The Wayward Godking (17 page)

A metallic zinging noise came softly to his ears and he recognized it as the very same noise that always accompanied his trips into death. At first, the noise almost made him panic, but he forced himself to remain calm. He was not dead, nor was he dying, though he was becoming aware of walking toward a bright orb of light that seemed slightly elevated, though not far away. The zinging continued until it began to break into a number of chords and then finally, a harmony of wondrous proportions replaced the monotonous sound. This, he did not recognize. The orb of light, which had been initially white, divided into the various colors and hues of the entire spectrum of visible light and seemed to be receding from him. The music continued to grow in pitch and timbre until it reached a comfortable volume. He walked a bit further, and the colors suddenly separated into forms vaguely resembling stylized doves or birds, which flew off in every direction.

This development startled him, and he stopped. Looking down, he could see velvet blackness below him as if he walked on perfectly transparent glass. In the darkness, endless cosmic forms stretched away with dizzying effects.

He closed his eyes and tried to gain some sort of perspective.

Reuben had warned him the initial walk might be very disconcerting and even nauseating at first. These were the dreams of others the two brothers had warned him would look like planets, stars and galaxies, depending on the personage. He opened his eyes and looked up this time. Again, he saw nothing, but the vastness of space and billions of stars, nebulae and planetary systems stretching away into infinity.

The music changed and voices added to its beauty. Mark was mesmerized by the sound of the angelic voices, but there were no angels in sight. It seemed the stars themselves were singing, but he could not fathom the words or the language. Every star was a son of God and these stars were the dreams of the sons of God.

“Great Scot,” he muttered and was surprised to hear his own voice. “How will I find anyone I know?”

In answer to his question, his entire being was drawn quite suddenly toward what appeared to be a nearby planetary system with twelve planets and a golden yellow sun. He whirled past each planet and as he came near each one, he saw images of his Brothers appearing on the surfaces of the spheres. Depending on which of the Knights he saw, the number of satellites around them corresponded to the number of children, spouses, grandchildren or close relations. The outermost planet had no satellites, and he saw the face of Christopher Stewart shimmering in ghostly hues on the barren surface of the rocky sphere. Next, he saw one of Simon’s sons, but he passed by so quickly he had no time to fully recognize him before he saw another of the d’Ornan brothers. He came upon Lavon de Bleu surrounded by his uncle Armand, his aunt and his triplet nephews. He saw Konrad von Hetz around whom a ring reflecting Lucia’s likeness circled, and inside the ring, he saw William and Apolonio and Michey and a number of significant others in Konrad’s family. A very thin outer ring reflected the dim figure of Konrad, senior. The sight made Mark shudder. If Konrad knew that Lucia was in the underworld at the Djinni’s palace…
but where was Konrad?
No one knew. He came upon Louis, Simon and Barry along with their families, and then, at last, he was hurtling directly toward the great yellow ball at the center of the system. With a slight jolt, he realized this would be Edgard d’Brouchart at the center. Edgard was sleeping and all this was somehow a part of his dream world. Mark did not want to visit d’Brouchart’s dream, he was searching for Konrad. Konrad.

Just as he thought he would crash into Edgard’s ‘surface’, he veered aside and found himself back in the empty spaces between the dreams. Konrad was not asleep. He focused his thoughts on Lemarik, but continued to drift aimlessly. Perhaps Lemarik was not asleep either. He went down his list of persons. Luke Matthew, not asleep. Simon, not asleep. Louis, not asleep. Oriel, not asleep. Sophia, not asleep. Sophia’s Mark, not asleep. He stopped thinking forcefully. He’d played out his preferred list.

Christopher Stewart, not asleep. Armand de Bleu, not asleep.

“Damn it!” He spoke aloud and the words seemed to flow physically away from him into the void pushing him backwards. His mind drifted randomly to Luke Andrew, and he was suddenly falling again. Luke Andrew was not asleep, he was unconscious.

Mark’s feet hit the stone passage hard; jarring his bones. He stumbled and then caught himself against a cold stone wall, almost physically stepping on his son, who lay in a crumpled heap in the pitch blackness of a stuffy cave.

“Good God!” Mark shouted and struggled backwards before kneeling beside the oblivious form. “Luke!” He shook his son’s shoulder, and Luke groaned softly. “Wake up, lad!”

Luke reached one arm toward him and felt for his face. Mark grasped his hand and pressed it to his cheek.

“Can you see me?” He asked with growing alarm.

“Of course not!” Luke answered him, and then spat on the floor. “It’s pitch black in here.”

Mark blinked, and then realized he was seeing Luke only in vague, bluish tones, a particularly convenient aspect of his latest form.
Angels have no problems seeing in the dark
. But then, neither do demons and ghosts and ghoulies and…. Mark shook his head. He had to concentrate. “Take my arm, son.”

Luke groped for his father’s arm, and then stood up shakily.

“How did you get here? Who put you here?” Mark asked him when he was on his feet.

“I don’t know exactly, but I think, we should try to get the hell out of here before
they
come back.”

Mark surveyed their predicament and came to another startling realization. They were sealed inside the small rock chamber. There was no door, not even a crack.

“Oll roighty then,” Mark nodded to himself. “Look, son, I’m going to have to put you back to sleep now.”

“What? Whattar ye talkin’ aboot?” Luke clutched his arm like a drowning man.

“Just relax and trust me,” Mark pushed him back down on the rock floor.

“Trust you? I can’t even see you. They’re taking me to Saturn, Papa! I didn’t even know Saturn had a surface. They’re going to leave me there for thousand years. You have to get me out of here now,” Luke complained, but sat down hard on the rock.

“It’s going to be all right now, Luke.” Mark knelt beside him and was again surprised, when Luke clutched his neck and began to cry into his shoulder, like a small boy. Mark Andrew patted Luke’s head and held him close. “I’m going to get you out of here. No one is going to take you to Saturn. I promise.”

“I didn’t know, Papa,” Luke continued to sob. “I never gave it much thought. I didn’t know just how terrible I was. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I’ve been awful, horrible.”

“Now, look, son,” Mark said more forcefully, shaking him loose at the same time. He forced him to lie back on the rock. “I’m going to make you go to sleep. I want you to think of a pleasant place. I’ll be with you. I won’t leave you.”

Luke wiped at his eyes, and then wiped his nose on the back of his hand and sniffed loudly. He laid his head on the rock and closed his eyes tightly.

“Relax and think of a pleasant place,” Mark told him and laid one hand over his eyes. “Relax.”

Luke let out a long sigh, and they were falling.

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

Nergal rode hard across the moonlit meadow. His horse’s hooves kicked up great chunks of turf behind him. The Boggans riding with him howled as they kicked their own beasts viciously in an attempt to keep up with their Lord. He pulled up short in front of a cave from which a yellow glow emanated. The light flickered on the walls, indicating the presence of firelight or torches within. It was the first sign of life he’d found since arriving in the Seventh Gate. The beautiful passageways of Adar’s lair were barren of life. The great house he had built in his phantasm was a mass of horrid webs full of crab-sized, winged horrors. The sight of the mansion taken over by such creatures had been disconcerting in the least, but when the spiderlings had come after him and his troop of soldiers, he’d been horrified. Is this what had happened to Lord Adar and Lord Marduk? The horses had outdistanced the creatures in the open fields, and then they had turned aside upon seeing the glowing opening in the base of the bluff.

“Hold!” he ordered the Boggans as he slid from the horse. Their clatter had certainly eliminated any element of surprise. The Boggans dismounted and loosed their various weapons as they made ready to accompany their Lord into the caverns. They actually would have preferred to be inside the caverns rather than out in the open.

Nergal adjusted his silver and black cuirass and helmet and drew his long, silver sword. The hilt twinkled in the moonlight, and he shook back the horse-hair plume on his helmet. He held the sword in a defensive posture in front of him and waited to see if anyone or anything would come out to meet them.

“Avast, the cave!” He shouted and then frowned. Avast was a nautical term meaning stop. “Ahoy, the cave!” He tried again and then realized that ahoy was also a nautical term. He’d spent too much time at sea in a previous existence apparently. “Come out of there!!” He raised his voice in aggravation.

He stepped back automatically as a lone figure appeared in the light.

Marduk hurried toward him, waving his hands frantically, but it was too late. The Boggans set up a loud wailing as they saw that they were surrounded by a host of well-armed warriors bearing long bows and lances.

“What is the meaning of this, Lord Marduk?” Nergal demanded as he turned completely around, pointing his sword at the warriors. They were hopelessly outnumbered.

“I’m afraid you’ve ridden into a trap, my friend,” Marduk told him quietly. “Keep your voice down.” He came closer and put one arm around Nergal’s shoulders. “You look right pretty, my Lord. What were you up to?”

“I came looking for you, if you must know,” Nergal told him haughtily. “Reshki told me not to come. I should have taken her advice.”

“Come inside and see what goes, my Lord,” Marduk pleaded with him. “The sentries will allow your soldiers free rein. Lord Kinmalla is here. There is no going back.”

“What? I owe him nothing,” Nergal protested. “He holds no sway over me.”

“That is exactly what I thought myself,” Marduk nodded. “But times are changing, friend.”

Nergal glanced toward the cave entrance and then back at the Boggans. The strangely silent warriors had herded them off toward the meadow and only his stallion was left, pawing the ground nearby. One of the warriors held its bridle.

“Come and have a look.” Marduk tugged on his arm. “If you still believe you can leave afterwards, then, by all means, go.”

Nergal allowed himself to be pulled into the cave. Once inside, he was startled to see the great Kinmalla sitting behind a stone table. A guttering oil lamp cast harsh shadows on his face, and his eyes gleamed from deep sockets as he listened to a man standing in front of the table.

“Shhh.” Marduk put one finger to his lips and nodded toward a low stone bench. Nergal sheathed his sword, took off his helmet and sat down, already enthralled by the words of the ‘defendant’. He recognized the form of the diminutive daughter of the mighty Djinni sitting stiffly on the front row. She did not even look back as he and Marduk entered the chamber.

“Surely, one such as yourself must have heard of the Lamb of God,” Omar was saying. “Such news could not have escaped you.”

“It is possible I overlooked such news on purpose,” Kinmalla answered him. “I am not given to listening to tall tales, spiritual mishmash and idle gossip. I am concerned only with facts, laws, records, deeds, truths.”

“Ahhh.” Omar held up his right hand and pointed upward. The judge’s eyes followed instinctively. “Truth! Above all, truth should and must interest such a one as yourself. Nothing less would be fitting to bring before you. Truth is all one needs to know in order to make the decisions that must be made. Decisions based on falsehoods are crimes in and of themselves. Truth is only perceived by truth.”

“That is truth, indeed.” Kinmalla nodded his hooded head slowly. “Truth begets truth.”

“Truth is the core of being for those of honest nature. Nothing matters beyond honesty, earnestness and conviction of purpose. Without these, existence would be fruitless. What good can come of anything less? A judge must base his judgments on the truths presented in his court. When the truth is revealed, he must readily recognize it. A great judge must be able to discern the foundations upon which these truths are built. Would it suffice to say that truth is of itself a good thing?”

“Oh, most decidedly so, Young Master,” Kinmalla agreed. “If one is given to truth, one is given to goodness. Falsehood begets evil and evil begets misery. Misery begets hatred and hatred begets criminals. Criminals cannot discern the truth because it burns them and blinds them, and they are driven into darkness to seek relief.”

“God is Truth,” Omar said as he raised both arms. “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was Truth and Truth is God. We bow our heads to God and to Truth.”

“Most assuredly,” the judge again agreed. “But truth does not always reflect godliness, young Lord. Truth may also be truth of evil deeds accomplished by evil doers. We may speak the truth about what was done, but it will not make it less of a crime.”