The Wayward Godking (13 page)

“I would suggest the cottage in the meadow,” Mark shrugged. “It is most likely vacant since most of its usual occupants are here with us.”

“The cottage would be good,” Lucio agreed and then grimaced. If one single place held more memories of more wonderful and terrible things for the three of them, it had to be the damned cottage. “Maybe not,” he added quickly on second thought.

“Then where would you suggest?” Mark looked at him in surprise. The cottage held no particularly passion for him. Places outside of Lothian meant very little to him in connection with emotional factors.

“How about Armand’s castle?” The Italian suggested. “That would…”

“Wait, wait!” Simeon held up both hands. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. First, we have to learn whether we can bring people with us. Have you forgotten the original proposal? If we prove we can actually dream ourselves out of here, then we will have to go into the dream state together and meet at a pre-arranged destination. We will have to teach some twenty-five people to indulge in dream weaving and dream walking. We can reasonably assume that Sir Ramsay here and Sir Dambretti will not have a problem with the process. Reuben and I are already adept. Barry should have no problem. I’m pretty sure Catharine knows of this thing as well. Vanni is game for most anything as is Leonardo. Galindwynne… who knows? Grandfather, I would expect is acquainted with it, or else he would be here asking all the questions instead of you, Poppi. Sir Dambretti, what about Galen? Is he in anyway handicapped in the mystical department you know of?”

“Galen spent several years traveling in the ether, among other places, with Lucifer, the Lightbringer. What do you think?” Lucio smiled at him.

“Point taken,” Simeon nodded.

“What about your brothers?” Simon asked suspiciously.

“I doubt we will have trouble with Carlisle Corrigan. He’s probably willing to do most anything to get out of here. He’s made several remarks about Miss Lydia that have come close to losing his pretty head for him, uncle or no uncle,” Reuben commented off the subject.

“What about your brothers?” Simon asked again.

“And there should be no problem teaching Adam and Anne. They are still young and flexible. What about Ronni?” Simeon directed the question to Lucio, ignoring his father.

“Ronni? Not a problem. I’ll talk to her,” Lucio assured him.

Simon rose up in his chair and leaned across the desk.

“What about your brothers?” He asked again very slowly emphasizing each word.

“No problem.” Reuben smiled at him.

“You’ve taught them all, haven’t you?” Simon asked and raised one blonde eyebrow.

“We are, after all, very close,” Simeon shrugged apologetically. “And we’ve had no television or Disney World for ages.”

“Andy, too?” Simon was shocked.

“He shows great promise of being a true Shaman,” Reuben told him.

“Weelll, then.” Mark Andrew stood up. His aggravation was written clearly on his face. “Thot makes things a bit easier, wouldn’t ye say? Th’ trainin’ will take less toime than we thought. We’d best get to it. Air we agreed on th’ cottage then?”

“No!” Lucio was adamant this time.

“Brother,” Simon addressed Mark. “Let’s talk a bit more together. You and I. Perhaps we can find a more…
neutral
setting for our goal. Perhaps even something useful, if we are going to risk a trial run.”

Lucio looked at both of them suspiciously and then followed the two brothers from the room, kissing Lydia lightly on the cheek before leaving.

“Don’t let them do me wrong, Miss Lydia,” he said.

“I won’t,” she said. He started out the door and then stopped. He turned slowly and looked down at Simon’s wife who sat looking up at him, frowning slightly.

“Congratulations,” his smile grew wider and her frown deepened.

“Excuse me?” She laid her book on the arm of the chair.

“Brother?” Simon came around the desk. “What did you say?”

“I said…” Lucio turned and took the Healer by the shoulders, kissing him on both cheeks. “Congratulations, Brother. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Tell you what?” Simon looked at the Italian and then at Lydia.

“You didn’t know? You’re going to be a Poppi… again.”

((((((((((((()))))))))))))

The mighty Djinni struck the hard, rock-strewn ground on his back with General Schweikert on top of him. The resultant blow knocked the breath from him completely. Ernst climbed to his feet and rubbed the back of his neck while looking around the fairly barren landscape. Wherever the Djinni had taken them was not anywhere he might have wanted to go, but it could have been worse. There were blue skies over head, a few high, wispy clouds and a fresh ocean breeze. The sound of waves crashing on shore made him turn and his mouth fell open as he beheld the vast expanse of water before him. The beach, itself, was a rather non-descript, flat white sand, bordering a blue cove. The cove was a U-shaped indention made of two elevated arms or narrow spits of dark, rough stone extending into the sea. To his right just beyond the sandy beach, were a small coconut palm grove and two decidedly man-made mounds. He had to assume they might be on an island or a spit of land projecting into the sea. The Djinni coughed and choked, reminding him that he was not alone.

“Up you go, my friend.” Ernst helped the Djinni to his feet and waited while he caught his breath.

As soon as he could, Lemarik frowned fiercely at the general as if the hard landing was his fault. “Ahhhhh,” he commented wisely he scanned the horizon with one hand shading his dark brown eyes against the glare of the sun. “South Pacific they call it.”

“How do you know?” Ernst squinted up at the sun.

“Trust me, I know the Seven Seas,” the Djinni assured him, turned around and then held out both arms in dismay. “May the ancient ones protect us!” He cried as he fell to his knees in the sand and bowed his forehead to the ground.

“I know this place,” Ernst muttered and narrowed his eyes at the cause of the Djinni’s consternation and apparent fear.

Before them stretched a line of stone figures approximately twenty-five to thirty feet tall, which appeared to be wearing tremendous stone tophats. Their hollow eye sockets gazed off over the inland horizon of the island. They had exceptionally low brows, long noses and heavy jaws. The ears were elongated in the extreme, and their expressions were rather stern, or perhaps, dispassionate was a better word.
Moai
. Six of them perched on a long bar made of precisely cut and fitted basaltic rock slabs.

“Easter Island,” the General grumbled as he stomped through the sand and approached the nearest statue.

Lemarik got up, brushing the sand that was
not
clinging to his skin from his arms and followed after Ernst, muttering to himself as he ran his slender hands over the rough, volcanic stone from which the statues were made.

“Why here?” Ernst asked him. “Why did we come here?”

“I do not know,” Lemarik responded quietly.

He walked around the stones, weaving path between them. “It would seem we are, indeed, at the mercy of foreign forces. This is not at all where I planned to arrive.”

“Are there any people on this rock?” Ernst squinted up at the sun and looked toward the interior of the island. He could see more of the statues rising out of the landscape. Some were upright, some leaned precariously, while others were tumbled down or broken by time.

“At one time, there were caretakers here,” the Djinni remarked and started off on foot. “We should be cautious,” he said over his shoulder. “They may still be here.”

Ernst swallowed hard. He did not like the insinuation and felt sure these ‘caretakers’ could very well be something not quite human.

“What did they
care
for?” Ernst asked when he caught up with the Djinni.

“The elder gods, of course.” Lemarik waved one hand about him.

“The elder gods needed care?”

“As you can see, some of them are much in need of care.” The Djinni stopped near a half-buried statue and leaned close to look into one of its deep, hollow eyes. “I would have to say that the caretakers have been remiss in their duties.”

“But these are rocks!” Ernst backed away from the stone. “Carved statues. Everyone knows about Easter Island. The natives built these things.”

“Did they?” The Djinni looked at him darkly and snorted in disgust. “How do you know?”

“I saw it on television, and I read about it in books,” Ernst blurted.

“Really?” Lemarik stood up straighter, and Ernst felt particularly small.

“The
Moai
used to be one of Konrad’s interests,” Ernst continued. “He planned, at one time, to come here and buy or steal one of them and take it back to Switzerland for study.”

“Oh? And did he accomplish this feat?” The Djinni laid one index finger beside his nose and raised both eyebrows.

“How would I know? It’s been years… ages since Konrad and I were friends.”

“Precisely. How would you know anything about this island or these
stones
as you call them? The ages cannot be counted since the gods dwelt here. What do you know of those ages, Ernst Schweikert, eh?” The Djinni asked before he started off again.

Ernst leaped on top of the half buried statue, unwilling to continue further inland.

“Are you going to tell me these… things are something more than stones?” He called to the Djinni.

Lemarik glanced back at him and then stopped in his tracks. He turned angrily and waved one hand at the General. Schweikert went flying off the statue as if struck by an invisible fist. He landed hard, but was up again in an instant, cursing and flailing his arms about in frustration.

“Do not disrespect the Elders, my friend,” Lemarik told him. “Ignorance may have once been excusable, but that time has passed. You will mind yourself and your place, or I will toss you into the drink.”

Ernst brushed off his trousers and then hurried after the Djinni, carefully avoiding even the broken parts of the downed statues. Lemarik stopped again, put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. To Schweikert’s amazement, two horses, deep red in color, galloped over the horizon and came straight for them. Lemarik caught a handful of the first stallion’s mane and threw himself lightly onto the animal’s back. The Djinni waited patiently while Ernst tried in vain to accomplish the same trick. When it became obvious the General’s equestrian skills did not equal those of the mighty Djinni, Lemarik scowled once more and then hefted the man onto his own horse. Ernst held tightly to the Djinni as they turned and rode hard toward the center of the island.

((((((((((((()))))))))))))

“Let me look,” Luke Matthew grunted out the words as he crawled on his stomach toward the meadow beyond the thick hedges at the edge of the forest. Mark scooted to one side and glanced back at Lily and Merry, who were waiting for them near the base of a tremendous old oak tree. Merry had torn off the outer skirting on the blue dress and used the ribbons on her petticoat to tie it up on either side, affording her more mobility. Lily had protested loudly that she should not display her legs in such a manner to her brother-in-law even though she wore white stockings, black leather ankle boots and pantaloons reaching just past her knees. They were still arguing the necessity of proprieties under the circumstances while the two men took stock of their surroundings. They had emerged from the caverns into the dappled light of a dense hardwood forest full of fabulously old trees sporting long beards of gray and green mosses.

The Knight pushed aside the lower branches and squinted out into the bright sunlight. He could see tall grasses full of colorful blooms, swaying in the breeze. Butterflies, bees and birds worked the meadow, looking for insects and worms in complete tranquility. The sky was cloudless, perfect blue. The air was wonderfully fresh, and it was impossible to tell if this was more of his brother’s illusions or if they had actually come out of the Abyss.

They were not in the Astral Plane. None of the usual tests proved out. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred if they tried to jump or stretch their fingers or fly. Merry had led them through the passages below, deftly avoiding pitfalls and dead ends, even through some corridors of inky blackness, without the slightest hesitation. The knowledge of the underworld passes Anna Kadif had impressed on her mind was as clear as the day she had first received them. She didn’t even have to think about which way to go. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own once she had made up her mind to lead them out of their dilemma. The most telling thing about the scene, which stretched out before them, was the unmistakable sight of the little cottage in the midst of the meadow. Luke could see the big mulberry tree in the yard and the white-washed fence. A lazy column of gray smoke drifted from the stone chimney.

“What do you think?” Luke turned to Mark and raised both eyebrows.

“It looks like someone is home,” the Dove shrugged. “Shall we knock on the door or go around?”