The Bog (39 page)

By the third day David no longer even tried to keep up with his compilation of a lexicon in Eblaite, and instead assumed only the role of tutor, answering Tuck’s relentless barrage of pantomimed and crudely phrased questions, and rattling off such a mountain of information that he found it difficult to conceive anyone could absorb it all. But absorb Tuck did, until finally he was able to open up written books and actually glean certain fragments of meaning from them.

Curiously, even as Tuck’s grasp of English grew, he remained reluctant to attempt actual discussion with David, and limited their exchanges to a battery of one-sided interrogations. When David tried to question why this was Tuck returned succinctly: “Not yet proficient.” By the end of the week Tuck no longer even needed David, and spent long hours sitting in a window seat in the living room and turning pages of books with a speed that left David agog. As quickly as David retrieved a stack of volumes from his library’s shelves, Tuck finished them and put them back, until slowly David’s awe became mingled with fear as he wondered not only what was transpiring in his midst, but whether it was a benevolent force, as he had blindly assumed, or perhaps something far more sinister and even dangerous.

Over the course of the weekend Tuck devoured virtually every volume in David’s library, and when Monday morning came rolling around, his eyes brimming with all of his new knowledge, he fell into a deep sleep. David sat up next to him all the while he slumbered, wondering if perhaps some watershed had been reached, but it wasn’t until late that night that Tuck awoke once again.

He glanced at David briefly, and with a look of serious determination slipped out of bed. David followed him downstairs and into the kitchen, and then he looked at David once again.

“I’d like a beer,” he said.

David was taken completely off guard and stared down at him aghast. His first reaction was to absolutely refuse the request, but then, on seeing a glimpse of something exhausted, but strangely ancient and powerful, in Tuck’s now unfamiliar gaze, he reconsidered.

“Very well,” he said. “Just go easy on it. It’s not going to take much to get you drunk.”

“I am well aware of the limitations of this body,” Tuck returned cryptically.

His conscience still staunchly rebelling at the idea, David went to the refrigerator and, taking one of Tuck’s tiny cartoon-adorned cups, filled it half full of beer. He handed it to his son and waited nervously for him to drink it.

“Please, just a little more,” Tuck said, handing the cup back.

Still jarred by the notion, David poured another small gurgle into the cup.

“Shall we sit?” Tuck returned, motioning at the kitchen table. They both sat down as David continued to keep his eyes trained on the cup in Tuck’s hand. He felt himself stiffen as Tuck lifted it and took a sip of the amber liquid.

A sour expression came over his face. “This is beer?” he asked. David nodded and Tuck shook his head sadly. “Then the tavern keeper should be flogged for watering.” He set the glass down and looked at David. “I know you must be wondering what is going on. I am now ready to answer all of your questions.”

A rush of excitement passed through David. “What has happened to you?” he shot back quickly.

Tuck’s expression grew somber. “I assume that what you are really asking is what has happened to your son?” David nodded as a wave of disquiet swept through him.

“I do not know,” Tuck returned. “Let me just say that when I came upon this body, your son had already departed it.”

David’s face went pale. “And who are you?”

Tuck took another sip of beer. “My name, phonetically translated into your manner of speaking, is Ur-Zababa. If I am not mistaken you are currently locked in combat with an entity I know as Malakil. I am also sure you have discovered by now that he is an individual of not unformidable power. Long ago I was his teacher. I am responsible for everything he knows.”

A tide of darkness came over David, both at the news that his son was indeed dead, and at the realization that if the personality before him was Grenville’s teacher, was in possession of all of the knowledge that Grenville possessed and more, there was no telling what mortal peril David was now in.

His apprehension must have been written all over his face for Tuck, or Ur-Zababa, as he now called himself, quickly spoke again. “There is no need for you to be alarmed. You will find that I am cut from quite a different cloth than Malakil.” He took another sip of beer as he gazed off soberly into the distance. “It is true that I taught Malakil everything he knows, that I gave him the keys to his power. But the infamies he has committed are of his own creation, and no one has been made more remorseful by his wickedness than I.” Tuck, or the entity that now inhabited his body, once again returned his attention to David. “That is why I have entered into this time,” he said. “I mean to see that Malakil and the evil that he has wrought are brought to an end.”

David blinked several times, excited by what he had just been told, but unable to divorce himself from the perception that the figure before him was still Tuck, was still only a child, and certainly no match for Grenville. “But how?” he asked.

Ur-Zababa frowned. “It is true that it will not be easy. The body of your son is still recovering from his accident, and I am still weakened by my transition into this world, but I am not completely without my resources. To begin, I would like you to tell me all that you know about the man I know as Malakil, how you met him, and everything that has happened since. Please try to recall even the most insignificant details. I need to know everything to be able to amass a plan of attack, and sometimes it is the most trivial occurrences that provide the most valuable insights.”

“What?” David said, standing. “You’re going too fast. You tell me that my son is dead and that you’ve taken over his body, and you expect me to just take this all in stride as you go on asking your questions?”

For the first time a hint of compassion came into the small face before him. “I’m sorry. I know you have been through a great deal. It’s just that we do not have much time. You see, I already know some of the things that are going on. I know that your wife is pregnant and that the birth will be no normal birth. I know also that the only reason Malakil has allowed you to remain alive until now is that he needed you, needed to maintain the status quo so that your wife would not suspect what was going on. But now that your wife has become pregnant and he has taken her into his safekeeping, his purpose in needing you alive is over. It is only a matter of time before he kills us both.”

David thought about this for a moment. “And what do you propose to do to stop him?”

Ur-Zababa regarded him pointedly. “I’m not sure yet. But I know one thing. If I am to have any hope of succeeding, you must tell me everything that you know.” David stared at the little boy sitting across from him at the table, grief and disbelief still tugging at his soul, and then, taking a deep breath, he conceded. He told Ur-Zababa everything, from Brad’s first discovery of the bog bodies to Melanie’s fainting when she received the phone call from Dr. Grosley, and when he had finished, Ur-Zababa pondered everything that he had said for several minutes before he spoke.

He shifted his weight and laced his tiny fingers together thoughtfully. “First, let me begin by saying that you should not judge your wife too harshly for allowing herself to be seduced by the demon, whatever form it took. The bog-myrtle wine that Malakil gave you the first time you visited his home was most assuredly a powerful aphrodisiac. Even when I knew him Malakil was especially skilled at the manufacture of potions, and given what you have told me about the demon eluding you when you chased it around the lake, I would suspect that that is the evening that the seduction took place.”

David thought about this for a moment and recalled his own strange feeling that he had been drugged after drinking the bog-myrtle wine. “But why Melanie?” he asked. “Why did Grenville or Malakil, or whatever his name is, wait over two thousand years before attempting to bring about such a birth again?”

Ur-Zababa knitted his brow. “Because such a birth can occur only once every two thousand years. You see, magic is a thing of cycles, of rhythms and cosmic pulsations, and the birth of a demon through a human mother is one of the most difficult magical operations of all. It can occur only when the planets are in a very special alignment with the stars, for then and only then are the two worlds close enough together to allow a transition between the world of the demon and the world of the human to take place. This alignment occurs but once every Great Month, or roughly every two thousand years—the time it takes for the precession of the equinoxes to cause Earth to pass from one astrological age and into the next. The last time this occurred was when the Roman woman stumbled so haplessly into Malakil’s clutches. And when the advent of the Great Month before that occurred, over two thousand years previous, Malakil still lived in Ebla. It was then, while he was still my student, that he took a young girl of Ebla and through a powerful and forbidden conjuration engendered in her the seed of what was to become the demon you know as Julia.”

“What were you in ancient Ebla?” David asked.

“A sorcerer, of course.”

“And did you obtain your power from a demon?” Ur-Zababa looked at him sharply. “No. I have never taken the forces of darkness as my ally and I never will. I derived my power by following a different path.” The boyish gaze once again became distant. “But I could not stop Malakil from embarking upon a path of evil. I never even suspected that such a desire lay hidden in his heart.” He looked at David with a tortured expression. “You see, I taught him the ways of darkness. I taught it to him as part of his education, so that he could fight it if he ever came up against it. I never suspected that he was embracing each terrible secret as I revealed it to him. That is why I must stop him now, because I am, in a way, responsible for all of the atrocities that he has committed, and to put my own soul at peace I must bring his life to an end.”

“But how?” David asked. “Do you have power?”

“Not yet,” Ur-Zababa replied, looking at his small hands as he held them out before him. “I am still too newly incarcerated in this body. It will take a little while before I can adjust its frequency, the vibration of its molecules, to more completely accommodate the flow of my power. And even then, I’m afraid, my energy level will be no match for Malakil’s. I have simply been away from this plane of existence for too long to manifest the full of my abilities in so short a time.”

David grew worried. “Then how do you propose to best Malakil?”

“Through cunning,” Ur-Zababa returned. “Cunning and surprise.”

David’s interest increased.

“You see, Malakil is not without his—what is your expression?—Achilles’ heel. And he will not be expecting anyone to know what that Achilles’ heel is, because at present he has no idea that I am here. Thus, he will not be as cautious as he should be about protecting his one vulnerability. However, as soon as my powers start to manifest themselves he will sense their presence. He will at first not know what they mean, and may assume that it is just a disturbance in the fabric of space and time. But he will soon figure out that I am here, and that means lhat we will have to move quickly if we are to preserve our element of surprise.”

David trembled with excitement. “But what
is
his Achilles’ heel?”

“The jewel,” Ur-Zababa replied. “The ruby that he wears around his neck. It contains the pact he made four thousand years ago with the powers of darkness, his covenant with Julia. It is the jewel that enables him to maintain his dominion over her, and to tap her power. Without it Malakil would be as subject to her wrath as the rest of us.”

“You mean that Julia would turn on him?”

“If she was hungry. Or if Malakil was lucky she might simply return to her own world. Whatever the case, one fact remains. Demons are at heart ferocious and solitary creatures, and the only reason that he has her allegiance is that he possesses the jewel.”

“Does that mean that without it Malakil would be powerless?”

“Without it the brunt of Malakil’s power would instantly vanish, but he would still possess a small amount of power. However, without the jewel, at least we would have a chance of overcoming him.”

David thought about what Ur-Zababa had just said. He directed his attention once again to the little magician. “A while back Malakil took me on a voyage into the past and a strange incident occurred, an incident in which he nearly lost his ruby pendant.”

Ur-Zababa smiled faintly and nodded.

“Do you know anything about that?”

“I was the bead of golden light that attacked Malakil,” Ur-Zababa confessed. “It was Malakil’s fatal mistake to return to the era in which he knew me. That was how I was able to locate him and follow him back here.”

“But how? Do you exist only in the past, or have you lived in some other form these past four thousand years as Malakil has, or what?”

Ur-Zababa smiled consolingly. “To begin you must understand that the past is not dead. In fact, strictly speaking, there is no past. At a certain level of perception one begins to realize that all time exists at once. It is only the current limitations of your consciousness that make it appear that you are moving along a linear and frozen track of time. The reason that I was able to once again locate Malakil is that he returned to a time when I, in the form of Ur-Zababa, was not yet dead. But in truth, the entity that sits before you now has lived in many times, and has gone far beyond Ur-Zababa, and now exists properly in a plane of existence that you do not yet have a vocabulary to describe.”

“Is it heaven?”

“Not as you think of it, for to call it heaven would be to limit it, and in truth it is far more splendid than any heaven of which you can yet conceive.”

“And what about Tuck? Is Tuck in this place?” Ur-Zababa smiled again. “If you can call infinity a place. The truth is that reality is vast, far vaster than you have yet dared to imagine, and all that I can tell you is that Tuck is somewhere in that infinity, doing what it is necessary for his soul to do.”