Thoth, the Atlantean

by Brendan Carroll

  “Do you?” He narrowed his eyes.

  “Yes!” She nodded. “I would hate to be in her shoes. I can imagine how she must feel.”

  “How do you think she might feel? And what do you suppose I could do for her?” he asked. “Go and break her out? Do you realize that it was probably her brother who was responsible for killing those two boys and Francois? Do you know what that means?”

  “I don’t know anything!” she snapped at him. “Nothing except that just when things seemed to be looking up, everything’s turned up-side-down again. I don’t want to go back to St. Patrick’s Island. I am sick of flipping and flopping my life around every time something happens. Now Luke has gone off with Monsieur d’Brouchart and left us here with only Simeon to protect us.”

  “What about me?” Lucio looked hurt. “And you are forgetting Luke Andrew and Stephano and Planxty and…”

  “Stephano and Planxty?!” Merry raised her voice and then lowered it. “I would rather have Michael and Galen here to protect me. I heard about the little deal with the deliveryman! If they can’t even handle a damned UPS dork, how could they stop a murderer? Or two? Or three?”

  “What are you talking about?” Lucio frowned at her. “What deliveryman?” The blurry image of a stranger dressed in a brown uniform, popping chewing gum floated in his vision briefly.

  Merry’s frown deepened. “The UPS man. Planxty told me that…”

  “What deliveryman?!” Lucio turned on the bench and shouted at the cook. The blurry image cleared in his head and his stomach flipped at the memory of the square German jaw and the brown curls sticking out from under the cap.

  “There was this delivery man who came with a package for Master Ramsay and then he wouldn’t give it to us,” Gil answered quickly, stopped stirring to look at him in puzzlement. “It was nothing! The idiot kept badgering us until everyone came down except Simon. You must remember, Monsieur. It was when you came back from chasing the boy. The package turned out to be for someone else. He wouldn’t give it to you either because of your Italian accent.”

  “I don’t have an accent! Who? Who was it for?” Lucio asked him. He had forgotten all about the idiot. Merry was right. They were all becoming senile. His memory cleared. The man with perfect white teeth. The man whose eyes had been obscured behind cheap white-rimmed sunshades.

  “I don’t know.” Gil shook his head. “My soufflé was burning. You will have to ask Monsieur Clementi about that, Monsieur.”

  “Get Luke… please,” Lucio told Merry urgently. The deliveryman’s voice rang in his ears. The voice of General Ernst Schweikert. He had been so tired. He’d been up all day, all night and half the day again. If he lived another thousand years, he would still be Chief of the Dumbfuck Tribe.

  “What? It was just a mistake.” She stood up in alarm. “Just a goof up. I didn’t mean to…”

  “Get Luke!! Find Stephano!” Lucio pushed himself up painfully. “Find Vanni!”

  Chapter Fifteen of Twenty

  If thou seest the oppression of the poor, and violent perverting of judgment and justice in a province, marvel not at the matter

  Mark’s eyes were wide in the gloom of the narrow service stairwell and he could see Konrad across from him, against the facing wall. Both of the Knights held their swords point up, very close against their sides as they eased forward simultaneously to take a look down the stairs. They could see nothing at the foot of the steps where a beam of moonlight fell on the floor and nothing moved among the deeper shadows in the hall.

  Mark jerked his chin slightly and Konrad began a slow slide down the steps, keeping very tight against the wall, placing his boots carefully on each step to avoid creaks and groans. Mark moved in unison with him. Both of them had come from their rooms on the third floor when the torches had appeared on the lawn in front of the house. Where these flames had come from and who might be out there was a complete mystery. They had alerted the priest, but they had not allowed him to join them. It was another hour before they were due to meet downstairs. They had agreed quickly that the son of the Healer would best serve them to stay put while they went down to learn what was happening.

  They reached the back hallway, and then moved quickly toward the front of the house, checking the laundry room, the larder, another storeroom and the kitchen as they went. By the time they reached the formal dining room, it was quite evident they were not alone in the big house. There were furtive, almost inaudible, scurrying sounds coming from the grand entry hall. Someone was out there.

  The two Knights stopped on either side of the dining room doorway, again pressing themselves carefully and silently against the walls. They leaned out slowly to survey the entry hall simultaneously. There the moonlight fell brightly through the tall windows above the front door, illuminating the lofty gallery with silver light almost bright enough to distinguish colors. A lone figure stood in the midst of the great room, looking up the stairs with her mouth slightly open as if in wonder. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen and she was wearing a long cape or cloak. Her long, curly, blonde hair fell down her back.

  Vandals! Kids out for a thrill? This was the first thought that occurred to both of the Knights as they perused the small figure intently. They could see both her hands as she clutched the cape about her. No weapon was visible. Mark crossed the opening, silently and fell in beside the Knight of the Apocalypse. He signaled for him to stay out of sight while he went out alone to confront the child. A good scare would probably suffice.

  Konrad nodded and Mark stepped cautiously into the great hall. He was almost within arm’s length of the intruder before he was discovered. The girl spun around and opened her mouth to scream, but Mark Andrew very quickly clamped his hand over her mouth. Her strength surprised him, and they went down in a tangle of arms and legs. The golden sword struck the flagstone floor sending up sparks as they rolled about. Konrad hung back, watching this with great interest. She was certainly feisty, but Mark soon got the better of her and pinned her to the rug. He sat back on her stomach and brought the sword down across her neck to frighten her, but did not touch her flesh with the gleaming blade.

  “Whattar ye doin’ ’ere?!” he asked in his worst brogue and growl.

  “Lord Adar!?”

  It was not a girl at all.

  “Selwig?” Mark Andrew leaned forward to stare into the wide, green eyes of the Tuathan healer.

  “Yes! Yes! It’s me! Selwig!” the Tuathan cried desperately. “Please do not cut off my head, Sir!”

  Mark pushed himself upright and signaled Konrad to come out of hiding as Selwig scuttled back from his feet.

  “What are you doing here?” Mark Andrew spun about and went to look out the front windows at the fires on the lawn.

  “King Corrigan sent me to find you,” Selwig gasped as he stood up and shook himself out. “He said that I should come because I know you quite well.”

  “Ahhh.” Mark Andrew nodded. “And who is that out there?” He nodded his head at the line of torches bobbing on the lawn.

  “That would be King Corrigan and his troops.”

  Selwig brushed himself off and looked up at first Mark Andrew and then Konrad.

  “What do they want?” Konrad asked the healer.

  “We have come at the behest of Lord Lugh and Lord Nanna,” Selwig said shakily as if he feared pronouncing their names. “To offer our services.”

  “Lord Nanna? Services for what?” Mark Andrew frowned at the short little faery. “You’re a long, long way from home, my friend.”

  “It is well known in the Underworld that things are not well here.” Selwig told him. “You have come to undertake a grave mission, Lord Adar. My Lord Lugh has sent his King and his best men to stand in the vanguard in case you have need of assistance.”

  “That is most reassuring.” Mark let out a long sigh of relief. He had feared that they had been discovered by a much more malignant power than the Tuathan King. “Where is the King?”

  “He is out the
re.” Selwig gestured toward the windows. “He will not come in here. He says that the dwellings of men are polluted. I have been sullied by my association with you and your grandson and others of your minions. Therefore, I am of no great loss to them.”

  “What?!” Mark looked at the healer who had saved Jozsef Daniel’s hand in the realm of Queen Ereshkigal.

  “Sadly it is true,” Selwig told him. “I am not allowed within the great halls of my Lord. I am an outcast, but I am provided for. It is for the best.” Selwig smiled at him.

  “Thot’s preposterous!” Mark Andrew’s temper was rising. “’ow dare th’ brat?! I made a fair bargain fur yur assistance and I paid fur thy services well!”

  “That is true, Lord Adar, but I am no longer welcome in the home of my birth, or in the realm of the King. Do not worry yourself over this. I knew that I would be banished when you chose me. Tuathans are not allowed to associate with men.”

  “But ye went with me in fair gud cheer!” Mark was astounded. The thought that Lugh would sell one of his own for a new gemstone in his crown was outrageous. Especially one so fair as Selwig and talented to boot.

  “To please my Lord Lugh.” Selwig smiled up at him. “I would not think to oppose his will. He knows what is best for the kingdom.”

  “I’ll speak t’ th’ gud King on yur behalf, friend!” Mark Andrew spun about and started for the door, but the healer threw himself on the floor in front of him.

  “Oh, no! Please, Lord Adar! Do not disgrace me further by begging pardon for me. I am content with my lot. It would be cowardly of me to allow you to intervene on my behalf. Besides, I am polluted and my presence within the kingdom would be detrimental to my brothers and sisters.”

  “This is ridiculous!” Mark raged as the healer cowered on the floor in front of him.

  “Brother.” Konrad pulled him aside. “Just because we do not understand their culture does not mean we should try to change it.”

  “But I canna condone such treatment o’ me friend,” Mark told him in exasperation. “Tis nae roight!”

  “We don’t have time to do anything about it now.” Konrad tapped on his watch.

  Mark went back to where the healer still knelt on the floor with his head down.

  “Please. Get up, Selwig.” Mark held out his hand. “Ye’ll come with us.”

  Selwig’s mouth fell open in surprise.

  “I’ll ’ave nae argument!” Mark Andrew told him before he could protest.

  “But I must report back to the King and tell him your word,” Selwig told him miserably.

  “Oll roighty then, tell th’ gud King thot in order t’ prove ’is warth t’ Lord Adar and th’ truth o’ ’is wards, thot ’e will give ye ovar as hostage until farthar notice.”

  Selwig stood blinking momentarily and then a great smile spread across his cherubic face.

  “Now dunna be goin’ aboot with a silly-ass grin on yur face,” Mark warned him. “Ye’re in deep tribble ’ere. Ye’re me hostage and thot’s a fact. If ye cross me, ye’ll pay th’ proice!”

  Selwig’s smile faded quickly to be replaced by a stern scowl.

  “Now go on out thair and tell Corrigan my ward.” The Knight of Death opened the door and shoved the healer out. “Tell th’ King t’ keep back and stay on guard. Sound th’ alarm if strangers draw nigh.”

  “Aye, Lord Adar!” Selwig bowed low and then hurried down the stairs

  “And get yurself back ’ere roight away!” Mark shouted after him. “Or I’ll come out and give yur King a gud thrashin’!”

  “Aye, Sir!” Selwig’s voice drifted back to him.

  “Do you think that was wise?” Konrad asked him as they watched the diminutive figure of the healer disappear into the gloom further down the lawn. “Taking on another mouth to feed, so to speak?”

  “I’ll deal with it later. He’s not such a big mouth, you know,” Mark told him curtly and turned on his heel, heading for the stairs. “Wait down here for him to return. I’m going up to get Father Levi.”

  As he was climbing the stairs two at a time, the sound of bagpipes drifted down from above.

  “Saints preserve us!” Mark Andrew began to take the stairs three at a time. He met Paddy Puffingtowne and his cousin, Seamus Stagmaster, descending the stairs from the third floor with Levi close behind them.

  “Andy, me boy!” Paddy stopped playing long enough to give him a great hug. “Whoy did ye not tell me thot Pierre ’ad soired a goiant?” He looked back up at Levi. “By my beard, ’e’s a strappin’ young lad! Whoy 'ave I nae seen 'im in such long toime? Whoy last I remembar, 'e was nothin' mair than a wee lad.”

  Levi looked to be in shock.

  “Do you know these gentlemen?” he asked Mark. “I thought I was dreaming!”

  Mark tripped back down the stairs to the second floor landing before turning to introduce the clurichauns to the priest.

  “Levi James d’Ornan, this is Pad…”

  “Paddy Elrood Puffingtowne o’ Buttersilk Farm, Kilkenny, Kilkenny County, Ireland,” Paddy said and then bowed low before Levi.

  “Seamus Birnham Stagmaster, the elder, o’ Plentifork Farm, laird and master, in th’ sarvice o’ King Il Dolce Mio.” Seamus bowed in his turn.

  “And so thair ye ’ave it.” Mark Andrew shook his head. He had expected trouble, but this… he had not expected. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or horrified.

  “The Paddy Puffingtowne?!” Levi was astounded.

  “Aye, one an’ th’ same.” Paddy smiled at him, tilting his head and doffing his tam.

  The clurichaun was dressed in a fine yellow and green kilt and red tam with a long pheasant feather. His cousin wore a blue and black kilt with a green tam and a bright yellow feather. They both wore swords at their hips and Paddy carried his pipes under his arm. They had various accouterments attached to them and both carried silver studded drinking horns and wineskins strapped over their backs. “Ye wudna remembar auld Paddy 'oo 'eld ye on 'is lap and sang sweet lullabies t' ye when ye wair yay long?”

  Levi shook his head and raised both eyebrows. He had heard plenty of stories from his brothers about the Clurichauns.

  “We’ve come t’ offer our assistance, Andy,” Paddy told the Knight of Death. “I wudna want t’ be ’earin’ thot ye’ve come t’ a nae gud end again, my friend!”

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  “What do you suppose all those torches are about, Master?” Abaddon peeked over the top of the neatly trimmed hedgerow at the red lights bobbing hither and thither under the trees and across the lawn.

  “Elves!” Jozsef Daniel spat the word. “I might have known he would not come here without an entourage.”

  “Elves are no problem, sir.” The General stepped back into the shadows under the darker shade of a vine-covered arbor.

  “They seemed to be problem for you in the underworld!” Jozsef told him in disgust.

  “Exactly. They are out of their element here,” his companion sneered. “They are ephemeral creatures at best in this environment.”

  “Are you so sure?” Jozsef squinted at the line of torches. “There seems to be a great company of them.”

  “They will not harm us.” Abaddon smiled. “They wouldn’t dare try. Even the elves are not so stupid. They recognize superior powers when they see them.”

  “Then we must not be seen, you fool!” Jozsef snapped at him. “That is probably exactly why they are here. Watch dogs of our precious Lord Adar.”

  “Forgive me, Your Grace.” The General cringed. “That would seem to be no problem. We are already behind their lines.”

  “So it would seem, but there may be more in the wood.” Jozsef looked about. “We will have to be very careful or we will lose the element of surprise.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Jozsef pulled the hood of his gray cloak up and over his head and Abaddon did the same. In the shadows, they were virtually invisible.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  “
What do you suppose they will do with this mysterious prisoner?” Ruth asked her husband as he stood on the balcony, staring out over the courtyard.

  He could sense something very disturbing on the wind. Things were not right. Not only was he having a great deal of difficulty finding loyal members to fill the holes in his government throughout the world, he was having troubles militarily. General Watkins was still in the hospital. He was improving somewhat, but he was a long way from recovery. Whatever had happened to him had been profound and Omar suspected the worst.

  Somewhere, he had come into contact with the Evil One. What worried him most was what the Ancient Evil One might have learned from his Chief of Staff.

  “I have no idea,” Omar answered absently.

  “A woman, you say?”

  Ruth got up slowly and came to stand beside him. The full moon was setting in the west. It was very, very late and they should have been in bed. Separate beds, of course.

  “Yes. That is what Master d’Brouchart told me. I suspect it has something to do with the little mission to Romania. I believe he may have stirred something up there. I just have a bad feeling about it.”

  “You should not worry yourself about their troubles,” she said softly. “You have enough of your own.”

  “That’s certainly true.” He smiled ruefully. He felt very alone now. He had recovered his son, lost his wife and he hadn’t seen his father in ages. He missed his father terribly. Now he had to try to salvage his son as well as his empire that seemed to be slipping away from him. In fact, there were many rumors coming out of the very island where he knew Jozsef Daniel to be situated in his stronghold. Jozsef was plotting more disasters for mankind and he would have to do something about it soon, but he seemed to have lost interest in his empire.

  At first, he had been reluctant to admit this startling realization even to himself. His desire to be the Prince of World Peace was waning. The truth of his father’s warnings had come home to him very hard when he had been ‘summoned’ to Jerusalem to answer before a committee for the alleged crimes the Fox had committed under his command. He had done quite well without Luke Andrew and his general there to support him, but he missed Abyaz Babar more than anyone else at the moment, and the investigation he had launched into his late Prime Minister’s death had quite quickly shown the man had been murdered. If Abyaz had been there, he would have been much more confident, but his confidence was failing him now.