The Centaur (48 page)

“What lovely pictures your words paint, O great terror of the Abyss. Even thy ugliness is a beauty to those who may see its splendor. Surely, such a one as yourself does not exist in solitude, great and powerful keeper of the Key of Death, surely thou hast someone of
thine own kind to ease thy suffering.” The form shifted somewhat, but came no closer.

“Alas there was someone, but time has separated us as surely as the sun is separated from the moon. The sun shines upon the moon and she reflects his glory in radiant softness, yet he cannot come nigh to her else his passion would turn her to cinders. That is what my love is like, fair one. My passion burns for my love like the stars burn in their orbits, seeking the cool luminosity of the countless moons in the darkness of never-ending space. My love hides from me for I am death to her. She cannot look upon me lest her eyes be blinded by my sins. I am cast aside. She does not know how my love is eternal and my sorrow at her absence tears my heart, and I am lost without her. Into my arms would I enfold her, and we should be joined together forever. I would enclose her in myself and together we would become whole. Light and dark, hot and cold, dry and moist. She, like quicksilver and I, like molten gold, melded together as one unspeakable glory. None would dare look upon us. None could come near to us and never would we be split asunder again.”

“These are strange words of love from the Angel of the Bottomless Pit. Do you profess to love this fair one who hides her face from you? What is it you have done which would make her hide from you, O great Abaddon?”

The dark angel shifted his position slightly and strained to see the source of this cool, refreshing voice urging him on to express what he had never expressed nor admitted before, but he could see only her shape through the water.

“I have wasted my days in wrath. Carrying out the base crimes as my Masters would direct me. I have gloried in destruction, gloated in war and laid waste to innocent souls. I do not know if my crimes are forgiven for I have suffered mightily in this short space. I believe it is not enough. Now, I must be devoured by the beast that entraps me in this grotto. Pray tell me, how comest such a fair one as thee to such a place as this?”

Her laughter sent a mist over him and he shuddered under the cooling effect of the water on his skin.

“I come here of my own volition, great Lord. I do not fear this beast you speak of. This place is most secret and unknown to those who wander the upper reaches. The last retreat of the wonders of what was once called Uruk by men. I, like you, have lost my way. I, like you, have suffered the loss of my own true love. Once we dwelt in these regions together, before men polluted the river. I begged my love not to leave me, but he went out to face the hordes which threatened our land. Even now the river has abandoned my great city. A desert stretches in all directions save for this wondrous anomaly. These waters once fed gardens alongside canals in front of palaces of splendid glory. Fruit trees laden with luscious lemons, pomegranates, apples and pears abounded on terraces and there intertwined with flowering vines of surpassing beauty. My vineyards produced the fattest grapes and my table offered the sweetest wine. My people lived in comfort and safety under my love’s watchful eye, and they worshipped their Queen, the Mother of Life, whom they honored for having made them a paradise in the midst of the desert wastelands. O yes, great Lord of Darkness, I, too, have known the pain of lost love.”

“Your lover was a fool!” Abaddon leaned back against the smooth surface of the rock wall behind him.  “Would that I could return to my love’s arms. She, like you, was a great Queen, and I content to live in her shadow and serve her needs, protecting her people from the outsiders. And I, like your love, wandered away and left her weeping.” He beat his chest and wailed in pain at the memory before continuing. His voice had grown hoarse from his cries.

“She, like you, begged me to remain with her, but the world was changing and men were no longer content to worship their own gods in their own lands. They were moving and spreading, warring with each other and their gods were at odds with one another. No one lived in peace. A peace dearly won by the shining ones in ages past. A glorious conflict in which I, Abaddon-Apollyon, had played a great role. The mountains quaked before me, and the hills shook when I spoke. The earth was laid waste where I wandered, and all the world despaired to look upon me, but then had come the first great sleep and the meddlings of strange ones. We were separated and found lacking and so we clung together and made a great nation of the men who would cherish my Queen. But, I, the fool, chose to leave her… it was only for a while, I said. Only for a short time, I told her. Only to see what things had come to pass in the mountains of the east, I explained. O, Great Fool Abaddon!” He fell silent again and the tinkling of the water sounded of glass chimes.

“The world has changed yet again, Great Lord, and much that was is lost. Now is the time to rebuild. Men are scattered and those who are left are at odds. They will abandon this land, and then I will rebuild my city, though I will not be Queen. I will be a benevolent mother, a teacher and a healer. I will draw the nomadic peoples to me and give them a safe haven in their wanderings. The gentle desert folk who preach of the omnipotence of the One God, the Creator, the Father. I will build an oasis with a sparkling pool to reflect His Glory: the skies of blue, the green fronds of the date palm, the endless sands of the desert. My people will return to me in praise of His Glory, not mine and I will honor him by remaining in simple awe of His Majesty. The stars of the heavens, the sun at dawn and the moonrise above the hills shout of His power. He needs no gold, nor does He need silver, for all these things are His and are only for us to admire.” Her tone had changed yet again and she was dreaming.

“Tell me, lovely specter, who has taught you of the Great Lord?”

“I have learned of Him from the Shining One. A teacher of days
far older than time. And yet, even he is small in comparison to our Lord. My teacher taught me of love and of life and of giving for the sake of giving. I was once selfish and vain, proud and arrogant, and I thought I was wise, but my love for my teacher brought a new dimension to love.”

“Ahhh, then you were unfaithful to your true love?”

“After years of sorrow, it was easy to love the Teacher. He returned my love, but I wanted to possess him and in so doing, I drove him from me.”

“Then he no longer visits thee?”

“Time and time again, I have seen him, and he speaks to me gently in dreams, but he is beyond my spells.”

“Then you are a sorceress?” Abaddon’s interest was keenly piqued. A sorceress might be able to help him escape.

“No, I am no sorceress,” she answered sadly. “Would that I could cast a spell of love on the Teacher and cause him to love only me, and perhaps, then, I could forget my true love.”

“Would you not welcome your true love with open arms if he were to come to you? Is there no hope? In finding hope in your answer, I may find hope in my own plight. If I can escape the dragon, I may find my love, and throw myself at her feet. Please tell, wonderful apparition, what are your words?”

“I do not know the answer. Of course, I would welcome my love and allow him to speak. My actions would depend upon his words. You must tell me your words. What would you say to your lost love should you find her again? Try them on my ears and allow me to consider them. It would be an honor and a privilege to listen.”

“You are most wise and surely you must have been a great Queen,” Abaddon said in spite of his dangerous predicament and the pain in his legs. “I can only express my gratitude for your company.”

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The deserted landscape stretched to the horizon with only a low mountain range that looked more like rounded, scraggly hills. These retreated on the horizon, leaving the armies with the distinct impression they had no hope of ever reaching anything remotely resembling civilization. Alexander Corrigan and his Captains had taken the lead, while the Templars fell back to rear guard positions. The three ‘armies’ as they called themselves, took turn taking point, center and rear positions to break the monotony and to share the dust-eating position at the rear. The Tuathans fared no better than the Teutonic troops under de Goth’s command, and they suffered miserably in the dry land. Nothing had turned out as they expected. Their clothes, their weapons, the horses, everything… seemed to be one uniform color, coated by the dust that had replaced the mud under the sun’s unforgiving rays. It was winter in
the Northern Hemisphere, but the dry atmosphere and the blowing winds parched them, and d’Brouchart was hard-pressed to find enough water to keep them going. Every day, he searched the land in the company of his grandsons for new sources of water hidden under rocks or just under the surface of dry streambeds. What little food they had carried from the ark soon vanished, and they were all hungry.

“How long has it been?” Simon shaded his eyes against the
westering sun and then frowned at Konrad who dozed in the saddle next to him. The Apocalyptic Knight raised his own dark eyes to the steel gray sky and then counted off the days on his fingers.

“Four days,” he said without emotion.

“Four days?
Sacre bleu!
It seems like four weeks,” Simon shook his head and dust flew out from his long, formerly blonde hair. “It cannot be. Surely we are under some enchantment. I have counted eight sunrises.”

“Not possible,” Christopher Stewart told him from his right. “You are both wrong. Six days since we left the boat.”

“Six, smix!” Lavon protested. “I have made a mark on my saddle for every day. See here?” He fell back and then nosed his way between Christopher and Simon. The Healer leaned over to peruse the tiny cuts in the leather.

“Five,” Simon nodded shortly and then stared straight ahead.

“What do you make of it, Brother?” Konrad looked at the Healer from the corner of his eye. He was too weary to turn his head. He wanted only a bath and bed. Even food had lost its appeal.

“Enchantment,” Simon whispered the word as Lavon fell back again and resumed his place directly behind Christopher. “I am sure of it. I have felt very peculiar for quite some time. It is as if we ride and ride and we get
no where. I have watched the rocks and the wadis as we pass. They change. We are not going in circles, but we are not going anywhere. It is devilry. I feel it.”

“
And your children shall wander in the wilderness forty years, and bear your whoredoms, until your carcases be wasted in the wilderness. After the number of the days in which ye searched the land, even forty days, each day for a year, shall ye bear your iniquities, even forty years, and ye shall know my breach of promise. I the Lord have said, I will surely do it unto all this evil congregation, that are gathered together against me: in this wilderness they shall be consumed, and there they shall die.
Perhaps we have angered someone. I believe you may be right,” Konrad rose up straighter and dusted his sleeves, before wiping one of them across his face. It did not help. “We should consult your father.”

Konrad yanked on the reins of his horse and spurred it into begrudged action. The horse, reared slightly and turned, heading off to the northwest in the direction they had last seen Edgard, Philip and Izzy looking for water and anything remotely resembling food.

The Knight of the Apocalypse called over his shoulder to his grandson, Apolonio, to follow him and the apprentice kicked his horse less enthusiastically. At least something was happening. Apolonio was so very tired of the campaign, he thought even a cozy fire with Michey would be preferable to the endless terrain. Absence certainly made the heart grow fonder.

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

“So!” Ereshkigal said the one small word with great satisfaction. “It was empty! All this time… all this trouble and it was empty.” She threw back her head and laughed. Her laughter echoed through the vast caverns of the Fifth Gate.

Marduk spun on Nergal and the Lord of the Fifth Gate held up one hand to stop him.

“I do not laugh at you, my friend.” Nergal took a step back. “I will not be held responsible for Reshki. She is her own mistress.”

“And well you should say so.” Ereshkigal closed the gap between them and took his arm. “I do so like this form much better, my Lord.” She laid her head on his shoulder and watched Marduk from contemptuous yellow eyes.

“You may not think it so funny when things go awry,” Marduk said as he felt inside the golden box to make sure the emptiness was not an illusion. “I believe someone has opened it before we retrieved it.” He checked the broken seal and lock on the front of the Ark. It had not been easy to get into the thing without the proper key, but the Golden Key was far away. Far away and would not be given up easily.

“Who? Who would dare do such a thing?” The Queen asked him. “It is death to all who touch it. The angel Lucifer told me the Templars tossed it into the pit. Even they were afraid to open it. If Lord Adar was afraid of it, then I hardly think anyone else might have been successful at it. Perhaps it broke open in the fall.”

“That is surely a possibility,” Nergal agreed and jumped as Marduk slammed the lid on the golden treasure.