The Sinner King: Book of Fire

by D. R. Crislip

  She couldn't see how that would be possible but agreed despite her feelings. "All right, explain it. What is Revelations?"

  Corbin nodded and said: "Revelations foretells the end of the ‘known' world—known being the key. The prophecies told in Revelations are a bit enigmatic and can be hard to decipher. It's partly due to the fact that the men having these visions didn't quite understand what they were seeing. Many have studied them and have drawn conclusions to their meaning—me being one of them."

  Rebecca looked at the book in Morlan's hand and asked: "What do they say?"

  "They say a lot; but in laymen's terms, they say that sometime soon a savior will be born. They say that the savior, who had once lived before and was persecuted for not conforming to the Ministry, will return to free his people: the Free People's Society—or as you know us: the Heretique. Revelations declares that this man will open The Seven Seals of some great book, which will cast down the destruction of the known world, freeing the oppressed and bringing eternal happiness."

  "It says all of that?" asked Rebecca. "It mentions a book that will bring destruction to the known world?" It was exactly what the manuscript had said.

  Morlan nodded. "That's right. We're on the brink of a very exciting time. If the prophecies are true, and there is a book that contains the power to . . ." his words trailed off. His eyes locked in on the d-reader in Rebecca's hand.

  Rebecca looked down at the d-reader too and shook her head. She realized what he was thinking. "No, this can't be it. This manuscript isn't the Book of Thoth."

  "The Book of what?" Morlan said.

  Rebecca thought about what Zius in the manuscript said and tried another name: "This manuscript isn't Logos."

  All three men froze.

  "I'm right, aren't I? The book with seven seals is called Logos." Rebecca explained how she knew that and how it was also known as the Book of Thoth. "This manuscript is a chronicle of William's search for Logos: the Book of Thoth." She hesitated before saying, "William wrote it for me. He says I need to use it in order to save the world."

  "For you?" said Corbin, curiously. "What do you mean by that?"

  Rebecca figured showing him would say more. She went to the beginning of the translation on the d-reader and handed it to him. Corbin silently read it and then shook his head.

  "What does it say?" Morlan asked.

  Corbin handed it back to Rebecca and said: "It says the manuscript was written for her. No one else is supposed to read it. She is the only one who can bring the savior to our world." Corbin, however, didn't sound too convinced.

  "How can that be?" Iah said.

  Morlan looked as bewildered as the rest. "It doesn't make sense. How can William Coulee be trying to help Rebecca?"

  "He can't," declared Corbin. "This manuscript must be a fake."

  Everyone watched him walk away, like a man who was just defeated in some great game.

  Rebecca looked at the d-reader and then back to Corbin. "But what if it isn't? The manuscript dated to The First Time. How can it be fake? How could anyone fake thousands of years of carbon dating?"

  "They can't," Morlan said, "but they can manipulate TRNSLTR so that it thinks it's thousands of years old."

  Rebecca had considered that at one point but she no longer believed it. "No. I don't think so."

  "Why?" Corbin said suddenly with his back still turned toward them.

  "Because, why would the Security Chief want it so badly? Why would Jillian Heddington have killed herself?"

  Iah and Morlan both looked confused. Rebecca filled them in on what had happened days ago. Both men seemed encouraged by this. Morlan acknowledged that she had a point.

  Iah nodded his head and said: "I agree. If this is some Ministry plot, it doesn't make sense for them to be trying to recapture the book."

  Corbin turned around; his face slightly uplifted. "True. But if it is in fact authentic, I have to say that the author of the manuscript is a cruel joke."

  Rebecca sighed and dropped her bags onto the ground. "Alright, enough of the mystery! Who is William Coulee?"

  Corbin nodded his head in submission and took a couple of steps toward her. "William Coulee is the Ministry appointed man in charge of capturing me. William Coulee is an MSF agent."

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Corbin decided it was time to take a break from their discussion so that he could meditate on what Rebecca had brought them. Everyone agreed that a break was a good idea. Morlan escorted Rebecca to an empty room with a bed that she could use for the duration of her stay. She laid her bags down and said: "Explain it to me, Morlan."

  "Explain what?"

  "Everything: from the beginning, how the Free People's Society was formed, how you ended up here . . . everything."

  Morlan sighed and then smiled. "Okay." He walked over and sat onto the hard looking bed, his breath steamed out in little bursts. "What do you know about The Creator?"

  "Not much, really; I know The Creator is a myth—that before the arrival of Ziusudra, the indigenous tribes all believed that there was this supernatural being responsible for making the sun, the moon, the stars, and the world."

  "All of that is correct. It's believed by the people before us, the original members of the Free People's Society, that The Creator made everything in six days. On the seventh: The Creator observed life on Earth and saw that it was good. The Creator made the decision to enter our world so that it could experience the beauty and wonder first hand, as a living being; thus creating what is known as The Trinity, three divine beings: the Spirit, the Mind, and the Body. It was believed by these founding members of the Free People's Society that the three divine beings exist here, on Earth, completely unaware of who they are, living an infinite life with amnesia. These members believed that The Creator had intended it to be this way, so that it wouldn't know it was indeed The Creator, thus allowing it to live in ignorant bliss."

  "So The Creator purposefully divided itself and gave its three divisions amnesia?"

  "Well . . . yes."

  "And, because of the amnesia, there is no way for The Creator to reform?"

  "Ah, no . . . I was just getting to that. The Creator supposedly locked away a special power, that when used correctly, will unite all three divine beings into one: reforming The Creator. But this is only to be done when the world has become so corrupted that a blissful existence is no longer achievable."

  "Is that special power the Logos?"

  "Yes."

  The Heretique's agenda became a little clearer. "And you believe all of this?"

  Morlan sighed and clasped his hands together. "Yes and no."

  "Explain, please."

  "As a man of science, my ability to blindly believe has its limits. I don't know if spiritual beings exist, and I don't know if there is an all-encompassing power hiding in this world, waiting to unite The Creator. I do, however, believe that there is more to this world than we understand. I believe, whole heartedly, that we've been lied to by the Ministry, and that there is something out there that will right what has been wronged. Your father believes that Logos is real . . . as do I . . . however, what we think it truly is, differs. Your father's belief lies more closely with the founding members, while mine lies more on the practical side."

  "What do you believe?"

  "I think there is a book out there—not William's manuscript—that contains enlightening information about our history, about our development as human beings."

  It was Rebecca's turn to sigh. "Something that contradicts the Ministry."

  "The Ministry is lying to us, Rebecca."

  "You've lied, too," she quickly pointed out.

  Morlan's shoulders slumped and he said: "I know . . . I wish I hadn't . . . I wish I had stood up to the lies, instead of creating my own. I wish I was stronger."

  Rebecca could see the disappointment in his eyes and felt sorry for him. But she still didn't understand how he was so convinced, how he could accept one possible reality over another. Just
because the Ministry had lied to them didn't mean that everything was false and it didn't mean that the Heretique had it right. She wondered and asked: "Why do you believe Logos exists?"

  Morlan cleared his throat and said: "The book I showed you earlier, written by persecuted members of the Heretique—of the Free People's Society—lays out a different tale of how the Free People's Society formed, particularly about the life of its founder: Abraham. You already know how the first four cities of The Collective were formed . . ."

  "Yes; Uruk was founded by Ziusudra after the great flood, his successor Utu founded Kish, Mesh-ki-ang-gashee founded Akkad, and Enmerkar founded Babel . . . the first four Ministers and the first four cities of what was known as the Sumer, then later known as Ziusudria, and eventually The Collective."

  "And you know that Abraham had raised a rebellion against Enmerkar."

  "Right: Abraham from Canaa. He infiltrated the Sumer and tried to form an internal resistance against the fourth Minister, Enmerkar, while Canaash warriors attacked the Sumer's perimeter. Abraham was eventually captured and executed, and the Canaash were driven back and later defeated by the fifth Minister, Callidas, when he pushed them into the Salty Sea."

  Morlan nodded his head and then raised a finger. "Abraham wasn't from Canaa."

  "What? Yes he was—"

  "Abraham wasn't a Canaash"—Morlan repeated, cutting her off—"he was a Sumerian."

  "What are you talking about? That's not—"

  "What the Ministry teaches . . . I know. But trust your old mentor, Rebecca; Abraham was a Sumerian. He was born and raised in Babel, under Enmerkar's rule: thirty-three years of oppression."

  "Oppression?" That was blasphemous to Rebecca's ears.

  "Yes; a firsthand account, given by Abraham, is in the book I showed you earlier, as well as The Creator myth we discussed. Abraham believed in The Creator myth and also believed that Enmarker held Logos. Abraham wrote that he desired to locate Logos and reunite the three divine beings into one, thus ending the oppression of Enmerkar. But as history has foretold, he was captured and later executed for treason, thus beginning the damnation of any challenger and the labeling of Heretique onto those who sided with Abraham. The attack by the Canaash didn't happen until much later, at the end of Enmarker's reign and the beginning of Callidas's."

  "How can you believe this?"

  "Science and faith, Rebecca: science proves the Ministry dates for the Canaash attacks are wrong and faith tells me that the Abraham account is correct."

  There was that word again: faith. Rebecca understood little of it. And as a man of science, she couldn't understand how Morlan could risk so much based on it. They sat in silence for a moment before Morlan said: "I empathize with you, Rebecca, I truly do. It wasn't easy for me when I first encountered these truths." He patted her leg and stood up. "Give it time, let it sink in, and I think you'll begin to see the way I see . . . that there is more to this world than the Ministry would have us believe."

  *******

  Rebecca didn't say much as Morlan left her alone. He told her that someone would get her when Corbin was ready to continue. Rebecca politely thanked him, but wasn't feeling thankful. Morlan told her things that she simply didn't want to hear. It seemed her problem was growing more complicated with every passing minute. She had yet to fully digest the news about William Coulee being an MSF agent. In her mind, William's manuscript shifted from being a Heretique conspiracy to possibly a Ministry conspiracy, which complicated things beyond belief. Furthermore, Rebecca didn't see her father as an evil man, like she had originally hoped he would be. That would have made things easier when it came time to act, which was a whole different problem that she had yet to begin solving. How was she going to use her father?

  Rebecca lay on the bed and retrieved the d-reader. Since she had time, she decided to read further. She tried to forget Corbin's assessment, that the manuscript was a fraud, and attempted to read it fresh—as she had all along. She found where she left off and reread how William escaped Bertók, who claimed to be Ziusudra:

  *******

  Outside, the moon was full overhead. The house I just escaped was a small square home made of stone brick. It had probably been there for hundreds of years, and the land around it was nothing but rugged brush in a hilly terrain for as far as I could see. There wasn't much time until Hansen and company would come out with guns blazing. I quickly looked around for some sort of transportation and crept along the side of the house. What I found was a tired looking car from two decades ago. I ran over and found it unlocked. The interior smelled like spoiled milk and the windshield was cracked. There was some fresh looking trash in the center council and the damn key was in the ignition. Apparently Hansen and his boys weren't expecting too many car thieves out in the middle of nowhere.

  I turned the ignition and the car groaned to life. I peeled a sharp turn to get on what looked like a dirt road leading away from the house. It led to another and merged together in the midst of the pitch-black wilderness. I was able to breath easier the further I drove from the house.

  From the moment I woke up in the cellar and until I escaped the house, I felt like I was in a horror film. You can't make up this kind of story. And there was also Bertók's admission that he was a demigod named Zius, which I found to be completely and utterly wacked out.

  I replayed the entire conversation in my head probably three times while looking for someplace to seek refuge; not knowing if Hansen was following me. I couldn't understand how Hansen and his men could work for such an obviously insane individual; well paid or not. And then there was the question of your murder: who was truly responsible, Theoman or Bertók? In no way did I believe that he—meaning Zius—was once inside Theoman and then inside Bertók. I figured it must have been Bertók the entire time . . . he must have been the one behind kidnapping Theoman, forcing him to make whatever video was sent to Mr. Vermil, and then impaling him. It made sense: Bertók was a Dracula expert and clearly obsessed with that time period, including the Order of the Dragon and its treasure. His capturing me was only to fulfill whatever sick fantasy running amuck in his mind. But I couldn't get past some of the things he said, particularly dealing with you. He said you were powerful . . . and that no one realized it but Mr. Vermil. That statement was stuck inside my mind. It was one of many things I needed to talk to Mr. Vermil about . . . if I could make it out of Bosnia.

  I eventually arrived inside a city, which one I didn't know at the time. The sun had begun to rise. Apparently it was morning. I pulled the car over at a gas station and asked how to get to Sarajevo. Much to my delight, the man told me that I was in Sarajevo. He gave me directions to the airport.

  It took me about a half an hour to get there, and the rest of the gas in the car, but I made it. By the will of the almighty, I had survived the whole ordeal.

  The next few days found me within the clutches of the Bosnian version of the Port Authority. I had to explain everything, including being kidnapped and losing all of my paperwork. U.S. authorities were quickly brought in. My passport records came clean and it turned out that Bertók was listed as a missing person by a concerned party back in Budapest. Unfortunately, a search of the house I was imprisoned within turned up nothing. They didn't locate Bertók or the bodies, which made me think that once I escaped, and they realized they weren't going to catch me, they immediately cleaned the place up and got the hell out of town. They couldn't even find Fejzo. His car wasn't on the highway where I left it and there hadn't been any missing person calls on his regard. I think the Bosnian authorities believed my story, and after a week of detaining me, they decided to let me leave on the condition that I would return as a witness if anything transpired.

  Mr. Vermil had sent his private jet to pick me up, where I had a very crucial conversation with him via satellite phone. By that point, he knew everything that had happened. "You are very lucky to be alive," he told me through the receiver.

  I told him luck would have kept me from getting cau
ght. I then told him what I withheld from the Bosnian authorities: the confession Bertók made about being Ziusudra and having you killed by Hansen in Iraq.

  I wish I could have been in the room with Mr. Vermil when I told him those things. I probably would have learned a lot by his reaction. Instead, he was quite calm sounding. "He said those things? Hmmm . . ."

  "He also told me that you know how powerful Rebecca was."

  Mr. Vermil stayed silent for a moment before saying: "I knew how great of an asset she was, if that's what he meant; anything else must have been part of his delusion."

  "Okay," I said . . . but something told me he was withholding. "So then, I guess I'm coming home. There's nothing else for me here. The authorities said they would look into the excavation at the hill, but assured me that it was no longer happening . . . that it was a restoration project now, which is complete bullshit. They are playing a role in all of this, the authorities; I'm just not sure what role."

  "Indeed; it's very concerning."

  "But I think it's quite obvious that the Book of Thoth is not here."

  "And you're absolutely sure that Bertók was right? Bertók was certain that this sultan had taken the book?"

  I told him: "The only thing I'm certain of is that Bertók is going to make an attempt at the Süleymaniye Mosque; beyond that is anyone's guess. The man is completely crazy."

  "Indeed," said Mr. Vermil before having a coughing fit. "Put Captain Jackson on the line, please."

  I did as he requested and had the pilot take the satellite phone. The conversation only lasted a minute before Jackson handed it back to me.

  "The embassy gave you a new passport, right?" Mr. Vermil asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Jackson will fly you to Istanbul."

  It took a second for his words to register. "Wait a second," I said in disbelief, "you want me to fly to Turkey?"