The Centaur

by Brendan Carroll

  “I see. And where is Lord Marduk?”

  “He is in the Punjab, my son, nursing his pride and mourning his losses.” Lemarik’s long face darkened. “He does not know the danger in which he resides so close to the level of the sea. Tomorrow he will face the destruction of his precious home.”

  “Destruction? In the Punjab? From what? A typhoon?”

  “No. No. No. No. No! Not a typhoon. It is nothing so tame which speeds our way. A great Centaur beast approaches from the constellation of Sagittarius. A lonely piece of my own lovely Vulcan. Alas! My poor planet cannot find rest, but flies through the coldness of space bringing death and destruction everywhere it goes.”

  “You are speaking in riddles, Father.” Omar was pulling on his boots. “I must find Colonel McGuffy and Luke Andrew. You know…. I should give McGuffy a promotion. I think I will.”

  “Yes, yes, but hurry. Time is short.” Lemarik raised his arms and turned in a circle. Only a puff of purple vapor remained where he had stood.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  The room in which they stood was relatively quiet. Abaddon could hear the slow dripping of water somewhere off to his right and the barely audible explosions some two to three-hundred feet above the inner sanctum of the bomb shelter into which the palace guard, or what was left of it and the Queen Mother had taken cover. Omar’s beautiful palace and courtyard were obliterated. Nothing was left of the white marble and granite structure other than piles of smoldering ruins. The nearby buildings and offices of the government were also shattered as they had been in times past and there was no sign of life in the center of the city. The people who had not fled the city were either dead and buried under tons of debris or cowering in underground bunkers, cellars and basements. There would be no military reprisal against the forces camped outside the city. There was no military in the city. No police. No militia. And no other service oriented personnel. The hospitals had been abandoned and evacuated at the start of the siege and the doctors, nurses and associated medical staff had disappeared along with the firefighters and emergency services.

  Nothing remained but the few frightened imperial guards and the Queen Mother. But no furrows of worry were apparent on her lovely face as she sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of her circle with her palms pressed together and her face turned up to the ceiling, eyes closed. Candle light flickered in the slow trickle of air still coming through the ventilation system. Abaddon wondered that anything still worked. He watched as she muttered words incomprehensible. The crystal skull in front of her glowed deep yellowish orange as she sought to understand its powers. She had made good on her promise. He had shown her how to draw the circle and the proper placements of the Cardinal points and she had taken it from there. Who she was talking to, was a matter of some concern to the dark angel. He’d gotten much more than he’d bargained for when he’d tried to question her on that point. She had almost destroyed him and then patted his arm solicitously afterward, promising still yet something even more terrifying. She was lonely. She wanted company… in her bed. That, he had no intention of supplying. He had never taken advantage of a single female in that regard, and he was somehow, perversely proud of the fact. Abaddon would not be gracing her bed.

  There were oppressive forces evident in the room as he walked around the inside perimeter of the circle. Just outside the protective shielding provided by the Queen, shapes fluid and monstrous wavered, disappeared, swam and glided through the air. These were awesome spirits from beyond the Abyss and the sight of them horrified even the Dark Angel of Death. He had never seen such hideous features in all his existence and had no doubt, should he suddenly find himself outside the circle, his body, his spirit, his very life force would have been stripped from him in an instant, but he could not sit down, could not stay still, could not shield his eyes from the sights. He could only hope that Lord Adar knew what power he faced here. He could only hope that Lord Adar had not underestimated the Queen and had not made a fatal mistake in sending the skull to Huber.

  His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as someone, in full ignorance, yanked open the door leading to the corridor. The room erupted with unearthly shrieks and screams and the demonic horde rushed toward the light from the more brightly lit corridor. Abaddon flinched as a spray of blood covered his face and the front of his uniform and the death cries of the unfortunate guard were cut off abruptly. His lifeless body slumped onto the tiled floor just outside the door. The screams of the maddened entities Huber had conjured echoed through the halls and then a very pale, very frightened face appeared around the door frame.

  “Your Highness! Sir!” The man nearly fainted from horror and shock.

  “Captain,” Abaddon assumed his military career easily. “At ease. Why have you interrupted the queen’s meditations?”

  “We have captured a prisoner, sir.” The man’s wide eyes darted back and forth between the general’s bloodied face and the angry face of the Queen Mother. “My sergeant… God rest his soul… my sergeant meant no disrespect, your Highness. He was excited.” The captain kept his eyes from straying to the mangled body of the sergeant. It looked like a dog that had been hit by a locomotive…. Several times.

  “A prisoner? One of the invaders?”

  “I don’t think so, sir,” the captain looked uncertain now, almost embarrassed. “Perhaps we should come back another ti…”

  “No, no.” The General was ready for a respite. “I should question him. Where is he?”

  The captain turned and motioned someone forward in the hall.

  Schweikert pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his face before turning to the Queen.

  “Excuse me, my Queen. I should see to this. One never knows. Perhaps I may learn something useful.” He bent over her hand and kissed the back of it lightly. She felt real enough. Flesh and blood. A chill coursed up his spine.

  “If you must go.” She wiped one tiny drop of blood from her cheek and looked up at him before smiling slowly. “Later, we will discuss your findings over supper.”

  “Of course, my Lady.” He bowed to her and then stepped into the hall.

  Two frightened, bloodied and dust-covered guards with automatic rifles escorted the ‘prisoner’, an equally frightened, equally filthy Tuathan healer, clutching a battered yellow bag tightly to his chest. His curly, golden-red hair was a mass of tangles and his large green eyes were riveted on the face of the General.

  “Ahhh.” Abaddon’s face lit up. “I know this one. Bring him to my quarters for… questioning.”

  “Yes sir!” Both guards snapped to attention as the General turned and walked smartly down the blue and white tiled corridor.

  Chapter Five of Seventeen

  What do ye imagine against the Lord?

  he will make an utter end

  “Daddy?” Nicole called as she clopped down the stairs to the basement and yanked on the string attached to the overhead light.

  The light flashed on and then popped out in a blinding green light.

  “Dammit. Another one.” She shook her head and heard tiny pieces of the exploded bulb clink softly on the brick floor. Her light bulbs were better than nothing, but they were a bit dangerous at the ends of their short lives.

  Alchemy had never been meant for such modern contraptions as electric lighting and toasters. They had nearly set the kitchen ablaze before breakfast using the old toaster she had triumphantly repaired with Bari’s help. He had blamed her conjuration and she had blamed his inept wiring.

  “Crap!” She cursed again softly as she groped in the dark for laboratory door. “Daddy!” She called to Mark Andrew again.

  She knew he was in the lab; she could hear him in there. The old door handle was cold in her grasp as she pushed open the door. The smell of sulfur assaulted her nose first, and then the smell of something sweet like licorice or cinnamon. The late morning light shone through the skylights, giving the lab a uniform gray color and an oil lamp guttered, almost
empty above the central table. Mark Andrew was not there.

  “Hmmp!” She snorted and stamped one foot in aggravation.

  Standing with her hands on her hips, she surveyed her real father’s lab with a critical eye. It pained her to think of the countless years he must have spent here in quiet obscurity, minding his own business, making gold to finance the Order, while the world passed him by and then, without warning, he had been uprooted and destroyed again and again in rapid succession until they had all come to this sorry pass. It reminded her of the story of Pandora’s Box.

  “A pretty mess you left us, Father,” she spoke into the chill dimness that matched her mood. “If only I could make things right. If only I could win your heart just a little. Just a little bit. If only…” she stopped as a scuttling noise interrupted her monologue of wishful thinking. She turned quickly and frowned at the darker shadow behind the heavy door. “Rats!”

  The noise sounded again behind her and she turned again.

  “Just wait roight ’ere me furry little lads,” she warned her unseen companions with an affected brogue. “I’ll be roight bock with some noice peanut buttarrr and jam fur ye.”

  With that, she hurried out of the lab on her way upstairs for the rat traps and bait. She hated rats. It was one of the things she had in common with her father and she often had nightmares about them. In the worst of them, someone was roasting them on a spit over an open fire, telling her how good they tasted to a starving man. It was an irrational fear and an illogical dream, like most nightmares. She had never been a ‘starving man’ in her life and even if she were starving, rats would not be on the menu.

  “Wasn’t she a most lovely creature?” The thin wavery voice asked in the silence after she was gone.

  “Oh, most assuredly, brother,” the other, stronger voice answered. “What do you suppose she meant? What would be peanut buttarr and jam and for what would we use it?”

  “I have no knowledge of such things, but this is a most disturbing language, Sister,” the thin voice replied. “Come. Let us follow that one and learn for ourselves if we have need of this thing.”

  “But the master bade us stay put, brother.”

  “We will not tarry long, sister. Come.”

  The cellar glowed with bluish-green light momentarily as the two visitors passed on their way upstairs to the kitchen.

  Nicole was in the washroom, digging around in the cabinets, looking for rat traps when Bari found her.

  “Nicole!” A hint of aggravation tinged his voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I think you need to tell your Captain that we need more firewood chopped before the winter comes. I hardly think we have enough wood to see us through. I have spent a few winters on the islands and I know how cold the wind blows here and how dark. We will be in a pretty pickle if we don’t have enough fuel for the fires, and I heard we might be able to buy some anthracite away down south. Of course, they want hard currency. I don’t think that should be a problem for you and great-grandpapa.”

  Nicole looked back at him disdainfully and tossed two ancient traps at him. One of them, she had set. It hit the floor in front him, snapped loudly, and he shrieked before knocking himself senseless on the doorjamb.

  “Dammit, Nicole!” Bari moved out of the way as she scooped the traps from the floor and headed for the kitchen.

  “Does it feel cold in here now?” She asked as he followed her reluctantly.

  “No, but Sophia has the stove and the oven going. She’s been cooking all day. Of course it’s warm in here, but it’s damned chilly in my room in the back of the house. Speaking of which, I believe I should be better able to heat one of the upstairs rooms. That nice one in front with the Egyptian decor would suit me quite well.”

  “Oh no you don’t,” Nicole sat in the floor and began to work on the rusted workings of the traps. “Hand me a bit of lard, will you? These things are in terrible shape.”

  Bari went obediently to the cupboard and looked around for the ‘lard’. He saw nothing with that label.

  “Why can I not stay upstairs with the rest of you? I am not a servant regardless of what you may think. I am a part of this family just as you are.” Bari closed the cupboard and looked in the cabinets above the counter. “Why can I not have the Egyptian room?”

  “That room belongs to Lucio Dambretti. Those Egyptian things belong to the Golden Eagle, and the rest of the things in there belong to his wife, Catharine de Goth Dambretti. I doubt that he would care for the idea of you farting around in his personal stuff.”

  “OK then, what about the room on the third floor, your brother’s old room?” Bari again closed the doors and stood frowning at the upper cabinets near the ceiling. He’d never be able to reach those without a step ladder. “What was it you wanted? Lard?”

  “Just get some butter from the fridge.” Nicole jerked her head impatiently. “I swear! Your mother never taught you anything.”

  Bari clenched his fists and closed his eyes. The remark about his mother was almost intolerable. Nicole knew very well that Bari had less contact with his mother than even she could claim with Meredith. Instead of responding, he brought the butter. She scooped out a bit and rubbed it over the spring and the catch that held the bait.

  “Bring me the peanut butter.”

  “Peanut butter? What are you trying to catch? Elephants?”

  “Elephants don’t eat peanut butter, but I hear rats do. We have rats in the cellar, in the lab. And no, we will not be needing anthracite. I don’t trust that old furnace. We’ll use the fireplaces and the gas heaters. Captain Socrates has assured me he will be able to supply us with gasoline and diesel for the generators. We may run short on propane, but we can use King Louie’s pit. The captain says that he and several of his men know how to use charcoal and wood to cook. Besides, there will be very little to cook in a few weeks unless I can broker some deals with the elves for food. They make some very fine bread and butter and we should be able to talk them out of a few lamb shanks and some cherry wine to boot.”

  “Faery food. Hmmm,” Bari mused, “I have heard that it is quite sustaining.” He twiddled with a lock of his long, dark hair. “Do you think I am handsome, Nicole?”

  “What?” Nicole glanced up at the former emperor and frowned. “What did you say?”

  “I said faery food. I’ve heard a lot about it.” Bari changed his mind and did not repeat the impetuous question. All his plans, all his dreams of glory, of making his mother love only him were gone. Lost forever along with her and the child that should have never been. He wondered that he was not as withered and ugly as a dried apple. If sins could be seen on the surface, the world would certainly be a much uglier place.

  “It will see you through. Not much on variety, I’m afraid. There!” She held up the two traps. Peanut butter was gobbed on the trip latches. “That should get them. Grab a light bulb and help me with this.”

  “I haven’t seen any faeries hereabouts.” Bari commented as he followed her into the basement holding one of her hand-blown light bulbs. He had to admit that she was quite skilled in the Arts, though a bit haughty and high-minded at times.

  “Oh, they’re around.”

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  Mark Andrew’s report concerning the siege of New Babylon was half done when it was interrupted by a disturbance outside the command tent. At first, they heard the warbling cries of the women and then the shouts of the young boys, who had stationed themselves in front of the canopy. The Knights inside filed out through the flap and stood watching in wonder as a colorful, noisy caravan of camels, laden with packs made its way down the main corridor between the tents and temporary shelters of their encampment. Dust rode up in the relatively still air and the grunts of the camels lent a festive air to the warbles and shouts. It was as if the circus had come to town. The children ran alongside the camels and the drivers threw down trinkets and candy to them. On the lead beast sat a figure dressed in a long, white robe. On his feet were the
curl-toed golden slippers of a bygone age. On his shoulders and back, a colorful cape or mantle. His hair was a mass of close, black curls and on his chin, a long curly beard. He looked like an ancient Assyrian king or a Persian magus.

  Mark recognized his son at once.

  “Ho, Adar!” The Djinni called to him and then touched the camel with his stick and the beast folded onto ground. The Djinni slid from the saddle and stood up. “I come bearing gifts.” He held out both arms and the cape opened up, giving him the appearance of having brilliantly feathered wings.

  The shaman or holy man for the group of locals encamped a few thousand meters from the camp, made his way through the laughing, burgeoning crowd of women and children and bowed at Lemarik’s feet.

  “My Lord!” The man held up both hands above his bowed head.

  “My son,” the Djinni placed one hand on the man’s head. “My children.”

  “Whattar ye doin’?” Mark Andrew asked him.

  “These are my people, father.” The Djinni waved one hand toward the happy throng which was now following the lead of their shaman, bowing before Lemarik.

  “Your people?” Edgard frowned at him. “What do you mean, sir? Your people?”

  “O great Zarathustra!” The holy man bowed again to the dust. “We are your humble servants. God has been merciful and has honored us greatly amongst men.”

  “Please, please.” Lemarik pulled the man to his feet and dusted him off. “You must not bow to me. I am only a servant of God just as you. Please.”

  “Excuse me, please, Great Zarathustra,” Edgard said and bowed his head slightly to the Djinni. “Would his Excellency care to take a spot of tea with the humble Knights of the Temple?”

  “Why of course, Edgard.” Lemarik accepted and his dark eyes sparkled mischievously. “If you will allow me to see to the needs of my people, I will be honored to join you shortly.”