The Wayward Godking (24 page)

“You let her go!” Luke shouted and leaped to his feet while Ernst spun around in a circle, looking for the vanished woman.

“I didn’t
let
her do anything,” Mark sighed. “She does not answer to me.” He looked closely at the club. He stood wearily and looked about the abandoned quarry. The stones were still ringing, but just barely audible.

“I don’t like this place,” Luke remarked as the singing sound slowly subsided within the cauldron-shaped depression. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“I agree most assuredly.” Lemarik pulled his robe about him and started back up the overgrown road toward the rim. “We should camp down near the shore tonight.”

Mark climbed to his feet and followed after his eldest son while Ernst and Luke brought up the rear. The Djinni called up three horses and they were soon making their way back across the island toward the beach. When the line of statues appeared on the horizon, Mark kicked his horse and galloped quickly down to the stone platform. He rode along the line of fifteen or sixteen statues until he came to an obvious gap in the ranks.

Luke Andrew followed him down with Ernst clinging to his waist. The general was not happy to be stranded with three of his worst enemies, but for the moment, he had no choice but to go along, literally for the ride.

“Wasn’t there another statue here earlier?” Luke asked as he slid to the ground.

Mark Andrew did not answer, but leapt onto the low wall. He knelt in the empty space and ran his hand over the stone.

Lemarik arrived and the Djinni joined them on the wall. He, too, examined the empty space between two of the remaining statues.

“Which one is it?” He asked when he stood up.

“Anu,” Mark Andrew said shortly.

He turned slowly and scanned the horizon in all directions.

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

“Hold Brother of Filth!” The thunderous voice stopped Luke Matthew in his tracks. It seemed as if the hot, foul breath created a wind that swept his hair back from his face. When he looked upon the horrid creature that awaited him just beyond the white picket fence, his stomach roiled and a dry heave choked his throat. The creature reeked of rotten meat and unspeakable corruption. The muscle and sinew of its body veritably dripped from its bones. Vari-colored fluids ran down its arms and the exposed parts of his legs as if he had just stepped out of one of hell’s pits after roasting for hours over an open flame. His face was a mass of blood-covered bones and glittering teeth.

Luke recovered himself and drew his brother’s golden sword, leaving his own heavier broadsword in its scabbard. Extreme measures for extreme conditions.

“Who are you calling filth, you slime-eating abomination?!” The Scot shouted at the monster. Where it had come from or what it wanted, he had no idea. Just when he’d finally convinced the others he had to venture out and try to learn where Alanna had gotten off to, this had to happen. Everything was turning against him, and he was fairly losing his temper.

“I see that the coward has given my sword into your keeping, mockery of sin! I am no abomination! I am as pure as the snows of the Northwind compared to your master.”

“No man is my master and no festering tripe or rotting trash from the pits of perdition will speak ill of my family and live to tell it!”

Luke shouted these words to bolster his own confidence, ran the last few feet to the fence and vaulted over it, using his free hand against the post for leverage. He landed within a few yards of the creature and brought the sword up. Only the barest glint of light filtering from the front windows of the cottage illuminated the meadow. What other horrors might lie in the thick darkness beyond his field of vision, he could not imagine, nor dare to think.

The monster laughed a cavernous blast of revolting stench in his face, and then raised an exact duplicate of the
Chevalier du Morte’s
Golden Sword of the Cherubim.

“Where did you get that blade, you foul windbag?!” Luke asked as he circled him warily, trying to see beyond him for other threats.

“Your reeking brother abandoned it in his lair,” the thing smiled its toothy smile at him. “It is only one of three, and I will have them all back! Where is that lily-livered pile of manure? Let him come out and fight his own fights!”

“You spout great words of courage and insult,” Luke tried his best to sound menacing, continuing to circle, causing the thing to turn its back to the cottage. “If my brother were here, he would cut out your murderous tongue and feed it to the worms.”

“And I could say the same for you. You are nothing more than an odious mound of bat dung,” the monstrosity countered and Luke was appalled.

He’d not bandied such ludicrously, childish insults with anyone since he’d been a small boy in Scotland. For all its hideous appearance, the thing was ill-equipped to inflict much real harm with words, but he handled the blade quite well, tossing it from hand to hand with some skill. Perhaps in ages past such insults might have provoked real anger, but things had changed.

Luke almost smiled when he saw that his elementary ploy had worked. The Dove was moving stealthily onto the porch with yet another of the golden blades. He could also see the worried faces of Lily and Merry Ramsay at the windows. It had taken a great deal of pleading on his part to induce Merry to stay with Mark and Lily while he went in search of the elves and the loosed power of Marduk. Mark had promised to find the way back to Lothian and take both women with him if Luke did not return in a reasonable time, but now it would be impossible to make Merry remain behind with such creatures lurking in the woods and fields.

Luke drew the golden blade back over his right shoulder and made a round house swing at the things bloody kneecaps, but it leapt back, surprisingly fast and nimble for a creature its size. It was entirely caught up in the confrontation with Luke and paid no attention to Mark as he jumped the fence and bore down its back. An unwise and untimely scream from Lily caused the beast to turn in time to catch Mark when he leaped, intending to land a death blow through where its heart might have been. The Dove was tossed aside easily. He hit the ground and rolled away, but came up quickly beside Luke Matthew. The creature fell back slightly and then closed in again more warily.

“Oh, so there you are, you filthy pig-dog!” The creature shouted and covered them with a wet blast of sulfurous breath, which was much more insulting than its words. “What would you have? To provide the hoards of the earth with golden blades? What manner of treachery is this, Adar, wretched spawn of Anu? I will pick my teeth with your bones!”

“You’ll do nothing with my bones, Asadarlu,” Mark answered him. “I know you! I know who you are bound to serve.”

Luke Matthew jerked his head around and frowned at Mark. He recognized the name. Asadarlu, maker of the flaming swords, Watcher of Watchers. One of the powers of Marduk.

“
Kimadasluah
!” Luke shouted the word of power and control and Mark repeated it.

The creature howled hideously and fell back.

“You are bound to the will of the watchers,” Luke Matthew shouted with more confidence. He sat down on the grass and laid the sword beside him. He pressed his palms together and lowered his head slightly. Mark stood in front of him, holding his own golden blade at the ready, in case the beast attacked. “You will bow to the will of Lord Adar of the Seventh Gate.”

The beast screeched again, and then beat a hasty retreat into the thick blackness of the meadow before Luke could begin the conjuration.

“Damn it!” Luke shouted and leaped to his feet.

“He got away!” Mark yelled and started after the monster, but Luke held him back forcefully.

“We don’t have time.” Luke Matthew jerked his head toward the porch where Lily and Merry were rushing down the steps toward them. “We have to go. Now!”

The two men pulled the women over the picket fence, leaving behind considerable portions of their antique gowns in the process. Luke led the way through the darkness by dead reckoning. He had no idea if he could actually see light up ahead or if his mind was playing tricks on him, but they did not stop running, holding desperately to one another, stumbling, falling, getting up again and running some more. They passed from the meadow into a thick forest, where they had to slow their pace considerably to avoid running into the tree trunks that loomed up, unseen until they were upon them. They found themselves in slightly less crowded environs and began to run again until they found themselves tumbling in the grass, screaming, yelling and cursing.

“Stop! Wait! Halt!” Familiar voices shouted to them until they stopped panicking and allowed the holders of the torches to help them to their feet. Merry and Lily clutched Luke’s arms in death grips as the little yellow beam of the flashlight shone in their terrified faces.

“Brother Luke?!” Lucio’s Italian accent fell on their ears like rain on a parched desert landscape.

“Lucio!” Merry let go of her husband and leapt into the Golden Eagle’s arms, surprising him with a barrage of kisses.

“You know this man, Luke?” Lily’s voice was only slightly muted under the blanket of the unnatural night surrounding them.

“Yes, yes,” Luke told her impatiently and then peeled Merry off of the startled Knight. “Brother Lucio, it is good to see a friendly face. Where did you come from?”

“Out of the ether, apparently.” The Italian smiled at him with his usual apologetic, but arresting smile. “My question is where did you come from? Where is this place? Who is with you?”

“Mark is here… the Dove,” Luke told him and Vanni shined his flashlight in Mark’s face. “Lily, our mother… and Merry, as you know already. We just encountered a malevolent force at the cottage and were taking evasive action.”

“Oh, so that’s what it was… I heard,” Lucio muttered gravely and then tried to shine his light around them. The beam simply would not penetrate the depths of the blackness more than a few feet. “So we are in the Center? Where are Il Dolce Mio’s people?”

“They are in trouble, Brother,” Luke said. “
They
have unleashed a most potent power of Lord Marduk, and if it is not too late, I need to find her and return her to the oblivion of sleep.”

“Vanni?” Lucio turned to his son. “Can we take them with us?”

“If they are willing,” Vanni assured.

Lucio took Luke’s arm and drew him aside slightly and spoke to him in a very low voice. “We are dream-walking, Brother. Someone is sleeping near here. We saw them and came here, but where are they? Is anyone else here?”

Luke frowned and shook his head. Lucio swept the beam over the grass again.

“If we are going somewhere, Brother,” Luke told him urgently. “Let’s be on our way. Some place brighter, if you would, and then we can talk.”

“Vanni,” Lucio called. “Make them ready.”

Vanni began to explain to Merry, Lily and the Dove what they should do in order to enter the spaces between the dream fields. Lily looked at him in terror until Mark spoke quietly to her for several seconds, then they were ready. Within a few short moments, they were gone.

“Sir John?” a hesitant voice filled the void where they had been only seconds before. “Where are you?”

“Over here,” Jozsef called in answer to Bari. “I think I found him over here.”

“No, it’s Gregory,” a disgruntled voice answered him. “Nicholas? Where are you?”

“Here, I’m here,” his brother answered from a short distance away.

A blue glow erupted in the midst of the groggy and disoriented men and John Paul stood looking down at them in the eerie glow.

“Up, up!” John Paul urged them. “Find the horses. We must get back to the palace.”

They helped each other up and whistled for the horses. When none of the mystical beasts appeared from the blackness around them, they gathered themselves as best they could and started off in the perceived direction of Armand’s castle and beyond to the palace.

Chapter Eight of Twelve

Who hath put wisdom in the inward parts?

Ereshkigal stopped and put her hands on her hips. Her yellow and black gown swished about her feet in the grass as she looked into one bulbous eye and then the other, trying to discern the best approach for gaining the attention of the two angels within the Leviathan.

“Hellooooo?!” she shouted up at the beast and then waited.

Plotius shrank back from her a bit when the great beast’s smooth skin rippled and changed hue from deep purple to dark, mottled gray. Something within the clear bulbs covering the huge eyes moved, and they heard a slight clicking noise.

“Come out, come out,” she called and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I know you are in there, Lord Lucifer. Lord Ashmodel. I would have a word with you. Both of you.”

A fairly large contingency of her guests, Boggans and other creatures began to gather a few dozen yards away, curious as to what she might be up to.

The Leviathan moved upwards a few feet, and they could see its bright white underbelly and huge red-rimmed gills briefly before the wide mouth opened. Bony ridges inside the lower jaw served as stair steps for the two angels as they descended from the belly of the beast into the light of the meadow.