by Kirk Zurosky
“Master, Master,” the monk sputtered. “It is Kunchen! Last night, during the great feast—he escaped!”
Hedley frowned at Lobsang, who gave him no reaction, but looked to me with some degree of concern on his face. “Ah, Sirius Sinister,” the monk said. “It appears your circle with Kunchen remains open. Be wary. Men with such hate are formidable adversaries.”
I nodded, remembering the loathing in Kunchen’s eyes. “Indeed,” I said. “I have made lots of enemies in my life, but the good thing is”—I clasped hands with Norbu and Choden, who pulled me into a huge bear hug—“I have made far more friends.”
“And that you shall always be,” Choden replied.
“Thank you for all of your lessons,” I said. “Especially yours, Master Lobsang.” I bowed deeply. “Until the next time.”
“Until the next time,” they answered. And Hedley Edrick and I walked out the gate.
“Hedley,” I said as we walked. “Would it be possible to travel by crystal? I sure would like to see my girls in less than a month’s time, if you know what I am saying?”
“I think we can make that happen,” Hedley said. “First we have to go to Kathmandu. There is a man I know there who can get Garlic’s collar realigned for crystal travel to a place other than the Himalayas, or really wherever Hades wants you to go! Unless you want to play in the snow some more, that is. Then we can leave the crystals as black as the ebony pits of Hell!” Garlic barked sharply, looking at Hedley like he was an idiot. That was a definite no from her standpoint!
I laughed. I had forgotten about that little problem. “You know someone that can undo the work of the Lady of the Underworld?” Hedley merely laughed and gave me a look. “Right,” I said. “I forgot who I was talking to. You know everything and everybody. To Kathmandu it is!”
We traveled quickly, and I did not realize how fast I was moving until a rather winded Hedley Edrick grabbed my arm in order to get me to stop so he could catch his breath. We were nearly off the great mountains, and ahead of us, I could see a great valley that looked surprisingly lush and green. The cold of the mountains had faded, and the air was surprisingly mild. I opened my mouth to ask what time of year it was, but a rock gave way beneath my feet, and I slid to a halt.
“Kathmandu Valley is always a welcome sight to my eyes, but I could do without all of the climbing,” Hedley said, rubbing his apparently aching knees, and finding a seat on a nearby boulder. “I like to eat goat, but I am certainly not one!”
I could see a fortified settlement far in the distance, surrounded by farmland. “Is that our destination?”
Hedley waved a hand and rummaged in his pack for a snack. “Near there,” he said. “Would you care for a bit of goat sausage?”
I looked at the blackened hunk of meat he held in his hand, and my nose wrinkled at the smell. “There is more than just goat in that I think—I am good, thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” Hedley replied, chomping happily away. “It also has squirrel marbles, fermented locust beans, and a bit of narezushi.”
“Squirrel marbles I can guess,” I said with a laugh, seeing a chipmunk run away with a terrified squeak from where it had taken watch under Hedley’s hands, awaiting some choice crumbs. “But nare-what?”
Hedley took a big bite, and the stink of what he was gnawing on made its way over to Garlic, who put a paw over her nose. “Narezushi, you know, fish fermented with rice for a period of years—in this case about five.”
I peered at him. “What are you anyway—some kind of demon that has a taste for the smelliest foods in this great world?”
He laughed out loud and popped another piece of the stinky sausage into his mouth. “Much like this sausage, I have a lot of different things in me. Though I am mostly demon, I believe I have a bit of merfolk, faerie, troll, werewolf, goblin and, rumor has it, even vampire.”
“Ah, so we are kin somewhere way back in time,” I said with a grin. “What’s up with the bad knees?”
“Bad knees come from bad decisions. Does it matter?” he growled, not making eye contact. I decided it really didn’t. He eased off the rock and stood, his face calm again. “Can’t wait for the day when someone invents a way to fix these things—I will get it done at least twice in each knee just to make sure they get it right!”
Just then a mountain goat bounded by us, spooked by Hedley’s movement, and Garlic, eager for lunch, clamped quickly on its throat. “Ah, good girl,” I said. I turned to Hedley as I tore into the luscious meat of the goat. “Now this is a real lunch. Care to join us?” Hedley laughed and shook his head no—apparently he did not have much vampire in him after all.
As we got closer to the fortified settlement, we began following a well-traveled path. The denizens of this valley paid us no attention. Hedley had explained to me that they were used to seeing foreigners passing through the valley on their way to trade in India, China, and beyond. Even without the benefits of the crystals, the world was truly getting smaller. Suddenly Edrick took a sharp right turn down a path that looked to be little used, and I saw why as we passed but a few solitary huts with the slightest wisps of smoke coming from the tiny fires in front of them. Each hut grew more and more meager. At last Hedley stopped in front of what looked to be little more than a lean-to, where a crooked old man, covered from head to toe in the dirt he was probably older than, stood leaning on a cane, slowly turning a goat carcass on a spit over a fire. His eyes went to Hedley and gave the barest hint of recognition before passing to me and Garlic, and with a dismissive glance, he went back to turning the goat.
“Greetings, Master Malakar,” Hedley called to the old man. “It has been a while has it not?”
Master Malakar squinted again at Hedley, as though his eyes were failing him, but I saw a certain sharpness in the old man that belied his apparent age. “Do I see the Master of Masters before me?” he said, looking straight at Garlic and pausing as if waiting for her response. “Do I?”
Garlic looked at Hedley Edrick and barked. “Oh, thank you, wise Maltese, I thought so,” said Master Malakar with a grin. “Tell the Teacher of Teachers he owes me money. He left me a bit short after our last transaction.”
“Now, Malakar,” Hedley started, “you know I am good for it—”
“Tell the Most Learned One,” Malakar interrupted, beckoning the reluctant Maltese closer. “Tell the Educator of Educators that he looks a little short on gold today, but perhaps his vampire friend can loan him a few ducats.”
Garlic padded over to Hedley Edrick and sat down. She leaned back her head and howled a long and sorrowful tune. I could not help myself and failed to stifle a grin as Hedley merely shook his head in irritation. The Master of Masters could apparently speak Maltese. “Fine, Malakar, fine!” Hedley exclaimed. “Garlic has eloquently told me of your tale of woe. Where do you want the gold delivered to?”
I looked at the lean-to and frankly, with the lay of the barren piece of land it inhabited, did not see a hidden vault for Malakar’s riches. Malakar could barely contain the look of glee on his face as he rubbed his hands together eagerly. Looking at him more closely, I realized he was not quite as old as he looked, and he clearly had a bit of goblin in him, or perhaps he was simply not an attractive fellow. His modest living quarters and unkempt appearance were by design to blend in with his surroundings.
“You need me, Hedley Edrick,” Malakar said, cackling. “You need me! Ha! Ten chests of gold can be sent to my account at the Bank of England, or the Bank of Scotland, or my new account at the Caja Madrid. Everyone wants to have Malakar the Magnificent’s money! Yes, send it to my friend Francisco in Madrid!”
“Very well,” said Hedley. “Consider it done.” I was shocked that Hedley did not seem to put up too much of a fight for the gold. Ten chests of gold was a lot for anyone. So, either Hedley had a limitless supply, or Malakar the Magnificent was really and truly magnificent!
&nb
sp; Garlic turned and padded back to Malakar and began barking sharply at him, shaking her head from side to side so he could see her black jeweled collar. “Oh,” Malakar said, looking at the Maltese. “Come closer.” Garlic stood patiently as Malakar patted her on the head, removed her collar, and held it up to inspect it in the bright sun of the noon hour. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Garlic, that the job is for you,” he said, looking down at her and then at the collar again. “For you, a mere three chests of Hedley Edrick’s gold to Francisco in Madrid! Consider it a canine discount—I am one quarter werewolf on my mother’s side you know!” He peered at the collar again. “Oh, wait a moment. Wait a highly infernal, or inferno moment! This is the work of that bitch of bitches! Sorry, Garlic, but it’s going to cost dear Hedley five chests of gold.” He looked over to Hedley, who gave him no reaction. “Make that seven.” Still no reaction. Malakar reached to pet Garlic. “Sorry my pup of pupples, but we are back to ten chests of gold.” Garlic barked again enthusiastically, then growled low and angry. Malakar laughed. “You bargain well, vampire Maltese,” he said with a grin that showed perfect white teeth. “And it is not even your money. You have held me to my word—three chests of gold indeed.” I looked over to see Hedley smile from ear to ear. I had a feeling he knew how this was going to work out—kind of like he did with everything else in the world. I let my mind wander for a moment—did he really know how everything in the world was going to work out?
Malakar the Magnificent began stoking the fire into a hellish, but not Hellish, inferno, and I could feel the heat bringing up beads of sweat on my forehead. Then Malakar raised his hands high in the air and howled. Garlic pitched in, and soon from around the clearing, seemingly hundreds of surrounding wolves joined in. I was instantly on guard, pulling out my sword and looking to the brush, but Garlic looked at me reassuringly, and Hedley seemed almost bored, so I sheathed my weapon and waited for Malakar the Magnificent to ply his trade. He threw a cornucopia of herbs and potions into the fire, which began to glow an eerie green, and the collar soon followed into the fire, but it did not burn. The crystals on the collar glowed a green as verdant as the valley. Down from the sky flew a great two-headed bird with lightning shooting from eyes gray and dark as a storm cloud. Massive gray wings pummeled the air above us, and loud claps of thunder echoed across the valley and reverberated back from the mountains.
“The Thunderbird comes,” said Hedley. “Let us take cover.” I looked to Garlic, who seemed reluctant to move and was staring up in a daze at the huge bird. “She will be fine. She is part of Malakar’s magic. We are not!” We hid on the side of the clearing, and Garlic and Malakar stood their ground. Down came the Thunderbird, and the fire turned from green to white. Four bolts of lightning shot from the Thunderbird’s eyes directly at the fire, and Hedley and I dropped to the ground and covered our eyes. When we thought it was safe, we looked up to see the Thunderbird gone and Garlic sitting in Malakar’s lap as he fastened the collar back around her neck with its transportation crystals back to their original red. “Once again, Malakar the Magnificent has delivered!” he said.
Hedley and I had no argument with him as his gold was well-earned. “Thank you, Malakar,” Hedley said with a smile as Malakar petted Garlic and nuzzled her. “It is time we take our leave.”
“Indeed,” Malakar said. “The vampire needs to see his pup. Good riddance to you, Hedley Edrick.”
“Pup?” I said, as Garlic barked, and a wormhole opened. “I have more than just one pup, you know.”
Hedley grabbed my elbow and steered me through the wormhole. “Quite true,” he said. “But you haven’t met this one yet. . . .”
Chapter 3
I had misgivings about following Hedley Edrick through the wormhole, but Garlic did not seem concerned, barking once before diving through on the way to somewhere. I knew the wormhole would be closing in seconds, so I let Hedley lead me through. What new pup of mine was he talking about? I had not consorted with any other werewolves other than the Howler.
The wormhole spit me out with a familiar whoosh of air, and I dropped down next to Hedley Edrick and Garlic onto the warm white sand of a beach that terminated at a beautiful blue ocean. Behind us and stretching down to our left was a salt marsh that Garlic immediately turned toward and started sniffing, a low growl coming from her throat. A startled white ibis with a black head and feet spread its wings and made for safer territory. “Nice work,” I said to her. “Perhaps a snack for you when we are done, yes?” I did not recognize where I was, but was thankful not to be in Hell or the icy cold of the mountains.
Where the sun had been at the noon hour when we left Kathmandu, now it was nearly directly behind us, dropping toward its nighttime rest with the ocean to our east. Garlic was investigating a towering mound of shells, excrement, bones, and broken pottery. Clearly, humanity had found this remote stretch of beach and claimed it as its messy own.
“That is a midden,” Hedley Edrick informed me, Garlic, and the crying seagulls circling above us and swooping down to the beach now and again in search of a tasty crab.
“You mean that mound of trash has a name?” I answered, wrinkling my nose as the ocean wind brought a sharp, acrid smell to my nostrils. “All right Hedley, where and most importantly when are we? How much time did I lose in Hell and in the mountains?”
“We are in the land of the Worimi,” Hedley answered. “The Worimi have lived in this part of what the Europeans call Australia for thousands of years, living off the sea and the land. In fact, this midden, or mound of trash as you called it, is far older than you are!”
“Sure smells like it.”
Edrick grimaced. “The Worimi build no shelters, or castles, do not farm, and leave no ruinous signs that they inhabit this land.”
“Other than this pile of garbage, that is.”
Hedley shook his head, growing irritated. “Study the midden and know the Worimi. You can learn a lot from a culture from their so-called garbage—especially mortal cultures. Mortals do seem to excel at leaving their mark, and for some reason, by writing or carving their names on things. Odd.”
I thought for a moment. “Australia—isn’t that next to Asia?
“No.” Hedley sighed. “We are well south of Asia.” He searched around in his pack and took out an apple. “I guess it is time for me to break out the old demon fire finger for an impromptu geography lesson,” he continued, grinning as a flame shot out of the tip of his index finger. “England is here,” he said, burning a small spot on the side of the apple. “The Himalayas are here,” he said, adding another burn mark. “And we are here,” he said, tapping the underside of the apple.
And against my better judgment, I had one more question. “So where on that apple is Hell?”
He shook his head. “Forget it,” he said. “I am not getting into a discussion on the nature of interdimensional physics with the likes of you. Don’t you want to meet Maria?”
“Has she been born already?” I stammered. “When is it? You never answered my question about when it is!”
“It is December 1, 1709,” Hedley announced. “She was born the day you were attacked by the Rakshas.”
“I knew it,” I said, excited. “I felt her that day. She saved me! But why have I felt nothing from her since?”
Hedley shrugged. “She knew you needed her then, so she was there for you. Her energies are now focused on eating, sleeping, pooping, you know, what babies do.”
I looked out at the calm and placid ocean. “When can I see her?”
At that moment from out of the brush came a small group of native Australians. Instinctively my hand went to the hilt of my sword, and another low growl issued from Garlic’s throat, but Hedley stood calmly, his arms folded across his chest as the group approached. They were dark and thickly built, wearing only simple loincloths and wide friendly smiles. I eyed the long sharp spears they carried that glinted in the sunlight. Tho
se would not look so friendly if they were pointed at us. “Allo,” called their leader raising his hand. “Teacher of the Worimi, you have returned? Are you in need of the Worimi?”
“Indeed,” said Hedley. “I am in need of several of your finest whelk shells. We seek to parlay with the merfolk. This man is Sirius Sinister. And his daughter is of the merfolk.”
A great commotion broke out among the Worimi, and several of them looked at me, confused. I was clearly not of the merfolk. “The Worimi have great respect for the people of the sea,” Hedley explained to me. “They share the resources of this magical place, and the merfolk let them fish and gather shellfish unharmed. And the Worimi have a collection of whelk shells that enable them to dive down deep into the ocean for hours.”
“Now that is something I am quite familiar with,” I said with a smile. “Although, I have to say that is certainly not my preferred method of undersea travel.” I looked out at the sea and felt strangely nervous and excited about the prospect of seeing the Queen. How would she react to me? What would she do when she saw me holding our baby? Was it really over between us?
The Worimi began walking toward the ocean, and we followed in line. They were all looking at the marsh to our left with some degree of concern. I nudged Hedley. “What are they afraid of?”
He shrugged. “They are a superstitious lot,” he said. “Probably wary of a bunyip.”
“A what?”
Hedley pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. “Think of the illegitimate child of a wild dog and a crocodile, and you’ve got it.”
“No wonder why they are concerned,” I said, looking to the marsh.
“Hasn’t been one seen in Worimi territory for over two hundred years,” Hedley said. “So they might be all dead by now. Of course, they might not.”
“Thanks for the reassurance,” I said. I could feel the intense heat of the sand through my boots, but the barefoot Worimi did not seem to notice. Garlic snared a crab and crunched it between her jaws to the delight of the Worimi, who begged her to do it again. In a flash of white fur, another crab was added to her lunch, bringing claps from the Worimi. Another midden came into view, this one even bigger than the one we had passed. The leader of the Worimi rummaged at its base, clearly looking for something amidst the rubble, and finally stood up with four whelk shells. I could not even imagine how bad those shells smelled, let alone putting one of them over my mouth. But I realized not seeing my little Maria was even more unimaginable.