The Eternals

by Richard M. Ankers

  “So, we are close to the kitchens too. How can we guarantee not being seen?” Linka enquired.

  “All able bodies unload the ship, sir. Time is of the essence with such things, everybody chips in. There won't be anybody this side of the Marquis' craft.”

  “I don't like all this talk of ships and crafts. I thought you were speaking metaphorically and that we'd be stowing away on the back of a horse-drawn cart or something.” My two companions looked at me as though I was a petulant child. “I'm not keen on burrowing around like a rabbit, all right.”

  “Are you scared, Jean?” Linka cooed and stroked my shoulder. “There, there, my love, I'll look after you.”

  “Very kind, but this is not the taking care of I would have from you.”

  “Ahem!” Albert cut in. “Shall we, Your Highness, Sir?”

  I took a hold of the door hatch, grabbed the lock and tore it from its ancient hinges. Then, with a care I only afforded my appearance, I opened the hatch up and out.

  The first thing that startled was not the magnitude of the Marquis' flyer, which was impressive in its immensity, nor the hive of activity beyond it, but the cool, fresh air that streamed into my lungs. I hadn't realised how stuffy and constrained the cellar tunnels were until exiting them. I jumped out into the moonlight with a little more panache than needed then extended my hand to the cobweb strewn Albert. He seemed shocked someone would assist him and nodded his appreciation. Linka came last and stretched her back out like a fussing cat. Even bedecked in dust and other less distinguishable debris she was a thing of true beauty and I wanted her more than ever.

  “How on earth did this monstrosity land in silence?” Linka said more to herself than us.

  “A remnant of humanity, Your Highness, they were a clever lot.”

  “I can see that,” she replied, stroking the polished, chrome sides of the mechanical beast.

  The ship would have filled even the largest ballroom. Typical of the Marquis, so over the top. The thing was elliptical, as high as three good sized men, and almost completely reflective. I could almost reach out and touch infinity. Constellations sparkled to their trapped twins, the craft's chic epidermis forever's perfect mirror. However, forever didn't prove that long. A blanket of cloud obliterated the moon and with it half the ship's cosmic patterning. More darkness ensued until the ship was just a metal container awaiting infiltration; pity really, I thought it quite the miracle for a few seconds.

  “This way.” Albert took off hunched and stooping low to avoid detection. Linka followed his lead in suitably stealthy character. I'd already grown bored of subterfuge and strolled after the pair tapping on the shell of the craft, as I went. I think I secretly sought detection to hasten my hands about the throats of those I otherwise sought by stealth.

  “Do you have to?” Linka hissed.

  “I don't have to.”

  “Then, don't.”

  “Very well,” I declared, putting my hands behind my head for her added reassurance.

  Linka shook her own head in dismay, and then trotted after Albert who seemed to have found a way in via the struts that held the strange craft off the ground. I watched as he ducked under the ship and stuck his head up into its veritable backside. A moment later, he reappeared and beckoned the two of us to him.

  “This leads straight into the hold. I see no reason why we should not be able to hide away without detection.”

  “What if I don't want to hide away?”

  “Jean, just for once, please do as you are told.”

  “I will, for you, my strudel. That doesn't mean I'm happy about it.”

  “That will do nicely.” Linka beamed a crescent smile and patted my cheek. Albert ducked away, but not before I'd caught his smirk.

  Compared to the simplistic beauty of the exterior, the craft's interior was workmanlike. We were in a voluminous, low-roofed area spartan of all bar a few piled boxes and row upon row of refrigerated units. Tiny lights blinked in sequence giving the place an ever-changing hue of red and blue alternating colours. Albert noticed my studious nosing.

  “I believe that's where the blood is kept, sir. Supervised by the Marquis' monks, the staff wheel those contraptions into the rear of the palace and position them near the electromagnetic inducers.”

  “The what!” Linka and I exclaimed in unison.

  “The devices that power them,” Albert spoke in a measured tone, as if to children.

  I'd never given any thought to how things were powered other than they were.

  “You did say monks, Albert?” I added. “Do you think we could take a peek?”

  “Why, sir?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Well, we could, but I should wait until we are up in the air and at a point beyond being found out.”

  “What if I insisted?”

  “Jean,” Linka sighed and rolled her eyes in exasperated fashion.

  “It's something I have to do. I promise to be quick.”

  Linka was unhappy about the situation – that was one way to put it – but Albert intervened.

  “I believe if sir was to follow this area right to the end he would find a ramp into the main body of the vessel. I think you could do this undetected, as long as the monks have finished their delivery, that is.”

  “Thank you, Albert. You are the most useful man I've ever met.”

  “Thank you, sir, I think.”

  “I'll be straight back,” I promised Linka, then kissed her on the forehead and was off before she could protest.

  Flitting from cover to cover before realising how stupid I must look and jogging straight down the centre of the craft, I made my way to the ramp Albert had spoken of. Once there, I stuck my head out of the oppressive hold to a deserted interior. There were sounds of activity somewhere to my right, which I suspected would take me back above my companions in the hold, not that they would know, and chose it as my direction. Fortunately, there was more cover in this area. Every wall seemed covered in units of many lighted metal boxes. Buttons and levers flashed everywhere. The whole thing was way beyond my comprehension. Humanity should have tried harder to simplify things, it all seemed so unnecessary. Thousands of the miniature blue and red lights illuminated the area like firelight refracting off a chandelier.

  A prowling panther, I made my way toward the voices that clattered of the mechanical beast's gullet. The sounds grew so close I thought myself about to run into them when a sudden judder almost threw me from my feet. The whole floor lurched in a silent protest to gravity. Not a sound did the craft emit. And although I presumed us to have taken off it wasn't until I peeped around the edge of one flashing, metal unit that I could confirm it.

  For a second or two, I was uncertain what occurred. Scattered around a large cabin-like area were close to thirty men all stood still as statues. Not one of the assembled monks, for tunic clad monks they were, did anything other than stare out of the single, enormous window, which enveloped the whole front end of the ship.

  We were moving. We hurtled through the air at tremendous speed though it felt like we weren't moving at all. I almost gasped in disbelief. Only the passage of presumed clouds and the intermittent revealing of the night sky indicated any progression.

  I marvelled at the ingenuity of whoever created such an undertaking as this vehicle. I'd seen on numerous occasions the enormous Zeppelin balloons that several of the Hierarchy favoured. I'd not batted an eye at the gigantic ships that moved Shangri-La, nor even the invisible exterior of the balloon commanded by the inept Scott. This craft was something different, almost beyond belief.

  I had a sudden desire to reveal myself, but remembering my promise to Linka, did not. Instead, I tucked my tail between my legs like a scolded dog, turned from my window on the night sky, and returned to the hold.

  “I believe we are moving, sir,” Albert extolled.

  “That's one way of describing it,” I said.

  “What do you mean, Jean?” Linka looked up from where she'd flung
herself about my chest.

  “We have already attained a speed I would have thought impossible.”

  “But, it doesn't feel like we're moving at all,” Linka protested.

  “I can assure you we are.” I watched as Albert tried to peep through an infinitesimal gap between the vehicle's struts. They had withdrawn back into the machine like a tortoise's legs of the ancient world in such silence I doubted Linka or Albert would have even sensed it.

  “Well, that is frustrating.” Albert scratched his head. “I would have loved a view of the land below.”

  “Why on earth would you want that, Albert?” Linka asked.

  “I have never seen it.”

  “Pardon,” I interrupted. “You've never flown?”

  “I have never seen the world beyond King Rudolph's grounds.”

  “You must have,” Linka interjected.

  “I can assure you, Your Highness, I have not. I was born to serve your father and from he onwards. King Rudolph is one of the few Eternal lords not to reposition himself on a regular basis, or so I've heard. Therefore, I have remained tied to the land he owns. It is the same for all His Majesty's servants, all but the coachman at least.”

  “I never knew,” said Linka. She looked bewildered by Albert's explanation, as though unable to process the given information.

  “I am sorry, Your Highness, I did not mean to disturb you.”

  “You did not disturb me, Albert, my most loyal assistant. I just never knew that's all. I think a princess sometimes takes things for granted, even one who has lived as closeted a life as I.”

  Linka's lowered head touched me then, but I didn't have time to dwell on it. For at that moment, our stomachs lifted into our mouths, as the ship lurched downward. The many flickering ruby and sapphire lights left vertical trails in the air, so violent was the action.

  “Stay here,” I commanded and rushed back towards the control centre.

  There was an ungodly commotion going on as the monks hurried back and forth, some carrying burdens, others just milling about. And that's when I saw it a flash of orange amongst the dour sets of robes. I rubbed at my eyes like a court jester, but it did nothing to alleviate my disbelief: Sunyin was alive!

  I so wanted to show myself, to say hello and shake his hand. However, common sense prevailed. Good job, too, as it was clear from the metal sheet that closed across the window that we'd stopped.

  I was about to return to my companions and inform them of the situation when I chanced upon a pile of the monks' robes. Taking three, I hurried back down to Linka and Albert and threw them a set each.

  “I'm not wearing that,” Linka baulked.

  “You are, young lady.”

  I didn't have to tell Albert twice. The butler, who'd already climbed into his new clothing, beamed from ear to ear.

  “There's no way I, a princess of the Rhineland, a member of the Hierarchy, is climbing into that ragged sack.”

  “Oh, I think you'll find you will.”

  “I think you'll find I'm not.”

  * * *

  Moonlight fell upon my face like a white, silk blanket, a pale comfort. Being cooped up did not suit me, especially with no idea of where I was, so emerging into the night came as a relief. Albert climbed down the ship's leg then offered his assistance to Linka whose pout protruded like a beak from her hooded form. Her lip looked capable of doing great damage; I took a step back.

  “There you go, you look stunning. By far the best looking monk I ever did see.”

  “One more smart remark and you'll not be seeing anything anymore.”

  “Fair enough,” I replied. “Now just keep quiet the pair of you and follow me.”

  So like the little rats we were, we scurried around to the far side of the craft to witness a single-file procession of monks heading from the ship's interior. The monks congregated before the towering walls of a place I recognised only too well; my fists clenched reflexively. I took a sharp look about, but it revealed no clues as to our general location. The ship had landed on a large expanse of flat, green land interspersed by the occasional mouldering tree and a distinct scent of the sea. The saline tang filled the air, but the sea itself remained hidden. I could only presume it close by.

  “Where do you think we are, sir? The low lands? France?” Albert gave such a look of wonder as to be witnessing a magic trick.

  “I have my suspicions we are somewhat further.”

  “We can't be,” Linka huffed. “We can't have been in the air more than an hour, if that.”

  “Nevertheless, I believe we are, and if it's where I think, then it spells trouble. One thing I know with certainty is that the walls we stand outside are those of Shangri-La. I will never forget them.”

  “You have a murderous look in those dark eyes, sir.”

  “Do I, Albert? Probably. I have business to attend to within the halls of this transcendent palace. I'd bid you to stay behind for it could be a dirty business too, but I know you won't.” I cast a look into Linka's emerald orbs, then Albert's expectant face.

  “I know from experience the only way into Shangri-La is through that gate. I suggest we surreptitiously ingratiate ourselves into the monks' ranks.”

  “We what, sir?” Albert looked perplexed.

  “We join the procession and hope for the best. Just follow my lead.”

  “Wait, sir,” Albert said, and grabbed my arm.

  “What?”

  “Did you say procession?”

  'Yes."

  “Hm, peculiar?”

  “What is?”

  “Well, there's never usually more than a couple, perhaps three monks, at the most.”

  “In that case, I believe we're expected.” Without waiting for a response, I scuttled off under the craft's fuselage and into the line of monks. Linka and Albert followed, but I was the odd man out, not they. Far taller than any of the monks, I doubled myself over into a stooped crouch and kept my fingers crossed that I, and therefore us, would not be discovered. Fortunately, the chanting monks seemed more preoccupied with returning home, as a departing line of their fellows carried large containers of presumed blood in the opposite direction.

  “I guess the Marquis' delivery service to be a self-perpetuating business. When we the customer dine on nothing else it narrows it down somewhat. I believe he's captured the market. Capitalist.”

  I didn't turn, but Linka's whispered words were only what I myself was thinking. I could just envision the corpulent wretch wringing his hands together with glee.

  The Marquis had been nothing special in early life, a scientist of note, but nothing worthy of lordship. His business enterprise therefore went someway to explaining how he'd passed himself off as that which he certainly wasn't; royal blood was never his by birth. The man irked me more by the moment.

  Our caterpillar procession trotted into the first courtyard of Shangri-La. As far as I saw there'd been no change to the layout of the place, the Zen gardens at once familiar. I had a sudden urge to slide away in a more subversive mode, but the desire to see Sunyin was too much. I owed that little fellow and intended to repay him despite not knowing how he'd miraculously cheated death.

  I sped up overtaking the identical monks one by one until falling into step behind the orange sash of my friend. Into the palace he stepped unaware of my presence, and for fear of losing him to the winding corridors of Shangri-La, I placed a hand upon his shoulder.

  “Sunyin, it is I.”

  Sunyin stopped dead in his tracks, cocked his hidden head to one side, and turned to spy me from under his cowl.

  “It is so good to see you again, my friend. I thought you lost to pastures beyond this world,” I enthused.

  Sunyin surveyed me, once, twice, and then leant out around my broad frame and took in the other two fakes amongst his flock. He lowered his mantle to a most peculiar look as he sought to recall something. He searched for a memory that I realised he'd never owned, as a whole line of Sunyins dropped their cowls, too, to reveal
equally perplexed faces.

  “It is Jean, Sunyin. Do you not remember me?” I all but begged of him.

  * * *

  I don't recall what happened first; Linka's grabbing my elbow in panic; Albert's desperate call of sir, or the ear-piercing shriek for help that my erstwhile friend emitted. It was all as a dream. A horrible, horrible dream.

  Chapter Eighteen

  -

  Shangri-La

  “Jean! Jean, stop this!”

  “I shall make them wish they'd never raised a hand to us!”

  “Jean, my love,” Linka's tone softened, “they haven't.”

  She looked up, those emerald eyes burning like the lush landscape of old, and I realised my mistake. Two Sunyins lay sprawled in unconscious heaps. All they'd done was make to bind my hands and the old fires had erupted. Even then, the orange sashed monk gazed at me with nothing but pity in his eyes and I knew shame.

  “Save your anger for those more deserving, my dark angel, for I fear there shall be many.”

  “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Linka. I just wished to…”

  “Shh, it does not matter,” she said taking my hands and turning the palms to the Sunyins who bound them with a gentleness I hadn't afforded their brothers.

  Albert remained calm throughout, as he always seemed to, and smiled at everyone with genuine pleasure. He offered his own hands without hesitation and even said thank you to the monks when they'd finished.

  “May I carry those I've felled?” I asked.

  “No, thank you,” replied the senior monk. He bowed in his dignified way and led us deeper into the palace of Shangri-La.

  A stranger procession you never saw. We shuffled our way through the simple corridors past the odd ficus but otherwise unadorned interior. Albert stared at everything with equal wonder whether it the Palace's ruby-sprinkled exterior or a reed mat on the floor. I envied him his innocence that which I had lost.

  The orange sashed Sunyin soon reached the throne room. He paused for a moment, straightened his robes, and then knocked. The response was instantaneous.

  “Enter!” No more, no less, but that single word held such a triumphant air that I had a sudden urge to shove it down someone's throat.