Europa Journal

by Jack Castle

  Harry felt a slight shock and suddenly heard beautiful harp-like sounds. When he looked up, he saw glowing female forms in translucent gowns playing strange, yet wonderful, instruments. The smell of an intense, pleasant fragrance flooded his nostrils, and his body instantly felt lighter.

  “Do you hear them now?” Asha asked.

  His senses were so overwhelmed that he had nearly forgotten her presence. “Yes,” he said, “but what did you do?”

  Asha thought about his question before answering. “I helped you,” she finally said. She grabbed the inside of his elbow, and they continued to move deeper into the palace with the masses.

  As they neared a hallway leading to one of the outer chambers, an effeminate male voice addressed Asha and said, “Ah, Dan-Sai Asha, we’ve been expecting you.”

  Harry saw a tall, thin, elf-like man standing amongst the numerous marble columns that flanked the hallway. The elf’s velvet clothes were adorned with glittering jewels, and he had multiple rings on each of his fingers.

  “Do you know him?” Harry whispered.

  “No, do you?”

  “Please, Dan-Sai, right this way.” The elf, who was nearly as thin as Asha, gestured for the group to follow him up a large marble staircase that was hidden from the masses by the thick columns. Every inch of the walls around the staircase was adorned with decorations composed of precious metals.

  “Thank you,” Asha said in her language. Harry understood her perfectly and assumed this was another benefit of her ‘help’. He found himself wondering why she hadn’t ‘helped’ him before now. Perhaps it was something that had taken her time to figure out or maybe it wasn’t until after the bar fight she had deemed him worthy.

  After ascending the staircase, they were ushered into a white tiled room where numerous visitors received spa treatments from dozens of Mook slaves. Some visitors received manicures, while others received haircuts or deep-tissue massages. The room reminded Harry of a very fancy version of his mom’s beauty salon back home in his youth.

  When the Mook beauticians weren’t scrambling about in a frenzied state, hurriedly obeying their master’s commands, they were dancing on the balls of their two-toed feet, anxiously awaiting their master’s next command.

  “Don’t worry, Dan-Sai. We’ll have you looking fabulous in no time,” the head beautician informed Asha.

  “Thank you, Master Beautician. You are most kind.”

  Seeing Captain Reed’s haggard appearance, the master beautician raised a nostril and said to his assistant, “Put the strange one into a susha bath right away.”

  “Get your damn hands off me!” Harry yelled when two Mooks grabbed him without warning. He heard a PHOOT sound, and when he turned toward it, he saw one of the Mooks concealing a small tube in his white tunic.

  Suddenly, a susha bath didn’t sound so bad anymore. It actually sounded pretty good.

  “It’s okay, Harry,” the princess said. “They’re just going to give you a susha bath.”

  “A su-sha bath?” Harry’s eyebrows raised as the room seemed to tilt at an odd angle.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.” She allowed the Mooks to lead him away, and she herself was led to another beauty chamber.

  “What about his clothes?” an assistant asked the master beautician.

  “Destroy them,” the master replied.

  Assistants immediately began tearing Harry’s clothes from his body. His prized bomber jacket had survived World War II, an alien abduction, and a crash-landing, only to be destroyed now.

  “No, wait,” the beautician said just before the Mooks threw Harry’s soiled and torn clothes into a nearby furnace. “Give his clothes the full number six cleaning treatment and repair them.”

  The Mooks gave Harry’s clothes to the tailor’s assistant, who was so short he could barely see over Harry’s garments and boots when they were piled into his arms.

  “What about his hair?” another assistant asked.

  The master beautician thoughtfully rubbed his narrow chin. “Shave him bald.”

  Harry’s eyes glanced questioningly at the assistant, who signaled another Mook to bring the clippers to the barber. The clippers were activated and began vibrating loudly. It seemed as if the buzzing sound of clippers was universal. Harry’s drugged body tensed up slightly, but the Mooks holding him tightened their grip on his arms.

  The tailor’s assistant dropped one of Harry’s boots, and as he bent down to pick it up, a photo fell out of Harry’s bomber jacket.

  The photo fluttered slightly and landed near the master beautician’s velvet slippers. He picked it up and examined it.

  It was the photo of Harry, Julie, and their daughter in front of their Florida home.

  “Wait!” the master beautician said to the barber with the clippers. “Cut his hair like this.” He held out the photo.

  The barber turned the photo this way and that and examined it up close and at arm’s length as if there would be serious consequences for any deviation from the haircut in the photo.

  Meanwhile, another set of Mooks retrieved a ladder, set it next to Harry, and climbed it at various heights.

  Without warning, the floor parted behind Harry. He glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes went wide when he saw a tub filled with thousands of small, diamond-shaped fish — susha, he presumed.

  The susha resembled suckerfish, but the sushas’ bodies were lined with thousands of little frilly fronds. These fronds scrubbed off the outer layer of dead skin and scooped it up into the sushas’ tiny mouths, which were located near their bellies. As they fed, the fish secreted a pleasant cologne.

  The Mook on the ladder’s top step placed a cap on Harry’s head, and the other two Mooks pushed his drugged body over. He fell backward like a towering oak tree and landed right in the tub.

  Despite the drugs he had been given, Harry was terrified when he felt the susha scrambling all over his body and imagined that the small creatures were eating him alive. He gripped both sides of the tub and attempted to climb out, but several Mooks shoved him back under the waves of susha. Harry screamed as they did so, but his scream was muffled by the squishy sounds of the squirming parasites.

  After every pore of Harry’s body had been cleansed, but violated, he was removed from the susha bath and given a robe. The Mooks drugged him for a second time and moved him to a cushioned chair for his haircut, manicure, pedicure, and facial.

  As Harry was getting his treatments, an assistant asked the master beautician, “Sire, what do you want to do about the Awumpai?”

  “Send them in one at a time.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” the assistant asked nervously.

  “Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

  “Well,” the assistant gulped, “the big one’s already eaten one of the Mooks.”

  Needless to say, the Awumpai never got susha baths. Harry figured that Hu-Nan would probably just eat the fish anyway.

  #

  After his treatments, Harry waited for Asha in a room near the palace’s main audience chamber. He wore his uniform, which now looked brand new, and he had never been cleaner or sweeter smelling in his life.

  “Hi Harry,” Asha said as she walked through the room’s double doors with her Awumpai behind her. “You look very pretty.”

  “I’ve never felt so violated before in my life,” Harry said.

  But Asha didn’t hear him. Her face suddenly turned serious, and she grabbed his hand and led him to a nearby couch.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, concerned by the serious look on her face.

  “Before we go inside, I want to give you something.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you remember the SongBird Goddess?”

  “Yes,” Harry replied immediately. He still felt compelled to rescue her. “Is she he
re?”

  “No, at least not really,” Asha whispered, as though to admit such a thing were a crime. “What I give you now is not from me but from the SongBird Goddess. I am merely a vessel. And she, she got it from the Father.”

  Asha took Harry’s severed wrist in her small hands. “I would have given it to you sooner, but I wasn’t ready.” She blew on his wrist, her breath sweeter than jasmine. “And I may not get a chance to give it to you later.” She blew again, and this time lights resembling tiny butterflies escaped from her bluish lips.

  Instinctively, Harry tried to pull away, but Asha held fast. Her delicate frame was surprisingly strong. “It kind of burns,” Harry said. The butterflies encircled his entire body, and he found himself in a tornado of the butterfly lights.

  “Hello in there! The gods will see you now,” an assistant said from behind the audience chamber’s double doors. He knocked and called to them again, but a vicious roar from Fu-Mar ceased any further inquiries.

  A few seconds later, the butterfly lights dimmed and disappeared. Asha, Harry, and the Awumpai walked to the doors that would lead them into the god’s audience chamber.

  Harry opened the door for Asha — and used his right hand.

  Chapter 20

  The Offering

  The audience chamber was roughly the size of a small football arena and had ceilings at least four stories tall. Despite its enormous size, nothing in the room was unadorned; every surface, from the walls to the furniture, was artfully and intricately decorated. If the décor itself didn’t overpower the senses, the contents of the room were sure to stagger the mind.

  Harry took one step inside and noticed alien orchestras floating in the air. The musicians played unique instruments and danced near the ceiling. He also saw a large body of clear cerulean water suspended in the air like a giant teardrop or drop of rain. When he walked beneath it, Harry saw blue-skinned, mermaid-like creatures frolicking in the water. One of them stopped to peer down at him. She had sea-green eyes, gills, and waist-length, braided hair that was clasped with tiny seashell clips. Although the mermaid initially took his breath away, she subsequently reminded him of the SongBird Goddess, who suffered in her aqueous tomb.

  Harry figured there had to be at least a thousand worshipers in the audience chamber. While some worshipers prostrated themselves in prayer, others enjoyed the festivities. The jubilant music was nearly drowned out by the worshipers’ laughter, talking, and singing as they honored the gods of their choice.

  Asha explained that royalty from every province of the known world was in attendance to pay tribute to the gods in the forms of gold, livestock, and slaves. Harry even saw Queen Apsu and her entourage. Her Mook slaves and the remainder of her jackal bodyguards pushed through the crowds while carrying her in her litter. Despite their recent unpleasant encounter at the ore-ship depot, Harry was glad to see a familiar face, even one as disagreeable as Queen Apsu’s.

  The queen’s jackals did a fair job of clearing a path until they encountered about thirty male humanoids who resembled Asha. Whoever they were, it was clear to Harry that the jackal honor guard wanted to mess with them about as much as they wanted to go another round with Fu-Mar.

  Asha noticed Harry looking at the humanoids and explained, “Those are Mukarian Bowmen. Their bows are the most feared weapons in the land.”

  Harry looked closely at the Mukarians, who wore similar mauve- and wine-colored tunics. He realized that what he had mistakenly assumed were animal bones on their backs were really curved bows.

  “They come from my father’s kingdom,” she added. One of the largest and most fierce-looking bowmen caught Asha’s eye and nodded respectfully.

  Asha curtsied and bowed her head in reply. Harry thought that he saw Asha blush slightly, which once again reminded him of her youth.

  Harry also saw that more of the powerful-looking Tripod sentries lined the walls and were sprinkled strategically amongst the crowd. The curious creatures stood watch and did not participate in the festivities. Harry saw Fu-Mar observing the Tripods, too.

  When they moved deeper into the room, Harry finally saw the ‘gods’. To him, every last one of them looked like they belonged in Frankenstein’s zoo. A demigod sitting in an alcove was the first to catch Harry’s attention. The god sat on a lavish throne that was engulfed in icy blue flames, and he was surrounded by worshipers. Everything the demigod touched blazed with icy flames until he released it. When Harry saw him put down a glass of wine, the goblet was frozen with ice.

  Looking at the gods, Mooks, hybrids, jackals, Mukarians, Tripods, and Awumpai, Harry recalled the fantastic creatures from Greek mythology and decided that this palace and the wondrous beings within its walls would surely give any Grecian or Roman Olympus a run for its money. Or perhaps they are all the same? he wondered.

  As Asha led them toward the front of the room, Harry saw a large circular dais. A towering, beautiful man with wolf-like facial features and sun-colored hair floated on a throne above it. He wore a form-fitting tunic that accented his powerfully built, twelve-foot-tall body. The man’s size was staggering; his skull alone was the size of a barrel, and he was at least a head taller than the Awumpai.

  “Who’s that?” Harry asked Asha in a hushed tone.

  “That is Atum-Khaos, ruler of all the gods, ruler of us all.”

  Harry could tell from her tone that she wasn’t happy about this situation. Despite Asha’s obvious mistrust of the god, to Harry, Khaos appeared to exemplify benevolence: his arms were outstretched, his palms face up, and he smiled down on his admiring worshipers. His energy seemed to extend throughout the room, and he also seemed to absorb and revel in his worshipers’ attention.

  The god’s followers crowded around him. Their hands were interlocked, and their bodies swayed rhythmically while they sang his praises. Harry was mesmerized by the scene, which was more fantastic than anything he had ever seen or imagined. Khaos seemed nothing like the cruel villain Asha had described. Harry felt as if he could stare at Khaos and admire his statuesque beauty for hours. Khaos was a living, breathing work of art — that is, until he looked back.

  Harry saw the god’s face and was startled to notice his dark, liquid eyes, which enveloped a quarter of his head; his mouth filled with rows of shark-like teeth; and his six-fingered hands. Harry had seen those black, soulless eyes before on the aliens that had abducted him and on the hybrids at Millwood Junction. It suddenly dawned on Harry that the aliens and hybrids were Khaos’s offspring. Somehow, Khaos must have crossbred himself with early versions of the Mooks to create hybrids, the same way his mother used to crossbreed the flowers in her garden back home.

  But that didn’t explain Asha and the Mukarian bowmen. They looked nothing like Khaos. Whose offspring are they? Harry wondered. He suddenly remembered the SongBird Goddess’s swirling multi-colored eyes — eyes that resembled Asha’s and the Mukarian bowmen’s — and realized that they must be the goddess’s offspring.

  Spying a large gleaming baton near the armrest of Khaos’s throne, Harry asked, “What’s that on his throne?”

  “That’s the scepter of power,” Asha said. “It was forged by the one true Father, Anu.”

  So that’s the only thing in the universe capable of freeing the SongBird Goddess, Harry thought. To him, it looked like a glowing storm lantern on a stick, except the lantern portion appeared to be at least three feet tall and two feet in diameter, while the stick portion added another twelve inches in length. The scepter was engulfed in a white-hot light. Harry suspected that to look at it was to risk blindness.

  Before Harry could inquire about the scepter further, there was a loud, THOCK THOCK THOCK near one of the sidewalls. Everyone turned and saw a black-robed old man with a bushy beard. He beat his wooden staff, which was a foot taller than he was, onto the floor of a balcony that overlooked the entire room. The music stopped, and the talking ceased. Not a sound could
be heard within the chamber.

  Seeing that he had everyone’s attention, the old man raised his weathered staff and shouted at the top of his lungs, “All hail Atum-Khaos!” His face beamed with love.

  “All hail Atum-Khaos!” the crowd boomed back in response.

  “All hail he who brought the universe from the Great Darkness!” the old man shouted.

  “All hail Atum-Khaos!” the crowd cried more loudly and jubilantly than before.

  “All hail he who did battle with the evil gods for his children and was victorious!”

  “All hail Atum-Khaos!”

  “Do you love your god of your own free will and with all of your heart?” the robed man asked.

  Around Harry, Asha, and the Awumpai, the crowd thundered, “With all our hearts, we do!”

  “Then let the tributes begin!” the old man bellowed, his lungs nearly bursting from his chest.

  There was a loud cheer from the followers. The orchestra once again played joyous music, and a long procession of tributes from numerous kingdoms began. Each kingdom, along with its tribute of precious gems, ore, livestock, or slaves, was announced in turn.

  Watching Khaos bless his followers as they showered him with offerings, Harry found himself wondering what he was really looking at. Had everything he had been taught in Sunday school been a complete and utter lie? Was this really the god who spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai?

  A Mook servant carrying a platter of hors d’oeuvres bumped into Harry and interrupted his thoughts. Harry looked down at the small creature who offered him what looked like a susha wrapped up in a little doughy roll. When the hors d’oeuvre blinked back at him, Harry declined.

  “You are wondering if he is God,” the Mook waiter said.

  “Are you talking to me?” Harry asked. He was surprised that he and the Mook were able to communicate but surmised that it was another result of Asha’s ‘help’ when they had first entered the castle.