He had been skittering down the rocks into the jaws of certain death, when he’d found himself sliding to a halt on a polished black floor. A short, panicked search had brought him to his father as he now lay. Though the relief from the heat and the dirt, grime, grit and the inevitable certainty of destruction was a welcomed change, he had exchanged one form of panic for another.
“Father?” He knelt beside the altar or pedestal and placed one hand on his father’s forehead. “Poppi?”
No answer. Konrad had succumbed to the severity of the injuries to his leg. He would wake eventually and his leg would be as good as new. In the meantime, he needed to find a way out of wherever they were. He’d made some quick reconnoiters in all directions, but he had been reluctant to let his father out of his sight. The chamber or enclosure seemed very much homogenous in all directions. Almost like a hospital in some respects. The ambient air temperature seemed artificially controlled. His boots echoed endlessly when he walked and it caused him to walk on tiptoe in an effort to keep the noise down, not wishing to attract something undesirable before he could figure out what to do. The apprentice, who was more than three quarter “hyper-human”, a term that Lavon had applied to the children of ambivalent parentage, wished more than ever he had paid more attention to his wife when she had tried to teach him to use his supraliminal mental abilities. Somehow he’d thought it unnecessary to develop them any more than his mother had taught him. Apolonio revered the memory of his mother, Lucia, almost as much as his father. If Lucia said it was so, then it was so. That was how it had always been when she was alive and with them, and that was how Apolonio wanted it, unlike his older brother William, who had married Omar’s sister. William had always used his powers to the full extent possible, but always in the service of others. Apolonio, being more like his father than he was willing to admit, had always been afraid he would be attracted to the darker nature of the creatures populating the underworld and the Abyss. Now, he regretted his lack of training.
“I’m going to have to leave you for a short while, Poppi,” he whispered to his father. “I’ll be back as quick as you can say Jack Sprat.” He used the words his mom had always used when he had been little, but he had no idea if he would ever see his father again.
He waited a few seconds to see if Konrad would respond and then set off in his favorite direction: east. He needed no compass to tell him that east was east and west was west. It was one of his natural gifts and had never failed him. The light within the space where he walked never changed. Far overhead, several white orbs gleamed like full moons and cast about the same light as such on the black floor as a Sabbat moon as well. He knew they were not moons, but he was not sure what they were, if they were natural or synthetic. The only thing he did know for sure was that someone or some entity had brought them here. The reason behind it was the biggest question on his mind. Why? And then, who? Considering that they were no longer filthy and he felt as if he’d just had a satisfying meal and a long drink of cool water, he hoped that the source of their good fortune was benevolent. On the other hand, if the source of their salvation was benevolent, where was she or he or it?
He glanced over his shoulder. The stone on which his father lay was a tiny blip at the farthest limit of his vision now. A few more steps and he would disappear from sight. Nothing had changed. There were no landmarks, no furnishings, no walls, no ceilings… only the floor, the darkness and the orbs overhead. At the last moment, he changed his mind and decided not to trust his gift of direction and turned back. Leaving his father was out of the question. On his way back to the platform, he walked faster as the all too familiar feeling that someone or something was watching him grew stronger and stronger. He almost missed the stark, white rectangle lying on the black floor about half way back.
Puzzled, he plucked the thing from the stone and looked it over. How could he have missed it? It virtually glowed in the soft light provided by the orbs. An envelope. A letter?
His name was neatly written across the front. Beautiful script. Apolonio von Hetz. He was about to tear into the expensive-looking envelope when he heard a soft moan.
“Father!” He forgot about the letter for the moment and the noise of his footsteps and ran toward his father.
Konrad had raised one hand to his forehead and moaned again. He was already struggling to sit up on the stone when Apolonio reached him.
(((((((((((((
The Lord of the Sixth Gate rose up from his examination of the crevice in the floor of the cavern connecting the Sixth to the Seventh Gate. It was a new crack. Not very large, but noticeable. Cracks were not unusual in the Abyss. The rocks shifted and eroded and expanded and contracted just like rocks anywhere else, but in light of their most recent findings, he was not letting anything go without careful inspection. But it was not the crack that concerned him now. It was the sound of something calling his name. He drew the curved sword he preferred to wear, from its scabbard and held it ready to challenge whatever this new threat might be.
“Lord Marduk!” The echoing bellow reached him again and he relaxed. Nergal.
“Down here!” He shouted up the narrow shaft he had descended to get to this passage.
Nergal’s scaly face appeared at the top of the shaft. His red eyes gleamed brightly.
“Great pits and pendulums!” Nergal cursed and then rapidly climbed down the shaft to join him in the darkened passage. “What are you doing down here?”
Zaguri scuttled from the shadows and leered at the Lord of the Fifth Gate over Marduk’s shoulder.
“Of all the fumes and foulness of perdition!” Nergal cursed and fell back at the sight of the beast. “Is that who I think it is? What have you been doing down here?”
Marduk frowned at him in aggravation.
“What do you think? What did I tell you and the little missus I was going to do?” He asked derisively. Nergal was such an idiot at times. “Since you failed to accompany me and preferred frolicking in your little love nest, I brought my own companion. It is none of your affair.”
A lingering dollop of saliva dripped from Zaguri’s bottom lip and made a sickening splat when it hit the floor. He obviously enjoyed disgusting the great Nergal. Nergal recovered himself and glared at the hideous beast. He would not entertain him
“Ahhh, but you were supposed to come back for us before venturing into the Seventh Gate,” Nergal zoomed in on the crack with the light generated inside his own eyes and squatted beside it. His tail scraped the wall behind him and he ran one claw over the ragged edge of the crevice. “A new breach.”
“They are everywhere.” Marduk stepped over the crack and peered down the hall. A greenish light broke the complete darkness further on. Phosphorescent algae, no doubt or something less mundane, perhaps.
“Speaking of the Seventh Gate,” Nergal stood up before he continued, “look at this!” He grabbed hold of the braid and held it out from his head. It was just above the flap of his ear and just below the largest of his five horns.
Marduk’s mouth fell open in surprise at the sight of the white hair and silver ornaments.
“Where did you get this?” He reached for the braid and then changed his mind, withdrawing his hand. “Has something happened to our neighbor?”
Zaguri made his way around his Master, trying to glimpse the thing that was causing them such great concern.
“I have no idea in answer to both questions.” Nergal dropped the thing and crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought you might know something about it. I do not think it is a good joke, my friend. Reshki almost took my head off when she found it.”
“Then you have no idea where you… acquired it?” Marduk started off toward the Seventh Gate.
“No,” Nergal turned to watch him go. Zaguri loomed in his face and he swatted at the creature with one muscular arm, causing him to leap aside. “Where are you going? Are you going to help me get this thing off my head? Reshki thinks I am trying to amuse her by looking more like
our precious Adar.”
“I’m going to the Seventh Gate,” Marduk called over his shoulder. “Won’t you come along, since you are already here and we can ask the owner, if he’s home.”
Nergal grunted and snorted in protest. He’d not wanted to venture into the Seventh Gate. He’d had enough of Adar. The last thing he wanted to do was get back on his bad side.
“What if he thinks I stole it?” He asked as he caught up with the elusive Arab. His toenails and scales clicked and clattered on the stone.
“He won’t think that. He most likely knows exactly where it is.” Marduk laughed at his reluctant companion. “Believe me, it won’t be leaving until it is ready. Besides it looks very becoming. Reshki should have appreciated it more.”
Nergal growled, but said nothing.
“What is this thing, Master?” Zaguri bobbed along beside Marduk, keeping out of Nergal’s reach. “Show me what I can do about it, and I will move mountains for you, Master. Show me. Tell me. Allow me to serve you… to serve both of you.”
Nergal growled again and Marduk laughed at the thought of turning Zaguri loose on Adar.
“Be patient, my pretty friend,” he said. “Be patient.”
(((((((((((((
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Paddy frowned up at the Knight of the Golden Eagle.
They were sitting in white chairs made of scrolling metal, overlooking the balcony railing of the Djinni’s cliffside palace. The gulls and seabirds filled the air over the breakers far out to sea and below them, looking for their noon meals in the waters of the strange ocean. Lucio still wondered what lay on the far side of that horizon. If ever things settled down, he intended to scoop up Mark Andrew, Luke Matthew and perhaps, Apolonio and Luke Andrew and few of the others and go a’Viking there, maybe even in a wooden ship like the days of old.
“What do you suppose lies yonder?” The Knight puffed on one of the clurichauns pipes and asked the question with a dreamy quality in his voice.
“Whair? Across th’ sea?” Paddy asked, frowned and then squinted into the distance. The sky was deepest blue and the only clouds seemed to lie just above the horizon, causing the sea to blend almost seamlessly with the sky.
“Si`, across the sea.” Lucio nodded and pulled on the pipe again before smiling. “I have never had much luck in places beyond the horizon. Perhaps that horizon would be friendlier.”
“I’ve seen some o’ th’ creatures thot ’ave come from th’ deep,” Paddy said thoughtfully. “I dunna care t’ be in a boot with Formorians swimmin’ aboot undarneath. I’ll take me chances on solid ground, sirrah.”
“I used to think there was such a thing as solid ground, Paddy, but I’ve since learned better. There is no such thing as solid ground.”
“And I wud ’ave t’ agree with’ee somewhat.” Paddy nodded and eyed the Italian closely. He’d followed the fresh prints outside of Bart’s cave when he’d emerged from the chess games into the fresh sea breeze and been overjoyed to see Nicole and Lucio and the boys. Barshak had given him a start, but all in all, it had been a fairly happy reunion and he had been even more pleased to see the change in Mark Andrew’s daughter. The news of Omar’s plight, however, had put a damper on things and then the idea of all of them venturing into the Abyss had truly upset him. “But ye’re leadin’ me from th’ subject, Lucky. I think thot ye shud considar long and ’ard before ye go traipsin’ off t’ th’ Seventh Gate. I know thot Andy wud not want ye takin’ ’is daughter thair.”
“Perhaps if she were a little girl, but Nicole is all grown up. She can very well take care of herself. She is, after all, her father’s daughter and she has her mother’s temperament and pig-headedness. You try to reason with her.”
“I wudna dream of it.” Paddy smiled. “Wud ye moind if I tag along?”
“Now that is not a good idea.” Lucio drew his attention away from the view and looked at the clurichaun. He was dressed in his usual jaunty fashion. Red trousers, yellow plaid vest, green shirt, topped off with a black and yellow tam-o-shanter. “Your Andy would surely skin me alive if I took you off to the Abyss, Paddy Puffingtowne. It’s no place for the likes of you.”
“I’ll take thot as a compliment, Lucky.” Paddy nodded and twirled his bright red beard around one finger. “But I’ve been t’ th’ Abyss before and done quoite well fur meself. Ye moight need me ’elp.”
“We will make a quick survey of the Gate and leave as soon as we learn whether Mark or Sophia are there or have been there. Nicole is certain they are in the Abyss somewhere, and from the best I can get out of Omar, they are in the Seventh Gate.”
“Who d’ ye think put them thair?” Paddy asked him.
“I’m suspicious of one of Nicole’s friends. A certain Captain Galipoli. There’s something not quite right about him.”
“Loike thot gray fellow she brought with’ee,” Paddy mused. “Now thair’s one fur th’ Abyss. If he’s not one o’ Queen’s minions, I’m a parakeet.”
Lucio considered the idea carefully. The clurichaun was right. Barshak was most definitely not completely human. He had the same aspects to his aura that Galipoli possessed. There was more to the quilted fellow than met the eye, and it was entirely possible that he had something to do with Mark and Sophia’s disappearance.
“Perhaps you should come along with us, old friend,” Lucio said and the clurichaun’s face lit up. “You could be right, and I might need you to help me look after Gregory and Nicholas. I know Mark Andrew would kill me outright if something happened to them.”
“Ye’re absolutely roight, Lucky,” Paddy slid from the chair. “I believe I hear th’ lass callin’ us roight… aboot…. Now.”
Nicole’s voice drifted clearly from within the palace. She had been making arrangements with the Djinni for passage directly to the Seventh Gate. Or more precisely, she had been bargaining with the Djinni or, perhaps, more like arguing with him. He was adamantly opposed to the idea of anyone going to the Gates. Nicole had finally gotten to exercise her idea that she could now go toe to toe with her half-brother, and her suspicions had proven true. He had been no match for her wit, her charm, her intelligence and her power. After three hours of explosive ‘conversation’, he had agreed to help them. In fact, he had agreed to accompany them. They would take a ‘short cut’ Jozsef Daniel had used when he lived in the underworld with Michelle as a teenager. They would also take Seularik and five of the Templar Knights. The party was growing and there was always strength in numbers.
When Lucio found her in one of the open air rooms off the central courtyard, he was shocked to see just how much growth they had experienced. Armand greeted him warmly at the door in the Templar fashion, kissing him lightly on the lips. Next came Vanni, Lucio’s own son, who clasped him in a great bear hug and then the diminutive King of the Center, Il Dolce Mio, who still called him ‘my father Lucio’. They had heard of Lucio’s presence at the palace of the Djinni and, naturally, they had come to offer their assistance as well as their condolences for the trouble afflicting Omar.
Lucio’s first impulse was to object. Mark Andrew would kill him again, but then, Mark Andrew should have killed him years ago and it was Mark’s fault for letting him live if anything went wrong.
“It is the Will of God,” he said with grave finality when both Aurora and Dunya appeared, dressed in full battle gear, ready to accompany them as well. They were a motley crew, but none-the-less impressive.
(((((((((((((
“Can you tell who it is?” Simon breathed the question in Barry’s ear. The Healer was leaning over his shoulder as he sat on a flat boulder atop a hummock, staring into the distance with the only pair of night vision binoculars in their possession. Another of growing list of smuggled equipment brought onto the ark by various persons.
“I can’t tell yet. Too far away,” Barry answered him and continued to watch the party making a beeline across the flat wash on the plain below them. The light of the moon reflected off o
f several shallow, salt lakes scattered across the plain, looking like puddles of liquid silver. The straggling group of seven had stopped at the first lake, tested the water and quickly moved on, obviously in search of potable water. Barry began to hum one of his endless tunes as he watched their progress.
Benji, Philip, Zeb, Izzy, and Dan sat on the dry earth behind them, whispering quietly to one another. A little further on, stood their poor, exhausted horses where Luke Matthew, Louis Champlain, Lavon de Bleu and Adam Sussex formed another tight group. A little further to the south, on another hummock covered with dried tufts of grass, Edgard d’Brouchart, Little Barry d’Ornan and Thaddeus Champlain sat in the sand, staring out across the barren, rocky terrain for any sign of the missing men. They had been searching for three days, and they had turned up not one sign of Christopher Stewart, Apolonio von Hetz or Konrad.
Edgard had finally sent Baron de Goth and his army, along with the remaining Fox soldiers north toward New Babylon, while the Templars stayed behind, searching for their missing Knights and apprentice. None of the apprentices left to them were completely mortal. D’Brouchart had recruited several of de Goth’s younger men as preliminary candidates for Barry’s Academy, but it was beginning to look as if none of the less hearty members of the expedition were going to survive the trip home. Their only hope was to reach New Babylon where they might find food and shelter and a bit of respite from the endless desert that seemed to cover the entire world after the flood receded.
The Perfect Sun Page 9