The Wayward Godking

by Brendan Carroll

  Simon opened his eyes and moved them back and forth as if searching out his surroundings before he attempted to get up. Mark gave him a hand up and the Healer stood rubbing the back of his head.

  “What happened?” He asked after a few moments. “I must have fainted. I often faint, when I try to use the stone too often or too long. I’m sorry, Brother. I embarrass myself.”

  “Nae tribble atoll,” Mark said brightly, and then pretended to examine the back of his head. “Nothing here. You look to be in good enough shape.”

  “What did we see?” Simon asked him in confusion.

  “Many things,” Mark told him as he wrapped the stone in its cloth and placed it back in the ornate box along with the ring upon which it stood.

  “Oh, yes! The judge.” Simon frowned. “We have to get down there and help them.”

  “To the Abyss?” Mark Andrew looked surprise. The change in the Healer was profound in some intangible way.

  “We’ll talk to the Grand Master and call a Council Meeting.” Simon headed out of the vault.

  “Wait!” Mark closed the box and hurried after him. “What is your plan? Do you have an idea how we might get to the Seventh Gate?”

  “If we’re right, we can dream our way there,” Simon said and raised both eyebrows. He paused a moment, and then took off again.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  King Il Dolce Mio’s captain stepped out of the forest into the silvery moonlight. The light glinted off the pointed metal cap he wore on his head, giving him the appearance of the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. Old Sim’s replacement, he was a stately young elf named Steppet, and he carried a pair of silver stilettos, one in each hand. He made his way quickly to the rise near the center of the meadow and stopped to study the familiar landscape with clear gray eyes.

  A junior lieutenant named Prado followed him, also wearing the same sort of odd-looking hat. Prado carried two stilettos as well. He stopped, facing Steppet, and they stared at each other for several long seconds, before beginning to play the blades of the long knives together like percussion instruments. The chinging rhythm filled the still, night air and echoed away under the trees. Gradually, the edge of the forest became alive with elven creatures, large and small, and faeries of every sort. More of the King’s army sallied forth from the glens and glades carrying, pushing or dragging instruments behind them. Drums of various sizes, made of the hollowed trunks of trees seemed to be the most popular. Others carried pipes and whistles, some held stringed instruments of fanciful design. They set up a wide circle, surrounding Prado and Steppet, and soon, the music was loud, urgent and wonderfully beautiful.

  A number of elves dressed in a very unusual color for the lively wood-elves, entered the circle. They were covered from head to toe in black fabric that seemed shredded, tattered and full of holes. The wind lifted the long wisps and gave these elves the ethereal appearance of mournful ghosts as they danced slowly around the two elves in the center of the clearing, swaying and bobbing in unison. Their tall black hats were also conical in shape with broad brims like the witches of classical tales. The distant rumble of thunder rolled across the meadow and shook the ground slightly as the elves worked up an immense dome of power over the assembly.

  They had come to learn what had happened to their King.

  They had searched high and low for him for days before deciding some evil purpose had taken him. Scouts sent to the Tuathans, the Northern Elves, the Southern Elves, the Eastern Elves and the Western Elves had returned with no word, empty handed. No one knew what had happened to Il Dolce Mio. His castle was already withering without his presence. The flowering vines were curling up and turning brown. The birds had abandoned the towers. A foray to the castle of Armand and his wife had provided nothing useful by way of information other than to affirm their suspicions that all was not well in the underworld. Armand had not been home, but his wife had told the scouts he had gone to the Abyss to look for some lost men.

  The gruguach entered the circle, hobbling on her walking stick while carrying a large parcel covered in black cloth under one arm. Two bean sidhes drifted along behind her, carrying a small wooden table between them. The ancient healer waited until her unlikely assistants placed the table toward the northern point of the circle and then she placed the package on it, carefully unwrapping the ragged covers, exposing a leather and wooden-bound book that appeared to be every bit as old as the gruguach, herself.

  Steppet and Prado began to turn in unison, very slowly in a clockwise direction in the center of the circle, while the grugruach made the invocations for each of the cardinal points. The music continued and the power grew. Blue electric sprites jumped back and forth between the points on the two metal caps they wore and the tips of the stilettos.

  The gruguach’s voice was shrill, but loud and full of power as she finished the invocations of the four powers, and then faced the book. She held both arms up to the sky and the lightning danced between the clouds, while smaller reflections of the great bolts were mirrored between her hands.

  “Great Wisdom!” She cried to the sky. “Mighty Powers of Old! Lend us Strength! Lend us Protection! See your children as they strive against the powers of Evil! See your children as they seek the Answers to their Questions! See your children as they beg for the return of the King!”

  She lowered her arms and the music subsided in volume, but kept up the steady beat. With hands trembling from fear rather than age, she opened the dark cover of the book. She looked up again and spoke to the spirits of the Wind, spirits of the Thunder and spirits of the Rain.

  “We open now the Great Book presented to us by the King, wherein lies the mysteries foretold by the Ancient Ones,” she turned the pages as she spoke. “O Spirit of Ancient Knowledge, the Ancient One, the Holy One, the All-Seeing, All-Knowing Writer of Ancient Knowledge. We invoke the memory of the Great Author. We seek the knowledge of the Necromancer. We revere the words of the Great Liber Loagaeth. With humility and loathing, with trembling and fear, with honor and privilege belonging to the Son of Adar, the Ancient One, Son of Anu, Son of An.”

  The gruguach stepped back and took the stilettos from Steppet’s hands, never missing a beat. He would read the words. He, who had been taught by the King to read the words of the world of men, he, who was deemed strongest and bravest among all the elves of the Center, would read from the Book and invoke the power of the Lord Marduk, dark Lord of the Sixth Gate, Terrible and Mighty Conqueror of Tiamat, Queen of Chaos.

  “Laku!” Steppet said as he placed both hands on his silver hat. A blue-white light flowed from the point into the sky over his head. “Tamnil whose word is Laktubanutaku, I call upon thee to appear here at our circle! We beseech thee, we invoke thee, we command thee, we…” His words were cut off as lightning bolts streaked into the circle and struck the top of his head. For a moment it seemed he would surely die, but then, the power was gone, and Steppet was left standing, still holding the sides of his ritual cap. The music had momentarily ceased and the faeries had threatened to run away screaming into the stormy night, but when they saw he was not dead, the music resumed on a muted level, and they held fast to their determination to go through with the dangerous ritual.

  Steppet turned slowly and faced the gruguach. She stopped tapping out the rhythm with Prado and stood staring at the elf captain from terrified eyes. The power of Tamnil had come into the circle. This was not supposed to happen. If the circle was not powerful enough to keep out this lesser power of Marduk, they would be hard pressed to control the next one they planned to call up.

  “Bridget!” He spoke her name and the faeries moaned and screamed in terror. None were allowed to speak the gruguach’s name. “What do you seek?”

  The gruguach drew a deep breath and tried to calm her runaway heart.

  “We seek our King, O Great Spirit of the Beyond,” she said with as much courage as she could muster.

  “Is your King dead? Do you wish a miracle?” Steppet’s eyes glowed w
ith the same greenish light as that of the lightning which had struck him.

  “We do not know if he lives or is dead,” she answered.

  “His name. How is he called?”

  “He is King Il Dolce Mio, Monarch of the Center, Son of Adar, Son of Anu, Son of An.”

  “Ahhhh, a great heritage has this little one.” Tamnil scratched his chin thoughtfully. “And his mother?”

  “Samhuelwynne, Queen of the Center, daughter of Bocktuelwynne, daughter of Sanmuelwynne.”

  “A noble lineage, indeed,” Tamnil nodded. “And you are his subjects?” He looked about the circle and beyond at the faces of those whom he could see in the combined lights of the five fires built outside the circle.

  “We are his devoted servants, indeed, his subjects and his people.”

  “He is not dead,” Tamnil told her almost casually. “I have not seen his soul pass through the Gates.

  “For this information, we offer you all that we have.” She held out her hands. The faeries had brought everything they could carry, everything they deemed wealth. There were baskets full of bread, pots of butter and honey, flagons of wine, cauldrons filled with raw gold nuggets, sparkling gems and crystals of every imaginable color and shape. There were soft blankets of lamb’s wool spread out with necklaces made of shells from the sea, polished rocks, crystals, jewels, colored glass and feathers from brilliant plumes. The treasures of the kingdom were here for his perusal.

  “I lack nothing of these things,” he told her after a moment. “It is the music of these wonderful creatures that pleases me most. I would stay a while and a bit to listen. That will be my payment.”

  “Then so be it,” the gruguach said. “But we would have back our Steppet, for we must go on with our rituals, and he learned of the words. We must have our King back with us if he is not dead.”

  “Then so be it,” Tamnil repeated her words, and then Steppet collapsed into the trampled grass. Prado rushed to help the captain to his feet. Tamnil had become nothing more than a green vaporous spirit weaving in and out amongst the elves gathered outside the circle. The vaporous mist settled near the feet of the pipers.

  “Play!” The gruguach commanded and the music began again. “Play and keep playing! No matter what happens.”

  Steppet regained his composure, adjusted his metal cap and drew himself up as large as elvenly possible, while the gruguach and Prado resumed playing the lively rhythm on the stilettos. The captain stepped in front of the book and steadied himself before summoning the next power.

  “Alanna! Kulibadalukka!” he shouted the name and word of the power. This was a grave danger. Alanna was the most potent of all Marduk’s powers.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  “You are not being reasonable, sir,” Omar spoke up on his sister’s behalf. “She has done nothing but devote her life to the betterment of mankind by disassociation. Her only contact with men was forced by circumstance, and then by her choice to help rid them of a scourge from beyond. How can you convict her of these crimes, which were none of her doing?”

  “She is your sister, your mate. The Ba to your Ka. You are only a part of the self.” Kinmalla frowned at the Prophet. “She is your wife and your anti-self.”

  “My anti-self?” Omar returned the frown. “Then if she is my anti-self, then by definition, she is opposite of me in every way. If I am male, she is female. If I am tall, she is short. If I am rough, she is gentle. If I am ignorant, she is wise. Would you agree?”

  “I would indeed. The Ba soul power to your Ka self spirit.” The judge affirmed.

  “Then if I am guilty, she is innocent,” Omar said and raised his chin slightly.

  The judge froze and his ‘bailiff’ leaned close to his ear, speaking rapidly.

  “Sir,” the shadowy creature whispered. “It is not wise to allow them to speak. Their filthy tongues are made of quicksilver and their minds full of treachery.”

  “You make a good argument, Omar ibn Adalune,” the judge said after a moment’s consideration.

  “Perhaps there is more to be said than you would allow simply because you fear to consider the truth.” Omar pushed his luck and Luke Andrew moaned audibly.

  “Don’t provoke him, Omar.” Meredith punched him in the ribs with her elbow.

  “You dare to strike the son of Anu?” The judge rose from his seat and leaned on the table, glaring at Meredith.

  “It was nothing, Your Honor,” Omar answered for her. “She, too, is a daughter of Anu.”

  “Ahhhh. So you are right now twice, Son of Anu,” Kinmalla acquiesced and resumed his seat. “You have many words arranged in a way that supports your convoluted wisdom. Do you spout this wisdom off to all who be in ignorance of them? Do you cast your pearls before swine? Why do you believe that mankind is worthy of redemption? Did not your father or your father’s father teach you it is not the duty of the lesser gods to interfere in the affairs of the children of men? Did they not explain that men belong to Anu? They are his special domain and to interfere kindles his wrath.”

  “My Lord, please, I beg you,” the ‘bailiff’ stiffened. “You waste precious words on these criminals.”

  “Lord Kinmalla, this one…” Omar held out one hand to Meredith, “is a daughter of Anu. Can she not be also concerned with her father’s business? Cannot Lord Nanna be concerned with Lord Anu’s children? Does Lord Anu answer to you, sir? Do you know the ways and minds of the elder gods? Do you presume to know Lord Anu’s will concerning his people?” His tone was not one of arrogance or in the least disrespectful.

  The judge actually laughed. “You are a presumptuous upstart! In answer to your questions: no. I do not presume to know the mind of Anu. I merely interpret the law governing the actions of the gods.”

  “Did you ever hold court on Anu?” Omar persisted while he had the judge engaged. “Is it not against the law to kill, maim and torture even the children of men for the entertainment of the gods?”

  “It is not in the books. It matters not to this court what befalls the children of men. They have their own laws and their own judges.”

  “So it would not be against the law to kill men for pleasure, yet it would be against the law to lead them into battle against one another?” Omar was appalled.

  “To observe, to guide when implored, to serve through knowledge well-bestowed. To protect. That is the law. To give gifts as rewards for special behavior. These are permissible. To join with humans? To influence the outcomes of their endeavors by physical intervention? Not permissible. To destroy when boundaries are over-stepped. Yes. This is permissible. It is in the best interests of the gods to disallow certain knowledge to the children of men. Is it not written in their Holy Books that knowledge that would bestow godhood was forbidden under pain of death?”

  “These were laws, yes,” Omar agreed. “But times change. Men change. Even the gods change, and the spirits evolve. Do you know nothing of Atlantis?”

  At the mention of the lost world, Kinmalla’s entire demeanor changed. He picked up his gavel and banged on the table.

  “Take the Lord Nanna and her offspring away,” he commanded. “I will keep this son of Anu for a bit longer to determine the nature of his mind.”

  The shadowy creatures on either side of the judge and his ‘bailiff’ started forward. Meredith grabbed hold of Luke’s arm, and they tried to run, but two more of the guardians stepped into the mouth of the cave. Marduk was thrown aside as they advanced on the mother and son.

  Merry struggled and kicked and fought with her captors in vain. One of the guardians struck Luke Andrew on the back of the head and his struggle was over before it started. The two creatures picked Meredith up between them and headed for the glowing mouth of the adjoining cavern.

  Marduk and Omar shouted futilely for them to cease and come back, but their shouts were cut off as a tremendous rush of air swept into the cavern from outside. The wind was followed by a terrible disturbance and noise that made them all fall back against the wa
lls as the cavern filled with a dark essence resembling a cloud of thick, black smoke. The smoke condensed and took shape in the center of the room. Before them stood a menacing dark angel of hideous proportions with spiked tail, horned head, flashing red eyes and two pairs of leathery black wings.

  “Come, Meredith!” His voice was as hideous as his appearance and caused small pebbles to fall from the roof of the cave. “Come to me!”

  He held out his clawed hands and spread his lower wings behind him.

  The judge roared a protest and the ‘bailiff’ leapt onto the table, threatening the demon with his curved blade.

  Meredith broke from the startled guardians and ran toward the dark angel.

  “Meredith!” Marduk shouted at her, and Omar tried to grab her as she passed.

  The demon wrapped her in his upper pair of wings and the cavern filled with more blinding smoke. When the smoke and noise died, the demon was gone and so was Meredith. The guardians carrying Luke Andrew’s limp body were gone as well, and the judge stood staring at Omar and Marduk accusingly.

  “Who is this who dares to obstruct the justice of this court?” Lord Kinmalla demanded to know.

  Marduk smoothed down his robes and ignored the judge’s question. Omar pulled Dunya close to him, saying nothing in response.

  “Son of Adalune!” The judge focused on Omar. “Is this some trick of yours? Who has taken Lord Nanna’s part in perpetration of this crime?”

  “I’m not sure who it was,” Omar answered him at last. “But it was none of my doing, else I would have rescued her son as well.”

  “You are, indeed, insolent, little one.” Kinmalla tugged on his beard. “I will consider your arrogance mitigated by your courage and your wisdom while contemplating your sentence.”

  Two guardians blocked the way into the cavern. Two more had come from the depths. The ‘bailiff’ followed Kinmalla as he swept angrily from the room.