For Centuries More

by Ethan Johnson

  A hue and cry went up from the western front. A section of the inner walls dissipated into sand. The marauders did not possess any special tools, only the weapons of war, and set about slaughtering all who stood in their path. Another wall dissolved into sand. A wooden structure went up in bright orange flames. The king was terrified at the sight of Nineveh becoming erased from the earth.

  “Fool. Impotent fool.” The king turned to see the priestess from Inanna’s temple approach him, wagging an accusing finger. “Inanna heard not your prayers, as none were offered. See now the folly of expecting favor from she who has been ignored. See how Nineveh falls, never to rise again.”

  The king was offended. He shouted at a solder to run her through with his sword. The soldier made a disapproving face and rushed off to battle. He was run through with a spear and his sword fell to the ground. Another wall vanished. Another fire burned.

  “Impossible. Mighty Nineveh was built by the greatest kings who ever graced this land. It has been blessed by the very gods. Even Inanna, who has called Nineveh her home for centuries. For centuries more, she shall abide here.”

  The priestess stared at him defiantly. “No, sire, Inanna has forsaken Nineveh, and has cursed it. See now as the curse comes into full bloom! See, as Nineveh falls. You speak of the kings of old. They paid tribute to the gods, knowing whence their blessings came. Hubris! Arrogance! These are your legacy. You shall be the last king, forgotten to the ages.”

  The king turned red at this. He picked up the fallen soldier’s sword and charged at the priestess. She raised her chin. Her eyes were weary with a sense of the inevitable. “You may strike me down, sire, but my truth remains, and Nineveh shall fall. Woe to you and all who have brought this day upon us.”

  The king ran her through with the sword. He pulled it out and looked at her blood as it ran along the length of the blade. “The blame is yours, priestess. It fell to you to curry favor with ancient Inanna, and if she has cursed us, if she has forsaken us, it is you who shall pay the price for your treachery.” He hacked at her with the sword, rendering her a bloody mass. He stepped back and drove the sword into her remains, leaving the hilt gleaming in the noonday sun.

  Marauders rushed through the breach behind the king. The first one ran him through with a spear, then another slashed at him with a sword. A third ended his life conclusively with a blow from his mace.

  James frowned at the bloody scene before him. He tried to refocus on his original purpose: to know about Aubra and where she came from. He meant to know her immediate history, such as who her family was and how she had come to be a purported student at Eddington Manor. He assumed his intent was not clear enough and he was shown this scene in error. He began to utter a clarifying statement when he noticed something odd about the battle. Several soldiers who had been defending the city from attack were now part of the marauding army without being forced into servitude somehow in trade for their lives. James saw their helmets bore a white symbol the others lacked. Had they been traitors?

  No, he thought, this is another unrelated tangent. Focus! “Show me where Aubra came from, and how she came to be a student of Horace Steele.”

  The scene did not change. Black smoke did not surround him and transport him elsewhere. The hilt of the sword that killed the priestess gleamed in the sunlight like a beacon. James floated over to it and reached out to touch the sword. In his ethereal state, he could not make physical contact with anything, but he found himself irresistibly drawn to it. To his amazement, his hand gripped the gleaming hilt.

  Instead of black smoke, James instantly saw a flash: a young man joined a monastery and transcribed books for decades. He saw a woman work as a seamstress for a cruel governess and saw her starved and whipped. He saw a man rise to prominence as a merchant, selling wares bound for the New World. He saw a man torn away from his family and sold at auction and put to work on a tobacco plantation.

  “Is this Aubra, or the priestess?”

  A voice replied. It came from everywhere, and nowhere. James felt a resonance as it spoke. They are one.

  “How did Aubra come to Eddington Manor?”

  To his surprise and relief, black smoke swirled around him and he found himself in Horace Steele’s office. Aubra sat in one of his staid guest chairs in his stodgy office, favoring dark wood and rich leather upholstery. James was surprised to see her unaccompanied by any anyone, such as her parents.

  Horace looked her up and down as he sat behind his large desk, littered with items of antiquity and various papers. “Ah, my child. Your education shall begin in earnest. I have heard extraordinary things about you. I look forward to fostering your spiritual development and shaping you into a leader for the coming age. These are auspicious times, you know. We stand on the brink of a new age of unparalleled spiritual and mental enlightenment.”

  Aubra stared at him blankly. James was happy to know on some level that she’d always been that way since her arrival at the manor. “I know my purpose,” she said in her signature monotone.

  Horace’s eyes sparked, then tented as he let out a jolly laugh. “Oh, goodness me! Such wisdom from the mouths of babes. Truly, the universe chooses delightful channels through which to speak. Well, then, off you go. My staff shall show you to your room, and get you established. Let me first welcome you officially to Eddington Manor, and say how delighted I am to have you join our ranks of seekers.”

  “I am not seeking anything. I know my purpose,” she said, staring him down.

  Horace was stunned, then let out another laugh. “Oh, too precious! Ah yes, the innocence of children. From you, we shall learn much, of this I am certain. But, if you don’t mind my saying so, don’t close your mind to new possibilities and experiences. You might be astounded at the truths you will encounter when you don’t lay claim to all the answers. I speak from years of experience.”

  James felt a chill as he saw the intent look on Aubra’s face as she crossed her arms tightly in the manner he had come to dislike. “So do I. Many, many years. I know my purpose.”

  Horace stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Well… then I shall not delay you any further. Run along and do let me know if there’s anything I can do to be of assistance as you acclimate to your surroundings.”

  Aubra rose from her chair and unfolded her arms. She stared at his desk for a moment, then spoke. “Have you spoken with your brother lately?”

  Horace’s eyes widened, and he sat up in his chair. “How would you know to ask such a thing? Who told you?”

  “I asked a question. I assume the answer is no.”

  “No, dear child, I have not. I have phoned his residence many times, only to be told he is engaged in a series of meditations that render him incapable of being disturbed by the concerns of mere mortals, even close family.” He sank in his seat.

  “You should pay him a visit,” she said, and left the room.

  Horace stroked his beard thoughtfully for several minutes. He snapped out of his brooding funk and produced a clean sheet of paper and a fountain pen. “I’m afraid other matters do not permit me the luxury of personal travel at present. There are other means to communicate with my brother. Perhaps this letter shall find him well, and he’ll take a moment to submit a reply with details of this strange undertaking of his.”

  James looked skyward. “Show me where his brother is today.”

  Black smoke swirled around him once more.

  CHAPTER 57: CAGED TIGER ESCAPES

  To the women who surrounded Agnes as she laid on the apartment floor, she appeared unconscious to the point of near death. Deep within her, however, Agnes was quite active. She stood surrounded by a shapeless form, darker than the night, blacker than the inkiest black. She felt utter hopelessness radiate from it. While held within its grip, she was subjected to an onslaught of depression and feelings of worthlessness. She found herself immune to these feelings now. A white light surrounded her, repelling the black form as she drew near to it.

  “You have no pl
ace here. Return to your maker,” she said firmly.

  The form grew larger and surrounded her. You are unloved. To carry on living is pointless. Why not relieve yourself of this burden, and do the world a favor? Unless… you’re too stupid to complete such a simple task.

  Agnes looked up and smiled. Gracie was stroking her hair and begging her to wake up. Jacqueline was dialing 9-1-1. Gracie’s girlfriend knelt beside her. She pressed one hand to Gracie’s back to give her physical support in her time of need, and squeezed Agnes’s hand with her other one, adding her voice to the chorus of concern that filled her ears.

  “I am loved. I have family and friends that care about me. And I have work to do. My time here is not finished. Leave. You have nothing positive to contribute. Go to where you belong.”

  The black form shrank away from her, then grew even larger. Previously, this smothering effect was overwhelming and rendered Agnes barely able to function. Now she found it tiresome in its impotence. The form persisted in its efforts to sink her in a well of crippling depression. It only takes a minute. A knife in the heart. A handful of pills. A filled bathtub to drown yourself in. You are nothing. You are a burden. You are stupid, weak, and worthless. Rid the world of your foul presence.

  Jacqueline terminated the call after summoning an ambulance. A siren sounded in the distance. Gracie told her the fire station was only a half mile away. Jacqueline knelt beside Agnes and gripped her other hand. Tears dripped onto Agnes’s forehead as Jacqueline pleaded to her to wake up, and assured her help was on the way. She told Agnes she’d cancel her flight and stay to make sure she was going to be okay. Agnes smiled at these assurances, and her light grew brighter. The form was repelled once more, and diminished. It seemed to be cast into the darkest corners of an otherwise empty room. Agnes saw only white light around her, and felt white light break through from afar to meet it.

  To her surprise, it wasn’t only from her sisters. Another beam of white light tore through the black shape. In an instant, she knew its origin. It came from the boy, James, who had come to visit her and who she had cast away in anger. She thought he was on an errand from the countess, intent on plying the secret of turning plain objects to gold. Now she knew the truth about him and how he cared for her. Had his purposes been malign, or at least naïve, such light would not have been sent. He told her he loved her. She felt the truth of those words now as his light weakened the black form even further.

  Love is a lie. Nothing and no one cares about you. Don’t delude yourself.

  Gracie cried as Agnes laid motionless on the floor. She pleaded to her not to die when she was finally getting to know her. Gracie’s girlfriend stood and looked out the living room window. She announced the arrival of the ambulance. Jacqueline brushed her free hand across Agnes’s forehead and told her help was on the way and not to worry.

  Agnes was far from worried. The bright aura that surrounded her became more luminous and dazzling than ever. “You are not needed here. Return to your maker.”

  The black form did not reply. White light shined in all directions. The scourge that vexed her was gone. She took a moment to enjoy the sensation of pure love that enveloped her after the steady drumbeat of negativity and hopelessness she had endured without respite. She returned to waking consciousness in time to find herself being poked and prodded by two paramedics in blue uniforms.

  “I’m back,” she said.

  Gracie cried out and slid on her knees beside her. “Weirdness. Agnes. Are you okay? What happened?”

  The paramedic beside her brushed her aside. “Let us finish our evaluation. I’ve got 113 over 52.”

  The other paramedic pulled a stethoscope from his ears and frowned. “Respiration normal. Pulse 51.” He turned to Agnes. “Did you faint? Any dizziness? Nausea?”

  “I just… blacked out, I guess,” Agnes said. “But I feel much better now.”

  “Huh. Well, we should take you in to Lakeview just in case. Any allergies? Did you eat anything strange in the last 72 hours?”

  Gracie snorted. “She eats the same crap every day. Well, did. Actually, I have no idea what she’s been stuffing into her mouth these days. You should dissect her and find out.”

  Agnes shook her head. “I don’t think it was anything I ate. Oh, well, I take that back. I think there was something on the pizza I ate that didn’t agree with me.”

  The other paramedic shined a penlight in her eyes and into her mouth after ordering her to open wide. “No sign of anaphylaxis. Lakeview is going to have to run some tests.”

  Agnes shook her head. “I hate to waste your time, but I’m feeling quite well. Focus your energies on others who need your help.”

  Jacqueline stepped forward indignantly. “Agnes Morris, you do as you’re told. You scared us all half to death with your fainting spell, or whatever that was. If your concerns are financial, I assure you Richardson and I will cover as much as is required.”

  Gracie rolled her eyes. “If my nose looks raw, it’s just because Fortune is rubbing her fat wallet in it. Don’t mind me, I’ll get over it.”

  Annabella gave her a disapproving glance. “Gracie, let your sister help in her own way.”

  The paramedics frowned at Agnes. The one to her left shrugged and said, “Well, we can’t force you to submit to transport. I will say we strongly recommend it. If you’re trying to cut down on the medical bills, then maybe one of these people can give you a ride. But the ER will push you further down the triage list if you don’t come in on an ambulance, so that’s the trade-off. It could mean hours of waiting just to see a nurse, let alone a doctor. Your call.”

  Jacqueline knelt beside her and squeezed her hand. “Don’t be foolish, Agnes. Let them take you to the hospital. You don’t want to ignore this, and have it spiral out of control.”

  Gracie squeezed her other hand. “Whatever you want to do is fine by me. But For… Jacqueline is right. You’ve been messed up for a while now. Maybe they can give you some kick-ass drugs and blow this thing out of you, whatever it is.”

  Agnes looked at each of them and smiled. “I took care of it. I’m quite well.”

  Jacqueline shook her head. “I don’t accept that, Agnes. Let them take you in.”

  Agnes turned to Gracie. “I appreciate everyone’s concern. I think what’s best for me right now is my own bed and a blanket, if you understand what I’m saying.”

  Gracie’s eyes widened. “Are you going to be… out long?”

  “Not long. I just need to do what’s best.”

  The paramedics lingered by the door. “Well, what’s the plan here? Should we get the stretcher?”

  Jacqueline said yes, but Gracie stepped forward and gave an emphatic no. Annabella was caught in the crossfire, but after reading the look on Gracie’s face she sided with her. “That’s three to one for no. Sorry, guys. Maybe you’ll get a cool axe murder or something to make up for it,” Gracie said.

  Jacqueline fumed as the paramedics packed up and left. Agnes rose from the floor and hugged her. “Thank you for everything you did for me,” she said, then hugged Gracie. To her visible surprise, Annabella received a hug from Agnes as well. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “I am Annabella. You may know me as Trixie, from when you two came to my salon all those months ago.”

  “I know you,” Agnes said.

  Jacqueline closed the door behind the departing paramedics. “Wait, what do you mean, all those months ago? It was my understanding you two haven’t been living here very long. Did you two make a trip I don’t know about?”

  Gracie began to make up a cover story, but Agnes shushed her. “Yes, we did, and it’s a story for another time. I must get to bed and under a blanket right away. Thank you all again for everything you did for me in my darkest hour.”

  “Well, if it was as dire as all that, I still think you should go to the hospital. I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay,” Jacqueline said.

  “Trust me on this. If Weirdness says
she needs to get under a blanket, you let her do her thing,” Gracie said with a sidelong wink to Agnes.

  After taking a shower and changing into fresh clothes, Agnes was tucked in to bed by her sisters. Annabella watched from a respectable distance and pulled the bedroom door closed behind Gracie and Jacqueline as they left. Agnes laid in the darkness and clutched the corners of her comforter.

  “With this blanket, I go to James,” she said.

  CHAPTER 58: THE WRONG PLACE

  James stood in Horace Steele’s imposing office, done up in wood and leather. But it wasn’t his office. It seemed to him like a clever forgery. Cats lounged on various surfaces. A gray long-haired cat looked up from licking its paw and James felt caught it its gaze, as prey does when it spots a glimpse of its predator. The cat bared its teeth and yawned.

  What was the meaning of this vision? All others appeared to be past events. This scene reminded him of old dreams, from before his induction into Eddington Manor. His thought-voice used to inform him of his locale, which he accepted despite several, if not all details being incorrect. He recalled one of his old school, featuring an alligator-infested swamp in the center of it that the faculty and students accepted without question. He woke up in a sweat after dreaming of being bitten on the leg while asking out Peggy Redburgh.

  No such thought-voice spoke to him now. He floated around the room, trying to make sense of the objects he saw and what they might portend. His study was interrupted as the door opened. Mr. Steele entered the room. He muttered to himself of the failings of modern medicine as he stuffed items into a black bag. James was utterly confused by the scene. Was this a future event? Was it an alternate past? He had been warned about this by one of his instructors and advised not to put stock in such visions lest he draw the incorrect conclusion, thereby being led astray from the path of right action.