“The mark.” The electric blur on his picture of the mark cleared. The lines matched the massive tattoo cascading from the dragon’s shoulder down his chest and back. Navy lines and dashes coated the foul smelling beast’s body: rune lines, totems, a history of life and death on skin.
The beast’s head snapped to the side. Raptor’s eyes bored into Caleb.
“Mauthison” it said.
Caleb jolted. He dropped his phone. It landed light-up bathing the space in blue-white light and stark shadow.
“Mauthisson” the dragon rumbled. The dragon had turned from a beast to a man larger than any he’d seen. Larger than his own father who towered over him as giant as Goliath to a teenaged David. The dragon-man pulled at his restraints, creaking and groaning until he panted, panted, panted…
Erupted.
The agony of the scream tore from the beast’s throat. It hit Caleb’s ribcage with arrows of fetid, angry poison.
“Who are you, Reverend? My friend Semihazah never speaks. Mutters, spits, rumbles but I’ve never seen him speak.”
“Semihazah. Hear that, Caleb? Marick still thinks he’s a fallen angel! Hah! You need to diversify your storytelling, Marick.” Bragi said, through Kofi’s pristine lips.
“How dare you talk to me like that! I’m above you!” Marick said, yanking a handgun from a chest holster. Bragi grinned at it, pointed a finger at the barrel of the gun.
“Don’t kill your messenger!” Bragi said.
“Walk away.” Caleb said, pacing backward from the beast and shoving Marick’s arm down. Marick’s gun fired a shot, which pinged off the ground and thudded into the cave wall. The bullet’s ricochet brought shockwaves of bitter sound to everyone’s ears. Guards covered their heads, others rose up and scattered. Few stayed standing with their guns raised.
“No skin off my teeth.” Bragi said.
Chapter 11
Delilah sprinted out of the cave the second Marick’s gun made its’ first appearance. Aside from thanking her luck that her heels hadn’t snapped, the aging Gypsy shouted in relief that the ATVs around the Land Rover were deserted.
“Keys! Keys, keys, keys… where’d you leave the keys, Caleb!?” She threw her hands at the door handle. Her fingers uncurled as the handle snapped back into its dock in the door. The door didn’t budge.
“No!” Delilah tried the door again. She rushed the other doors, the trunk latch…
“Caleb!!” Delilah yelled. How could he have taken the keys? Alone in the middle of an African slave camp, Delilah searched the jungle for pairs of watching eyes.
“Think! Think, think…” What did she know? Marick was a ruthless murdering psychopath, who thought the local population was cattle for the fire. Delilah knew the West African tribes around the Volta river to be valiant and warm. They were strong, intelligent and proud. Their capitulation wasn’t out of being broken, then. So what was it?
Fear? One couldn’t just take their daughters without using incredible force. It had to be fear, and fear was one thing Delilah could work with.
“Okay… alright… Right.” She rushed to an ATV and searched for a key or ignition point. The ATV chortled to life, roaring under her legs. She pitched it back to the village. Pairs of eyes watched her rumbling on the dirty ride.
“Come on, then! Follow me!” She called out, hoping to at least turn some heads. Once in the village, Delilah revved the ATV’s engine and watched for the gunmen on the other side of the gate. From his posture and the machine gun strapped to his back, there was one officer. Two less equipped guards and a couple of others stood around outside the gate. Delilah looked for the cleanest tent and ran for it before the guards could open the gate and take her.
Inside the tent, a group of elders sat on what remained of cushions, old blankets and pressed shirts woven in faded patterns. Her eyes stopped at one on the side, whose hand curled around a tuft of an old horsehair fan.
“Right! Gentlemen. I have a proposition for you.”
-
“Who are you? You’re not here for my archeological goods.” Marick yanked away from Caleb’s grip with an elbow and raised his gun to Caleb’s forehead. The ground rumbled. Marick stumbled. Caleb lunged. The two men grappled on the ground for control of the firearm. They hit with knees, elbows, anything that could reach in the closed quarters of the sweating ground. An elbow thrown one way became a knee from the other. Caleb clawed at the gun. Marick bit his hand.
“Ahh!” Caleb screamed. His elbow cracked against the side of Marick’s jaw.
“Can’t you see the family resemblance!? This here’s a bona fide rescue operation!” Bragi kicked the gun out of a guard’s hand and tackled the man.
“Shut up Bragi!” Caleb yelled, raising up and head butting Marick on the nose. Marick gurgled and swore. The gun skidded away. Blood splattered across his white suit, muddied with the grime of the cave floor.
Marick rolled away from Caleb, kicking him in the chest with his boot. Caleb crumpled, slapping the back of his head against an outcropping of rock. Marick crawled on an elbow and both knees for the gun.
Boot steps shuddered upon the ground. A clean, white hand picked up the handgun and checked the trigger.
“If you’d have been this much trouble when you were younger, I might have paid more attention.”
“Dad?” Caleb blinked hard and groaned.
“Woa, there buddy boy. Took a good knock. Here. Hand up.” Raynar Einridsen reached down to pull his son from the cave floor. He steadied Caleb against his shoulder.
“Did I hit my head too hard?” Caleb mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the cleanest part of his sleeve. It wasn’t too clean to begin with.
“Just about.” Raynar smirked.
“What’re you doing in Africa? How’d you find me?”
“Wouldn’t you know you’d freaked Finnegan out so hard he left his pub and went looking for me? Yeah! Finnegan! Won a smartphone in one of those claw games. He’s learned Uber. Be afraid.”
“Fi-finnegan came to get you?”
Marick crawled across the rock face to crouch and unsheathe a bowie knife from his boot. He lunged. Caleb saw the movement from the corner of his eye and kicked out at Marick’s stomach.
Marick crumpled on the ground screaming. “My ribs!”
“Give that leprechaun a break, Caleb. He’s a good buddy to have around. What do we have here?”
Raynar pointed the handgun at Marick’s crumbling face.
“You going to give us more trouble?”
“He was born to give trouble.” Bragi said, boot heel on Marick’s shoulder.
“Shut up, Bragi!” Caleb said.
“Shut up, Bragi!” Raynar said.
“Are you going to introduce us, Reverend Mauthisen? I’d like to know whose pointing a gun at my face.” Marick said between gritted teeth. Bleeding and on the ground, the man still smiled. His eyes moved to his guards. One of the guards still stood with his gun, the rest lied unconscious on the cold, murky ground.
“Marick, meet my father Raynar Einridsen.”
“Modthi-son. Modthi son. MODTHI’S SON.” The dragon rumbled.
Raynar’s eyebrows knit together. He cast his eyes from Marick to the vast and splayed figure draped by black hair. Streams of wet from the beast’s mouth poured down lines on his face. Chains creaked. Hair parted. The dragon lifted his massive head.
“Caleb, Modthi, Thor, Odin, Burr, Búri… Caleb, Modthi, Thor, Odin, Burr, Búri… Caleb, Modthi, Thor, Odin, Burr, Búri…” The dragon growled. His voice ratcheted through the cave rock into their bodies. Caleb felt his ribcage crack and shiver with the litany of sound.
Bragi walked toward the beast with arms raised.
“Worthy nephew, raise your brow! We are calling you home! I’ve brought proof, dear boy! Proof of innocence in your supposed crimes.”
“Bragi!” Caleb shouted, reaching for the god in the borrowed body.
“He speaks! Speak to me, Shemihazah! I saved you!” Marick said, pushing Rayna
r’s boot from his chest.
“Magni.” The breath from Raynar’s lungs purged the name, a hidden two syllables which plunged his body into a tense shell. Raynar dropped the gun. Marick lunged for it.
“You planted that tattoo! Didn’t you, Bragi?” Caleb launched over Marick for Bragi’s inhabited body.
“You planted it so I’d find it!” Caleb caught Bragi’s shoulder, the two struggling against each other.
“How did you know he was here!?” Caleb punched for Bragi’s face.
“I didn’t. I followed you.” Bragi swerved to the side and elbowed Caleb on the jaw. Caleb’s head snapped back. He stumbled.
The safety clicked off the gun.
“Guards! Shoot the first one who moves.” Marick pushed the gun barrel onto Caleb’s temple.
Raynar and the dragon stood transfixed on each other. The dragon-man groaned, chains clanking and straining against his sallow, hanging body. Raynar did not move.
“You lot come into my house, mine! Make a bloody mess and think I’ll let you? Were you born backward? Get back! Get away from my angel.”
The guards who had been too ready to worship at the ‘angel’s feet clamoured to grab Bragi and Caleb to their knees.
“That’s not Semihazah, Marick! You haven’t a clue, do you? How long’s he been chained to that wall!?”
“Not Semihazah? Doubting your scriptures, preacher? I know an angel when I see one.”
“He’s Magni, son of Thor! God of Strength!” Bragi bellowed.
“Bragi! Shut your mouth!” Caleb struggled against his captors, enduring the hot swell of a gun butt against his bruised skull. Caleb hung dazed, blinking madly to stay awake.
“Son of … no. There’s no such thing! He’s Semihazah! Fallen angel!” Marick said.
“Modthison. Modthi. Modthi!” The dragon bellowed. He hung slack against the chains. The vault of the cave hung as quiet as the dragon’s body, until a soft warble took the air.
“Magni, come to your senses… Magni?” Raynar took another step closer to the chain wall. Magni lunged, roaring from his spittle-soaked mouth and pulling against the chains. Raynar quivered back, shoulders raised and mouth shut into a thin line.
“Marick, let us go. Get everyone out of here.” Caleb said. He knew that look on his father’s face… he saw it in his mirror far too often.
“I don’t take orders.” Marick said.
“Marick! Get them out!” Caleb struggled against his captors. He grunted as another thick metal band struck the side of his head.
“Marick!” Caleb yelled.
Bragi began to laugh. Clear and crystal soft, Bragi’s laughter caterwauled over the cave and through each person present. The laughter struck toward the chained beast of a man struggling against the wall.
“Magni Thorson! Child of Einridi! I’ve come to bring you home!” Bragi said, his voice a sweet liquor in the dank cavern.
“Modthi… I hung for you!!” Magni son of Thor roared against his chains. Rock burst from the granite behind him as the chains, the rusted chains crashed open.
“Everybody out!” Caleb rushed to his feet and threw the guards toward the roaring god, leaping at Marick once again. The guards fell to their faces as the dragon-man rushed them. Unclad feet stomped on their backs without pause.
A clang. The peal of thunder. A burst of light. The two brothers clutched together. One wore the chains of his imprisonment, the other wore the vestments of the modern day man. Anyone on their feet had lost them, dashed on the ground by the thunderous calamity. Many fled. Caleb entangled with Marick and the gun.
“Bragi! Help!” Caleb yelled, elbowing Marick across the jaw.
“Think I should feed him an apple?” Bragi grinned, pulling the gun from both their hands and firing at Marick’s leg. Marick screamed.
“How do we separate them!?” Caleb yelled.
“Separate them!? I just found him, how should I know?!”
“Why’d you do it, Bragi!? Why?” Caleb balled his fists in Bragi’s clothing, throwing the borrowed body onto the wall.
“How else could I prove Magni hadn’t killed his brother? Hmm? Bring him his brother’s son. I gave you the tattoo, you made what you wanted of it! Two warring brothers, one raising his hands to your feeble God, the other a strong hunter!? How could you see such parallels and not think of your primordial Cain and Abel? That part’s my fault, I didn’t realize you knew so little of your own history. It’s a mistake I won’t make again.” Bragi’s hands clung to Caleb’s shoulders. They pulled and twisted on each other, locked in a battle for the upper hand and the gun.
“Again!? There won’t be an again you liar!”
“Asgård thanks you, Caleb son of Modthi, for bringing our strength back to us!” Bragi burst out laughing. Caleb growled and head butted him in the nose. Bragi choked on a rush of blood from his borrowed nose, releasing Caleb toward the two brothers.
“Magni, stop!” Raynar shouted. “Calm down!”
“You left me hanging on a wall! I haven't finished the job!” Magni roared.
“I didn’t know you were alive!” Raynar growled, kneeing Magni in the stomach. Magni crumpled, retching and grabbing for what he could of his brother. Raynar pulled his brother to the ground, holding his upper body as fault lines echo across the cavern. A growl purged the stone. Cracks wrenched from the places where Magni hung.
“Caleb!? Time to bail, bud!”
“Way ahead of you!” Caleb yelled, rushing the exit with Marick’s bleeding body spread across his shoulders. “You’d better not be bleeding disease on me.” He grunted.
“Magni!” Bragi lunged for Magni’s massive body, curling under it to help lift the colossal man from the ground.
“Get him out of here!” Raynar said, looking up to the cave.
“Shit! Why’d you have to pull so hard, Magni? Son of a b—“ Ray rushed the exit’s mouth, pushing his hands up at the falling rock face to hold it in place. Raynar groaned and yelled as he pushed, his shoes sliding on the sticky, moist ground.
“Dad!” Caleb dumped Marick’s body and rushed toward his father.
“Cale! Get those two!” Raynar grunted.
Caleb rushed back into the cave, where Bragi was sliding across the wet ground with the massive beast. Caleb swung one of Magni’s arms over his shoulder and hefted.
“Holy ghost, you’re heavy!” Caleb groaned, pulling toward the crumbling exit.
“We make ‘em big in Asgård!” Bragi cackled, pushing and pulling toward the exit on the other side. Caleb winced as a falling stone crashed by his foot.
“Too big!”
“I could make a joke about now…”
“I will drop him and run.” Caleb groaned.
“Cale! Now would be nice!” Raynar gurgled, yelling as he pushed upward on the falling stones. His arms shook, ab muscles contorting under his t-shirt.
“Hurry, Bragi!” Caleb pulled for the edge of the cave, sliding their bodies undignified in the dirt. Raynar’s arms fell and with them the mouth of the cave closed over.
Lying in a pile, Caleb kicked and pushed his way out from under Bragi and Magni. Half-crawling, half-stumbling he moved over to his father by the cave’s ruined mouth.
“Dad!” Caleb threw his arms around his father’s waist and pulled him from the scattering rocks. He panted and wheezed.
“I’m getting too old for this.” Caleb said.
“You’re getting too old? F-you, buddy.” Raynar panted, tossing his shoulder at Caleb’s torso.
“Was s’posed to be a punch. That’s how tired I am. Gee…” Raynar caught his breath, while sitting against the rocks. His eyes became spear points crossing the distance to his brother’s emaciated, languid carcass. Bragi burst in tempestuous laughter. He rubbed Magni’s shoulders, arms and stomach and parted the hair away from his gaunt, pale face. The god of stories put a flask up to Magni’s paper thin lips.
“Wait… hey! That’s mine!” Caleb said, groaning to his feet.
“An
other thanks, Modthison! Drink up, Magni. Idun’ll send you more in the post, Caleb. A whole keg after this one!”
“And what is this?” Marick said, voice restrained and thin behind gritted teeth. Two of his guards had survived. One held Marick to the ATV and the other stretched a scarf-come-tourniquet above the bullet wound. The guard clicked the safety off on his handgun. Caleb raised his palms.
“A rescue, of course.” Delilah said, perched on the seat of the ATV she’d scarpered off with. Ankles crossed and knees together, Delilah wore a necklace of beads around her décolletage. She sat surrounded by guards and many of the men from camp. Sliding off the ATV with a hand from a tall West African man, Delilah whispered a thank you. She walked in a crisp straight line toward the guard with the gun.
“I’ll be taking that, thank you!” She said in a chipper, commanding manner.
Marick laughed. The guards started talking to each other in Gaa, echoing back and forth with the refugee-slaves.
“What… what’s happening?” he asked, when the guards left him bleeding on the ATV. Delilah took the gun gingerly in her finger and thumb, then passed it to a woman behind her. The woman had no qualms about pointing it straight at Marick.
“I explained to these proud and noble people that you are not a messenger of God meant to ferry them to a beautiful future. If anyone was a messenger from God, it’s the Reverend Mauthisen who, in an act of mercy, has left you alive. I’ll never understand mercy, but I do understand you’ve taken their daughters and wives. You've turned their people into your personal breeding cattle and you never questioned why they let you do it?”
Delilah opened her hands.
“If God was on your side, then it had to be His will. Now they know it’s yours.” She grinned, shoulders sweeping up and down in a pert shrug.
“If the will was yours and not God in Heaven's, you will give their daughters back before the sun comes up tomorrow. Or I will witness justice dispensed upon your person.”
Marick’s face had become awash with sweat. He licked his parched lips for water which would never come. He chuckled.
Son of Abel (The Judge of Mystics Book 1) Page 10