Louis pulled up a low stool made of heavy, carved wood and sat down next to Armand. He kept his eyes on Oriel and her brother, Levi. They were walking back toward the main pavilion with Sophia and Menaka, who had almost completely taken over the care of the young Michael Emmanuel. Already, they were calling him Mikey. Michael Ian sat down next to him and popped the top on an ice-cold can of beer. The foam ran up and over the side of the golden can and Louis frowned at it. Incongruous and anachronistic. He’d not seen an aluminum can of beer in ages. It was simply beyond understanding.
“It has crossed my mind from time to time,” Louis admitted.
Many things had been crossing his mind more often than he liked. The day dragged on endlessly. The elves had adjusted nicely, but they remained frightened and in a constant state of barely covered agitation. Konrad had tried everything to make his mother allow them more leave to come and go, but she insisted the woods were dangerous and the paths to the overworld even worse, though she refused to explain why. All she would say was that things would be different very shortly, and they would appreciate her more in the near future; furthermore, they would come to love her for the truly kind and beneficent personage that she was. Louis had yet to see anything that would change his mind about his mother-in-law, though she had actually done nothing to harm any of them… yet. She had provided them with every comfort. Everything they asked for was brought without delay. Everything that is, except news of the other members of the extended family of the Red Cross of Gold.
She simply assured them everything was going well and right on schedule. Everything… again, with one exception. She claimed to know nothing of the whereabouts of Sir Ramsay, his brother and his sons, stating that they were beyond her control, ungrateful and troublesome beyond endurance. Ranting endlessly about Ramsay’s wayward behavior was one of her favorite topics. This gave rise to certain hopes within the hearts of those held against their wills in the meadow. If Mark Andrew and Luke and the rest of the Ramsay clan were outside the Queen’s territory, then there was the possibility that their lots might change at the drop of a hat.
Even so, Oriel and Levi worried over Simon and the rest of the d’Ornan clan incessantly and none could do or say anything to assuage their fears.
“I will tell you my theory,” Armand said a bit louder and sat up a bit straighter before looking around for the queen’s Boggans, who seemed to be everywhere and nowhere when you least expected it. “Queen Ereshkigal is not simply a title or name bestowed upon our hostess. She is much more powerful than you might think. The reason she doesn’t have a Gate of her own is because she is, in fact, Queen of the entire Abyss. This is her world, not Nergal’s, not Marduk. She can come and go as she pleases, have access to above and below whenever and wherever she likes and she doesn’t answer to her husband or any other Lord or Lady of the Abyss. They are actually more like her guests or boarders. In other words, she was here first and then they came. I don’t know if she even realizes just how much power she has. Long years have passed since these powers have been up and around in our physical dimension. They are still remembering, stretching, testing their powers, as it were.”
“Really?” Apolonio spoke up from where he lay on his back in the grass, gazing up at the clouds overhead. “Then she can essentially tell Nergal what’s what?”
“Correct,” Armand nodded. “Michael and I were just talking about it earlier. She is in complete control here. There is no doubt about it. Whatever is occurring anywhere else, she knows it. She knows, but she is keeping quiet about it. I would say that means it is frightening… even to her. Furthermore, I believe she is controlling Nergal’s very thoughts. We noticed whenever he would begin to question her or grow aggravated, he would suddenly change his tune and become totally complacent as if whatever was annoying him had suddenly evaporated.”
“I noticed that as well,” Louis agreed.
“It is possible that this is a part of some grander scheme,” Michael added. “None of us can deny that some very potent powers are at work when it comes to the comings and goings of the Order and its family. We have, none of us, ever been at liberty to make our own ways. We may have thought it so, but every step on the paths of our lives have led us exactly where we need to be, when we need to be there.”
“You can’t mean that we should simply sit here and do nothing?” Louis asked inn frustration. He was a man of action. Sitting around the Fifth Gate was driving him crazy. He wanted to destroy the pit and the tables and overthrow the pavilions like Jesus Christ on the Temple Mount, but each time he’d almost lost control and done such a thing, he had been restrained by some event or another. Now the Queen had left them in the charge of Nergal, and he had abandoned them to Plotius. Louis scanned the bright landscape for signs of the dashing Captain of the Queen’s Guard. Plotius was, indeed, a changed man or beast, as the case may have been, but he was still very childish in many ways.
The Captain sat under the limbs of an impressive old oak on a red and white blanket with his sweetheart. A comely young Tuathan princess, supposedly. She seemed quite taken by her escort as he poured a tall glass of fruity punch for her and opened a basket in front of them. The Captain was totally absorbed in her, but three of his burly soldiers sat near the trunk of the tree with their spears, clubs and knives, ready to confront any trouble that might come near the happy couple. When Louis looked directly at them, one of them partially rose up on its muscular haunches and waved the spear at him in a menacing gesture.
“Good grief,” the King muttered and returned his attention to the men around him.
“I think our best course of action might be no action at all,” Armand suggested. “The notion is an ancient one spoken of by the greatest sages of the Orient. It is called simply allowing nature to take its course. Eventually, an opening will present itself to us, if we are patient. We haven’t been here long. Perhaps, keeping peace a few more hours will show us what this is all about.”
“A good idea,” Michael agreed and Apolonio nodded his head.
Louis made a sour face, but had to agree as well. They would wait, but only a few more hours. If the Queen stayed gone long, and neither Nergal, nor Marduk showed up again, he would try his luck with the dauntless captain. He glanced at the couple again in time to see the Captain present his ‘date’ with a plate of silver, filled with tiny delicacies of some type. Incongruous and anachronistic. Beyond reason.
(((((((((((((
“He is not in the villa,” Galen said menacingly, lowered his head and looked at Simon in disgust. “You have lost my father and Sir Ramsay as well! Are you going to simply sit there and do nothing? I’m going to the Master.”
Simon was up in an instant. He grasped Lucio’s son by the wrist and twisted his arm behind him, slamming him with surprising ease into the wall near the door. Lydia shrieked and Simon told her to shut up.
The Healer had never spoken a stern word to his wife in all their acquaintance. Lydia’s mouth fell open as she stumbled backwards toward the small desk where he’d been sitting and listening to Galen’s rant only moments before. Galen could not find Vanni or Lucio. No one had seen them since they had tried the experiment with the dream walking technique. Reuben and Simeon had been dispatched to affirm the truth of Galen’s complaint, and Simon was bracing himself for the impending confrontation with Catherine that was bound to come. She and Roni were down at the pool, taking in the sunshine and had no idea that the two men were missing. It was only a matter of time before d’Brouchart learned what had happened. Barry of Sussex had come by twice looking for the Golden Eagle and Sir Ramsay. It seemed the Master wanted to confer with them.
Things were going from bad to worse when Carlisle Corrigan beat on the door post, and then stuck his golden red head inside the door without waiting to be invited.
“My, my, brother.” He clucked his tongue as he observed the odd state in which he found Simon and Galen. “Is this the way you treat all your guests? You never fail to amuse and
amaze.”
“Get in or out!” Simon snapped at him, and then pushed Galen across the room, depositing him in a leather arm chair.
Carlisle stepped inside and then stiffened at the sight of Lydia’s troubled expression. She brushed back her hair quickly and tried to take on a more unconcerned air.
“Would you care for a drink, Carlisle?” she asked and began to pour him a glass of water without waiting for an answer. “Please make yourself at home. I was just going down to the pool.” She thrust the glass in his hands and disappeared out the door before anyone could say another word.
“Well.” Carlisle sniffed the water, and then set it down on a table near the door. “I hope it wasn’t anything I said.”
“Just shut up,” Simon told him through gritted teeth. “Sit down.”
Carlisle smiled and then sat down on Lydia’s footstool.
“Drinks and a floor show…” he smiled at Galen’s angry face. “Are you going to torture him now? Or should we take him to the basement under the chapel? The others won’t be able to hear his screams.”
“You’re an ass,” Simon muttered as he backed away from Lucio’s son and sat on the edge of the desk. “Galen and I are simply trying to reach an accord. He is concerned about the whereabouts of his father and his brother. They seem to be missing, and he is rightly concerned.”
“Yes… yes, indeed,” Carlisle nodded his head. “As am I.”
Simon looked at his arrogant half-brother in consternation. “How so?”
“Well, you see, I have very little to keep me occupied hereabouts, and so I keep myself abreast of the goings on and the goings out and the goings away,” Carlisle continued “I noticed you and Vanni and Sir Dambretti and the elder Brothers d’Ornan entered said building along with the venerable Knight of Death and came out again without said Knight of Darkness. I also noted, simply in passing, of course, Vanni and Sir Dambretti entered the old barracks and never emerged. Upon further investigation, I perceived they had simply disappeared, much like the Chevalier du Morte, no doubt. I daresay I shant sleep a wink until they return. I would not want them traipsing about in my dreams.”
“You are intolerable,” Simon grumped and picked up a bottle of wine. He pulled the cork with his teeth before taking a long gulp. Much to their surprise, the gentle Healer spit some of the wine on Lydia’s rug in disgust. “I cannot believe you and I were ever on amiable terms, let alone kith and kin.”
“You mean my father went dream-walking without me?” Galen’s anger turned to hurt.
“Aye, Little Eagle, that he did,” Carlisle matched his expression “and such a pity when a father abandons the nest.”
“Shut up! All of you!” Simon slammed the bottle on the desk.
“I want to know something, brother of mine,” Carlisle’s voice took a different tone. “If we are going to get out of this accursed place, when are we going? When are you going to stop toying around and get us out of here? I want to go home… now! My people need me. They will be lost without me, and I have every idea that something is terribly amiss in the underworld. My mother can see nothing in her scrying dish. Blackness is everywhere. Death and destruction have come to my world and yours.”
“What do you mean?” Simon’s frown deepened as he moved around the desk. He opened the small refrigerator and tossed Galen a bottle of spring water as if he were still a young child
Galen looked down at the water and sighed.
“I mean my mother is no common witch.” Carlisle eyed him steadily. “She is well endowed with enough power to break through the bonds of this prison. She might not be able to leave here anymore than the rest of us, but she can see. She can see, Brother. Yet she cannot see! It is as if our worlds have disappeared. The only other possibility is she has lost her sight, and I cannot believe that. You haven’t lost your healing powers. I see the orbs drifting around you even now. I see that Sir Barry is still able to work his magick in the armory… he’s bored. I see that our father continues to use his own powers to look into the Abyss, but he sees nothing other than great vapors and troubles… as usual. His vision does not penetrate the Gates. He is blocked. My mother tells me so. I have spoken to Lavon de Bleu in confidence, and he tells me he has not lost his Mystery, but that he is unable to exercise it completely. We are being blocked. I tell you, brother, what I have told no one else. I retain the mysteries of the Golden Eagle. I, too, can soar the skies as a great bird. I, too, know the secrets of Isis and Osiris, and I tell you great things have gone amiss in the Halls of Amenti. A great flood, greater than any we have ever known has overtaken the lands we knew. North is no longer north and south is no more there. Ice grows in the jungles and jungles grow in the glacier fields. We are lost, brother.”
Simon was taken completely aback by his brother’s candid confession. He had often wondered if Carlisle retained the mystery of the Golden Eagle, but now this surprising revelation was completely overridden by the gravity of King Corrigan’s words.
“Maybe we’re not lost,” Galen spoke up quietly. “Maybe we are right where we should be. If the world has been destroyed somehow, and we have survived by being here, wherever here is, we may be here by the Grace of God.”
“You sound like your father.” Simon had to smile at last. “You may be right, but I would beg both of you to hold off telling my father about the missing people as long as possible. If they are in the dream fields, my sons tell me they can return at will. We only need to wait for them to come back, and perhaps they will have learned something useful.”
“How long do we wait?” Carlisle asked him. “Have you kept a diary? Do you know how long we’ve been here?”
“I know I have counted seven days.” Simon nodded to a notebook on his desk. “But I put no confidence in reckoning under these conditions. It may be seven days, seven months or seven years since we came here. It is impossible to tell.”
111
Nergal was dreaming. He drifted through the night sky above his desert kingdom where thousands of fires glowed in his honor. It was one of his major feast days on the morrow and his people had turned out in record numbers to pay homage to his temples and priests. The smell of burning wood and roasting meat filled the air around him and he breathed in the luscious aromas gratefully. His people were good people if a little slow at times, but then life was rough for them. These sacrificial fires would be given under great stress and loss in the truest sense of sacrifice. As he drifted high above them in a luminescent red cloud, he contemplated how best he might repay them for their loyalty during the coming year. There were many things he could bestow upon them, but he did not wish to spoil them as Lord Marduk spoiled his people, nor did he wish to exploit them in warfare as Semiramis did hers.
He had made a vow to himself the previous year to be more like his brother Nanna and his niece, Inanna. They had come and parleyed with him only a few short weeks earlier for a particularly fertile valley to the north. No one lived there, they had told him, and they wished to send an impoverished group of people there to care for it. It seemed that the grass there was in need of sheep and goats to feed upon it. Naturally, he had agreed. None of his shepherds or goatherds was ready to break off at the moment and there were plenty of such valleys in his domain. His brother had been overjoyed and then he’d had to listen to him extol the virtues of God’s creation for hours. Nanna could be such a bore, but he had his good points.
“Nergal?” Nanna’s voice called to him, and he turned within the ruddy cloud, looking for his brother.
“Where are you?” he asked and saw nothing, but the roiling clouds all around him. The black velvet of space stretched over his head and the desert pavement was far away below.
“I am here, my son,” the voice answered. It was not Nanna. Nanna would not call him that. No one had called him that in ages and ages.
“Who is there?” he asked a second question that was edged with just a hint of suspicion.
“Open your eyes, my son and behold a face of your acquain
tance,” the voice was not threatening. It was, however, powerful, irresistible and quite familiar.
Nergal opened his eyes and the redness of the cloud remained, but he was not in a cloud in the sky. He was in one of his favorite pits in the lower regions of the Fifth Gate.
He blinked quickly and tried to clear the fog of the sleep and the dream. Above him, he saw the face of Lord Adar.
“Adar!” He righted himself and placed one foot on the rocky ledge where his visitor stood.
“No, not Adar.” The cloaked form standing before him pushed back the hood.
“Adalune?” Nergal narrowed his eyes. The son of Semiramis had never visited him here before. The man looked like the Djinni in many ways. Long, dark hair, long black beard, deep, blue eyes… blue eyes. Wrong.
His visitor laughed, exposing a set of perfect teeth. His hair had streaks of white throughout its silky length, but no braid, no silver ornaments attached, other than an elaborate set of earrings.
“Do you not recognize your own grandfather, my son?” He held out both arms and Nergal’s toothy mouth fell open. “Your countenance is formidable today. What troubles you?”
“Grandfather?” Nergal’s immense, throaty voice faded to a mere whisper. “Forgive me.” He transformed himself quickly, taking on the preferred form of the family patriarch, which happened to be the very same form that his Queen preferred. Lord Anu nodded his approval when the transformation was complete.
“That is much better,” he said as he held out his hand and the silver ring bearing the secret name of the moon flashed in the reddish glow. Nergal took his grandfather’s hand and kissed the ring.
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