The Wayward Godking (2 page)

“Bradford,” he corrected her.

“Ahhh. Bradford. Then Bradford William Plotius, Captain of the Queen’s Royal Guardsmen, you have my full consent to bring this elf child to the reunion on one condition,” she paused and narrowed her yellowish eyes at him.

“Anything, my Queen.” He knelt on one knee before her and bowed his head.

“You will bring her to me immediately so I may deem whether she is worthy of your esteemed company.”

Bradford William Plotius raised his head and stared at her in shocked disbelief.

“Now go, Plotius,” she said and returned to her list. “I’m very busy here.”

He stood quickly, snapped a salute and turned on his heel, replacing his silver helmet on his head. At the entrance to her bower he turned back.

“Madam Queen Ereshkigal, before whom all the world trembles, your humble servant thanks you, and asks that you might spare some of your healing potion for the Tuathan?”

“Of course, of course.” She waved one hand toward the fire pit “take what you need.”

The captain bowed stiffly and the long plume on his helmet fell in front of him. He rose up again solemnly, saluted once more and turned smartly on his heel. When he was in the darkness of the cavern leading from the Queen’s chambers, he let out a small giggle and pulled the little stuffed animal from his shirt, before skipping happily up the incline toward the Queen’s false meadow. When he was outside in the ‘sunshine’, he sat down on a flat boulder and stroked the little purple dinosaur affectionately.

“I told you I could do it, Barney,” he whispered to the toy. “You said I could do anything I put my mind to, and it’s true. I can do anything I want if I really, really try.”

Nergal cleared his throat and Plotius leapt to his feet. He stuffed Barney in his pocket and saluted the Lord of the Fifth Gate.

“Captain Plotius.” Nergal nodded to him and then passed on toward his Queen’s boudoir. He was worried about Marduk. His unlikely companion and only friend had not returned from the Seventh Gate, and he was quite convinced Marduk had run afoul of something unexpected. If only he would have listened. Adar’s brood was none of their affair. They needed to look to their own Gates. If they did not fortify and prepare to turn back whatever Huber and Sabaoth had awakened in the depths, they might find themselves homeless and drifting in a debris field around the moon. He would speak to the Queen and learn whether she was agreeable to the idea of a quick excursion into the Seventh Gate to learn what had happened to Marduk. Adar was on her invitation list; surely she would want to know what was going on there.

He found her sitting on the stone bench beneath her crystal flowers.

“My Queen.” He bowed slightly to her out of courtesy and kissed her hand. She hardly acknowledged his presence as she marked through names on her list, drew lines and arrows and wrote in more names in different columns. “What are you doing, my love?” he asked as he sat down beside her.

“I am assessing the progress of my guests,” she told him.

He had no clue what she was talking about.

“Lord Marduk is not yet returned from the Seventh Gate. The lady Sophia implored him to go in search of the father of the child and his kinsmen,” he said quickly.

“Umm, hmmm,” she murmured, but kept working on the list and Nergal was amazed to see the scribbles fading and rearranging themselves without the help of her writing instrument.

“I thought I might go and have a look. Make sure whatever is lurking there does not interfere with your plans here. You cannot be too cautious, my love. Adar has attracted many unwelcome guests to his Gate. This trouble with Huber is far from over, and she could be a real threat to us here.”

“Why would Huber go to the Seventh Gate?” She glanced up at him in annoyance.

“Because he came very close to falling into her clutches in times past. She has not forgotten him, nor has she forgotten Lord Marduk. She harbors grudges against both of them. Abaddon is still missing in action. He was last seen in New Babylon where he had been visiting with her during the siege. I understand he was working with Lord Adar, but I have no confirmation of such an alliance. It is highly unlikely. And these angels you spoke of, Lucifer, and his little horde? Do you know it was Abaddon who betrayed Lucifer and imprisoned him in stone for a thousand years?”

She shook her head. She really didn’t care.

“There are grudges here, madam,” he continued and stiffened a bit. “I suggest you pay attention to me. It is possible Huber has taken Lord Adar, and we will be hard-pressed to stop her without his aid. In fact, I want to bring both Lord Marduk and Lord Adar here, and summon Lord Shammash and Lord Nanna as well… for a war council.”

“Are you that worried?” She glanced at him again and smiled. “You needn’t look for Adar in the Seventh Gate. He is no longer there.”

“What? Then where did he go?” Nergal was surprised by this information. “Have you seen him?”

“No. I have not seen him, yet. He is visiting with some of his old acquaintances. If you want to go and look for Marduk, then go ahead, but don’t stay over long.”

Nergal kissed her hand again and then left her to her list. He did not really need her permission, but he did want to keep in her good graces. He would need her before everything was settled.

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

“Lucio?” Catharine helped him up from the floor. “You fell out of bed… again.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he stood up and helped her untangle the sheet from around his waist.

“What were you dreaming?” She asked as she fluffed the sheet back on the bed.

“I saw Mark Andrew. We were on the beach.”

“A holiday?” She asked.

“Not exactly.” He pressed one hand to his side. He’d never fought that fight. Never received the wound in his side. Never been a Knight in the Holy Lands at the time of the Crusades. He had been a boy of fourteen or fifteen when Jerusalem had fallen.

“Well, come back to bed,” she said and pushed him down on the mattress. “You can tell me about it in the morning.”

He sat on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. The dream had seemed so real
. So very real
. If only he could go back to the Holy Lands with Mark and the others. Things had been simple then. Much more cut and dried, black and white, right and wrong.

“
Santa Maria
,” he said and then jumped when someone knocked on their door.

“I’ll get it,” Catharine sighed. “I wonder what’s happened now.”

She opened the door and then stepped back without speaking.

“
Che cosa?
” Lucio asked, when no one entered the room, and Catharine said nothing. He stood up again and approached the open door cautiously.

“Brother?” The familiar voice made his heart skip a beat.

“
Santa Maria!
”

The Knight of the Golden Eagle practically leaped through the door, catching Mark Andrew in a tremendous hug, spinning him around on the porch before he could make another sound.

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

“Meredith?” Lucio knocked on the door of Meredith’s rooms across the courtyard from his own. “Meredith! Come out and see who is here!” He smiled at Mark and nodded his head vigorously. He’d brought Mark Andrew to Meredith’s rooms, chattering unceasingly on the way across the courtyard about their predicament, asking questions, but not waiting for answers. He was overtly happy to see the
Chevalier du Morte
, and, in fact, so much so, he’d not even taken the time to tell Catharine where he was going. He’d not sent word to the Master or anyone else of the Knight’s arrival, nor had he allowed Mark to say a word since the first enthusiastic greeting. The sun was not yet up and wisps of fog drifted through the Villa under the moonlight.

“She’s probably asleep,” Mark said dryly and Lucio’s smile faded. “She
does
sleep, doesn’t she?”

Lucio opened the door of Merry’s apartment and stepped inside. The radio was on and a soft female voice sang a haunting love song in Italian. A pitcher of tepid lemonade sat next to the radio and a glass was shattered on the floor in front of her rocking chair. Lucio picked up a piece of the glass and frowned around at the dim living quarters. The very same apartment she had shared with Mark when he had first become Grand Master of the Order so long ago. Nothing had changed here in ages.

Mark stepped inside cautiously, and then caught sight of the broken glass and watered down lemonade. The ice had melted, leaving a clear layer above the yellow liquid.

“Meredith!” He took up the cry and burst into the one bedroom. The bed was made, everything was in order. A blue house robe and a white night gown were thrown carelessly across the bed. The tub was overflowing in the bathroom and running down the drain in the middle of the tiled floor. The antique tub he had installed for her, especially, ages ago sparkled with clear water full of ripples. The scent of vanilla struck him in the face, and he almost screamed when Lucio touched his arm.

“She’s gone, Brother,” Lucio told him quietly. “She was here yesterday evening. I had a long talk with her. She was here with the others when we arrived, but they have been disappearing, one by one.”

“How did I get here?” Mark looked around the room in confusion and then took hold of Lucio’s wrist. “Are you real or some specter produced by Huber?!” He asked roughly and shoved the Italian away from him. “Come on out here, My Queen!” He turned about in the middle of the room again while Lucio watched in fascination. “Show yourself! I will not play these games with you!”

“Brother!” Lucio edged his way toward the door. “Whatever is happening, perhaps it would be best if you discussed it with Simon or the Master. Barry is here and so is Lavon.”

Mark looked at him as if he did not see him, and then stormed past him onto the porch. He crossed the courtyard again, skirting the grotto of the Holy Virgin, heading directly for the Master’s quarters.

Lucio ran after him, shouting for him to stop, but he did not look back. Lights began to come on up and down the long porch connecting the bachelor quarters and faces appeared in the windows. Catharine ran toward him in her nightgown.

Mark did not bother to knock on d’Brouchart’s door, but burst into his quarters and then into his bedroom before stopping.

“Edgard!” He stood at the foot of the bed. A swath of moonlight fell across the quilt.

“Mark?” A woman’s voice answered him. “Mark Ramsay, is that you?”

“Aye!” he said and then stepped back when Edgard sprang from the bed, wielding his broadsword, already drawn and ready for battle, dressed only in his alarm.

“What is the meaning of this,
du Morte
?” The Master asked, but Mark’s attention was riveted on the beautiful woman, who sat looking at him wide-eyed in the moonlight, clutching a woolen blanket in front of her.

“Galindwynne?” Mark whispered the Morrigan’s more familiar name.

“You’re looking lovely tonight, Sir Ramsay,” she said and winked at him.

A rare, genuine smile lit up the Knight of Death’s face.

“Madame,” he said and bowed to her, pressing his right hand to his heart. “I am honored. I should have knocked. I am sorry I have disturbed your rest.”

Edgard pulled on a pair of trousers while Mark and Galindwynne exchanged pleasantries as if he was not present. He grabbed a shirt, took Mark by the arm and dragged him roughly from the room, closing the door behind them. Lucio, Barry and Simon waited for them in the sitting room and several more of the villa’s inhabitants were milling about outside.

Edgard laid his sword on his desk, pulled on the shirt and turned to glare at them while he fumbled with the buttons.

“When did you arrive?” He asked without preamble.

“He only just got here,” Lucio answered for Mark.

“I am talking to him, Golden Eagle,” d’Brouchart snapped at the Italian. “What are you up to now, Ramsay? Why are you keeping us here? Where are the others? Where is Oriel and Levi James?”

“I haven’t seen them,” Mark answered him and looked down at himself. He wore only his black cargo pants and they appeared to be wet. He ran his hands down his stomach and looked at the water he collected on them. His hair was wet as well and he could feel water running down his back and his face. He’d been in a great deal of trouble. He remembered that much. And apparently it had been hot as hell. He was still perspiring, but the room felt chilly to him. He frowned and looked around quickly, unable to believe his eyes, wondering if it was another illusion.
Another
illusion?

“Brother.” Simon touched his arm, and then jumped as if he’d been shocked by the contact. He shook his hand and frowned at his fingers. “Where have you been?” Simon asked. “Do you remember?”

“I was at home in Lothian,” Mark frowned down at the healer. “It was hot.
Too hot
. I was… there was something I had to do. There was someone there. I need to get back there!”