Return of the Ancient Gods

by Craig Robertson

  “What the hell was that?” Sapale gasped once the doors clinked shut.

  I tilted my head toward the closed doors. “That? I think it was a naked man-child.”

  The punch she landed on my arm was hard, but it was worth it.

  “He's a golem. Do you know what that means?”

  “Animated clay?” she wheezed. “Ah, Jon, I'm kind of expert on this topic. That was flesh, not mud.”

  “An expert on naked men. When we're done here I think we need to explore that claim.”

  “Not now, Ryan,” she said then growled. Kaljaxians had some great growls in their repertoires.

  “Golems are the low-level workers here in God Land, waiters, elevator operators, that type of role.”

  She pointed back at the elevator. “But why do they have to be so buff and naked?”

  I perfunctorily cleared my throat. “Ah, in case the individual being served is suddenly moved by the spirit of romance.”

  “You mean lust.”

  I shrugged by way of response. “Let's try that direction,” I said, changing the subject before someone killed the messenger.

  It didn't take long to find Vorc's office. It was the one with the crystalline double doors through which we could see gilt furniture and massive sconces with flaming torches. To-each-his-own didn't cover for his poor taste. Squinting, I led Sapale in. We were confronted by two absolutely gorgeous and of course unclothed women.

  They started to stand to greet us. “Sit,” snapped Sapale as she lunged in their direction. “Don't encourage him more than you have to.”

  “Honey,” I scolded gently, “they're only doing their jobs.”

  There was no mirth in the look she gave me. “We're here to see Vorc. Before you ask, no, we do not have an appointment. But this is important, so buzz us in or whatever,” she said with manifest disgust in her voice. I knew then we would not be passing our retirement years in this universe. Pooh.

  One of the women smiled cheerily. “You would like us to buzz you into what?”

  The other's turn. “We are nymphs and cannot buzz anything. But we will certainly make every effort to summon someone who can.”

  “Not golems?” asked Sapale suspiciously.

  “Oh no, ma'am,” said Nude One. “That would never do for Master Vorc.”

  “A man of more refined tastes, is he?” Sapale responded. “Movable, porkable mud's not good enough for the master?”

  Naked Two's chance to take a swing at a pitch. “He is, and maybe. I'm not certain what pork has to do with the topic.”

  My dogged mate started to press them unhelpfully. I rested a finger back on her lips. “We need to see Vorc now please, nymphs,” I said pleasantly.

  I felt a sharp kick to my shin nearest Sapale.

  “You may always see Mater Vorc,” beamed Naked One.

  Naked Two stood and gestured to a massive painting of Vorc. “There, see him all you like.”

  “Sit,” snapped Sapale. “Do you remember the part about not standing?”

  They frowned. Two sat.

  “No. When I said see I meant meet with him in person now.”

  “Ah, such is not possible,” said N One.

  “He is not here,” added N Two.

  “Where is he?” I queried.

  As one they replied, “Elsewhere.”

  Without needing to glance back I held up a palm to Sapale. “We need some information. Perhaps you can help. Exactly when is our passage into Prime?”

  “That is easy. Six days from now the Cleinoid gods march,” replied Two.

  “As Cleinoids, naturally, we're marching along,” I marched in place to demonstrate that I was an idiot. “Where … where do we meet up, you know, as a group?”

  “That is not easy,” said One with the first serious look I'd seen on her face. “There has only ever been one point of embarkation. It will be the one you used last time.”

  “Well, I know it'll be the same location, silly nymph. It's just that someone told me last week they heard there was a second, er, assembly spot … in … into Prime,” I muttered. “The other location isn't up to code for the … I think I'll stop explaining myself now.”

  “No one told you that,” said a focused Two.

  “No one would even think that,” added an equally focused One.

  “I told you he was as drunk as you were,” scolded Sapale. “When he gets to drinking he loses perspective,” she said conspiratorially to the girls.

  “There is to be no use of mind-altering substances from now until the egress,” said One, sounding for all the world like my mother when I was in trouble.

  “Duh,” I said, flicking the side of my head. “I'm mostly a teetotaler myself anyway. No prob, boss nymph.” I saluted her. What a jerk I was capable of being. “So, when we egress, we do so from …”

  “This universe,” said one of them. I was kind of muddled.

  “Sure. I think we'll just be, you know, on our way,” I said as Sapale was pulling me backward toward the doors.

  “What were your names?” called out Two as she most definitely stood.

  “I'm Outta Here, and this moron is Toast.” Ah, you know who said that, so I'll not bother to actually say it.

  As the elevator descended I braved an observation. “Well that went okay. A real plus if you ask me.”

  “Not in the mood, Ryan. World's about to end and you're still trying to be funny.”

  The golem, normally expertly discreet, turned to Sapale. “The world is about to end?”

  “Yes,” she said darkly with a growl. “Didn't you hear? Torrential rain tomorrow. I'm predicting a lot of mud's on the horizon, dirtbag.”

  He quickly turned and advanced into the corner.

  As we left the building I reminded my mate, “Loose lips sink ships.”

  “I know. It's … it's just after forever you still fry my bacon.”

  “I still got it,” I responded happily.

  “Yes, damn it all. You do.” She took a deep breath. “So what now? We have six days to stop the egress or somehow join it.”

  “We're down to Queeheg. He's the only one I can ask the unaskable.”

  “I hate it, but I agree. At least the man's wavy gravy in the head.”

  “There's a magic carpet over there. Let's …”

  “Absolutely not. No rugs of death. We walk if that's the only option.”

  “We'll watch for a cab while we walk.”

  “I'm not too keen on the cabs here either. Pains in my ass is what they are,” she groused as we headed out.

  We did get a ride and made it to Queeheg's bar soon enough. I can't say for sure if he was glad to see us or not. One might think they'd enjoy hanging out with their deity, but the reality of it can be more unnerving than anticipated.

  “Ah, Sir Lord Ryanmax,” he blurted out even before I was through the door.

  “Hey, you old son of a gun, how's it going?” I said, hoping to calm him a bit.

  “Of a gun? No, that's nots bes me, but I'll ask around fur ya to find him, boss.”

  “No, it's just a silly expression where I come from. Queeheg, lighten up.”

  He slapped his exuberant paunch. “I will if it'll pleases ya, but it's agin’ my nature.”

  “Queeheg,” I said with a little frustration, “hello.”

  Darn if he didn't just look confused.

  “What kin I get yas?” he asked back in his bartender mode.

  “We'll both have the rotgut you poured last time.”

  “Rotten your innards sauce comin' up.”

  He brought a bottle and a couple glasses to our table.

  “You forgot a glass for you, my friend,” I said.

  He reached into a pocket and pulled one out with a grin. “Keeps one handy fur just this typa ’mergancy.” He imposed himself on a chair that was even-money going to crumble under the challenge.

  “Seen Wul?” I asked to open the conversation.

  “Not since ye came here with ’im.” He toss
ed back a shot.

  “He's a good man, that Wul,” Sapale said as she tossed a shot of her own.

  “Amung da best,” agreed our host. “That's sayin’ a lot round dees parts, I can say for a fact.”

  “Gods can be asses,” I said with a thin smile.

  “To dat,” he replied, and he powered down another belt.

  “So, I never got around to asking you. Are you going to Prime in six days?” I asked, staring at my half-full glass.

  That brought a loud, juicy sniff. “Nah. Maybe. I dun’ know. Haven't asided yet, I guess.”

  “Apparently,” responded Sapale.

  “Not your thing, the invasion and destruction part?” I pressed.

  “Not no more much.” He angled his head and threw his bushy eyebrows up. “Usa be, but na so much a'late.”

  “What, you feeling old or feeling guilty?” I asked.

  He spied at me sideways. “Lill'a both, I ’mangins.”

  “I've never seen a man your size whisper so quietly. Why I do believe a rabbit sitting on your shoulder would have missed it.”

  He grunted.

  “Makes me wonder if it's frowned upon to not endorse by wild participation an incursion.”

  “Ryanmax, you seems like the type'a man who'd well keep a secret.”

  “I actually am.”

  “I'm even better,” added Sapale with a wink.

  “It's like dis, folks. Da Cleinoids, as you know, don't brook independent tinking.”

  “Tell me about it,” I encouraged.

  “If one was thought to disapproves of a ting like 'cursions, dat one'd not be welcomed like a modder does her new babe.”

  “This I believe.” Sapale nodded.

  “But I've never known anyone to be punished for non-participation,” I asked more than stated.

  “Sure ya do. Well, ya might not knows um, but you seen dare monuments. When ya was wit Wul and de others.”

  “At Beal's Point?”

  “Surin ya know dat?”

  “I’ve never paid much attention when I've been there. I hate that sick feeling.”

  “Yur spos'a read da inscriptions,” Queeheg said rather irritatedly.

  “Show this man a rule and he'll break it,” remarked Sapale.

  “Well, ye secrets safe wit me. Anyhow, seven a da statues are to inaviduls who defied the 'cursions. Da latest was Mol Gar Dor on de occasion a da last 'cursion.”

  I recalled seeing that one. The odd name happened to catch my eye. “Well what'd you expect from a squid with a thousand arms?”

  “He was a strange one, wan't he? He was a healthy drinker though, so I liked ‘im.”

  “Never actually met him.”

  “He 'minds me a you, a little dat is.”

  I spit my firewater back into my glass. “A squid with lots of arms reminds you of me? Thanks for nothing.”

  “Na. Not hows ya looks, but how yas tinks. He were even more a freetinker n'you.”

  “He looked more like a nightmare, not a thinker.”

  “To be certain he could rip most things 'part with those impressive arms. But at de end dare he became quiet and had much regret. At the last conclave a'fore we teleported, he stood and said his piece. Not goin'a kill sweet innocents was he. It was wrong to massacre species so inferior to us whart'nt a'done us no misdeed.”

  Dissent among the ranks. How very curious.

  “We're not too keen on the killing part either,” said Sapale. “But we're going for the adventure and to maybe, you know, help out if we see too great an evil.”

  He rolled his glass in his massive palms. “At's what purchased ol' Mol Gar Dor ’is eternal monument.” Queeheg spoke lost in sadness.

  “Then he earned it with honor,” proclaimed Sapale. She lifted her glass. “To Mol Gar Dor, we keep his memory as was his life. Good, pure, and untainted.”

  Queeheg scanned the room with considerable alarm. His relaxing face indicated he was satisfied she was heard by no others. “It's n'safe nor wise to say those words wit dat conviction, little lady.”

  She eyed him as seriously as a frog does the fly. “I praise a good man. That should always be said proudly and defiantly. Those who would hear and deny him must be known. Those who would hear and deny me must be killed.”

  Queeheg stared at her a good long while. Then he grinned. “I likes her already, Ryanmax. You chosen sure know hows to pick 'em.”

  I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Only the best for this chosen dude.” I pecked her cheek. “So, six days hence you, barkeep, remain behind to serve those too concerned or too drunk to make the trip. We, we happy two, will teleport to Prime and see just what it takes to get one of those totally bitching monuments built in our honor.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “Someone did what?” exclaimed an incredulous Vorc.

  “You heard me, cupcake—somebody tore the crap out of a monument up at Beal's Point and stole the intermixer unit.” Caprahammer was fuming. She hated even speaking to Vorc, let alone repeating simple words.

  Vorc held his head between his palms. “Why would anyone do that? How, in a universe with no mercy for me, would it fall to you to be the one who learned this and was tasked with the duty of reporting it to me?”

  “It didn't fall to me, moron. It fell to that sniveling waste of space Boulzeron.”

  “B … bu … but how cou … could it p … possibly fall to him? And even if it did, which it couldn't, why am I plagued with sitting here looking at you?”

  “Did you switch to decaf like I suggested a while back?” Caprahammer grinned wickedly.

  He slammed a fist on the table. “I did not, you reject of hell. Why did the news of the desecration of a monument end up in the lap of a god of revenge and spite like Boulzeron?”

  “Long story, chomp ass.”

  For nearly a minute Vorc was incapable of speech. He pounded his fists on his temples and slammed his feet to the floor. He also emitted a series of howls, curse words, and gasps. Finally he was rational enough again to interact. “I have time. We don't leave for Prime for two more days. Now, tell me how he learned and why you, not he, are here.”

  “Because he's a chickenshit coward, that's why.”

  Vorc's period of convulsions was much briefer. He was cogent again in thirty seconds. “Boulzeron found out about the damage because he's n … not … br … brave?”

  “No. What, are you mental? You sure are irrational. I'm here to tell you, cum dribble, because he's too afraid to speak to you. I have zero clue why anyone would be intimidated by a section of last week’s bowel movement like you, but there you have it. He asked me to pass along the information and I'm just dumb enough to do it.”

  “F … f … fine. How did a god of spite come to know …”

  “You really care, cock puppet? You know. Now you act. End of story.” She spit on the floor because she was just that gross an individual.

  “I will know, bitch.”

  “Did you just call me a bitch? My feelings, frail and fragile as they are, have been shattered, dick breath.”

  Vorc struggled to collect himself. “If you do not tell me and tell me instantly, I shall be forced to summon Bethniak to find that information out. Normally I would be reluctant to do so, but this close to the egress I cannot afford to be cautious.”

  Caprahammer, as tough a piece of work as there was, paled. She wasn't certain if Vorc would, or even could, hold sway over Bethniak. It was not, however, within the realm of possibility that Caprahammer wanted to find out the hard way the puke was serious. “There used to be three cretins in charge of Control and Remediation.”

  Vorc said the words silently, his lips moving in puzzled twists. Then he recalled. “Ah, yes, Control and Remediation. Not a key department but yes, there is a small staff allocated to them.”

  “Was, insectophile. Ya listening? They discovered the problem but didn't do squat. I guess they followed your approach to management. Finally someone with a functioning brain found out and fired
them all. One of them, Squiggy or something, got pissy and appealed to the limp-dicked Boulzeron for vengeance against, I don't know, his coworkers or the one who ran him off. Anyway, that's the fascinating tale of almost nothing. Can I go now, pus pocket?”

  “Please do.”

  And she did.

  Vorc sat wondering what the theft of an intermixer unit could portend. What person, sane or insane, would want to get that close to a functioning intermixer unit? It would kill any mortal foolish enough to venture that close. And it would be a worse death than Vorc could even imagine. And no god would be masochistic enough to try a stunt like that because they couldn't possibly want one that badly. Or at all. It made no sense. With Prime so close, Vorc's stomach knotted up and he was at a loss to understand what he was missing.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “The only thing I'm going to miss about this clusterfuck of a universe is this.” Sapale held up a bottle of nectar of the gods. “It's way too good.”

  “Amen I say to you, sister. Stuff's kick-ass.”

  “I'll stuff a few bottles down my shirt, sure. But once that's gone we're screwed.”

  “Hey, we're gods. We'll snap our fingers and puff some up.”

  “I'll be so glad when you have to stop saying that. Your ego’s so large it already requires its own universe. The deity thing only swells it.”

  “Who said anything about no longer claiming to be divine?” I smiled real cheesy. “I am divine. Just ask all the ladies.”

  “All the ladies in the nursing home, maybe.”

  In both of our heads flashed, Sapale, are you here? Sapale, it's me, Toño De Jesus. Where are you?

  “Did you just hear something very inconvenient?” I asked as I winced.

  “Me, no. I heard nothing.” Sapale pulled the stopper out of the nectar, secured her lips on the rim, and turned the bottle upside down.

  Toño, please tell me you didn't trip a trap and join us in perdition, I responded.

  Jon? Jon, is that you? You're alive.

  Thanks for the update. I was just asking Sapale whether I was or not.

  “Yes, you are, Jon Ryan, he responded.

  Doc, your timing couldn't be worse. The invasion starts tomorrow. We were finalizing our plans. We don't have babysitting time, Toño.