For Centuries More

by Ethan Johnson

  “Our ramparts are well-fortified, my king. Three regiments of footsoldiers stand ready to defend the east gate, if it so pleases the gods.”

  The king raised his hand. “They do so at my command, not the gods. I trust my archers will make short work of this pestilence.”

  The advisor winced and took a hard swallow. “If I may ask, my king, have you not made offerings to Inanna? The priestess speaks of her displeasure, should she be slighted in this time of need.”

  The king snorted. “Need! What need have we for gods on this day? The Babylonians come to play at war. They shall die as vermin, crushed beneath the heel of mighty Nineveh. I have made an offering to Ishtar, source of all blessings.”

  “All praise to Ishtar,” agreed the advisor. “But Inanna, sire, it is unwise to deny her what is owed.”

  “Owed? What blessings, pray tell, does Inanna bestow upon us? What joy, what fortune, what benefit can we trace directly to her? Look: see as her temple stands empty. I hear news from the temple as well. I am told Inanna does not speak to the faithful. In turn, the name of Inanna does not escape the lips of the masses as it once did. It is well to let her die. Ishtar is eternal, my friend. It is to her we owe, and therefore give our gratitude.”

  The advisor was ashen. “Sire, it is not well to speak thus about the gods. Inanna is yet mighty, indeed, and she is vengeful. Do not forget the tale of the mountains that angered her, thus she crushed them to sand. A great desert now sweeps from horizon to horizon where once they stood. Let this not be the fate of dread Nineveh. Give offerings to Inanna, lest she be displeased.”

  The king stopped and stared blankly at his advisor. With a shrug, he grabbed a passing soldier. “What say you? Do you give offerings to Inanna at this hour?”

  The soldier shook his head. “Inanna? I have not heard that name said since I was a boy, my king, and only in songs. Ishtar is the source of all blessings. It is to her I give praise.”

  The king smiled and waved him along. “There, you see? Inanna has no influence here. It is in respect to the once mighty goddess that I allow her temple to stand. But if I were to build Nineveh afresh, her temple would be no more.”

  The advisor was visibly shaken, but he nodded in agreement and bowed. “Yes, my king. As you say.”

  James floated toward the temple. As told by the king, he found it barren, save for a single priestess who knelt before a sparse altar. A bowl of olives sat on the dais. James frowned at the scene. He’d never heard these names before. He’d only learned the Greek gods, and a few of the Roman equivalents. He knelt beside the priestess and observed her prayers.

  “Oh, mighty Inanna, why do you not speak to your devoted servant? It is said the gods cannot die, yet your voice has been silenced, as though death has claimed it. Will you not accept this humble offering? I have but little. I give this to you as a sign of my devotion. Speak, and let your will be known.”

  James wasn’t sure what she expected to happen. The air was still. The olives glistened in a clay bowl. The priestess pressed her forehead to the floor and muttered prayers James couldn’t understand. After a short time, she rose from the floor and wiped a tear from her eye at the sight of the untouched olives. She stood and bowed to the altar, then scurried away to another room. James started to float away when he was stopped by the sound of the screech of an inky black vulture in a high window. The bird swooped down onto the dais.

  A woman dressed in black robes emerged from another room in the temple and replaced the olives with a handful of luscious dates. The vulture plucked a date from the bowl. It cocked its head at James, then flew away, keeping the date firmly in its beak.

  He didn’t know why, but James felt the urge to follow the bird. He passed through the temple walls and into the city. Soldiers hurried about to their assigned posts while the common folk shouted supporting words to them as they went about their daily labors. The bird flew eastward. James passed through the east gate and across the plains to a bare tree just beyond the city walls. The bird landed on the ground beside the tree and looked up at James as he arrived in time to see it drop the date on a patch of dried blood beside a long, thin wooden pole.

  Spear, a voice told him, as in dreams when things are known without explanation.

  He wondered why this was significant. “Whose blood is this?”

  Agnes knows. Agnes has seen, said the voice.

  “I’m asking you,” James said, angrily. “Whose blood is this?”

  You have seen, replied the voice.

  “Seen what? I don’t know what the hell I’m looking at!”

  Black clouds swirled around James and he found himself back in the meditation room. Gene stood over him and nudged him with his foot. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. I’ve got to buff this floor tomorrow, which means it gets emptied out tonight. Seems to me, you’ve got a nice new bed you can lie in.”

  James squinted up at Gene and put on his glasses. “Oh, okay. Sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “You didn’t ask. Nobody is supposed to be in here. Beat it.”

  James rose to his feet and nodded. “Yes sir, I’m sorry.”

  Gene blew a puff of air up through his moustache. “Christ almighty.”

  CHAPTER 47: INTERROGATION

  Jacqueline topped up Gracie’s wine glass, who was on her third. Jacqueline nursed her first one, hoping to lower Gracie’s guard and finally procure answers as to Marc’s whereabouts. She leaned back in her chair and gave her sister a tight smile. “But you have seen him, is that right?”

  Gracie took a long sip of wine. Jacqueline normally frowned on such behavior where wine was concerned. “It’s not orange juice. It should be sipped and savored, not glugged down without a second thought,” she’d say. Tonight, she made an exception. If the wine flowed freely, perhaps so would the words she craved to hear.

  “Yeah, I saw him,” Gracie said, wiping her lips with the back of her tattooed hand.

  Jacqueline resisted the urge to push. “Oh? Was he well?”

  “I guess so. I only saw him for like, a minute. He has a smoking hot girlfriend. Not sure how he pulled that off. He must be hung like this, is all I can figure.” She held her index fingers far apart, eliciting a disapproving head shake from Jacqueline.

  “Not at the table. And not in public. I’m happy for him. I can’t recall the last time he was in a committed relationship.”

  “It was that dipwad Kellie.”

  Jacqueline frowned. “She must not have reached my radar. Putting her aside, Marc seems to be running with an… unusual crowd.”

  Gracie snorted. “You’re telling me.”

  “Do you have any idea what they might be up to? There have been wild, unsubstantiated charges leveled against him, but honestly, and I trust you agree, they don’t align with the Marc we both know and love.”

  Gracie snorted louder. “Yeah, that’s you, Fortune. Bursting with love.”

  Jacqueline stiffened. “I am quite capable of loving, for your information. I care about my family, including you. Marc needs our help. I’ll concede you two have a closer relationship than I do with either of you, but I care about him. And you. We’re family, Lauren. It’s high time we acted like it.”

  Gracie took another long sip of wine, and grimaced as she set the glass down. “Family just means we’re related, Fortune. You say you care and all this crap, but you can’t be bothered to call me Gracie. You didn’t even know I lived in Chicago until Mom told you.”

  Jacqueline took a small sip of wine and cradled the glass in her left hand. She gave Gracie a hard stare. “She says, calling me Fortune. Frankly, I have no idea why, other than to be a pill.”

  “Well, this day is turbo awesome. How about we just drive straight into hell and get it over with?” Gracie drained her glass, then set it down with a thud and sank into her chair, arms folded tightly across her chest.

  Jacqueline sipped her wine once more and gave Gracie a dismissive wave. “Fine. You’ve seen Marc. You’ve seen his girlfriend. I won’t
trouble you with any semblance of family bonding but to simply ask this: where did you see him?”

  Gracie shrugged. “I have no friggin’ clue.”

  “I don’t accept that answer. You saw them. You were there. He was there. Where was he?”

  “I’m telling you. Weirdness took me there. I never saw the place from outside.”

  Jacqueline glared at her sister. “Nonsense. Utter, patent nonsense. Look, I’ve given you a lovely dinner and shared a bottle of 91-point wine with you. Just this once, be honest with me… Gracie. Please, I’m desperate. It’s best for all parties concerned that we contain this issue and keep it within the family. Phillip has considerable resources at his disposal. Resources that can ruin Marc financially, certainly, if not physically. Between you and I, think he means to kill him. Do you honestly want that? Does Marc mean so little to you that you won’t help me help him?”

  Gracie’s cheeks burned red. “I am being honest, Fortune. If you don’t believe me, take it up with Weirdness. I’m tired. Take me home.”

  Jacqueline signaled to Linda to bring the check. After settling the bill, she escorted Gracie to her car. Dinner was an unqualified disaster. Perhaps Agnes would be more forthcoming, she thought darkly as she slid behind the wheel of her rental car after a valet pulled it up to the curb. Gracie clicked her seat belt and turned away from Jacqueline.

  A black hearse followed them a moment later.

  CHAPTER 48: CODE ENFORCEMENT

  Tobias sat and brooded on his golden throne late into the evening, as was not his custom. On any other day, he would have retired to his private chamber two hours earlier and engaged in private study. These were not his times, nor his people. A new language had been spoken to him upon his arrival. Tobias took pains to learn common words and their usage quickly, lest he be thought—or made—a fool. A man named Syed Hassan was his tutor; a direct descendant from his erstwhile servant Sayed, who as ordered took a wife and sired a family with express instructions to perform a holy ritual once every lunar cycle. The light is the way, he would chant in ancient Assyrian.

  Tobias considered a golden goblet near his hand. He considered the concept of probability. In this moment, he reasoned, all possibilities were his to select at his whim. Upon doing so, the possibility would swiftly move to probability, then history. He picked up the goblet. He set it down. He now resided in the timeline where he did, in fact, handle the goblet in such a manner.

  Much had transpired since his time in Nineveh. There was much history to process and digest. Inanna showed him Nineveh, how it still stood, mightier than ever, and yet softened by years of complacency. The modern king was no more than a boy. He thought himself a warrior-king, without the scars of battle or the wisdom of experience. No, he, Tobias, would lead an army to victory over dread Nineveh. Revenge would be his. Tobias would wear its crown.

  He absent-mindedly chewed one of his fingernails, then spat it out in disgust. Syed Hassan told him the vision was a lie. He said the kingdom his people were building him in preparation for the siege was but deception. He studied the walls of his throne room. All was as he had commanded. He rose from his throne and softly descended the steps, searching the walls for clues of this alleged deceit. The old structure had been methodically replaced with sandstone and mudbrick. The strange materials that composed the prior building were discarded. This was the way of the master stonemasons of his time. The old ways would return. He would see to it.

  He brushed his hand along the rough stone. The timeline snapped into place. The probability of touching the wall gave way to certainty, and now, history.

  Such was the key to the candle-lighting ceremony. Sayed and his descendants did as they were told. Tobias followed the timeline of certainty, the one that led to the most recent ceremony. Syed Hassan had lit the candle personally. Something had gone wrong. His elder brother was tasked with lighting the candle, but he misplaced it during a trip to a city called New York. It was there that Tobias would enter the modern timeline and build his kingdom away from the sight of Nineveh and its network of spies and loyal subjects. Tobias instead arrived in a place he now knew as Chicago. Inanna assured him it was closer to Nineveh, and only a three-day march. Far enough to avoid detection, but close enough for an effective siege. Nineveh would be his.

  He followed the wall to the newly completed section Marc had overseen. The mortar was still setting. Tobias tapped at it with his fingertips, then wiped them on his robe. All was as he had commanded. Syed Hassan was a traitor, a spy of Nineveh. Exile was too good for his crimes, but Inanna and his royal guards assured him he ran like a coward in the opposite direction of Nineveh. None would hear of Tobias’s plans. Tobias was saddened but satisfied with the report.

  He sighed at the sight of the freshly-built wall. Marc had done well. How strange it was that his destiny should be so intertwined with this young man from this unfamiliar time. How much he owed him! He saved Inanna from sure death on the plains of Nineveh. He hailed from the land where Tobias was to build his kingdom; an unforeseen boon. They were all but brothers. Marc and Inanna would be wed. Tobias would bless the union. He smiled at the fates and how probability and possibility are but as arcane terms. Life is unpredictable, he concluded, and it is to the gods and Ishtar that he should give praise. He closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to himself.

  In the still of the night, Tobias heard a strange sound that startled him from his prayer.

  There, beyond the wall, he distinctly heard a brick being set. He heard a trowel scrape across the face of the wall. He heard commands being given to bring forth another. The voice was unfamiliar to him. Tobias didn’t know all the people under his roof, but he made a point of periodically mingling amongst them and taking note of any new faces. There was another voice now. He had no recollection of its origin. New arrivals? Why did they toil at building at this hour? Night-time activities were restricted to things that didn’t make much noise or attract attention in other ways. Perhaps construction was delayed, and a crew labored to meet a deadline? Nothing had been reported of the sort. He would find the source of the noise. He would command them to—

  Inanna patted him on the head. “Sittu,” she said.

  Tobias sucked in a sharp breath and turned, then he crumpled to the floor. Inanna issued a sharp whisper and gestured to two men to pick him up.

  “Return him to his quarters. Worry has corrupted his mind. Tomorrow he shall receive news of the progress you have made on reinforcing the western wall. His mind will be at peace after you have delivered this news.”

  The men nodded and hauled Tobias away.

  Inanna padded over to a tapestry which concealed a pass-through to the source of the scraping noises. She found a man applying thick swaths of the material to the wall. He glanced over and smiled. “Almost done, miss.”

  Inanna smiled and touched a glowing finger to his forehead. His expression changed from earnestness to shock to terror, then he dissolved into a pile of ash. His trowel clattered on the concrete floor beside her bare feet. Inanna looked over at another man who stirred a pot of mortar. “You will work quietly. You shall not disturb the king again.”

  The man gulped and nodded gravely. “Anything you say. Not a sound from me.”

  Inanna brushed the soot with her toes. “Dispose of this at once.”

  The man hurried to a nearby broom. “Right away.”

  Inanna nodded and returned to the spot where Tobias had been put to sleep. Marc had been similarly dealt with. From now until sunrise, the kingdom was hers to command.

  CHAPTER 49: REVISED HISTORY

  James patted his grumbling stomach and tried to keep his thoughts away from food. His meditation session left him empty and confused. Having it cut short by the groundskeeper added to his feelings of frustration and failure. Nothing was clicking for him. He asked for guidance, only to be shown strange scenes without context. He replayed the scene in his head of the king and his advisor, of talk of war and gods. Why were these things important? Noth
ing made any sense, and to top things off, Aubra was mad at him. He wasn’t looking forward to being frozen out by his only friend. The kitchen was closed for the day. He thought he might have an apple in his room, but he remembered he had eaten it days before. His stomach grumbled again, and we went off in search of distractions.

  He found one in the form of the main library. The staff was done for the day as well, but the library remained open to any residents who cared to browse it, provided they kept the books neat and checked them out on the honor system. James wandered through the shelves, each filled with books on a variety of occult and metaphysical topics. Astral projection. Past lives. Assyrian mythology. Crystal healing. Tarot. James cocked his head and took a few steps backward. He felt drawn to the mythology book. He pulled it from the shelf and carried it to a study desk.

  He flipped through the pages but couldn’t focus on anything. The words blended together. He turned a few more pages before opting to close the book. A single word caught his eye as he prepared to slam the book shut: ISHTAR.

  Hadn’t the ancient men been discussing this name? He flipped through the book until he found the chapter devoted to the goddess. He hadn’t heard of her before. He vaguely recalled Ishtar being a bad movie, at least according to his father.

  The book claimed she was the goddess of love, fertility, beauty, the harvest, war, ambition, peace, and prosperity. This contrasted sharply with another god who was credited with representing higher learning.

  Lies, a voice said inside his head.

  He read the entry for another unfamiliar goddess: Inanna. She was credited with being the goddess of war, lust, passion, the harvest, fertility, and jealousy. He scratched his head. From what little he knew about mythology, the gods and goddesses tended to represent one or two things, such as war, beauty, and the sun. Everybody knew that. Ancient Assyria seemed to be into multi-tasking and redundancy. He knew nothing about ancient Assyria, but the summaries left him questioning their veracity.