“I … I don’t…” Rutledge stammered. Bella turned toward the judge, her demeanor sincere, a helpful agent of the court.
“I can produce affidavits from the minister who performed the ceremony. I can also produce the witness to the license, as well as the magistrate whose name and seal the marriage certificate bears, who can attest to the date it was issued, if you need them introduced into evidence, your honor?”
“No,” both Rutledge and Davenkirk replied as one. Davenkirk followed it up with a dismissive wave. “No need for all that, Mrs. Mansfield.”
“I have no further use for this witness,” Bella said, walking away from Rutledge and sitting back down at her table. Maude kept her face calm and clear, as did her counsel, but she gave Arabella’s foot a quick tap under the table. Bella busied herself with her papers.
“Now we see what kind of judge the Honorable Odysseus Edward Davenkirk really is,” Arabella whispered.
* * *
At first, Maude expected that to be the end of the proceedings for the day. Rutledge asked for a recess to confer with his client and confirm Bella’s revelation. “Win or lose, we fight the last battle today,” Arabella said. “I can feel it. It all hinges on the judge now.” Bella had dashed off to deal with a few last-minute details of what she had told Maude would be the final gambit.
Maude sat alone in a conference room off from the main well, sipping from a tin cup of water a kindly bailiff had provided her. There was a gentle rap at the door and Alter peeked inside, smiled and entered. The reporter closed the door behind him.
“That,” he said, sitting down across from Maude at the table, “was a sight to behold. I spoke to Arabella briefly on the record. She told me I’d find you in here. You’ve got a damn good lawyer, Maude.”
“The best,” Maude said. “Wait till you see round two. She’s setting her sights higher.”
“Why do you seem so worried, then?” Alter asked.
“You are too good at that,” Maude said. “Because all of her legal legerdemain may mean nothing. If I was a man, this agreement would have been tossed out after Bella made Rutledge look like a fool today, but I’m not, and she’s not, and in this time, and this place, being right and having the law on your side may not be enough.”
“So what will you do if you lose?” Cline asked.
“What I have to,” Maude said. “By any means necessary, get Constance back. I’m hoping the judge is a reasonable, fair man. If not … I have a contingency.” Maude tried to summon a smile. “You said you had something for me on the dead Sons?”
“Yes,” Cline said. He reached into his pocket. “I was able to get a sample of the goo that those poor devils had for blood.” Alter held up a small glass vial with a rubber stopper. In it was a black, viscous liquid that resembled oil. He handed the vial to Maude. “I took it to a chemist,” the reporter said. “He said it had qualities akin to blood and venom, said he had never seen anything like it before.”
Maude uncorked the stopper, closed her eyes and wafted the air over the open vial toward her nose. The fluid had a strong scent; it smelled like an open grave on a rainy day, a rotting, peaty musk mixed with something that didn’t quite belong with the death smells, a sweet, cloying odor, like scorched clover honey. The faint whiff of the stuff sent an odd shiver down Maude’s spine. She put the stopper back in place.
“I have,” Maude said. “It’s the Blood of the Wurm, a supernatural concoction that leaves death and madness in its wake. I assume you and your chemist friend didn’t smell or touch it, Alter.”
“Well, I did give it a whiff, and it had a … peculiar effect on me, for a moment.”
“Arousal,” Maude said, nodding. Alter blushed.
“Hell, yes,” he blurted, slapping the table with his palm. “Tumescence, actually. Very odd, not that I don’t get … I mean to say … I have … often, but not…”
“It’s part of its lure,” Maude said.
“Seemed to discombobulate the chemist as well,” Alter said. “Not that we … discussed such matters … We didn’t. He wanted a sample, but I thought it prudent to keep it and let you examine it.”
“Good,” Maude said. “There was nothing … moving in the bodies, in the blood, was there? Worm-like things?”
“God, no!” Alter said. Maude sighed, and put the vial away.
“Good. We’ll need to burn those bodies, tonight,” she said.
“That may be a problem,” Cline said, then waved his hands, as if shooing gnats before his eyes. “Now wait a minute! You’re not skimming over this, like everyone else just knows what the hell ‘the Blood of the Wurm’ is, Maude! I am not waiting months for you to get around to giving me a straight answer this time either! What is going on here?”
“The town I come from back West, Golgotha,” Maude began, “a few years ago, there was a … plague—I suppose that is as good a word as any—people were infected with creatures that secreted this substance. Constance was one of the infected. It changed them into monsters. Constance was lucky, a lot of people weren’t; they died because of this poison. You said the Sons had this as their blood?”
“Yes, and you can’t just go burn the bodies now. My contact at the funeral home told me that some men from the Pinkerton Agency came and took the bodies away by wagon under Union military escort. They had a warrant from a federal judge to do it.”
“Damn,” Maude said. “They have no idea what they are mucking about with.”
“Neither do I,” Alter added.
“This substance is concocted, I’m led to understand,” Maude said. “The cult that brought it to Golgotha was intent on ending the world. They came very close to accomplishing that.”
“It’s extremely unnerving to know things like that,” Alter said. “You think these ‘Sons’ are another branch of this cult?”
“All I know is this just makes them even more dangerous,” Maude said. “I don’t have any more time to waste on my father’s nonsense.”
Cline saw something slide over Maude’s eyes, a cold fury, a frustration that she no longer desired to keep in check. It frightened him. As beautiful and kind as this woman was, as demure-seeming she played at, as much as he desired her, loved her company, was fascinated by her, he saw for the first time that she belonged to a different world than he did. It was a world of monsters and madmen, cults and secrets that held the world’s fate in their conspiratorial grasp, and unlike himself, she was at home in this violent, surreal landscape, she thrived in it, and she was done playing at the petty, foolish games of blind men.
There was a knock at the door just as it swung open. It was Bella. “Judge wants us in chambers, now,” she said. “Endgame.”
“Yes,” Maude said, the anger in her eyes slipping back behind her mask as she stood. “Thank you, Alter, again. You’re a good friend.”
“I’ll see if I can find out anything about where those bodies got to,” Alter said, standing. “I’ve still got a few old army friends in uniform.”
“Bodies?” Bella said, then waved dismissively. “I don’t care to know. One disaster at a time.”
“Thank you,” Maude said to the reporter. “Be careful, Alter.”
20
The Hermit
Somewhere in Northern Africa
November 3, 1721
The verdant jade of the jungle gave way to browning veldts, and then finally, as the map led the expedition farther northeast, to the open desert they call the Sahara. The company had been traveling for over a month and more had died. Of their original bearers, only four remained, all of them the good men Adu had truly picked for the job. Some of the Ahosi had been chosen to replace them and carried the party’s rapidly dwindling provisions, including life-sustaining water. They had lost another twenty-six of the Amazons to wounds from the battle at Ife that did not heal, and to skirmishes with Oyo troops, bandits and wild animals.
The heat worked on everyone like an oppressive lash, and as days turned to weeks even Belrose became silent
and sullen. They trudged along through the emptiness, going somewhere, but no one knew where. At night, Anne and Adu would check the map, but the ruby remained still. By now, they had confided in Nourbese and Belrose as well about the supernatural talisman guiding them.
“We’re close to whatever it is,” Anne said.
“You’ve been saying that for days,” Nourbese snapped. “Maybe the thing’s broken, perhaps the heat, or the cold?”
Anne looked to Adu. “Are we close?” The ancient man said nothing. Belrose cursed under his breath.
“That is truly annoying,” the mercenary said. “Do you intend to let us wander about aimlessly until all our water is gone and then let the sun bleach our bones?” Adu said nothing. “I could make you tell us,” the Frenchman said.
“If you are that eager to end your suffering, you could certainly try,” Adu said.
“Enough!” Anne said. “We got ourselves into this mess, we will get ourselves out.”
“Truth be told,” Nourbese said, “you got us into this mess.”
“Fine,” Anne said. “I’ll get us out. We go three more days.”
“Then what?” Nourbese said. “You said the same thing three days ago. Is your damn imaginary gold worth us all dying out here? Even if we find Carcosa, the Ahosi are in no shape to battle whatever horrors await us there.”
“I heard you lot were the fiercest warriors in all of Africa,” Anne said. “You telling me it ain’t so?” Nourbese stood, angry.
“Care to try your luck with me again, you ewure oshi?” Nourbese said.
“Oh, darlin’,” Anne said, rising, “I’ll be more than happy to knock down your gnashgabbing ass one more time.”
“We’re all a bit worn.” Adu stepped between the two. “Let’s retire and get some rest.”
As they scattered, Nourbese turned to Adu and spoke to him in Fon. “I’ll give her a few more days, Adu Ogyinae, then I will decide how we proceed.”
As frigid night bowed to oppressive day, Anne awoke. The kite had returned. The bird clicked at her, then screeched as it took off across the dunes. Anne stumbled to her feet and dashed out of her tent to follow, not even stopping to grab her boots. The kite was already soaring over the next dune as Anne ran after it. “Get your asses up!” she cried. “Follow the damn bird!”
She ran dangerously close to a startled horned viper, but avoided its strike out of sheer dumb luck. She crested the dune and tumbled down it. The kite was crossing the next one, giving a shriek as it glided on the warming air. Behind her she heard shouts as the camp rallied. She heard Nourbese calling for her to come back and Belrose cursing.
She topped another dune and then another. She was panting now but she could see the kite circling lazily ahead in the painful blue sky. Another few dunes, and she was staggering, no longer running. She wished she had her boots, her sword. The next dune was tall, and as she reached the summit a cool damp breeze kissed her. There was water, water as far as she could see, and the kite was circling it. A great lake resided here in the heart of the wasteland. Anne laughed and tumbled down the hill to the edge of the water, then she dove in and splashed and whooped with joy. Above her, the kite gave a sharp cry.
When the others caught up, Anne was soaking wet from head to toe and swimming on her back, laughing like a child. The others joined her, and even stern Nourbese laughed and sang a Fon song of thanksgiving as she splashed Belrose and Anne playfully. Adu stood at the edge of the great lake and nodded.
“Yes,” he muttered to himself, “this is coming back to me.”
They made camp near the water. Adu said this place was “Chad,” a local word for “a great expanse of water.” It gave life to much of this part of Africa, which had mostly been devoured by the Sahara.
“If we move along the shore and continue to head north,” Adu said, “I think we will find what you are looking for in the next day or so.”
“And what’s that, exactly?” Anne asked. “The city?” Adu said nothing.
After two days of heading north, using the lake as a landmark, they came across a huge black pyramid, at least two hundred feet high and four hundred feet at its base, at the edge of an expansive forest of dead, gnarled trees. They approached it cautiously. The structure was made of black basalt, its surface unmarred with symbols, windows or doors. For days the company had experienced much wildlife flourishing along the edges of the Chad, but as they approached the pyramid the wilderness was silent. There was no sound of any animal, no indication of any life, save the party.
“Recognize this?” Anne asked Adu.
“Oh, yes,” Adu said. “I was part of the Egyptian expedition that built it. This ended up becoming the first lodge for the Purrah, when it formed. It was abandoned thousands of years ago. This place marks a boundary.”
“Between what?” Anne asked as she ran her hands over the warm stone of the structure’s wall.
“On the other side of that forest is Carcosa,” Adu said. “You’ve made it.” Anne narrowed her eyes. “The only path to Carcosa is through those woods; they ring the city.”
“What aren’t you telling me … no, wait, I know, ‘you can’t say.’”
“Very astute,” Adu said. “There should be rations and supplies within the pyramid, as well as the tombs of several high-ranking Egyptian commanders, distant members of the pharaoh’s family. Enough treasure here to plunder to make you all very wealthy.”
“Now I know there’s a catch,” Anne said.
“Everything you’ve faced, all that’s yet to come,” the mystic said, “remember to be true to yourself, Anne … that will be enough.”
Anne walked away. “I’m gonna get drunk,” she said.
“Hopefully … that will be enough,” Adu amended himself.
There was a hidden compartment that opened the pyramid and Adu recalled where the lever was hidden. “This land has truly changed,” the ancient man said as he slid open the small panel hidden in the cornerstone of the seemingly smooth stone wall. “This was once all grasslands, and now the desert has claimed it. No wonder this has all seemed so unfamiliar.” Once the massive stone doors hissed open, the company cautiously entered and searched the structure. After hours of checking every passage, every chamber, they discovered enough supplies to maintain a small military garrison for months. It was more than enough provisions for the trek home.
The tombs in the pyramid, while nothing compared to the majesty of the pharaohs’ resting places, were still impressive. Furniture covered in precious gems, plates and goblets, coffers and chests, weapons of solid gold, crates overflowing with bolts of the finest cotton, silks and priceless jewelry. It was enough money to make all the members of the company wealthy as kings several times over.
Anne found a necklace of solid gold in one of the tombs that she claimed as her own, a curving snake with rubies for eyes that rested between her slight breasts when she put the necklace on.
“Sutekh,” Adu said, pointing at the necklace. “The god of the desert, of storms, disorder, destruction and ironically, foreigners. A good fit for you,” he said. “Sutekh was a somewhat reluctant champion against the great serpent of chaos and darkness, Apep.”
Anne shrugged as she ran her fingers over the coils of the golden snake, “Figured it would be worth a few quid,” she said blandly.
* * *
The pregnant sun, boiling in oranges and umbers, crawled behind the dunes, and the stars began to come out like the animals at the watering hole once the lion departs. Anne stood alone, away from the camp and the fire, looking into the tangled maze of ancient leadwood tree skeletons that made up the forest. The interior of the forest became darker and darker as the sun sank. Adu joined her, and the two watched the forest until its interior faded to pitch.
“That’s the same look you had when I first met you outside the Broken Shackle,” Adu said. “You’re somewhere else.”
“Do you ever get frightened anymore?” she asked. “Or have you just done so much, been through so many
things, that nothing moves you anymore? It seems that way with you.”
“Oh, my child,” Adu said softly, “I still fear. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t.”
“There’s something in those woods, Adu,” Anne said. “I can feel it.”
“Yes,” Adu said, “there is. That forest is all the defense the city of monsters needs. No one, save Oya, has returned from Carcosa since the city was abandoned, and the dead forest planted, back before recorded history. I find myself, against my better judgment, rather fond of you. I don’t want the last time I see you to be when you enter that forest.”
“Won’t you come with me?” Anne asked. For a moment Adu saw again just how young she really was, past all the bluster. He shook his head.
“None of us can,” he said. “It would be certain death for any but the chosen of Oya. I’m sorry, I wish I could.”
“Chosen?” Anne said. “I’m going a’plundering, I’m not going to fill some fucking position, Adu! I thought you’d figured that out by now.”
“And yet, you turn down treasure you have in hand for another risk, another chance to die. This was never about the gold for you, was it?”
“Of course it is,” Anne said. “No, it isn’t. It was at first. After a year in a prison cell thinking of a rope around my neck, money and a soft life sounded fine to me, just fine. Then you threw all this ‘Carcosa’ and ‘Oya’ shit in my way.
“All my life, the world’s been telling me I was an inconvenience, a disappointment. You get fed that long enough and sooner or later you either take it as the truth of the world or you say fuck you to the world. You can pretty much guess which I chose. But even if you turn your back on the world, say you don’t care, a piece of you does, a tiny sliver of you wants them to be wrong about you.
“I knew I was no damn good. The things I was always best at were fighting, fucking and running. Now you come along and tell me that for the first time in my life, I’m … special, I’m important. That I might be able to do something that no one else in the whole bloody world has been able to do. I got to see that one through, Adu. That’s got more lure to it than any score, any treasure.” She paused for a moment. “Not that I wouldn’t mind a taste of gold, mind you. It makes everything easier.”
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