The Wayward Godking (6 page)

“Allow me to draw nigh unto him and learn what his condition is, Your Highness.” Lucifer disengaged her arm from his and moved away toward the table. Within seconds, he had planted himself on the table behind the elf. Ereshkigal watched until Lucifer captured the elf king’s attention, and then turned her own attention to her newest arrivals. Two more unexpected guests. Armand de Bleu who was actually very distantly related due to his kinship to Lavon de Bleu, who had been briefly married to her daughter Oriel, which would make him her ex-uncle-in-law.

She made a bee-line directly for the golden-skinned former-Knight, who was sitting on one end of the long table under the pavilion, drinking ale from a pewter tankard while talking with Christopher and Paddy. They fell silent as the Queen drew near, but she paid no attention.

“Armand de Bleu! What a surprise.” She sat down next to him and leaned against the table. “You are looking wonderfully well. How are things in old castle Ramsay?”

The Knight-turned-elf looked at her suspiciously and then drew a deep breath.

“Things are going quite well,” he told her. “We have just brought in a new season’s wool harvest and the shepherds report an unusually high number of new lambs. Next year’s crop should be even better. The dairies are flourishing, and this year’s cream is sweeter and thicker than last year’s. Even the apiaries report record harvests. We should be able to trade the honey down south for enough wine to last for a while and bit. I have filled four hundred orders for household items from the Tuatha de Danann and have two hundred and thirty-seven more unfinished projects. Enough to keep me busy for an age or two. How are things in the Fifth Gate?”

Ereshkigal nodded her head slowly with her mouth slightly agape. She’d not expected such a detailed answer.

“Oh, so-so,” she answered after a bit. “Do you still keep in touch with Lavon, my former son-in-law? He’s a lovely lad, simply lovely. And intelligent, I hear.”

“Lavon is quite intelligent, yes,” Armand agreed. “He is a marvel with electronic gizmos. Not exactly my cup of tea. I rather prefer the pastoral life. Farmlands, vineyards, fields and fen. That sort of thing.”

“I see.” the Queen smiled. “Welcome to the Fifth Gate, at any rate. I hope you enjoy your stay. The festivities will be getting underway shortly. In the meantime, my daughter, Oriel, and my son, Konrad, should see to your needs quite readily. They are darling children.”

“Of course, they are.” Armand returned her smile and, when she was gone, he downed the rest of his drink. Paddy refilled it for him.

“Dunna let ’er se ye sweat. She’s on ’er best be’avior.” Paddy called for more ale and his cousin Seamus went to fetch it for them. The Templar Knights finally finished their prayers and joined them at the end of the table, ready to raise a cup or two in honor of the infant king. “’ow air th’ boys? Torrie, Renn and Gil?”

“They are spending the summer with the brown men. Learning to be shepherds. I think a well-rounded education would be best for them.” Armand eyed the five Knights, who were speaking together quietly in French, while one of the Boggans filled their tankards.

“Well, thot’s gud t’ ’ear, but I ’ope ye came prepared t’ stay fur awhoile and a bit,” Paddy told him. “We’ve oll come, but none have gone, other than th’ gud Laird Nergal and ’is companion, Marduk.”

“You mean we are trapped here?” Armand’s eyes widened. He looked at Christopher Stewart in surprise for confirmation.

“It would seem so,” Christopher whispered over the rim of his beer. “Ashmodel has been trying to get Leviathan to wake up, but it appears our ship has gone to sleep and none can rouse him.”

“But Sir Ramsay is not here,” Armand answered him in a desperate whisper. “We can’t stay here to entertain the queen. Surely Ashmodel and Lucifer can do something.”

“I think that we’ve come as far as we can…” Christopher hushed as the Queen walked back by them with Menaka in tow.

“Ahhh, did I introduce ye t’ th’ Berts?” Paddy took over quickly when Ereshkigal cast a suspicious glance at them.

“The Berts?” Armand raised both eyebrows.

“Yes, the Berts,” Michael said as he sat down next to him. “They are quite entertaining.”

Paddy smiled and nodded to the Templars, who raised their tankards in a toast toward them.

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

The General rushed down the hall of the Djinni’s palace in search of his unlikely host. The Djinni was in his lab in the lower portion of the structure according to his daughter. The stairs, crossed, crisscrossed and wound their way down and down into the belly of the marble beast. Ernst trotted across narrow bridges built over fanciful grottoes and chasms filled with wondrous sights, but he was not interested in the scenery, he was almost positive they had a much bigger problem. Only the Djinni’s daughter had condescended to answer him when he’d asked about Lemarik’s whereabouts, but then the girl was precocious and fearless, apparently having led a very sheltered life… so far.

He came upon the elaborate door to the Djinni’s laboratory and stopped. A large brass knocker shaped like a porpoise was mounted in the center of the door. The General used it to rap three times as the daughter had instructed him.

Lemarik answered the door promptly enough, but Schweikert was shocked to see him dressed in a rubber chemical apron, elbow length gloves, rubber boots, goggles, welding helmet and ear protectors carrying a huge pair of red-hot tongs in one hand.

The Djinni pushed up the ear protectors on his helmet, pulled down the goggles and looked at him expectantly.

“Sir!” Schweikert was almost out of breath. “I am not sure, but I think I saw your son and your daughter… you eldest daughter, take a plunge off the roof.”

“A plunge?” Lemarik frowned in confusion.

“In the storm, Your Grace,” Schweikert continued. “I was watching the storm from my balcony, and I saw two people who looked very much like them, fall from above into the sea. I’m quite sure it was Omar and his sister, Madame Dunya.”

Lemarik pulled off his gloves, shoved his tongs into a bucket of water and then his helmet while his face underwent a remarkable number of expressions in rapid succession. The Djinni suddenly flashed into motion and became nothing but a blur for several seconds. Schweikert did his best to follow him around the lab and watched as the Djinni rushed about the lab, gathering all sorts of instruments, tools and gadgets from the counters and floors. He had apparently been working on his transmigrator.

Ernst wandered about the lab, looking at the miraculous things on the shelves and tables, some of which were alive.

“He has gone after her,” Lemarik spoke more to himself than Schweikert when he slowed down.

“Who?” The General asked.

“Huber, the Queen Mother.”

“Ahhh. Why… why would he do that?”

“Because he believes she is his fault.” The Djinni opened a cedar chest under the counter and pulled out a heavy silken robe, dark purple in color. He held it up and shook it vigorously.

“How could she be his fault?” Ernst asked. “Why would he fling himself and his sister off the roof? I thought it more likely he was committing suicide, and she was trying to save him.”

“She is not his fault. He probably jumped off the roof into the sea in order to find passage to the Gates, and he knows very well he cannot commit suicide by drowning,” the Djinni explained while he pulled on the purple robe.

“Wait!” Ernst crossed the room and stopped in front of him. “Are you going to the Seventh Gate?”

“Why would you think I’m going to the Seventh Gate?” Lemarik narrowed his eyes sharply.

“I heard the angels talking about the Seventh Gate.” Schweikert shrugged. “They left and took Armand de Bleu with them.”

“Why did you not tell me this?” The Djinni took hold of his collar.

“It never crossed my mind you didn’t know.” The General was terrified. Lemarik could easily rip him to pieces.

“I…” Lemarik began and then dropped him roughly. “I thought we were all trapped here.”

“The angels did not share your pessimism, sir,” Ernst said as he straightened his collar indignantly. “They left in the beast.”

“Ahhh, ooooh. The Behemoth. Of course, they went cross country.”

“Cross country?”

“They went by conventional means.” Lemarik gathered a few small items from one of the cabinets and stuffed them in his pockets.

“Conventional means, hmmmp!” Ernst started to turn away and then spun around. “Are you going after them?”

“I must,” Lemarik told him tersely. He pulled the robe close about his legs and looked down. He wore golden slippers with curled toes, baggy silver trousers and a loose vest under the robe. “Hmmm. A change of clothes might be in order.”

Ernst watched in fascination as the Djinni spun once and then stopped. He opened the robe and inspected himself. He now wore a white shirt embroidered with red birds, long, puffy sleeves and a ruffled collar under a fitted waistcoat of gold brocade over tight black riding pants tucked into the tops of dark brown, side-buckled knee boots. A set of silver spurs jingled on his heels.

“Nice,” Ernst commented. “Costume party?”

“The Italian’s favorite riding outfit… give or take a stitch or two,” he said.

“Aren’t you concerned that your son and daughter might be killed on the rocks?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lemarik took a deep breath and prepared to take his leave. He held out his arms, but Schweikert grabbed hold of him.

“Take me with you,” the General pleaded. “I can’t stay here. Too many people have grudges against me. Your nephew, Jozsef, will kill me the first chance he gets. Even Semiramis has something against me. I believe your granddaughter… what is her name, Anna? She might murder me, herself. I’m afraid I’m in a very bad position here without Omar to protect me. If you leave, I’ll have
no
protection. I’ll be at the mercy of these people. What of John Paul, the Prophet? I know of him. I thought he was dead.”

“Of course not,” Lemarik said, but lowered his arms and placed one long finger under his chin looking first in one eye and then the other as the general stared at him in obvious terror. “I suppose you are right. I will have to take you with me.”

Before the General could make a move, Lemarik had scooped him into the robe, swirled about and left the lab by
un
conventional means.

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

Luke Andrew sat on a stone bench in the confines of the small cavern, which had turned into his own personal version of hell. How he had come to this sorry pass, he had no idea. First, he’d found himself on trial by the local natives for witchcraft, condemned to death, and then strapped to a stake for char-broiling. From that unthinkable fate he had been miraculously saved by Luke Matthew, who had appeared from nowhere. Then he’d been covered in spider webs and, again, set afire by what, he could only guess must have been the good Queen Mother, Huber, herself. And from that hopeless situation, he had been miraculously saved yet again by his father, who had apparently sacrificed himself for his freedom.

All of that had brought them to this new crisis wherein he’d had to listen to an incredible list of criminal charges levied against him by this automaton from the dark ages. His first impulse had been to simply walk out, but that idea had been crushed by the presence of the judge’s henchmen. A growing number of shadowy creatures, somewhat human in form, with long, curved blades on the end of equally long staffs were gathering outside the mouth of the cavern. He’d been soundly slapped on the back of the head and seated quite roughly three times before resigning himself to his fate… at least temporarily. The guttering torches on either side of the judge’s bench had raised the temperature inside the cave considerably and lessened the amount of breathable air to ‘just barely tolerable’, as Luke Matthew had complained earlier.

The King’s complaint had fallen on deaf ears. When he’d pushed the point, Lord Kinmalla had pointed out that none of them actually needed air to live. Apparently, the good Lord did not recognize Lily Ramsay as a living human being or else did not care that she might be one. Of course, Luke was not quite sure whether Lily was really alive or dead. He leaned his chin in his hand and closed his eyes. His mother sat stiffly by his side, staring into space with a blank look on her face. The judge had already pronounced judgment on Lord Nanna, which meant relatively nothing to Luke Andrew. He could not begin to think of his mother and Lord Nanna as one and the same. It was simply beyond his grasp.

Now he was waiting for the judge to return with his own sentence for the crimes of which he had been pronounced guilty. Murder, kidnapping, waging war with men and faery creatures without a proper permit, interfering in the affairs of humanity without proper authority, instigating wars, riots and insurrections without proper authority. These were the major crimes of which he had been accused. There had been a number of lesser ones, too numerous to remember. Disrespecting the rank of his own father had been among them, attempted matricide another. He had been appalled. He could connect most of them with actual events in his life, but he’d never thought of them as crimes at the time. In fact, he’d thought himself quite reformed and cleared of his early miscreant behaviors by his later sufferings. But this was not the case. He would receive a lesser sentence than his mother, no doubt, but what it might be, he had no idea and really did not want to know.