The Wayward Godking (7 page)

His head drooped as the heat caused him to doze, and he found himself in the desert, just after sunset with Omar, the Prophet. They were sitting in the tall director chairs Omar had particularly preferred in front of the Prophet’s purple and white tents, watching the moon rise over the purple horizon. A billion stars littered the dark sky over their heads and a dying cloud of dust showed where the General’s convoy had only just disappeared beyond the hills.

“I’m glad you are here with me to see this.” Omar turned a whimsical smile on him. “I could not have done it without your help, Uncle.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Luke said, but smiled in return. “You will give me a big head.”

“You know I love you like a brother, Luke.” Omar paid no attention to Luke’s attempt to brush him off. “You are the only one who understands me.”

Luke nodded, but did not meet the Prophet’s eyes. He didn’t understand Omar Kadif. No one could understand the Prophet, least of all the son of Mark and Meredith Ramsay, both of whom did not even understand their son, what he was or where he had come from. He didn’t understand why his own father had so little regard for him when Omar’s father doted on him shamelessly, to no avail. Omar shunned the attentions lavished on him by the Djinni and sought the company of the outcast Ramsay son. Why? It didn’t make sense. Omar could have had everything, anything. Lemarik would have given him the world with the snap of his fingers, but Omar wanted to change the world, be a healer, a Prophet, a Holy Man. For what? For who? Who could really appreciate Omar for what he was? Omar was a saint, a sage, a god… a benevolent god, who would heal the sick, raise the dead, change water to wine, feed the hungry, clothe the poor, uplift the downtrodden. Luke looked up at the great swath of the Milky Way spread across the sky, calling to him with cool starlight and dark velvet spaces, beckoning him to come away, leave this place, come home, come home…

“Luke?” Omar’s voice cut through his thoughts and he felt cold water soaking his trousers. He jerked his head up and stared at the distraught face of the Prophet in the reddish glow of the torch light. Omar was dripping wet, shirtless, bootless and in his arms was the limp form of Dunya Kadif. Her head was thrown back and her face was pale and lifeless, water dripping from her hair onto his lap. “Luke, help me with her.”

Luke jumped up from the bench and took Dunya from him as the others crowded around him, asking questions. Lily’s questions were loudest, demanding to know who these persons were, who had suddenly appeared from nowhere in their midst. Luke Matthew helped Omar to his feet and looked him over cautiously, trying to decide if he was real or yet another illusion.

His skin was blue from lack of oxygen and he was shivering uncontrollably in the heat. The numerous, colorful tattoos that Sabaoth, the Ancient Evil, had decorated Jozsef Daniel’s body with stood out starkly in the torch light. Birds, scrolling vines and exotic flowers from the tropical jungles of Haiti covered his chest and stomach, while a crouching jaguar coiled, ready to spring from his shoulder. More designs trailed away down his back, too numerous to count.

“Where have you been? Where did you come from?” Luke Andrew asked as he ripped off his own light jacket and draped it over Omar’s shoulders.

“I… we were on the roof,” Omar stammered and looked up at his uncles in bewilderment. “I was going to jump into the sea. I wanted to get to the Seventh Gate and Dunya tried to stop me. Then something happened. We fell. Together.”

Meredith, Merry and Lily were fussing over Dunya, whom they had laid out on the front bench. Lily had covered her with her woolen shawl and was rubbing her hands, while Merry looked her over for injuries. Meredith was trying to revive her.

“Dunya?” Meredith spoke close to her ear. “Can you hear me? Wake up, Dunya!” Meredith slapped her cold cheeks lightly and the smaller woman coughed up a mouthful of salt water.

“Why, the lassie looks drowned!” Lily commented and stood up, drawing back from them. “What is happening here?”

Meredith still experienced emotional difficulty each time she came into contact with Dunya. No matter what the personality, patriarchal or matriarchal differences, Dunya still looked exactly like a young Cecile Valentino, and Meredith had no desire to remember her. Merry Ramsay, on the other hand, had an entirely different set of memories concerning Cecile. The situation was growing more and more untenable.

Merry knelt beside her and took her face between her hands.

“Are you all right?” She asked.

Dunya blinked at them and spit up more water, coughing and choking as they helped her to sit up. She had no lasting or significant memories of either of them other than the short time she had spent with Meredith and Mark Andrew as a small girl.

“Excuse me,” she said and pressed her hand over her mouth. “I am so sorry. Where is my brother? What happened to Omar?”

When Omar heard her voice, he was beside her in an instant, leaving Luke Andrew to his questions.

He wrapped her in his arms and held her very tight, whispering in her ear that everything would be all right.

“A word with you, please,” Luke Matthew took his nephew’s arm and escorted him outside the cavern. They could go outside the cave’s mouth, but only Marduk was allowed to wander further abroad. The Lord of the Sixth Gate was nowhere to be seen.

“What do you make of it?” The King asked him in a low voice. “Did you see where he came from?”

“No, I was sleeping,” Luke Andrew answered and shook his head. “It was so strange. I was dreaming about him and then he spoke to me and there he was. Just like that.”

“Just like that,” Luke Matthew repeated and nodded. “I believe you might have struck on something.”

“What?”

“Whoever is orchestrating this fiasco is controlling it through our subconscious minds,” the King said quietly. “I would be willing to bet someone dreamed Meredith here. Most likely I got here the same way.”

Luke nodded vigorously. “Ahhh! Yes! I remember my father speaking of you shortly before we were overcome by those idiots with the dunking seats. He said something about dreaming of you. And I happen to know he has always been plagued with dreams of mother.”

“But who? Who is controlling this and how?” Luke Matthew paced the ground in front of the cavern. He still wore two swords. His own silver broadsword and Mark’s twisted golden blade. Well armed, but unable to make the slightest move under the baleful eyes of the judge’s watchdogs. The shadowy entities followed along beside him, keeping well out of the light, but scrutinizing their every move.

“I have no idea,” Luke Andrew sighed. “But it won’t matter before long. Mother and I will be joining dear old Marduk for a long stay in the Abysmal pokey.”

“I don’t think it will come to that,” Luke Matthew told him, but there was no confidence in his voice.

“We’ll just have to wait longer now.” Luke picked up a rock and threw it into the night causing two of their guardians to glide away on a quick inspection of the projectile. “I’m sure his hiney, Lord Marshmalla, will have a list of charges for Omar as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the banging of the gavel from within.

“Oh, here we go,” Luke Andrew said with mock cheer as he headed back inside the cave. Luke Matthew waited for Marduk, who had come running from the darkness at the last moment.

The Lord of the Sixth Gate stopped next to him and arranged his robes before stepping inside the cave. The Prophet and his sister were still sitting on the front row. The others had taken their seats and were squirming under the stern glare of the judge, who had noticed, quite predictably, his two new ‘victims’. Dunya was hiding her face against Omar’s chest and the Prophet was staring back at the judge in dismay.

Marduk sat down next to him.

“Lord Kinmalla,” Marduk addressed the judge. “Might I take a moment to inform our latest guest of the arrangements? He may be a bit confused… as are we all.”

“I will pronounce my judgment on the young Adarluke, and then you may take a recess of five glimmers,” the judge answered. “The accused will stand.”

Luke Andrew stood slowly and put his hands behind his back.

“Adarluke, son of Adar Ninnib, son of Anu, you have been found guilty of the crimes of which you stand accused. You are hereby sentenced to sixty-seven circuits in chains on the surface of your father’s planet, Saturn.”

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoooaaa!” Luke held up both hands. “I thought Saturn had no surface. Isn’t it a gas giant?” He looked about at the people gathered in the room. “And what is a circuit?”

“The prisoner will refrain from rude and uninvited outbursts!” The judge’s ‘bailiff’ ordered, and Luke fell silent.

“I will use two glimmers to explain.” The judge laid aside his gavel and clasped his hands together in front of him and leaned forward. “A circuit is the length of time required for the planet to circumnavigate the sun. This planet circumnavigates the sun twenty-nine and one half times for each circumnavigation of Saturn. The surface of Saturn is a transitional portion of the planet wherein the structure of the layers proceed from gaseous to liquid to solid states. You may compare it to a sphere in which the outer portion is water vapor or steam. As you travel into the sphere, you encounter fog or mist and then liquids of various ilks.” The judge used his large hands and long fingers to illustrate his descriptions. “Deeper still, you may find colder and thicker liquids until at last the liquid elements have become crystallized, that is to say, frozen and thereby solid. However, Saturn is far from frozen. In fact, the internal temperature of the planet of your father holds at 12,000 degrees Kelvin by modern
human
scientific calculations. And the liquid is not water or any other liquid found in abundance on this planet, but rather a metal made of what you would call hydrogen.”

“Thank you, Your Grace for your explanation,” Luke said sarcastically.

“You are quite welcome, son of Adar, son of Anu.” The Lord Kinmalla stood up and banged his gavel on the stone. “Court is adjourned for five glimmers.”

Omar was on his feet before the judge was completely out of sight.

“I must get to the Seventh Gate,” he announced. “Huber has taken up residence in my grandfather’s home. I must drive her out and destroy her before she returns to the overworld and begins her reign of terror anew. Luke, my uncle,” he looked directly at Luke Andrew. “I have always trusted you. I will leave my sister in your care until I return.”

“You are already in the Seventh Gate, Omar,” Meredith told him quietly. “We are trapped here.”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Luke Andrew frowned at him. “I’ve just been condemned to 1,976 years on the surface of Saturn. I won’t be able to look after Dunya for you. Sorry.”

“Oh, Luke!” Merry Ramsay clutched her husband’s arm. “I want to go home. I want to see Michael and Galen. I want to know they are safe. I hate this place.” She began to weep and Luke Matthew held her close, patting her head. He could do nothing.

“I’m leaving!” Lily told them all. “I don’t know what all of this is about, but I won’t stand for another minute of it. I’m going to find John, and then we’ll see about this… this… judge, or whatever he is. If you aren’t coming with me, Luke Matthew Ramsay, then get out of my way!”

“Mother, please…” Luke Matthew tried to catch her when she snatched her shawl away from Dunya, and gave her a disdainful look.

“Go with her,” Luke Andrew spoke up quickly. “Go!” He shoved Luke Matthew after the woman. “Take Merry and go. This guy doesn’t want you. You’re not a Nephilix or whatever.”

Luke Matthew glanced around the cavern, and then took Merry’s hand.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “We’ll try to find, Mark Andrew. See what happened.”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Marduk spoke up from where he now sat on the rear bench. “Huber has completely taken the house. I do not believe that
your
Mark Andrew is in the Seventh Gate any longer.”

“Forget it then. Just take Merry and go… anywhere.” Luke Andrew pushed them toward the mouth of the cave. “It’s better than waiting around here.”

“Yes, you must go, Luke,” Meredith put in her opinion. “You can find your way out.”

Luke Matthew cast one glance back at them, and then pulled Merry after them into the darkness.

“Do you still remember the way out of here?” He asked Merry, when they were clear of the cavern.

“Unless something drastic has changed, yes,” she nodded.

“Mother!” Luke shouted and ran after Lily. “Mother, wait! I think I might be able to find Mark or John for you.”

Lily stopped and came back toward them.

“It’s aboot toime ye got off yur lard arse and did something, laddie,” she scolded him when she drew near, reminding him of his brother.

Chapter Three of Twelve

And from the wicked their light is withholden,

and the high arm shall be broken

“Kinmalla!” Mark gasped and jerked his head back from the periphery of the stone’s influence as if he thought he might have been seen.

“Who?” Simon asked and leaned over the crystal only to have Mark yank him back and throw him on the floor in the process. “Good grief!” Simon complained as he climbed to his feet, brushing the dust from his trousers.