The Lord of Always

by David Brian

  “Do not attempt to play me with words, little cast-off. I do not answer to Anat. And I understand what you have done here and what is soon to come. My sister must answer for her own follies. Be aware of this though, she operates in His name, and neither shall forgive your actions.”

  “Fair enough. But then what of you? Will you allow me to proceed on with these few?”

  “I grow bored of their begging and complaining, just as I bore of you. Take them and be gone, cousin. Understand and praise my mercy. But be warned, this place is not for the likes of you. It never was, and certainly is no more. If you ever again choose to enter these lands, Father’s hand will make it your final moment.”

  George offered the Storm Lord a solitary nod. “I understand.”

  Baal Hadad passed a final authoritative gaze over our terrified group, and I am certain that each of us felt ice running through our veins. He pointed an emaciated finger in our direction.

  “You have been lucky this day, my children. I am merciful.” With a rumble of thunder and a flash of lightning, he was gone.

  As Young George turned to us I intended to ask if it was over, and just what Baal Hadad had meant when he said George was ‘already doomed’, but it quickly became apparent.

  Even beneath his battle stained features, it was easy to see the previously reinvigorated George fading. He now walked with a stoop and rounded shoulders, his muscle tone having slimmed even beyond his original build. And for sure the warrior George’s height too had diminished. This George Smoke was a tall man, but no taller in stature than the George I knew back in Northampton…In fact, what the hell? I know this man.

  “George?” The tone of this solitary pronunciation revealed my wife’s confusion.

  “What the fuck is this?” demanded Paul. “How can all these blokes be virtually identical? And what happened to the young chap?”

  “Frank?” Joseph looked to me for answers, but I remained otherwise occupied.

  “George? Is it really you?”

  “Hello, Frank. Rosalind,” he replied, wrapping my wife in a warm embrace.

  “George? Northampton George. How is this possible?” Roz couldn’t stop shaking her head.

  “You can probably figure some of it out, and Frank can fill you in with much more…but this is neither the time nor place for light conversation.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “It is good to see you, George. And I was wondering if you’d come…you know, what with all of the others being here.”

  “Well, perhaps not all of them,” my old neighbor answered, wrapping his left arm across my shoulders and pulling me into the embrace. “Besides, how could I not come, eh? You’re two of my favorite young people.”

  Chapter 40

  To be honest I struggle to remember much of what came next. I recall a feeling of satisfying warmth seemed to engulf me, almost certainly sparked by the fact Northampton George had turned up to save us. I also recollect him being somewhat reluctant to engage our party in explanations, instead insisting: “There is no time for idle chatter. We need to move as we are still on the clock.”

  Once we reached the clearing where the torches burned, George instructed us to stand in the center of the circle, at the point directly between where the star and moon sigils beaconed against the sky.

  George asked if he might hold Peter’s hand, while Cathy placed herself to the other side of her child and then linked fingers with her father. George instructed the rest of us to complete the link and form a circle. Roz positioned herself between Paul and I, and I turned to the feathered lady and took hold an avian talon. Kurt and Joseph moved to complete the formation.

  We stood in silence, our small band of survivors, perhaps each of us with a different anticipation of what to expect, though none of us could have anticipated correctly. As best I can recall, there was a moment when the light breeze dipped slightly, and it was perhaps this moment when all of us sensed we were on the cusp. Roz squeezed tightly on my hand as unaccountable warmth seemed to rise around us; the heat clawed at me, as though trying to enter my mouth, nose and eyes, and as I squinted and clamped shut my lips, refusing to breathe in the cloying atmosphere, this was when it happened.

  It was as though reality began moving past us, as if we were at the very center of the cosmos, observing a universal three-dimensional television screen showing a sped up movie. The whole of creation raced past us; not just the world as I knew it. Alien worlds, far stranger even than this godforsaken red land in which we currently stood; worlds inhabited by tiny humanoids, many of whom had faces like horrific clowns; other worlds were inhabited by men and women who stood taller than skyscrapers, and shepherded creatures of even larger stature; there were realms inhabited by forms so alien it remains impossible to describe them, and it barely makes sense even to consider them alive. All of these sights and sounds and smells whizzed past us at what seemed an ever-increasing pace, everything moving toward the building which had once been Penhale House and which now stood as a dark and bleak hell house. We struggled to stay on our feet, just as we struggled to hold a breath; a torrent of wind and rain and hail combined with heat from the hottest of summer days and intermittent snowfalls capable of burying mountains, all of it battering our bodies in an assault which seemed to last hours, though I suspect passed in moments.

  George was attempting instructions, screaming at us to not break the link; his words stifled by the vacuum tearing his lungs. Then, just as rapidly, everything fell to silence, the world becoming more hushed than calm beyond the wildest storm.

  “Is it over?” I whispered.

  He shook his head, and I noticed his grip tighten. I instinctively followed suit.

  “Ouch!” protested Roz, my hold transitioning to a painful squeeze.

  I made to explain myself, but there was no time for words.

  Every aspect of reality, which moments earlier had pulled toward the house, suddenly exploded with a vengeance. Orange flames spat and licked at the red tinged sky, the dark house we had fled in fear was blown apart by the might of the explosion. This time there had been no sense of a vacuum, the vacuuming up of reality which had so disorientated us just moments before; rather it was like the fluttering of a light breeze, gentle fingers caressing our faces with warming currents. We watched as the house burned; orange and yellow tongues of light striking a stunning impression against the backdrop of a carmine sky, timber and masonry crackled and groaned, succumbing to the devastating heat. The reach of the explosion had been impossibly cataclysmic; behind us, trees and bushes burned to cinders, their smoldering remains a hotbed of licking, spitting ashes; the mountains, though some several miles distant, these too bore wounds from the explosive heat. A third of the way up the mountainside, black smoldering scars seared the rock face.

  “Jesus H. Christ!” said Joseph.

  “And then some,” I said.

  Peter sniffled and wiped a hand across his face, clearing smeary tears from saucer-wide eyes. “Did we win?”

  “Is it over?” asked Paul.

  George nodded. “Yes. It’s over. And yes, Peter, we did win…sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “Yes, Rosalind. Sort of. Every battle has a cost; a price to pay.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  He let go of Peter, but kept hold of the talon in his other hand. Stroking the back of the limb with his thumb, he uttered those same weird vrooootts the other George had used. The woman emitted a soft melodic murmur of reassured contentment.

  “What about the other Georges?” asked Roz.

  “Yes,” I said. “What happened to them, George?”

  “They played their part,” he answered.

  It struck me that there was a tremble to his voice.

  “What happened in there?” insisted Joseph.

  George wore a downbeat expression. “We couldn’t let them leave. They would have come for you. Anat would have come for you.”

  “Jesus! You mean to say that you did t
hat?”

  “Yes, Kurt. It was I…it was us… we did that. It was all part of the plan. Sad to say, but it really was the only remaining play.”

  “But you made a deal. What about the deal you made with that Chaos guy?”

  George nodded at Paul. “This entity, as you witnessed it; it was merely a personification, a representation spawned of Chaos. He may hold a position as a Lord of Heaven, but do not be fooled. Hadad is ever the Great Deceiver. He stood aside as we struck at his sibling, as I knew he would; though certainly not through any act of benevolence. You need to understand that these are beings who are forever squabbling; their existence heightened by the waging of wars, and constant infractions. These red lands, they are a nexus point of the lowest Heaven. These grounds are held by Anat. You can rest assured; Lord Hadad had no reason being here, other than to offer some minor token of resistance as he watched us take his sister down.”

  “Hold on a minute,” said Cathy. “You are telling us this God forsaken place is Heaven?”

  “It is simply one of many Heavens.”

  There was a moments silence then, I guess the whole of our group weighing up George’s last statement. If this was Heaven, then what hope could any of us truly have?

  “So, they’re dead? You killed every single archon and hoggish-pig-thing?” I said, breaking the quiet. “But aren’t they supposed to repair tears in reality, or something? Didn’t you… one of those others of you, say they are needed…on some level at least?”

  “We only removed the archons trapped in that grim dwelling, Frank. There are still untold others. All we have done is to put a marker down on each of you. They will not risk bothering any of you again.”

  “How can you be sure? And what of Anat, has she gone too?”

  “Yes, at least for now, though she will present issues in the longer term… However, Anat has many games still to play, she will no longer concern herself with this pastime…you are free of her.”

  Kurt was shaking his head. “How can you be sure?”

  “I have some understanding of the reasoning behind their ridiculous distractions, so you’ll just have to trust me that this one is done.”

  I gestured to our alien surroundings. “You claim this is Heaven, George? It’s more like something from those American science-fiction movies. It looks…alien. And how does what just happened here protect any of us?”

  “I guess you would be justified in calling this alien, though all that really matters is that it is a nexus, a gateway to certain higher and lower points of reality. This exact location in which we stand, it has many names; Bifrost, Lake Titicaca, Star Gate, the names are legion. But setting all this aside, what matters is that we have set our marker down.”

  “And what happened to your doppelgangers in the house? And what about my wife?” asked Joseph. “Can you bring her back? Is there some way to save her now these things are gone?”

  “I’m not sure about your wife,” answered George. “We’ll just have to see.”

  “Okay.” Joseph remained downcast.

  “I will see if I can help recover your wife, Joseph,” continued George, as his eyes caught mine. I had little doubt Joseph was in for further heartbreak.

  “And the other Georges?”

  “As I said, Frank, we won the battle…but all victories come at a cost.”

  “But… the George Smoke I came here with…she killed him.”

  “I know. It bloody well hurt, too!”

  “What? Molly will be devastated.”

  Northampton George waved a hand at me. “No she won’t. You don’t have to worry about that old bugger. It’ll take more than some deluded archon bitch to keep him down.”

  I can’t claim to have been reassured, but still I didn’t have the heart to question him further. My old friend looked crestfallen.

  “What happens now?” asked Roz. “Where do we go? The hotel – or whatever it had turned into – is gone. All of our luggage and money was in there. Where do we go?”

  “Head down the hill to the cottage. Frank knows where I mean.”

  “What about the others?” I asked.

  “Just get on down the hill,” he said to Roz and me. “I’ll take care of Joseph, Cathy and Peter. And I’ll make sure that Paul and Kurt and Thrackel get home, too, he said stroking the woman’s talon.”

  The bird-woman, Thrackel, had previously cooed like a dove, now she positively sang her melody. It was only then I began to understand, the vrooott noises had been consistent with a human voice raised in distress. We watched awestruck as Thrackel and George stood before us pitching harmonies. I think each of us was impressed by the man’s ability to make such noises. Our sense of relief was palpable, as at last we were able to relax and enjoy listening to this alien – or at least non-human – conversation.

  I had to ask. “Who are you, George? Both Anat and Baal Hadad described you as having fallen.”

  He just smiled that same reassuring smile. “I’m your friend, Frank.”

  And with that we said our goodbyes, embracing warmly and each wishing the others a fond farewell. Roz and I shared kisses with Joseph and Cathy. I enjoyed lifting Peter from the ground and hugging the boy – it was the first time I got to hold him with the both of us wearing a smile. It didn’t strike at all odd sharing such warm embraces with this trio who we would soon meet again, because I already suspected that within a day or two this whole situation would be recalled as little more than an impossible to believe nightmare.

  George bid each of us well, and assured us that what lie ahead would be a brief and comfortable journey. I inquired again as to the safety of the other Georges, and particularly to the wellbeing of Old George. He told me not to concern myself, and that I would doubtless meet the man again. Then he said: “Do not grieve for any of us who have been lost. Just remember that we all have our part to play, and our journey to partake.”

  And with that it was done.

  We walked as a group back in the direction of the burning shell which until recently had resembled a house, Roz and I turning off to our left prior to reaching the patio. As we passed through an orchard of smoldering stumps, and on toward the courtyard fronting the property, the rest of our band continued walking in the direction of the patio at the rear of the property. They appeared to be headed directly toward the burning building. It was a thought that troubled me, but I chose to push it from my mind. I gave Roz’s hand a firm but gentle squeeze, and this prompted her to stop walking and to turn and pull me to her. We kissed. It was an act of relief rather than one of passion, but our love could not be diminished by the shadow of burning death that lingered in the red sky.

  When, finally, our lips parted, I slipped my arm from round her waist and, after taking her hand in mine, we headed for the gates leading away from the nightmare that was this place.

  Chapter 41

  A cloud of sumptuous luminance shone like a beacon in the carmine night, lighting our path as we looked to exit the grounds of where once had stood Penhale House.

  We were alone now, and I accepted this. Yet all I could see beyond the main gates was that same mountainous cascade as viewed from the rear of the property. Several miles in the distance, those huge peaks taller than any mountains I knew of reached for the heavens. We appeared to be standing at the very center of the range. In places, burgundy clouds had begun to lessen, no longer obscuring from view row upon row of huge stone effigies lining the rims of each peak. It was impossible to make out the finer details of these forms, or to understand their purpose, but many of the figures represented human-animal hybrids. There were women with bird wings, dog-headed men, and other figures with the bodies of animals – lions, dogs, crocodilians, birds, elephants and insects – with human looking heads. One thing was certain, this place of torment we had escaped; it stood at the core of an immense amphitheatre built to appease creatures of a hideous nature. A chill ran through me as I realized that, even with all that had occurred, we had no real understanding for the purpose o
f this place.

  Roz tugged at my arm. “I don’t get it. George said we should leave and head back down the lane, but…”

  “Yeah…there is no lane. I don’t know, Tub. I guess we just clear the gates first, and then hopefully we’ll get some clue as to direction.”

  We need not have worried.

  As we headed out of the main gates the world changed, everything shifting, like clouds breaking on a summer’s day. The tainted red sky slipped from existence, replaced by the pink-orange of summer sunset. Birds sang in the trees, as overhead the heavens dimmed, the defeated day beginning to slide away, succumbing to an unstoppable advance; the creeping charcoal of a July evening.

  Roz looked around, as though truly noticing the world for the first time. “This is incredible.”

  “It is. It really is. I don’t think I realized how much I missed it until it wasn’t here anymore.”

  “So, what now, soldier boy?”

  “I guess we do as George says, and head on down the hill.”

  “This whole situation; it’s been a hell of a thing.”

  “Yes,” I said, “it’s been a hell of a thing.”

  Chapter 42

  We made our way down the hill in the direction of the Smokes’ cottage, the last light of day still resisting on the horizon, the countryside vital with the sound of creatures busying their last chores.

  There was a strange feeling haunting the pit of my soul. On the one hand, being here right now – at this moment in time, holding the woman I loved and listening to the hustle and bustle of the last throes of day – made me feel alive. I felt happy, and safe. But, try as I might, still my mind kept jumping to the events of the previous hours. I remained filled with a numbing chill; the effects of which I suspected would burden both our souls for the remainder of our years.

  Molly stood waiting by the front door even as we entered the garden. Should either of us have contributed her welcome as being spurred by some form of precognitive ability, this was quickly dispelled by the look of concern painting her pallid features. Hours earlier, her persona had struck me as confident and untroubled. But hers had doubtless been a nervous watch.