The Wayward Godking (18 page)

“But the great sages have said that the Truth will set us free,” Omar countered. “
These are the things that ye shall do; speak ye every man the truth to his neighbour; execute the judgment of truth and peace in your gates:
And let none of you imagine evil in your hearts against his neighbour; and love no false oath: for all these are things that I hate, saith the Lord. Let not mercy and truth forsake thee: bind them about thy neck; write them upon the table of thine heart.
”

Kinmalla pushed back his hood and leaned both elbows on the table. He twirled his beard nervously in his long, bony fingers.

“These are the words of the great sages?” he asked after a moment.

“Of the great prophets of God, Your Honor,” Omar told him and looked back at his sister. “I am called a prophet, Your Grace, and I accept the title with humility. I speak my heart, great Lord Kinmalla. I speak from the depths of what was written in my heart by our Father, the Creator.”

“Speak to me, Prophet,” Kinmalla commanded.

“I speak the scriptures as recorded by the fathers and grandfathers of men,” Omar said. “I pass these words to
all
who would listen. To
all
who would hear them for they belong not only to man, great Lord, but to
all
of God’s creatures. Surely of all God’s creatures, one such as yourself, is a most precious prize, who knows the Truth. Who
perceives
the truth wherever it may be found, no matter the vessel of its telling.
So shalt thou find favour and good understanding in the sight of God and man. Mercy and truth preserve the king: and his throne is upholden by mercy. Plead my cause, and deliver me: quicken me according to thy word. Salvation is far from the wicked: for they seek not thy statutes. Great are thy tender mercies, O Lord: quicken me according to thy judgments. Many are my persecutors and mine enemies; yet do I not decline from thy testimonies. I beheld the transgressors, and was grieved; because they kept not thy word.
”

“You have a golden tongue, Young Master.” Kinmalla actually smiled and they were surprised to see he had pointed teeth. “So say the ancients of the prophets of God. Your tongue is surely a gift from the Father, Himself. If the Father found favor with you and granted you such a gift, then surely the Truth is in you.”

Omar seized the opportunity to continue his bid for redemption for himself and his sister. “
Consider how I love thy precepts: quicken me, O Lord, according to thy loving kindness. Thy word is true from the beginning: and every one of thy righteous judgments endureth for ever. Princes have persecuted me without a cause: but my heart standeth in awe of thy word. I rejoice at thy word, as one that findeth great spoil. I hate and abhor lying: but thy law do I love. My lips shall utter praise, when thou hast taught me thy statutes. My tongue shall speak of thy word: for all thy commandments are righteousness. Let my soul live, and it shall praise thee; and let thy judgments help me. I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek thy servant; for I do not forget thy commandments.
”

Kinmalla’s mouth was half open now as he listened to these words, also taken from the Holy Scriptures.

“I believe you speak the Truth, Young Master,” he said when Omar paused. “I am convinced you are indeed a Prophet. Tell me more of this Lamb of God… but wait!” Kinmalla called his ‘bailiff’ over and whispered in his ear. “We will have some refreshment with our hearing.”

Omar let out a long sigh and tried not to smile as the disgruntled assistant was sent to fetch these refreshments. He put his hands on his hips and dropped his head, before turning to look at Marduk and Nergal. Marduk clapped his hands silently and smiled at him. Nergal sat watching him solemnly. He’d not heard the Lord of the Fifth Gate come in. Omar felt even more weight descend on his shoulders with the fate of one more soul in his hands, and he still had to learn what had become of Luke Andrew.

Chapter Six of Twelve

Look on every one that is proud, and bring him low

“What place is this?” Mark Andrew asked his son as soon as they regained their footing. The beach stretched away on either side of them. A stiff ocean breeze struck their faces, whipping their clothes and hair behind them. A bright full moon reflected endlessly on the dark seas beyond the whitecaps.

“I don’t know…” Luke answered, then brushed his hair from his face and squinted at the vast ocean before them “I was thinking of Jasmine,” he said softly and looked at his father apologetically. “We picnicked together here some years ago. I don’t remember when exactly. This has to be the place. I remember the breakwaters there and that promontory.” He pointed away to their left before turning completely around. “Yep!” he said more loudly as the wind was blocked behind him. “This is the place all right. I remember
those
.”

Mark Andrew turned and stared up at the silent figures carved in dark stone. The statues towered over them, silently staring inland.

“Some island,” Luke continued and started up the narrow beach toward the low stone wall where fifteen or sixteen of the backwards facing sentries kept watch over nothing. “Christmas Island, I think,” he called over his shoulder to Mark, who followed him more slowly. “It was one of those places Jasmine always wanted to visit, you know? I brought her here for her birthday or something. She was thrilled and kept me up all night long out here with these guys.”

Mark stopped to watch as his son made his way down a narrow path and stopped to examine part of the wall in the light of the moon.

“Yeah!” Luke shouted and waved to him after a moment. “This is the place. Right here. Come and look.”

Mark made his way to the end of the platform and squinted at the markings in the black stone.

A large heart was carved in the rock, replete with an arrow and a childish rendition of ‘Luke loves Jazz’ in the center.

“I made that,” he said and smiled up at his father proudly like a small boy, then the smile faded. His eyes, already red-rimmed and bloodshot from lamenting his fate in the caves of the Abyss, watered again. “I really loved that woman, Papa.”

“I know you did, Luke,” Mark said with some genuine measure of sympathy. He frowned at the scratchings and then straightened up. He looked toward the center of the island following the statues’ hollow gazes. “Easter Island.”

“What?” Luke wiped away yet another tear and frowned toward the center of the island himself.

“Easter Island. Not Christmas,” Mark said as he climbed onto the wall between two of the monstrous figures. “They were such proud ones. Full of themselves and vainglorious,” he muttered to himself as he ran his hands over the rough stone.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Luke climbed up after him. “Christmas Island is the island with all the spiders.”

“Crabs,” Mark corrected him.

“Crabs? Oh, yeah, right. Crabs,” Luke muttered.

Mark examined the face of one of the shorter statues. He leaned close and gazed into the empty eye socket.

“Still here after all these years,” he said after a moment’s silence.

“Of course, they are,” Luke patted the arm of a taller figure next to him. “Jasmine said they were thousands of years old.”

“Older... much older.” Mark’s voice held a strange quality somewhere between fear and awe. “I hoped never to see them again.”

“Who? You’ve been here before? Is there any place you haven’t been?” Luke asked several questions when he perceived something was not quite right with his papa. “What are they looking at? Jasmine said the scholars think they watched over villagers here. She said the natives who built them used up all the trees and then killed each other off in a final battle over the last tree. Can you imagine it? Here’s these half naked mumbo-jumbos dancing around the last tree, trying to save it and then, in the middle of the night, the other side comes and chops it down to make arrows so they can shoot anyone who threatens the tree?” Luke laughed nervously.

“That’s not how it happened,” Mark told him softly. “The mumbo-jumbos, who lived here, did not kill each other. They died of old age. The natives that came after them used all the trees. Not much on conservation, natives. Besides they were shipwrecked here, and thought to move on when the food ran out. They built a few villages eventually, and worshipped these statues, but they did not build them.”

“Then who built them? The mumbo-jumbos?”

“Nay,” Mark chuckled and moved further down the wall, checking another of the statues. “The
mumbo-jumbos
as you call them were watchers. They watched over the stones.”

“But who built them? Whoever it was didn’t finish them. Jasmine took the tour and dragged me along. There are some more unfinished ones in the quarry and a couple of them were apparently broken on the way to the sites where they were supposed to be set up. I remember how excited she was, telling me all about it. I thought it was really dumb. I couldn’t imagine how stupid someone would have to be to expend such energy to build these things and move them around. For what purpose?” Luke stood looking up at the tallest of the Moai. “Yeah, and some of them had hats on their heads that weighed thousands of pounds.”

“Not hats, weights,” Mark corrected him yet again. “Presses. Magickal presses.”

“Weights?” Luke had to laugh. “What did they think? These things were going to fly away?”

“Or swim, perhaps.” Mark turned a steady gaze on his irreverent son. “Some they buried. Some they weighted down with enchanted stones. Red rock.”

“That’s right. The hats were made of red rock, not black. I remember that. A good story.”

“
Not
a story. Truth is sometimes stranger than fiction, or haven’t you heard?”

“Now, wait just a minute,” Luke blurted. He dropped his arms to his side and stared at his father in wonder. “Are you telling me you really know who built these things and why? We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

“Of course, that was the whole point of placing them here.” Mark walked toward the end of the wall, and Luke followed him. He stopped in front of one particular work. These statues were of different sizes and shapes, whereas most of the Moais on the island were fairly uniform in size and structure though each one had a distinctively individual face. “This one is Anu.”

“What?” Luke almost fell off the wall and Mark had to catch him and set him aright. “
The
Anu?”

“
The
Anu. Dear, old Papa!” Mark smiled at the sightless face of the stone and slapped him on either side as if greeting him. He turned and gestured toward another of the statues. “And there is his papa, An. We also have grandmother, Ki, there and Enki’s mother, Nammu. That really big ugly one down there is Enki, and beyond him, Enlil, his brother. My half-brothers, your uncles.”

“Enki? Lord Marduk’s father?” Luke’s mouth fell open in disbelief.

“Aye.” Mark nodded. “Marduk did not stop when he had defeated Tiamat. He was too powerful. The elders realized that Marduk could not be trusted, and they plotted to slay him or cast him into oblivion at the very least. He learned of their intended treachery and here you see the results.”

“What about you? Why didn’t he put you here?” Luke asked him.

“I was not important at the time. My mother took me away and placed me with the men of Atlantis. For long ages, Marduk didn’t even know I existed. By the time he became aware of me, I had amassed quite a following of my own. You should always keep your eye on the little fish, Luke. Some grow up to be whales.”

Luke placed one hand over his mouth, turned around and sat down heavily on the edge of the wall.

Mark ignored his son and walked up and down the line of silent sentinels, checking each one for wear and tear.

“Who’s that?” Luke’s voice drifted to him after some few minutes.

Mark turned quickly to see a horse bearing two riders riding toward them over the crest of the hill.

“Look closer, son.” Mark smiled slightly.

The mighty Djinni rode directly toward them. When he drew near, he slid from the horse, leaving his companion behind, and swayed toward them across the rocky terrain.

“Ho, Adar!” He called and then leaped onto the stones with them. “Ho, son of Adar, my brother!” He greeted Luke and then hugged his father tightly. “Did you miss me?”

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

Alanna stepped lightly over the bodies of the six men who lay in various positions of repose in the dappled sunlight on the forest floor. Here were wondrous sights and magnificent beasts. Many of the still forms at her feet looked familiar and two were extremely familiar. She kicked John Paul with the toe of her sandal. His arm flopped from across his face, and she bent over him to inspect his features more closely. A small scratch on his forehead oozed bright blood.

“Aha!” She said and stood up, looking closely at the blood on her finger. “Adar!” She kicked him again. “Wake up, Lord Adar! You cannot be sleeping now.”

John Paul did not move, but remained asleep.

Alanna frowned and turned to inspect Jozsef Daniel, who was practically a spitting image of his father, except for the color of his hair, which had become silver-white hair since his return from the ether. His earthbound form was still occupied by Omar, the Prophet.