation. “You are truly converted. Congratulations, Prophet. You have added another soul to your portfolio and the great Lord Nergal doesn’t even have such.”
Nergal snorted in disgust at the insult.
“I will take a short break and convene again to pass judgment on Lord Marduk Kurios.” The Judge actually smiled at the Lord of the Sixth Gate. “I should like to get your trial over before another age passes. Your crimes are abundant and fruitful, yet still crimes.”
“One moment, Your Grace.” Omar held up one hand as Dunya tugged on his sleeve impatiently.
She was ready to get out of the cavern. The air was hot and stuffy and Omar was visibly exhausted. Their dismissal was evident and she wanted to risk no relapse in the judge’s opinion.
Omar shook off his sister’s hold and wiped his brow with the hem of his mantel. “If I may say a few words on his behalf before I go, I would be eternally grateful, and then my sister and I will trouble you no more.”
Kinmalla narrowed his eyes and then sat back on the edge of the table.
“I will listen a short while longer, and then I must rest.”
“I have studied the religions of the world, Your Grace, and there is much truth even in the most barbaric beliefs when they are based upon the idea that something beyond man had the power to bestow upon him some measure of divinity… the saving grace, if you will, the Divine Spark.”
“That would stand to reason. Saving grace, yes,” the Judge agreed.
“The ancient traditions of the Phoenicians, a most wondrous race of men, honored Lord Marduk as one of their primary benefactors. They spoke very highly of him and worshipped him for many hundreds of generations, venerating his better qualities. The Phoenicians compared his splendor to that of the sun, saying
of him that the golden glow of his goodness fairly obliterates his form.”
“If such a one is completely obliterated by the goodness that shines forth from him, it would be hard indeed to condemn him for the commission of a few misdemeanors. This glow was not attributed or associated with passion, but rather manifested in man as a sense of immense peace, an inner peace, an altruistic peace, such as that taught by the Lord Jesus Christ at a much later time. Lord Marduk’s worshippers extolled his virtues: peacemaker, transformer of death to life, holder of great wisdom, creator and worker of miracles. His greatest miracle was this: He taught the people to care for the earth, which provided them with food, to love the earth, to care for the lower beings that provide sustenance for them, to love… yes, love.”
“Marduk taught his people that the mouse loves the hawk in the same manner that the moon loves the earth and the sun loves the moon and the stars love the sun. All are one and one is all in the great cosmic scheme. A great modern poet of some renown, Kahlil Gibran, spoke of this love most eloquently when he said the bee loves the flower for her honey and the flower loves the bee as a messenger for ‘it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower, but it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee. For to the bee, a flower is a fountain of life, and to the flower a bee is the messenger of love’.”
“Aha! I understand the bee and the flower,” Kinmalla raised one hand to stop him “but how could the mouse love the hawk that eats him? That is preposterous! It is against nature.”
“Not at all.” Omar shook his head. “I beg to differ with the great Lord Kinmalla. Allow me to elaborate.”
The judge nodded, but looked confident he had, at last, derailed Omar’s oratory.
“Creatures only seem to abhor death because of the pain that often accompanies it, but this is only natural. When death comes, its transforming effects far outweigh the pain one must suffer to attain it. The mouse avoids the claws of the hawk simply because it has an innate need to live in order to reproduce its kind, and he wishes to avoid pain. If such were not the case, we would all rush headlong into the arms of death. For is it better to struggle through life when all one has to do is die in order to experience the divine? The Creator in His Wisdom places this fear in His creatures so they will not simply lie down and wait to be devoured. But once devoured, they are set free, having done their part in the Cosmic Scheme, for only then they are not held at fault for having died, but are accepted into the ether, into the realms of Heaven where transformation will take place. If they have lived successfully, then they will attain to a higher level of perfection, and therefore, they have been freed by the hawk. Would not an oppressed soul love his benefactor? A drowning man loves his rescuer, does he not? A lost man loves the one who finds him. A thirsting man loves the one who quenches his thirst. A hungry man loves the one who feeds him. When a man is condemned to the squalor of prison without hope, should he not also love his executioner? Perhaps, it is not evident on the surface, but in the heart it is so. We welcome death when it comes at the appropriate hour.”
“I will accept that.” Kinmalla’s pleased look had faded. “But what has that to do with Lord Marduk?”
“I say to you, it was he who introduced the idea of altruistic love to mankind. It was Marduk and others like him who taught them to love for the sake of loving and as a natural progression, to do good for the sake of doing good. Even Jesus is credited with having said cursed is the man devoured by the lion, but blessed is the lion devoured by the man.”
“I would pity a man devoured by such a beast, not curse him,” Kinmalla objected. “Furthermore, I would say men should be blessed when the lion was devoured.”
“On the surface that might seem well and good,” Omar agreed. “But relate to it from a different level. If the lion is taken into the man, he becomes a part of the man, therefore he is lifted up, but the man who is devoured by the lion becomes part of the lion. He sinks to the level of the beast.”
“Ahhh. You are not speaking of dining literally, but rather allegorically.” The Judge returned Omar’s smile. “I concede your point. Yes.”
“Then, you would have to agree that the green plants of the earth love the people who eat them. Such a love may not be realized by the plant in its present form, but one day, when the plant has developed sufficiently along the lines of evolution, it will learn of the existence of such love and place a name on it. A name that was first given to men in this era of humanity by none other than Lord Marduk who sits before you. Altruism. The goal of all civilized men. Altruism is what we must learn in order to live together without the passion of war and the passion of cruelty spawned by cruel and selfish love. Contrary to popular belief, not all love is good. If you would look for evil love, you would find it, my Lord.”
“Evil love?” Kinmalla scoffed and then frowned. “You bring to mind things of which I should never have thought before. The concept of evil love would go a long way with some of the kings I have known.”
“Exactly, but we must transcend those stages of development. Even the gods must give up evil love, and I believe this one who sits before you has learned that lesson,” Omar turned to Marduk. “Have you not experienced the pain that goes hand in hand with evil love, Lord Marduk?”
Marduk nodded his head slowly. Semiramis. Meredith. To name two. The company of women. But there had been other evil loves in his life. He’d always called them lust, but perhaps lust had only been a word invented to cover up the real nature of the emotion men wished to deny. Renaming it did nothing to diminish its destructive power.
Omar turned back to the judge. “Look upon him, Your Honor,” he continued. “He does not deserve further punishment than that which he already suffers. His soul, though he believes himself rift of such, is ripped in twain, and he suffers for the return of his mate. All pleasure is gone from his life.” Omar paused, and Marduk tried to affect a hurt expression. “Let this be his punishment, great Lord, that he should learn the value of altruism over selfish love. Once he has made the distinction and recovered sufficiently, then he may be worthy of the great titles afforded him by the Sons of Atlantis long ago.”
“What do you know of the Sons of Atlantis?” Marduk was suddenly on his feet, all pretense lost.
“I know Lord Adar is a Son of Atlantis among other things, and that he is also your venerated uncle, who ruled the land of Khem when you were but an upstart in Sumeria. Who sent you the message to teach the Sumerians of your wisdom? From whom did you gain authority to lead the people into the Light, Lord Marduk? Did he not send his priests to you and your followers in the shadows of the past?”
“Lord Adar? Nay! Twas the great Thoth! Thoth, the Son of Light. It was Thoth who sent out word to….” Marduk fell silent and his shoulders slumped before he continued. “So! He was there in front of my eyes even then. I had searched the world over for him.” Marduk turned his back and slapped one fist against his open palm.
“You sought to destroy him along with his father and your own,” Lord Kinmalla continued the story for him. “He was secreted amongst the men of ancient Atlantis until the Dweller of Undal found him in the darkness. He could not hide long amongst men. And so the Lords of Amenti used him to spread their wisdom to the hairy barbarians as told in the Emerald Tablets of Thoth. Ahhh, yes, I have heard of these great tablets. A wasted effort, if you ask me. Men… bahh!”
“I am a fool.” Marduk dropped onto the stone bench. “I worshipped Thoth. I worshipped Lord Adar. I am a fool.”
Nergal looked at his companion in amazement.
“This is most interesting, my friends,” Nergal spoke in the ensuing silence. “But speaking of selfish motives, I would ask if I might be allowed to return to the Fifth Gate. My wife is waiting for me. I appreciate all of this knowledge, though it burdens my poor brain to the limits of its capacity. I see that things are under control here, and so I should be on my way.”
“What of Lord Nergal, Your Honor?” Omar asked the judge.
“Do you also have crimes of which to accuse him?”
“No,” the Judge said and stood up again. “He has committed no crime of which I am aware. No children have come from him, intentionally or otherwise. Nor has he interfered in the affairs of man other than a few displays of power here and there. In fact, he has led an exceptional life since his retirement to the Fifth Gate. He may go.”
Omar nodded to Nergal, glad to know that Nergal’s most recent forays into the world of men had yet to be recorded in the Ancient Records. The Lord of the Fifth gate rose slowly and placed one hand on Marduk’s shoulder.
“I will be waiting for you in the Fifth Gate, when you are finished here, my friend,” he told the distraught Marduk. “Do not take it so very hard. We have all been deceived by Lord Adar. A crafty one that. Look at my dear wife, Ereshkigal. Has she not fallen victim to him on several occasions?”
“What say you?” Kinmalla interrupted him. “Your wife is Ereshkigal, Queen of the Abyss?”
“Of course.” Nergal turned a dark, suspicious eye on the judge.
“She would stand before this bench and give account of herself.” The Judge wagged one long finger at him. “I suggest you send her at once.”
Nergal almost spoke and then clamped his mouth shut. He bowed slightly and then placed his helmet on his head.
“I shall see to it,” he said shortly, and then winked at Omar before leaving the cavern.
When he emerged from the cavern, he was set upon immediately by what he thought to be a fist-sized rock thrown from above. The thing hit his neck and bounced onto the ground. He looked down to find that it was not a rock, but a spiderling. This one had no leathery wings or red eyes as the others, but deep blue compound eyes, which sparkled in the moonlight. Its bulbous body was covered with black and white striped fur. Nergal raised one foot and squashed it flat before it could regain its legs. It made a horrid screech and a sickening pop.
The Wayward Godking Page 16
