War of the World Makers

by Reilly Michaels

  For those seven days, Catherine endured the living hell, without the slightest bit of aria to cure her as the British fired on the German lines with well over a million shells, using everything from small field cannon to eight inch howitzers to their huge siege howitzers that sent crackling metal chunks of fire into the earth with a concussive burst that turned any human head within a hundred yards into ringing bell. Unlucky wretches closer to a blast were battered to jelly. Two of the men now in her bunker, musketeer Martin Heidrich and private Harry Bierkamp, were shell-shocked victims of these same cannons. Catherine had carried them into the bunker one night upon discovering the bodies in a trench, slugged unconscious after an especially heavy barrage.

  Slinging them over her shoulders, she ran over the open ground of No Man’s Land, muttering a spell to ease their shock. In the darkness all about her as she ran, flashes of shell bursts, scores and scores of them, and the sounds of the explosions, WHUMP WHUMP BOOOOOOM, too many to count, WHUMP WHUMP BOOOOOOM, echoing and shattering the air into one solid drone of maddening noise. Shells burst above her also and glimmered red in the thick smoke hanging above the ground. In the distance, her ears picked up the sounds of wounded men, screaming and shrieking like scorched animals. She sensed metal shrapnel from a nearby air burst spraying out with enough velocity to sever limbs, hurtling at them, and she spell-covered the men with an umbrella of magical force just before the shrapnel hit. It saved them, but a ground burst less than a hundred yards away blew several hot shards into the Czarina's calves, causing her to wince in pain. She pulled them out as she ran, and in doing so, recalled a diary entry she’d read in Saravastra, penned by a French Second Lieutenant Alfred Joubaire just before he died in WW I:

  “Humanity is mad. It must be mad to do what it is doing. What a massacre. What scenes of horror and carnage! I cannot find words to translate my impressions."

  She had fooled herself before arrival into believing she understood what Joubaire meant. Yes, all madness, and for what? Paganini was right. If inhumanly possible, history must be changed. But it was not until the doomed British assault of July 1 that she fully understood the diary entry. The "creeping barrage" announced the start of her lesson, and her younger self from Bärenthoren Castle in the 18th century arrived in the thick of it. It occurred then to Catherine, that whatever happened on this day of July 1, 1916, she would experience it twice.

  As she recorded later, in her Saravastra journal:

  I sat in the bunker, against a wall. The floor was full of splinters, since the wood had stretched and broken in places due to quakes caused by the shelling. My skin was not pierced by the splinters, but still, all very uncomfortable. It was early morning and a gray sunlight came through small slits in the bunker walls to make the insides look like a room in Hades. My companions, all German soldiers of the XIV corps, Fourth Army, held rosary beads and drank their black miserable coffee, two of them smoking pipes, one a cigarette. As if we did not have enough smoke! Like me, all were shaking, sleepless and nervous, beaten down after so many days of unending concussion. One of the men had begun to scream in the night. I sent him a dream of pleasing seaside and his sweetheart beside him. Besides wishing to heal him, I knew if he continued, all would begin screaming and sanity would fly from us. I could have used aria to heal or protect myself, but I wished to endure this Hades, this hell of sound and fury like the rest of my bunker mates. Would I not be a coward if I chose otherwise? And too, a suitable cure for my arrogance of late. I knew I wished to punish myself, for much blood was on my hands and thoughts of evil and good had lately become one.

  The 'creeping barrage' of the British, as they call it, their prelude to a massive infantry charge all along the line, filled our bunker room; and like other barrages, filled it with a ghastly and skull cracking thunder. Like those thunders of other days and nights, it seemed to last forever. The hours of these barrages I count as the longest and most painful of my life.

  As I felt sorry for my pathetic state of being, the Princess Von Anhalt appeared in the bunker, and quite suddenly, as arranged with Maria of Pozzuoli. She stood there in the center of the room looking dazed. The men present, all six of them, saw her as a German infantryman due to my spell, in the same way they saw me, and in this case, one who had just stumbled into the bunker. If anything, they believed her shell shocked—a common sight in this war. She staggered back against the wall, stunned at the persistence of the unending explosive thunder. Nothing could have prepared her. In truth, she was shell-shocked already.

  I watched silently as she examined her surroundings, her experience becoming part of my memory even as she did so. She looked around at the men, none of them paying any further attention to her, all just sitting there, smoking and praying and shaking. Her face appeared confused, and then her eyes turned to me. She blinked and saw who I was, and came close. She sat down beside me and continued to stare as I reached out and held her hand. My own hand was shaking, but she held it tight, her eyes suddenly fearful to see herself, her more powerful and older self, trembling like a frightened puppy. She asked me, ‘What manner of hell is this?’ and I explained as best I could. She was surprised to hear she resided in France with the German army in 1916, and that England was responsible for the shelling; and as we both sat there, clutching each other, rattled to our bones and made pitiful by the bombardment, it seemed ridiculous, even laughable to believe we were beings who could survive the battle much less ever hope to change the world.

  * Оверман *

  ZOLO FACED THE CLOCK OF PAGANINI'S VOICE ONCE MORE. His Mother Yarrow had informed him—while he sat on that chair watching Babette, worrying about Freddie, and contemplating Fate—that Paganini wished to speak. He left Babette after a kiss on her forehead, and a promise of return, and went to the small communications rooms shielded from all human and magical eyes. Before the clock he sat, turned the hands in the proper way, and listened. The voice of the Lord of Saravastra came through the clock, thin and hard:

  "As we feared, the NMNI results prove that Temujin Gur intends to cross the Nicholas Line, and with the Princess von Anhalt. His goal is the Necropolis of The Khan, the final burial place of Genghis, somewhere in the Khentii Mountains of northern Mongolia. There he will resurrect him to mount a new and decisive invasion of Europe in the 13th century."

  Zolo hesitated to reply, rattled by Gur's plan. He had realized of course that something strange and nightmarish would result from poking around in Gur's mind, but this? Nothing less than the extinction of all Europe? Given Gur’s exposure to Master Godfellow though, it was not surprising that he would think in such grand and world-devouring terms.

  "But why does he believe Princess von Anhalt will cooperate?” Zolo asked.

  “He will first trick her by not revealing his true goals, then he will hold her father and nanny hostage, as well as her favorite servants. Gur also believes she will fear him enough to not defy him, despite her power, at least not until it is too late.”

  Zolo shuddered to think of Freddie‘s fate in Mongol hands. But another question remained. “Why not simply keep Genghis alive beyond his time of death?” he asked. “Why the resurrection, Master Paganini?"

  "To create a spectacle and convince the Mongol people of his divinity."

  Zolo laughed bitterly to himself, and said, "The greatest monster of all time, now a god."

  "As his followers squabble over the empire, he will glide down from the air and land in their midst, claiming to be God of The Eternal Blue Sky, a deity of the Mongol religion. After a grand ceremony he will order invasion plans to commence. The God and his Lords of The Bow will then rampage over Europe with even bigger and more bloodthirsty armies than before, this time inspired by religious fanaticism and aided by sorcery, and as Genghis did in Persia and China, he will follow on Gur's desires to be especially brutal with Paris, Vienna, London and Rome, as well as any future center of western art or learning. Nothing will remain. And once Europe lies dead, he and his sons will begin five year
s of rape. They will methodically and savagely rape thousands of captured European noblewomen, and thus father a new Mongol Europe of the west, renamed Temujina, and in time to come, they will be known as The White Mongol Gods."

  "Gur wants every bit of European culture destroyed ... no democracy, no— "

  "All culture, all people, all memory gone. And he will live it, as it happens."

  "How do you mean?"

  "A portion of his soul will reside in the new God, thus allowing him to live out his fantasy. In effect, he and Genghis will be one in the same. In that black stew of horror that is Gur’s mind, he already refers to himself as Temujin Khan, and Lord of The World. He is actually jealous of the mortal Genghis and his accomplishments. Forcing his will and soul on the new divine Genghis solves all problems.”

  “And what of ...“ He was afraid to ask.

  “He will brutally kill her after her energy is sapped as a result of delaying and destroying our defense satellites south of the Nicholas. Her access to the magical essence of the Tao is not limitless. And once done, he ...” Paganini’s voice trailed off.

  Zolo grew curious and afraid. “He will?”

  “We do not wish to speak of this.”

  “You must tell me, sir.”

  “He wishes to feast on her body. He will toast with her blood and bake her heart in his hand. He will offer it to Genghis for dessert after a grand meal atop the bones of European princes.”

  Zolo paused before speaking again, regaining his composure after learning the news that Gur wished to make a meal of Freddie. “But how ... how can the Mongol get away it? You and Master Godfellow will still be alive. Saravastra is outside the time stream, so how—”

  “Our friend, the Empress of Byzantium, will join him once the Mongol invasion of Europe begins. He has been conspiring with her to kill Edison for some time. But in this new scheme of Temujin Khan, he believes he'll find one more World Maker to help him, one of our comrades fallen on hard times in New York or Bagdad, and together they will assassinate Edison, take over his forces, and make war on Saravastra ... And yes, I have known for quite some time that she is a traitor to our cause, but we keep our enemies close, young man.”

  “How can we kill this mad beast?”

  “We have a plan. We must be patient.”

  “Even Master Godfellow would not condone this. Even he—”

  “Edison will not know. Gur’s demise will come in our time, by our hand alone.”

  “As you say. I cannot help but—”

  “Are we keeping Prince Christian safe, for now?”

  “Yes, but I do not know if his daughter will ever be comfortable with his death.”

  “She will be resigned to it. We understand that now ... Good day to you, young man.”

  “But how will she, sir? How do you know?”

  No answer. Paganini was gone. The clock stopped.

  * Оверман *

  TOBIAS BERGMAN WAS THE FIRST TO SEE THE CORPSE. It dropped from the ceiling of the Great Hall, right at lunchtime. He’d been walking from the kitchen, groaning to himself because his arms ached, holding on high a heavy silver platter of freshly cooked and sliced meats. He intended to rest it on a long table set up for Empress Elizabeth who was dining with Princess Johanna and Prince Christian that day, as well as other select nobles—just a small affair, a simple lunch of several courses.

  When only a few feet into the Great Hall, a movement above caught his eye. He looked up to see it drop. It fell from the uppermost reaches, from the shadows of the ceiling, like a big black sack. It hit the edge of the long table just to the right of Empress Elizabeth who faced Princess Johanna in the midst of conversation. It struck with such impact that it flipped the whole table over, spilling food and drink onto the floor with a loud crash.

  Tobias froze in place, as did the other servants. The nobles and Empress Elizabeth, also speechless. The first to react was Gleb. He ran over to the thing and knelt down to examine.

  "Mon dieu! What is it?" Empress Elizabeth asked.

  Gleb looked up at her and said, "It is a naked corpse, bloody and eyeless, and all its bones are broken. It is the body of a woman ... I know not who."

  Tobias walked closer, needing to see the thing for himself. The corpse appeared more like a lump of bloody meat cut from the carcass of an animal. It had stubs of limbs, a head of sorts, and long dark chestnut hair. No other parts marked it as a woman. Before he could step closer, Empress Elizabeth commanded the corpse be quickly covered and a physician summoned to inspect it. Gleb snapped his fingers and two of the dumbstruck butlers standing nearby pulled the stained white tablecloth away from the overturned table and draped it over the body.

  The Empress coldly observed the butlers, and said to no one in particular, "After all the strange happenings in this Prussian castle, I am not really surprised that a corpse has dropped from the ceiling to ruin our lunch."

  Then things got stranger.

  Just moments after Empress Elizabeth spoke, one of the butlers tugged at Gleb's sleeve and pointed at the cloth covering the body. The cloth lay flat on the floor. Gleb bent down and lifted the cloth.

  No body could be found.

  "What devil's magic is at work?" Prince Christian asked with an angry voice.

  Tobias knew, as did everyone else in the room, that Prince Christian wished to point the finger at Empress Elizabeth's Mongol wizard, Temujin Gur, though he dared not risk offending the Empress by doing so. Ever since Gur's arrival, the castle had suffered bleedings and all manner of madness. Already, the villages nearby believed Bärenthoren to be demon haunted and cursed, even more so than in the bygone days of the Sun Angel. Empress Elizabeth made no comment. She just stared at the bloody spot where the body had rested, her eyes fixed for many moments, as if she realized something important though would not say it.

  Before anyone could utter another word, distant shrieks of terror erupted from above. To Tobias it sounded like the maidservants in the upper quarters of the castle, the shrieks echoing down the grand staircase outside the Great Hall. The shrieks grew louder and continued, as if those shrieking had run from the source of terror and were drawing close.

  As the day wore on, Empress Elizabeth and Prince Christian, Gleb and Tobias, and everyone else learned, upon weeding fear-based rumor from fact, that within one hour following the drop from the ceiling, the same unrecognizable female corpse had appeared in at least five different locations in or around castle Bärenthoren. One of the maidservants, overcome with hysterics, told Prince Christian the corpse appeared in mid-air as she was making a bed, and chased her out of the room. "It just floated after me," she said, "just floated and dripped blood, dripped and dripped!" Indeed, a trail of blood found later in that hallway by castle valets confirmed her story. Two of Prince Christian’s musketeers reported the corpse sitting atop a parapet on the castle wall, staring with no eyes to the horizon. It vanished when they attempted to snag it with a halberd. Finally, it came to rest just outside the castle gate.

  The guards alerted Prince Christian and they all watched it from the walls for half an hour as it lay there unmoving in the sun. After a cloud rolled in and a light snow fell, the corpse vanished once more, finally coming to rest in the bed of Empress Elizabeth. It appeared beside her as she reclined with a big brass monocle in her eye and a glass of red wine in her hand. That was the story of one of her Prussian maidservants, Frieda Hoffman, later whipped by Princess Johanna for spreading the story of the corpse's appearance, and for the crime of spying on the Empress in the first place.

  Later that evening, rumors whispered among the nervous castle staff said the Empress had summoned Temujin Gur to deal with the case of the vanishing corpse. Nevertheless, it seemed to all in the castle that an ugly god or power could not make up its mind. Where did it wish to place the corpse? It reminded them of Princess Johanna using the backs of servants to repeatedly move pieces of heavy furniture from one room to another, not able to reach a decision, and of course, remain
ing callous to the suffering she caused.

  To many it seemed like a prankish joke of some kind.

  A very sick one.

  * Оверман*

  THE OBSERVADOR PACIENTE OF ZOLO REPORTED THE PUNISHMENT of Gleb at the hands of Prince Johanna for the fact that Prince Christian was still alive. Zolo sat in the secret castle bedroom suite, having returned there after speaking with Paganini, and while Babette slept peacefully, his inner eyes watched a raging woman confront Gleb in another secluded room of the castle. With both hands she reached out and grabbed a cringing Gleb by his jacket and threw him across the room. The man stumbled and fell to the floor.

  "Imbecile, why is Prince Christian still alive?" she shouted, looming above him, vengeful and fuming.

  From the floor, a rattled Gleb looked up and said, "He should be sick by now. I don't understand. I gave him the right poison—"

  "Not only is he not sick, he says he feels better than ever in his life. He even tried to take me to bed last night. He was amorous and lively, and if I had not slapped and scratched him he would have violated me!"

  Just as Zolo chuckled to himself at Princess Johanna's fear of sex with her husband, he saw a dark shadow move across the wall, like a giant black manta. It startled him. Zolo then felt as if he were rising into the air and turning downward, around and up again, even though he remained seated.

  Suddenly, all went blurry with motion. He began to spin faster within himself, and as he did, the floor and walls of the room vanished. Babette vanished. All balance and sense of place lost, and the sound of his frightened voice filled his head like the roar of a bear deep in cave.