Heraclix and Pomp: A Novel of the Fabricated and the Fey (44 page)
Read Heraclix and Pomp: A Novel of the Fabricated and the Fey Online
Authors: Forrest Aguirre
“They both smiled much.”
“Yes?”
“They shook hands, talked, and wrote together.”
“That was a treaty they were signing, Pomp.”
“Treaty?”
“They were agreeing not to fight each other.”
“By writing their names down?”
“In a way, yes—each representing their empire.”
Some things Pomp would never understand.
“But wouldn’t their people still be mad at each other?”
“Of course. But Von Edelweir and Al Mahdr explained it to the people so they wouldn’t be mad.”
“All the people? But how?”
“Al Mahdr sent his messenger, Al’ghul, to the Ottomans to spread the word. And Von Edelweir sent Von Graeb to Vienna, Prague, and other parts of our empire.”
“Spread the word?”
“That a sorcerer had come among the people of the Holy Roman Empire and tricked them. So the Ottomans came to their aid. Together, they killed the sorcerer.”
“But Panopticus killed Mowler.”
“The people wouldn’t understand. Not quickly enough, anyway, if they were told the whole story. It would be like you trying to explain what ‘yet’ means to all the fairies at once.”
“That would be hard. I think I understand. And what will they do yet?”
“Who?”
“Al Mahdr, Von Graeb, everyone!”
“Those are three different matters, Pomp. And there are many more than that. But I’ll try to explain as best I can.”
Pomp landed on his shoulder to be able to concentrate better.
“Von Graeb and Al Mahdr will continue to talk to keep the peace between their countries. They will use reason and logic to try to make good decisions.”
“But will they?”
“Make good decisions? I hope so. I suppose everyone makes mistakes, but these are good men. They’ll do the best they can.”
“Will Von Graeb
fight
?” Pomp said the word with some excitement.
“No!” Heraclix said.
Pomp felt sorry for what she said, though she couldn’t figure out why she felt that way.
“No, his is a mission of peace. He refused to become minister of defense when the position was offered to him by Emperor Joseph.”
“Then who will do it?”
“Apparently a cousin of your Polish friend Yrzmowski.”
“Really? But he—”
“He is not his cousin. I am assured that the new minister of defense will be just that, a minister of
defense
, not a minister of offense. Besides, Von Graeb asked and received a favor of the emperor that should ensure that the new minister administer his duties properly. At Von Graeb’s request, Lescher is the new minister’s right hand man. He’ll behave.”
“Lescher or the Minister?”
“Both!” Heraclix laughed.
“Then what does Von Graeb do yet?”
“Lady Adelaide wants to move to the country, and Von Graeb has promised that they will do so once he has filled his duty to visit the edges of the empire to deliver news of the treaty.”
“And Al’ghul?”
“Al’ghul has a long road, many long roads, ahead of him. He is young now, but he might be old by the time he has finished delivering his message to the ends of the Ottoman lands. They are a little more elaborate in their meetings and a little more deliberate in giving news.”
Ahead of them they could see a small port city and, beyond, the sea. Sails like white butterflies caught the wind and pulled their ships off toward the horizon. They could see the sunlight reflecting off the buildings as they walked closer. Heraclix was struck silent by the beauty of it all. Pomp was also quiet for a long time. Then she spoke.
“Heraclix, am I good?”
The golem smiled. “Yes, Pomp, you are good.”
“I’m glad. Because I’ve seen Hell, and I don’t like it. There’s no one there that I like.”
“I can understand that,” Heraclix said with a hint of remorse.
“The Serb wasn’t there. And your Elsie and Rhoda weren’t there, either.”
Heraclix simply continued walking, watching the ships come and go. He wondered to where and whence and how long the seas would be there to sail upon.
“Will we go back . . .” Pomp asked with trepidation “. . . there?”
“I don’t know, Pomp. I am working with the Shadow Divan now, and my work may take me there. We are going to cut off the entrances to Hell, or at least to ensure that they can be used only one way: in.”
“So, no more Panopticus?”
“No. No more Panopticus, no more Bozkovitch, no more Beelzebub. They will not come here again, we will see to it.”
“Why?” Pomp could hardly believe she had asked the question. It seemed to come out of her mouth at its own wish.
“Now is a new age, Pomp. An age of reason. An enlightened age. Devils, sorcerers, even golems and fairies don’t make much sense here.”
“But you’re still here.”
“Until my task is complete, yes. Then I shall close the door on this age and, likely, on this world, behind me.”
Pomp thought about this for a long time as they wove their way through the streets of the city. She spoke up as they approached the docks.
“Friend Heraclix, if there is a Hell, then there might also be a Heaven.”
“I hope, someday, to find out. But not today.”
“Today you will find your ‘yet.’”
“Yes, friend Pomp. But not without you. This is
our
‘yet.’”
They ascended the ramp of a large, three-masted clipper and boarded. The sails caught a stiff breeze and snapped in the wind, enticing the ship toward new horizons, beneath new stars, under a new sky.
T
hanks first and foremost to my wife, Natalie, and my kids, Issaka, Kaiser, Hayden, and Oakleigh (and even Loki), for tolerating their dad’s long hermitic stretches at the writing desk. And special thanks to Kaiser, my best first reader. Heraclix & Pomp wouldn’t be what they are without you. To Mom, thanks for the gift of the creative spirit and, Dad, thanks for corrupting my young mind with a love of science fiction and fantasy. Thanks to Kris O’Higgins, for believing in my work and your persistence in the face of my persistence; to Mark Teppo and Darin Bradley on the start of this new publishing adventure; and to Claudia Noble for the most beautiful cover I could have asked for. Heraclix would like to thank The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble and Nick Cave for his soundtrack, while Pomp thanks Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and They Might Be Giants for hers. Mowler could not be contacted to ask his musical preferences, but I think he was rather fond of Blood Ceremony, Opeth, and Jess and the Ancient Ones. My thanks also to all else who lent any kind of help to this team endeavor. Most of all, thank you, reader, for taking this adventure with Heraclix, Pomp, and me. We hope you’ve enjoyed the ride!
Forrest Aguirre was born in Wiesbaden, Germany, the son of an Air Force Sergeant. After living in five different countries and roaming the world like a gypsy, he finally settled in Madison, Wisconsin with his wife and four children. He holds a bachelor’s degree in Humanities from BYU and a Master’s in African History from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. His short fiction has appeared in over fifty venues and his editorial work has been recognized with a World Fantasy Award. He is best bribed with very expensive dark chocolate, herbal tea, role playing games, books, swords, early modern silver coins, Badgers regalia, and canoes.
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Heraclix & Pomp
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used in an absolutely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 Forrest Aguirre
All rights reserved, which means that no portion of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Map courtesy of The National Library of Israel, Shapell Family Digitization Project and The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Department of Geography—Historic Cities Research Project.
ebook ISBN 978-1-63023-022-7
First ebook edition: October 2014
Leap clear of all that is corporeal . . .
Edited by Mark Teppo
Cover Design by Claudia Noble
Book Design by Aaron Leis
Copy Edit by Darin Bradley
Underland Press is an imprint of Resurrection House.
