The Wayward Godking (21 page)

“Wonderful,” he muttered over and over.

“I remember dreaming about your feet!” She said suddenly.

“Yes, that was my dream-healing.” He stopped to smile at her.

“Ah, dream-healing, of course,” she nodded and checked her feet and legs. To think of lying unprotected in this place for… how long? She shivered and brushed at the dust on her skirt again. “Where are we?”

“In the desert,” he told her. “One of Inanna’s caves.”

“Where is she?” Meredith looked about wide-eyed, expecting to see the dragon there with him.

“She is not here.”

Abaddon stretched his wings and looked up at the small, star-filled circle of night sky far above them. “She is waiting for me in the North. You should not fear her, My Lady. She is, after all, of your own blood.”

“Inanna? My blood?” Meredith was confused.

“She is the daughter of Nanna,” Abaddon explained as he knelt beside the pool and scooped up a drink of the crystal water in his hands. “You should come and drink before we go. If I had food, I would offer it. I am sorry.”

“Inanna is the daughter of Nanna?” Meredith joined him at the edge of the pool.

“Of course, Nanna…
I-nanna
. She was named for her father,” he told her. “She has suffered much through the ages. Not the least of which was having me torn from her side. Furthermore, she was almost imprisoned by her brother, Lord Shammash, long before she lost her way. It was only by chance that Lord Adar intervened and, by punishing her, saved her from him. Lord Adar would not suffer his creations to belong to another. He was also the jealous kind.”

“You mean that Shammash is also a son of Nanna?” She asked.

“Aye, that is certain. He is brother to Inanna. Shammash may appear arrayed in shining light, but there is darkness at his center.”

Meredith did not pursue this comment with questions. Somehow she imagined it would be detrimental to her sanity. Even though she had learned long ago her lineage was no ordinary family tree, she still had a hard time disengaging her Meredith Sinclair personality. She still thought of herself as just a girl from Texas.

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“I should get back to the Seventh Gate,” he told her. “That is where my quarry lies. She has built a web, a nest. There, she is spawning her bastard offspring.”

Meredith blanched at the memory of the leather-winged spiderlings that had chased her out of Lily Ramsay’s home, and then another thought washed over her, leaving her weak in the knees.

“These bastards… you know of them?”

“I do.” He turned his fiery eyes on her. “Yes, I know you have seen them. They are my children, and I must kill them… all of them.”

“But I saw Mark Andrew there with her!” Merry blurted.

“So she has taken another mate.” Abaddon laughed and Meredith shuddered. “I wonder how she managed to trap him… She must be stopped, and I have wasted much time here regenerating.”

“I can’t go back there.” Meredith shook her head. “Lord Kinmalla will imprison me.”

“True, but I cannot leave you here. Where would you wish to go?”

“Can you take me home? To Lothian?” She asked him.

“I think not,” he shook his head. “I have already been there. No one is home. No one is home anywhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that there is no Lothian as you knew it,” he said. “It is gone. All the earth is changed.”

“Why?” She frowned at him as yet another wave of nausea rushed over her.

“It is the Will of God,” the dark angel said softly as he examined the wall of the shaft leading up. “The old earth has passed away and the old heaven. The new earth… and the new heaven have come.”

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

“Wake up, petite Roi,” Armand whispered as he leaned over the sleeping form and tickled his nose with the feather from Paddy’s tam-o-shanter.

The king snorted, rubbed his nose and blinked at the up-side-down face of the former Knight. The king was draped across one of the benches at the Queen’s pavilion. Armand took his hand and pulled him upright on the bench and the world righted itself.

“Was I sleeping?” He asked in confusion.

“I’m afraid so,” Armand told him and sat down next to him.

“How long?”

“Long enough.” Armand jerked one thumb over his shoulder.

The king turned and was elated to see Steppet, Prado, and the Gruguach, along with a host of elves standing in the green grass of the meadow. Vanni’s daughter, Polly, made her way through the crowd and leapt onto the bench beside him before he knew what was upon him. She clamped onto his arm and refused to let go as he stood up on the bench and faced his people in shocked surprise.

“Your Majesty!” Steppet and Prado went down on one knee before him.

“My King.” The gruguach also bowed before him. “We have looked far and wide for you.”

“I was just dreaming of you,” Il Dolce Mio said. He climbed down from the bench and hugged them warmly. “How did you get here?” He asked and then frowned as he noticed some of them were already showing signs of illness. His people could not prosper long in the Abyss. He noticed, as well, his Captain and Lieutenant wore pointed metal caps. Two of the nearest elves were dressed in tattered black mummer’s outfits. “You used the book!” Il Dolce Mio exclaimed.

“Aye, that we did,” the gruguach sighed and then pressed one hand to her heart. “It is most oppressive here, Your Grace. Perhaps, we could speak of these things in a more appropriate setting for elves.”

The elven company began to split and scatter amidst moans, groans and shrieks as the Queen made her way through them.

“What is the meaning of all these elves presenting here?” She asked as if she were describing a disease. She swept through them and drew up short in front of the King.

“I’m afraid I dreamed them here, You Majesty,” the King said and bowed his head to her briefly. “I would beg that they be allowed a bit of your sweet nectar, my Queen in order that they might not suffer the glory of your over-powering presence.”

Ereshkigal looked around her at the frightened faces of his subjects. Two or three of them had already succumbed to fear and the oppressive nature of their surroundings. They lay here and there while their comrades wept and moaned over them futilely trying to wake them.

“More unscheduled guests,” the Queen muttered as Oriel and Louis pushed their way through the crowd. They were followed closely by Christopher and the others.

“Greetings, my small friends!” Lucifer’s clear voice rang over the general hubbub like a church bell on a clear winter’s morning. “You have come to pay homage to the child of the Dove. Come, come and let us praise him with song and dance! A great noise shall we make unto the Father!”

Ereshkigal threw her hands up in frustration. The baby was upstaging her party and she could get nothing done with all these interruptions, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

“Pick them up. Pick them all up and bring them to the Queen’s chambers,” she ordered Plotius as soon as he could elbow his way through the milling throng. “Single file, please! No running!” Ereshkigal started back toward her boudoir as her Boggans made a path clear for her. As she walked along, the elves fell back in fear, some of them fainting outright.

Lucifer had gathered a great number of them to himself and was already singing to them about Adar’s grandson. It was a fiasco in the making, and she would have it cleared up right away. She muttered to herself as she walked along, about Nergal’s absence, and the fact that he’d taken a large number of her Boggan guard with him.

“My Queen.” Plotius caught up with her in the caverns. “My Queen, I beg your indulgence.” He took off his helmet and bowed before her.

“What is it now, Plotius?” She asked. “I have to make more of the potion. I’m turning into a hag by the moment. If this doesn’t cease, I’ll end up spending eternity stirring a cauldron in some damp cave somewhere.”

“My apologies, Your Eminence,” Plotius muttered, fearing to look up at her. “My Boggans have returned from the foray into the Seventh Gate, and their report is not good.”

“Walk and talk,” she told him and dragged him along physically with her. They could hear the murmurs and scurrying feet of the countless suffering elves behind them. “Now what is all this about Nergal?”

“Madam Queen, do you have any knowledge of Omar, the Prophet, ibn Adalune, Son of the Moon, ibn Adar, ibn…?”

“Of course, another blasted grandson of Adar, the Mighty Hunter. Yes, yes, of course, I’ve heard of him.” They entered her golden chamber, and she went directly to the fire pit where the black cauldron still simmered upon the coals. “What of him?”

“And my Gracious Mistress, have you heard of another called Zaguri? One of the powers of Marduk?”

“Great vapors of my father’s breath!” She spun on the Captain, and he cowered away from her. “What of him?”

“He is loose in the Seventh Gate,” Plotius gasped quickly. “Lord Marduk and Lord Nergal are being held prisoner in a cavern there.”

“What?! Who would dare hold Nergal and Marduk prisoner… Aha! It’s that bitch, Huber, isn’t it?” She grabbed Plotius’ shoulders, frightening him horribly.

“The Great Huber is there, yes, they say,” Plotius squeaked until she let go of him. “But it is not she, who holds your Lord Nergal in thrall, my Queen, but rather one nasty fellow by the name of Lord Kinmalla. My Boggans say he is holding court in a cave near the nest of Huber, and they say the Prophet Omar is speaking in defense of the gods.”

Ereshkigal was speechless for once in her very, very long life.

Chapter Seven of Twelve

(A tribute to Seven of Nine for those of you who remember the Borg and know that resistance is futile)

Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?

“That is all well and good, Lord Omar,” the Judge swung his legs down from the table on which he had been resting and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. His ‘bailiff’ was slumped against the wall, snoring soundly. “I will credit you with righteousness of purpose and goodness of heart. I will withhold judgment on you and your sister and suspend your sentences. If you should continue in the future to influence the workings of the destiny of men, you will pay in full.”

“I am grateful for your indulgence,” Omar said gravely and bowed his head to the Judge. His dark hair was damp and sweat trickled down his face. He turned at the sound of slow clapping from behind him. Both Nergal and Marduk were applauding slowly and smiling at him.

“Well done, young Lord.” Marduk stood up. “Such a tongue have I not heard in ages passed. I am converted.”

“You blaspheme,” Nergal growled as he stood alongside him. “Omar speaks the truth. There is no guile in him. Did you not listen? We have all been… fools, I tell you!”

“Aha!” Marduk looked at his old friend in consternation. “You are truly converted. Congratulations, Prophet. You have added another soul to your portfolio and the great Lord Nergal doesn’t even have such.”

Nergal snorted in disgust at the insult.

“I will take a short break and convene again to pass judgment on Lord Marduk Kurios.” The Judge actually smiled at the Lord of the Sixth Gate. “I should like to get your trial over before another age passes. Your crimes are abundant and fruitful, yet still crimes.”

“One moment, Your Grace.” Omar held up one hand as Dunya tugged on his sleeve impatiently.

She was ready to get out of the cavern. The air was hot and stuffy and Omar was visibly exhausted. Their dismissal was evident and she wanted to risk no relapse in the judge’s opinion.

Omar shook off his sister’s hold and wiped his brow with the hem of his mantel. “If I may say a few words on his behalf before I go, I would be eternally grateful, and then my sister and I will trouble you no more.”

Kinmalla narrowed his eyes and then sat back on the edge of the table.

“I will listen a short while longer, and then I must rest.”

“I have studied the religions of the world, Your Grace, and there is much truth even in the most barbaric beliefs when they are based upon the idea that something beyond man had the power to bestow upon him some measure of divinity… the
saving grace
, if you will, the Divine Spark.”

“That would stand to reason. Saving grace, yes,” the Judge agreed.

“The ancient traditions of the Phoenicians, a most wondrous race of men, honored Lord Marduk as one of their primary benefactors. They spoke very highly of him and worshipped him for many hundreds of generations, venerating his better qualities. The Phoenicians compared his splendor to that of the sun, saying of him that the golden glow of his goodness fairly obliterates his form.”

“If such a one is completely obliterated by the goodness that shines forth from him, it would be hard indeed to condemn him for the commission of a few misdemeanors. This glow was not attributed or associated with passion, but rather manifested in man as a sense of immense peace, an inner peace, an altruistic peace, such as that taught by the Lord Jesus Christ at a much later time. Lord Marduk’s worshippers extolled
his
virtues: peacemaker, transformer of death to life, holder of great wisdom, creator and worker of miracles. His greatest miracle was this: He taught the people to care for the earth, which provided them with food, to love the earth, to care for the lower beings that provide sustenance for them, to love… yes, love.”