Seal of Solomon (Journeyman Book 2) (16 page)

“Great! I’ll be happy to show you around here in a sec.”

Marcus leaned back to speak with Gage, who was just on Joey’s other side. “Hey big G… oh, can I call you G? Anyway, Om is aft, waiting for you in the navigation room. I’ve already updated him on the lack of action by the Council, but I think he’ll be able to fill you in on the details of what the Noctis are doing, specifically a little bit more on those little things around your neck.”

He pointed a finger at his own, giving it a brief tap.

Gage responded by grabbing hold of the amulet – he had forgotten it was there – twirling the chain around his finger. Nodding in agreement, he looked aft to a door situated atop of two flights of decorative stairs. “Up there?” he asked.

“Yep. That’s it,” Marcus confirmed and Gage set off in that direction. He returned his attention to Joey, who was watching his partner swagger off. “So you ready?”

Joey whipped around, tickled, and they both proceeded across the main deck.

“So how fast can the ship go?” he wasted no time asking in a rushed voice, full of excitement.

Marcus puffed his chest out proudly. “By the wind alone about twenty-five knots, but if you factor in the added engines we could give an aircraft a run for its money.”

“Wow!” Joey expressed in amazement. “So at those speeds, how do you keep everyone… you know… alive? Or stop them getting blown off the deck?” He pointed to his hair, giving it a gentle toss. “I mean, you’re asking for a bad hair day when gale force winds are involved.”

Marcus laughed, gesturing madly with his arms – something Joey loved to do himself. “There are wards on the one hand,” he informed, “coupled with some supplemental shielding spells on the other. They’re all activated once the ship passes a certain speed and work together to create a pretty good barrier, extending about twelve feet off deck. And no, they don’t interfere with the sails.”

Joey was just blown away. Wow. He wanted one of these for himself to anchor above the JSF, hell maybe convert it into the workshop so Gage could take over the original building with gym equipment; get even more huge.

“I'm so impressed!”

Marcus looked him over and felt the same. “So am I, with a lot of things.”

Joey’s cheeks grew a bit red as they reached the raised section of the quarter deck where a door lead inside. They stopped there for a few minutes, Marcus leaning against the wall looking at Joey, who in turn continued to look around, astounded.

“Inside there,” Marcus recited, “the main points of interest are the galley and lounge on the second deck and crew quarters on deck three, custom fitted with large windows and top quality furnishings. They’re yours to enjoy while you're here, so feel free to check out of that street level hotel at any time. I think you'll find our beds much more appealing…” He blushed slightly at his own brashness, quickly continuing. “And… um, deck four houses engineering, while all the way down on five is where the ship’s stores are kept.”

Joey’s stomach promptly added to the conversation, grumbling louder than an ogre. “Ah shit.”

“Haha. Hungry are we?” Marcus asked.

“It’s just a tad obvious,” Joey replied. “Yeah, we both ended up skipping breakfast this morning due to someone – who shall not be named – oversleeping.”

“Well then, follow me,” Marcus said at once, pulling the doors open and descending the stairs. “I think I know where our next stop will be: off to the galley.”

Joey's stomach couldn't wait to agree.

“Damn,” Marcus said as the doors closed. “That was loud.”

THE MORNING SUN
continued to rise above the galleon, floating gracefully and unseen a mere hundred feet above the rooftops.

Gage’s stomach seemed to be protesting the lack of breakfast loudly; that was obviously Joey's fault for letting him oversleep. He advanced to the baroque entrance, set atop the aft of the vessel. It was dark mahogany, with vertical strips in alternating lighter shades and hinges trimmed in bronze. He held a fist just shy of the door, somewhat anxious about the answers that awaited him inside about this small thing around his neck – the cause of so much trouble.

He knew in his heart that he had to proceed. Gone were the days of doubt and wondering if all this was the right thing to do. It was whatever he would make of it and he decided back there in Denver, all alone in that cellar, that this is what needed to be done. So, he decided to tap his fingers against the wood, the sound deeper – more rich – than he expected.

“Come in,” said a soft voice, slightly quaking though still pleasant.

Gage entered, turning the curvy bronze handle as he pushed on the door. Stepping over the threshold into the darker room, it took a second for his eyes to adjust and the room’s finer details to rise out of the shadows.

On the walls around him, he spotted many artifacts and relics, set on shelves and stuffed in tiny niches. Overall the place had a similar feel to his dad's cellar in Denver, albeit with a distinct lack of an endless stack of boxes.

Most of the items he didn't recognize right off – simple figurines from different cultures around the world
.
However, a small golden box off in a corner drew his attention. It was next to a wooden flute and an unassuming chalice and as he looked, it sounded like it was whispering to him. He couldn't help but walk toward it, step by heart-pounding step, mesmerized by the thing.

Its latch was beckoning, its hinges were calling.

He needed to open it… it wanted to be opened…

Suddenly, a few sharp noises cut through the unabashed lust he had for the shiny cube. Shaking his head and giving it a couple of knocks for good measure, he came to his senses and backed away, moving over to an archway along the far wall.

Grabbing hold of the frame, he popped his head around for a little peek.

There, walking on four greenish-yellow legs across the luxurious threads of a red and ochre rug was an odd, bug-like creature. Gage had never seen anything like it before, with no idea where it fit into the lore of the worlds. About four feet tall, it was naked for the most part, save random bits of light metal around its joints and a glossy guard piece over its thorax. Two more arms sorted through small items piled in a crate, pulling them out and arranging them one at a time in the empty spaces of a short cabinet.

“Om?” asked Gage nervously. “Is that you?”

The thing spun its head around without moving the rest of its body, looking back at him through a pair of spectral goggles. They were different than most, with thick lenses and white rims. The eyes staring at him appeared practically human, yet were much larger.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” came an answer in the same voice he had heard earlier. “You must be Gage Crosse; welcome aboard my home.”

“Damn,” Gage muttered under his breath with the slightest of chuckles. “I was SO right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Gage’s eyes widened and the corner of his mouth turned up innocently; that might have slipped out a little too loudly. “Oh, um, nothing that's important. Sorry…”

“Take a seat, you must be tired of standing around all morning,” said Om, his face wrinkling in that
I'm sure what you’re saying is a complete lie
kind of way. He motioned to an empty chair over in the corner of the room while he took up across from it on a soft, beanbag-like cushion. “So, friend, what brings you here to New York?”

As Gage settled in, he had so much to say that he didn't know where to begin. His dad, the artifacts, the Noctis – all of it was swirling in his mind, craving answers. He pinched the amulet between his fingers and rubbed anxiously on the silver disc.

“That's as good a place as any to start,” Om said for him. “The talisman you're wearing there and the chain it is bound to – both are a part of something great and terrible, massively powerful in their own right and brutal.”

“Yes, the…” Gage tried to recall what Joey had called them, his mind a rush. He snapped his fingers. “The Solomon Six.”

“Exactly. So you know of these things?”

Gage's head drooped. “Not as much as ya would think. I only know of these two and what they're capable of. The rest we've only managed to speculate about, the answers quite vague. I’m unsure how far off base we are, so it’s my hope that you'll be able to shed more light on it for us.”

“I shall try. I presume that those two are what caused the Herald seen out west – the one that broke the skies?”

He nodded, letting go of the thing as if it burned. His mind recalled the extraordinary display of light that pierced the sky as he walked out of the cellar, then shifted to Adrienne and the wrath he felt after she was attacked. “Yes they are and so much more. There was so much pain… fire. If I didn’t know better, I would say this fucking thing was alive.”

“Gage, before we delve too far in this matter, I want you to know that you are one brave man in taking this on yourself.” He paused, smiling ever so graciously, those large eyes blinking. “I have a lot of respect for that – it harkens back to a friendlier, more honorable time.”

“Thank ya,” Gage replied in a low voice. That brought him some joy, even if the road he was on lead somewhere less than joyous.

Om shifted in his seat and brought his green arms to his goggles, removing them. He set them on a small end table to the right. “The Solomon Six. I suppose there's no better place to start than at the very beginning.”

Gage settled further back in his chair and Om began to recount the history of the artifacts as he had come to discover them, his voice elderly and wise in the telling.

“There were once five powerful items held by the Angel Lucifer during his fall from Grace. When he was cast out, alongside legions of his followers, those items were lost across the realms. Eventually, they were taken into possession by King Solomon as he traveled the worlds in search of wisdom and enlightenment. Collectively, he named those the Five – short, simple, to the point.

“Guided by voices from the Void, he was able to tap into the individual power of these using a series of seals and sigils, which helped lead to his great accumulation of wealth and also the forty-four primary symbols still used to this day.”

Om’s eyes grew weighty, shining in the wayward sunlight from the rear windows as it peeped in through the shades. “Unbeknownst to him, I believe the Noctis – in their early days – were the voices behind Solomon’s work. Long they spent manipulating him and before long an entrance to Hell could be weaved open when the Five were worn together. This act would break the seals imprisoning Lucifer and other hellish creatures of the night, allowing him and his armies unfettered passage to the Earth.

“As fate would have it, Solomon was attacked by the Noctis in an attempt to implement this plan. They had made their move too early and once he became aware, scattered the items once again. He then began using his collected wisdom to create weapons against the dark forces; soliciting aid from many friendly spirits. During his journey he came close to death many times, using his prowess to survive. This is how he received Death’s first scythe.”

Gage stirred uncomfortably, that imposing figure of darkness invading his mind. Thankfully, the feeling of dread soon passed, but a touch lingered behind… watching.

“From these actions,” Om continued, “the Journeymen were born. Supernatural beings and humans who rose against the evil forces plaguing the world. They aided Solomon in capturing seventy-two of the world's most vicious demons and their allies, keeping the dark tide at bay. Sadly, over time and countless skirmishes, thirteen of those demons were freed. Chief amongst them was Eligos, a master strategist of all things war, who ended up reshaping the Noctis into the more serious threat it is today. Yet with all his knowledge and forethought he underestimated a minor threat from within and was ultimately supplanted by Onoskelis.”

Keli
… that bitch’s name riled Gage immensely.

“Since Solomon’s presumed natural death,” Om carried on, trying to ease the strain on Gage’s face, “the Journeymen fractured into many disparate factions around the world. The mission itself remained, good versus evil always standing the test of time, but the Order lost its overall potency and dare I say its will. Add to that the Incursion, which didn't help us in the slightest to regain any lost ground. The divide widened between us all while evil took the chance to grow.”

Gage’s head was spinning more now than before, overwhelmed as he realized the task at hand was a lot more complicated than first thought.

Om, being a veritable encyclopedia with his accumulated knowledge of the artifacts, divulged more. “So, onto the items of interest to keep the Noctis from achieving their end game. The amulet, also called the Devil’s Ire, bears seal eight – courage, ambition, all of that sort of thing. I believe it somehow allows immunity to and control of hellfire.”

“Oh yes it does. I can unequivocally confirm that,” Gage stated. A little sweat had formed on his lower back and he leaned forward, resting elbows just north of his knees.

“That’s fascinating,” Om said, pleased his assumption was correct. He licked his thin lips, finding them a bit parched. “I'll have to ask you more about that soon. Regarding the chain, it is actually a segment of the bindings Lucifer wore when he was cast out of Heaven – hence the references you've seen calling it ‘the shackles’. Something about it does puzzle me however: seal thirty-nine lies broken across its entire length. Why that is even there is a complete mystery to me.”