The Wayward Godking (46 page)

When he was far enough away to take a breather, he stopped and considered what he had just witnessed. The creatures looked and acted just like the prehistoric men he remembered from the dawn of his ages when he’d left Atlantis and traveled to Khem.
Hairy barbarians
. The so-called Neolithics and Neanderthals in Christopher and de Bleu’s video games. His father had really outdone himself... again.

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Selwig drew up short at the sight of the deserted outpost. Here is where he expected to find at least three or four armed Tuathan guards and a sergeant or a lieutenant. The small cottage looked more like a gingerbread house than a military establishment alongside the road leading into the depths of Corrigan’s kingdom. It, too, was abandoned and overrun with briars and ugly vines. He poked about in the bothersome leaves for several seconds before recognizing them as poison ivy, a growth not indigenous to the underworld. He backed off the porch and sat down on a wobbly three legged stool in the yard to look for the appropriate ointment in his bag to counteract the poison. All of this was highly puzzling and very disturbing. Even the plants and animals seemed changed somehow. He’d hardly seen any friendly beasts in the forest that once teamed with deer, rabbits, squirrels, birds, porcupines, skunks and all sorts of things. He’d never been much of a nature lover, preferring to stay in the Dagda’s city, but his association with the Templars had taught him much about life in the wild, though it had not made him anymore fond of it. There were creatures lurking in the dim recesses of the forest that watched him with hungry eyes. Wolves? He’d read of them, but never seen one. Bears? Surely not. He pushed these unwelcome thoughts from his mind. The darkness had lifted little by little and for that he was glad. Whatever it had been, it was good to be rid of it.

He rubbed an aromatic herbal jelly on his hands and his forearms as he looked about the bright summer’s day. Where were his people? What had happened to them? A shadow passed over the yard and a high shrill screech brought him to his feet. A hawk dipped on something in the brush beside the road and flew away again while he watched, and then he became aware of feet pounding the earth. Someone was running down the road that passed in front of the house. Several someones, it seemed. Selwig grabbed his bag and ducked behind the small gatehouse situated near the road.

Presently three Tuathans came into sight, their heads bobbing just above the tall weeds lining the lane. They rounded the bend and headed toward him, running as fast as their short legs could carry them. As they approached and then passed him, he counted five armed soldiers carrying spears, bows and swords. They didn’t even slow as they approached the guard shack. He waited until they were almost out of sight and then started running after them. He was not exactly used to running at military pace, but he could keep up with them for a while and bit without falling too far behind. They ran on and on, passing two more deserted outposts, and then they were home. Selwig stopped short of following them into the cavern leading to the underground city where the Dagda lived.

He could not simply burst into Lugh’s territory without being invited, and he’d been banned from the city years and years ago. Nothing had changed in that regard. He would have to wait outside until someone deigned to carry a message that he awaited the Dagda’s pleasure.

As he sat on a flat boulder near the well-concealed entrance to the caverns, he thought over what he might say, but nothing made sense. He wasn’t sure what he should say. The darkness was gone, but the forest! It was awful and Corrigan’s castle was in ruins. He worried over his dilemma until he could worry no more, and then he let his mind go blank as Vanni had taught him. Meditation, that’s what he needed. Collect his thoughts. Wait. Calm himself. Wait. Someone would come. Everything would work itself out. Vanni had taught him this. He sat cross-legged on the rock with his hands resting on his knees, eyes closed, breathing deep breaths through his nose.

“Hey!” a voice startled him out of his wits.

He opened his eyes and found a lovely Tuathan lass standing in front of him, arms akimbo.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” she asked and frowned furiously at him. Her golden curls were tangled and dirty. Leaves stuck to her face and her arms and her dress was ragged and torn. Bits of moss and fern clung to her legs and her feet were bare.

“What happened?” he answered her question with another question as he surveyed her condition.

“What happened?” She rolled her eyes. “What happened? What do you think happened? The world ended. That’s what happened! Where have you been?”

“I’ve been… I was… There was…” he stammered and then stood up, clutching his bag to his chest. “Listen, lassie, I need your help. I must send a message to the Dagda requesting an audience with him. I have to speak with him. It is very important. Life and death, you see?”

“The Dagda? Ha!” She smiled at him and then resumed her frown. “No one has seen the Dagda in ages! And furthermore, no one has seen the King. No one knows what to do, and so, no one does anything. Look at me! No one washes the clothes. No one tends the sheep. No one cooks the food. No one paints the houses. No one mends the sheets. No one sings the songs. No one milks the cows. No one gathers the eggs. No one…”

“Hold, little one!” Selwig held up one hand to stop her. “The Dagda is gone?” He looked around as if expecting to see Lugh peeking out from behind a rock.

“That is what I said.” She moved around, trying to stay in his view. “Are you deaf? Look at me! I am a mess. No one comes to dress me. No one combs my hair. No makes my bed. No one sweeps my floor. No one…”

“Hold!” Selwig stopped her again. “Take me to your captain.”

“My captain? I have no captain. There
is
no captain,” she said sadly.

“How about a lieutenant? Is there a lieutenant?”

“No lieutenant.”

“A sergeant then?”

“Maybe, but why should I tell you? You are a stranger. You might have come to kill us.”

Selwig let out a short sigh and shook his own head sadly.

“If I had come to kill you, I would have killed you already, and the more I stand here talking to you, the more appealing the proposition sounds. Who are you?”

“I am Barthig Molwoddy, of course. Molwoddy is the Mayor, and I am his daughter… his
only
daughter and very eligible for marriage, I’ll have you know. I am not to be toyed with,” she said and crossed her arms stubbornly.

“I’m sure,” Selwig muttered and then executed a sweeping bow to her. “I am Selwig, and I would request an audience with Mayor Molwoddy.”

“Oh, so now you wish to use me?” She narrowed her bright blue eyes at him. “I’ll not be used, Selwig. I am the mayor’s daughter and my company is sought after daily and nightly.”

“I’m sure,” Selwig muttered again. He remembered Molwoddy. This Barthig had to be one of his granddaughters perhaps. “I do not wish to use you at all. I have come from far away with great tidings.”

“Hmmmm.” She pressed one dirty finger against her lips, and he realized that she was barely grown. Still very childish and spoiled terribly. “Are they tidings of joy?”

“Yes, of course…” he smiled and then sputtered. “No! They are tidings of great usefulness.”

“Ahhh. Usefulness,” she nodded. “I suppose my father would have to be the judge of that, sir. Follow me…” She started off at once and he had to hurry to keep up with her. They passed through the dark and winding passages that kept most intruders from finding the Dagda’s city and finally emerged into the fanciful world that Lugh had built for himself.

At first, everything looked just as he remembered. The colorful buildings. The fanciful paintings on fences and walls. Beautifully cobbled streets. All sorts of plants and flowers planted in jugs, jars and raised beds. But on closer inspection, he discovered that the plants were dying, the paint was fading and the buildings were falling into disrepair. Boards and trimmings hung crookedly on porches. Leaves and debris piled up in the corners and the air was much too chilly. His unlikely escort pulled her tattered feather cape closer and motioned for him to hurry when he slowed to take in the ruin of his beloved city. It took every ounce of resolve he could muster not to run down the winding streets to his own house and see what had become of it.

Barthig led him straight to the Molwoddy house, passing by the portico of Lugh’s ostentatious dwelling in the center of town. Dead leaves fluttered on the wide steps and a cat lay curled in the Dagda’s throne. The mayor’s house was just across the street from Lugh’s palace. Old Molwoddy was on the porch, idly sitting in a rocking chair, tapping his toe with an ornately carved and painted walking stick.

“Father!” Barthig stopped in front of him and he looked at her in consternation. “We have a visitor, and there is no tea to offer. What shall I do with him?”

“A visitor?” The Mayor leaned around his plucky daughter to look at Selwig.

“Yes, Your Honor, sir…” Selwig nodded and smiled at him. “I am called Selwig. I once lived here and worked for the Dagda.”

“Selwig? Selwig, hmmmm.” The Mayor scratched his head thoughtfully. He had long red curls and large brown eyes. “I have heard of a Selwig. Once a great and eligible healer in the Dagda’s service and later declared a traitor and a leper and then hailed as a great hero by the Tuathan gentry, exiled forever to wander the lands of men, saving the Tuathans from disasters and contamination. I should think that one should make up one’s mind what one wants to be.” The old man waved his hand in dismissal and raised one doubtful eyebrow at the healer. “What can I do for you, Selwig?”

“Your city is dying, sir,” Selwig sat down on a footstool near the Mayor’s feet. His shoes had holes in the bottom. “Where is everyone? What happened? There was a great darkness… an evil darkness… in the forest. What was it? Where is the Dagda? Where is King Corrigan?”

“The King has not been on his throne in ages and ages past. They say he has turned against us and lives now with his mother in the world of men. The Dagda was taken away by an angel.”

“An angel?” Selwig’s face lit up. He knew all about angels. Vanni had taught him, and Sophia had also told him of angels. And he had learned much from Armand de Bleu and his nephew and everyone else. The mighty Djinni had told wondrous tales of angels, and he had seen them warring with the evil ones. Flying on great winged horses and riding magnificent beasts to war. Lord Lucifer. Lord Nanna. And others.

“Yes, yes,” the Mayor sighed heavily and turned to his daughter, who still stood waiting near the bright red doorframe. “Go and fetch us a bit of wine, Daughter. Yes, an angel. He was tall and strong and his robes shone with the light of the sun at midday. He came one morning and spoke with Lord Lugh. That evening Lugh told us that he would be leaving us. He recommended that we seek out King Corrigan’s kingdom and go to live there with the others, but when we sought the King’s company, he was not at home and, in fact, his people were seeking us for advice. Alas, we could give them none and sent them away. We have come to ruin at last.”

“Nonsense,” Selwig frowned. “You are the Mayor. You are the
leader
. You must lead. You must tell the people what to do.”

“I am too old.” Molwoddy shook his head sadly. “It is too late.”

“It is never too late!” Selwig stood up and then sat back down quickly as Barthig brought him a bottle of wine. She handed another to her father.

“Sorry,” she said. “All the cups are dirty and the maid’s run off with the gardener.”

“Thank you,” Selwig nodded and pulled the cork with his perfect teeth. He turned up the wine and offered her the bottle. To his surprise, she took the bottle and drank deeply from it before handing it back. “We must call a town meeting. Gather the people. Form a plan. We cannot simply give up and… and… and… well, you must tell your people to go back to work. Tell the farmers to farm their fields and harvest their crops, the shepherds to shepherd their flocks and shear the wool. You must tell the spinners to spin and the cheese makers to… to cheese and the cooks to cook and so on and so forth.”

“A town meeting!” The Mayor spit his cork on the porch and took a long swallow. “Now
that
is a good idea. I wonder why I didn’t think of it.”

“We need to announce a meeting as soon as possible,” Selwig encouraged him. “We can make a list of all the people and their jobs and make sure that they understand that they have to go back to work.”

“But the Boggans… they are awful,” Barthig told him. “They come and steal our vegetables and our sheep.”

“Then we must rally our soldiers, appoint some new captains.” Selwig looked from father to daughter. “Are there many soldiers left in the city?”

“Yes, yes. Soldiers. Soldiers make good police. You know I just spoke to five of them earlier. They say the plague of darkness has lifted just as you say. But they say that the Boggans are prowling the forest with sticks and clubs. We need to police the forest and drive these beasts out of our kingdom. You are very wise, Selwig,” Molwoddy stood up. “Barthig, go down to the square and announce the meeting. We will meet on the palace steps after supper. Then get back here and cook supper for us.”

“Father, father,” Barthig shook her head sadly. “You know that I don’t cook. I don’t know how to cook. I shall take some gold and buy our supper as usual from the fisherman’s wife. Soon she will be rich, and we will be fishing for a living. Shall I bring supper for Selwig?” She cast a shy look at the healer and he looked down at his hands.