The Centaur

by Brendan Carroll

  “I would do anything for you, Master. You may rely on me.” Selwig stood up straighter. “All that I ask is that you would not make it generally known that I laid hands on her. My reputation has improved greatly and I would not want to be tainted again.”

  “You may count on my silence,” Mark kissed the Tuathan on both cheeks and took his leave, regretfully locking the door again. His heart was hurt at the thought of leaving the healer in the thick darkness as his thoughts strayed again to the rats.

  The main part of the underground shelter was another three stories down. He hurried down the stairs until he reached the seventh level and then crept more slowly down the steps, extinguishing the blue light before opening the heavy door. A rush of cool air struck his face, a great deal fresher than the air on the levels above. He could hear the soft sound of air-conditioning and there were emergency lights still glowing along the floor of the corridor. The Knight held the hilt of his sword and walked soundlessly down the hall. He was eight floors below the palace and could almost feel the tremendous weight of the earth above him in the low-ceilinged passageway. The white powder precipitated from the ceiling tiles by the constant bombardment, covered everything uniformly except for several sets of footsteps laid down at different times. He followed these to the end of the corridor and then turned left.

  He was stopped short by the sight of dried bloodstains on the floor and walls outside one of the doors. Someone had suffered some nasty wounds here. He stepped over the gore and followed the latest footprints to a door further on. He stopped in front of it and listened intently. He could hear muffled voices beyond. Although it was heavily reinforced, the damage caused by the besieging forces had sufficiently degraded the integrity of the lower levels to the extent that the doors no longer fit snugly in the frames. It could not be sealed properly. There was a small crack through which the sounds came. A woman’s voice and a man’s voice… he recognized both of them.

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  Mark hummed an old tune as he set about dragging the old alchemical equipment from under the counter in the laboratory. He was truly unconcerned with the fate of the rest of the world. The world had never really treated him very well and he had tried so many times and sacrificed so very much to it’s welfare. Why? That was the question he knew he could never answer and this second personality now sharing his thoughts and his body was so very different from himself. Naïve, innocent, barely more coherent than a twelve-year-old boy, though noble of heart and pure of thought, word and deed, like a faery tale knight in shining armor.

  Sophia had been this one’s princess and the child… his holy grail. A grail knight. Something he had never aspired to be, he’d felt very guilty suppressing the personality, but he had no intention of harming him or changing him. When he had thoroughly examined the personality, he had categorized, cataloged and contained him, part and parcel in the recesses of his mind, preserving him wholly intact and God willing, when the day arrived for him to take his leave, he planned to return the body to its rightful owner for good. His only real material worry was the thought he might somehow damage the body.

  In his mind, he knew Mark Ramsay and Luke Ramsay were his sons and he also knew he had sorely abused Mark from the very beginning. Where he had never had a guilty thought about it before, he now had great feelings of regret and sorrow for what he had done. But he reasoned it was only natural to have developed a guilt complex at so late a date. After all, he’d never really gotten to know the boy until now and he was shaping up to be fine son. Just like Luke Matthew. Just like Luke Andrew. Fine sons. And who could forget Adalune? And his semi-son, Ian. And God forbid… Il Dolce Mio! Where in the world had he gotten such a name? It smacked of Lucio Dambretti. He’d not had the pleasure of meeting the elf King… yet, but he would soon remedy that.

  He was brought back from his mental musings when Sophia knocked on the door and then entered the dusty laboratory. Another wave of guilt assaulted him. His daughter-in-law and what had he done? The same thing he had always done when too much temptation came upon him in weakened states. Surely God would not hold him accountable for that one, but Sophia expected him to love her and she would never know. At least, not if he could help it. She would have this child, grow old and most likely die before he was able to release the body to Mark. Life was hard. It always had been.

  “Mark? Why are you still down here? You missed supper,” Sophia pulled a stool close to the counter and climbed onto it.

  “Oh, really?” He tried to act surprised. He did not want her to get suspicious. “I’m sorry, Sophia. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I did.”

  “Oh. I guess I didn’t hear you.”

  “I guess not.”

  Sophia watched as he clunked one of the strange looking ovens on the counter and began to wipe it with his shirt.

  “Mark.”

  “Yes?”

  “Remember what I told you about using your shirts as cleaning rags?” She hooked one finger in the shirt he was not wearing and pulled it from his hands. “And remember what Sophia told you about running around half naked in cold weather?”

  “Oh. I’m sorry,” he nodded and looked around the lab for something else to use.

  “Here. Put your shirt back on and come upstairs. I kept your plate hot for you and after you eat, you can come back down here. I’ll find some cleaning supplies for you. OK?”

  “Sure. OK.”

  Mark pulled the dusty shirt over his head and smiled what he considered a rather idiotic smile at her.

  “That’s better.” She slid from the stool and stood on tiptoe to kiss his nose.

  “Good. Go on up, and I’ll be there in just a moment. I want to get all these out, and when I come back, I can just start cleaning them. OK?”

  “OK. Five minutes. No more.”

  Mark watched as she left the lab and then shook his head. It was going to be hard playing the role for a few more weeks until he could begin to update himself in her eyes. Sophia was a sweet girl. She actually reminded him of Meredith and Elizabeth combined. He dragged another two ovens out and several empty bottles and flasks. The ovens were in good shape and the rest of the equipment seemed to be intact under the dust and spider webs. Again, he wondered at Mark’s ingenuity and courage. Taking the golden sword from the power of Marduk was not an easy task and, again, guilt assuaged him momentarily. Mark had worked so hard to call up the powers and take from them the things he wanted, only to lose them again so quickly, but it would not be unending. It would all be temporary. Just temporary.

  His five minutes were up and he didn’t want Sophia aggravated with him. He turned around and took three steps toward the door before being thrown violently backwards by an unseen force. His back struck the cabinet. The stool went flying and several glass containers shattered on the floor at his feet while he tried to regain his balance. He could see nothing in front of him, nothing that could have slammed him backwards, but it had not been his imagination. He started forward more slowly and the heavy door, which Sophia had left standing open, creaked closed of its own accord. He stopped. There was definitely something in the room with him. Not a ghost. He had seen enough of them to recognize their telltale signs. Not a demon. He knew well the smell that accompanied all the creatures of the Abyss. Brimstone and sulfur.

  He put out one hand carefully in front of him.

  “Stop.” The one word command was thin and wavering and then he could see a shimmer of green in front of him. The light from the candles and lanterns almost made the specter invisible.

  “What do you want?” He asked. “How did you get into my house?”

  “Your house?” The voice came from nowhere, unsure, hesitant. “What have you done with the Dove?”

  “The dove?” Mark raised both eyebrows.

  “You are not the Dove.” This comment came from the right, deeper, more sure of itself and distinctly female. “Where is the Dove?”

  “How many are you?” Mark answere
d their questions with another question.

  “We are one.” Both voices answered him in unison.

  “Ahhh.” Mark frowned. Where had he seen this sort of thing before? Long ago. Long ago. We are one. We are one. “But one and one make three,” he tried a riddle on them. A small one.

  “That is the law,” they answered. “What do you know of the Law?”

  “I know when one acts upon another, the result produces a third thing. One and one make three.”

  “You do know the Law,” the quivery voice answered. “It is so with my sister and myself. We are separate and yet we are part of one whole.”

  “I see,” Mark nodded. Angels. Primitive angels. It was impossible to know if they were Divine Creatures or something a bit less divine. Possibly something from the lower orders. “Who is the Dove?”

  “You are the Dove and yet, you are not the Dove. What has happened to the Dove? Did you consume him?” The female voice asked this question.

  “Ohhhhh. I see. The Dove! Of course. No, no,” Mark suddenly realized what they were talking about. “I didn’t consume him. He is my son.”

  “Your… son. One moment please.” When they moved, he could see them quite clearly as they blocked everything behind them from view. The green form was the male and the dark or empty place was the female. They seemed to merge or swirl around each other and then part again as they conferred with one another.

  “Thus saith the Lord, Israel is my son, even my firstborn. And I say unto thee, Let my son go, that he may serve me.” The male quoted a passage from the Old Testament. “Do you recognize these words?”

  “I do.”

  “Then allow me to modify them to fit this time. Let your son go, that we may serve him.”

  “You want to serve my son? Why?” Mark folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the cabinet.

  “He is responsible for our freedom. We must serve him to show our gratitude and respect. He has told us a great task awaits him in a foreign land.”

  “Have you heard it said whosoever serveth the Father, serveth the Son and whosoever serveth the Son, serveth the Father?” Mark raised one eyebrow. “For whosoever shall serve any child of God shall serve God.”

  “One moment, please.” Again, he watched as they consulted with one another.

  When they separated the female spoke to him this time.

  “We have not heard these words, but we have not heard all there is which should be heard and for that we beg your indulgence. These words you speak hold much reasoning and seem in concordance with the words of the Father, which we have heard spoken aforetimes. We believe you are of God, the Father, Who created all things, for you speak in terms of reasoning and you speak with conviction of heart and you speak with knowledge of the Law. Furthermore, you have the appearance of the Dove, and the sound of the Dove, and the smell of the Dove, therefore, you must be of the Dove. In the absence of the Dove, we will serve you, but when the Dove has returned to his place, then we will serve him. Is this agreeable to you?”

  “It is.” Mark smiled.

  “What would you ask of us, Master?”

  “I would be honored to know the names by which my servants are called.”

  “We are Urim and we are Thummin, special messengers of God. Emissaries of Divine Protection. Agents of Divine Retribution.”

  Mark Andrew tried not to allow the shock to register in his face in visible form. The Urim and Thummin. Released from their crystal prisons? What manner of folly was this? Were these not the very same who had slain, without thought, the first born of Egypt? The very same who had brought on the ten plagues that made the great Pharaoh release the Hebrews from bondage in the land of Goshen? Those same two, who were imprisoned by the jealous god and made into instruments of ritual magick by the high priests of the line of Aaron? Surely he had missed a great deal in his slumbers.

  “Tell me more about the great challenge my son faces in the foreign land,” Mark Andrew said, trying to remain calm.

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  “That is exactly what I mean, my son. It will be up to us to entrap the great Huber in the vessel made by magick and cast her into the eternal freeze of space.”

  Omar’s shoulders drooped as the looked at the iron and copper ring on his finger. How would he ever be able to do such a thing?

  “It is a simple and yet most effective means of containing evil spirits. You must stop thinking of her as your Ruth. She is not Ruth no more than Yasmin is Jasmine. Cast these thoughts from your mind, my son and forget that the visage she wears belonged to another. She is evil and you will know this when you see her.”

  “But why must I see her, father? Why? Can you not take this burden from me? Ruth meant less to you than to me. She is the mother of my son.”

  Omar’s stomach turned over yet again at the thought of facing Huber.

  Lemarik sank onto his knees and sat back on his heels in front of his son.

  “Give me the ring,” he held out his hand. “Give me the ring and I will do it. I can deny you nothing. If you are unwilling to face this thing, then I will face it for you.”

  Omar raised his head and looked into his father’s eyes. The first light of dawn was peeking over the eastern horizon. The elves were sleeping in small piles and heaps all around them. The fires burned low and only the sounds of the horses and camels carrying the mounted watchmen broke the still night air just before dawn. As his father capitulated, he realized the truth of his words.

  “No. You are right. It is my duty to do this thing. I will not ask you to do what I must do. You gave me this life. My grandmother gave me refuge in my time of need. My grandfather gave me back my body. My uncle gave me good advice. My sister fights on my behalf. I should be proud to do my part. I have been looking at this problem from a purely selfish point of view. It would be only right for me to avenge my wife’s abuser. She suffered at the hands of the Ancient Evil while she lived, and she continues to be defiled by his filth,” Omar smiled and stood up.

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  The news was slow in coming from the east and the south. The British Isles were intact. The islands to the west of the Irish Sea were safe, suffering no more than a few severe bouts of unseasonably cold weather and then unreasonably strong storms, riding on each others’ heels. Apparently none of the monstrous chunks of flaming rock and ice fell into the North Atlantic. What scientific news they had came from Bavaria where de Goth’s people had a fairly decent complex of weather and tactical support systems set up across central Europe with a surprising number of satellite connections. Something that the good Baron de Goth had kept under wraps, but with the Baron’s fate unknown, his people had set out immediately to contact the only allies they could be sure would not turn on them. Several of his commanders and three mayors had arrived in Scotland with a sizable company of soldiers, well-equipped and ready for action.

  Both the Queen of the Brits and the Queen of the Franks had left the day before de Goth’s forces arrived; each of them leaving Scotland regretfully empty of news of from the east. Mark had persuaded Queen Meredith to return to London and take up her duties again in order to keep the nation from falling into disarray before King Luke could return from the eastern campaign. Oriel had been harder to persuade and would not listen to Mark at all. She wanted to go the underworld, find Il Dolce Mio and demand he tell her the fate of the Templars. In the end, Merry was able to persuade her to return to France to preserve what Louis had accomplished and to continue in his stead until he returned. Certainly, both Kings would wish their Queens to keep the faith and the countries entrusted to them intact regardless of their fates.

  The Baron’s people had only added to their growing despair. News of the impacts in the Indian and Pacific Oceans were somewhat of a relief and yet, no reliable news had come from anywhere east of the Bosporus. Nicole spent a great deal of time, tagging after Mark Andrew, and he couldn’t shake her off. She knew something was going on and had demanded to know w
hat it was. Unlike Sophia, Nicole was not so easy to fool, unless she wanted to be. At last, she followed Mark Andrew down the bricked path to the stone monument in the center of Simon’s flowerbeds.

  “Daddy, wait,” she called after him and clutched her woolen cloak to her throat. The wind whipped across the compound in gloomy gusts, blowing in more ragged clouds from the west. Mark Andrew turned and waited for her. She ran down the walk and took his arm, snuggling against his shoulder as they walked toward the expanse of brown grass beyond the bricks. “Where are you going?”

  “Down to the river,” he patted her gloved hand. “You’d best go on back to the house now, lassie. Keep the fires burning for me. It’s going to be cold tonight.”

  “Why are you going to the river?” She made no move to follow his request and he slowed his pace.

  “I need to check some things.”

  “Daddy, look.” Nicole stopped him in his tracks with her tone and turned him toward her. “You know you can’t continue to lie to me. I know something has happened to you. I think you know by now I am not the Nicole I used to be. I want to help you, Daddy. I want to be a part of your life. You took Luke in. Why won’t you at least give me a chance to prove myself to you? You have no idea how much it means to me.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I’ve seen enough to know you’re trustworthy, and your father would be proud of you. But I’m not who you think I am.”

  “Are you saying you are not my father?” She asked him point blank. “Are you going on with the charade that you are someone entirely different… what is it that Sophia said? You are the Mark who would have been, if my father had not possessed him at birth? Would that make you my brother then?”

  “Did she say that?” Mark Andrew smiled. “That sounds a bit far-fetched. If I am your brother, then where is our father?”

  “You know what I mean. Are you Sophia’s Mark or not? The one from New Babylon. You were like a baby then and she taught you everything. Are you the one?”