The Dove (31 page)

Galen tossed his head at the slight insult from Lucifer and then smiled.

“Don’t listen to him Father; I still have a few good years left in me.”  Galen leaned to whisper in Lucio’s ear.

“What do you intend to do about Jozsef Daniel?”  Lucio asked him point blank, unwilling to acknowledge the friendship between this creature and the son he had lost.

“We have wrought great havoc upon him and his trip thus far has not been an easy journey.  But now he has the little ones cornered like rats in a burrow.”

“Who is up there? Tell me!”  Lucio demanded to know.  Lucifer referred to everyone who was not an angel as ‘little ones’.

Lucifer cocked his head to one side and regarded the Italian closely.  The look of amusement in his clear blue eyes continued to infuriate Lucio.

He held up his hand and his golden ring flashed in the sunlight.  He took on a look of feigned concentration and ticked off the members of the besieged party by category.

“Fifteen children of Cain.  Seven children of Abel.  Thirteen Children of Seth. Four children of Light. One child of Danu. One Luminary.  And one accursed Nephalim.”  He said and then smiled at the Golden Eagle.

Lucio did not find this amusing or helpful.  He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“You mock me, sir.  I do not give a damn who you are or where you came from.”   Lucio addressed him in a low voice.  “You will treat me and my associates with respect or you and I will have a very serious disagreement!”

“Oohhh.  Touchy.  Touchy.”  Lucifer’s smile faded and Lemarik took Lucio’s arm.

“Do not provoke him, my friend.”  The Djinni raised one eyebrow at the angel.  “He merely wishes to help us sort this out.  He is not accustomed to communicating with the sons of men.”  Lemarik’s sing-song voice betrayed little of the Djinni’s true feelings toward this arrogant creature.  “Perhaps it is his lack of understanding and ignorance that makes him unaware of his trespass.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the insult.

“A thousand pardons, Your Grace.  I am sure that the brother of my father means no offense in his treatment of my father’s Brother.  As the son of your brother, I would beg you to consider that not all the sons of men are of base natures.  Some are quite enlightened and a pleasure to know.  Likewise you might consider the son of my father’s Brother, Galen Zachary, whom you, yourself, only so recently commended.  Could such a son be brought forth from a base creature?  Surely you can see the resemblance of the son to the father?  But, again, pardon me, for I am sure that such a lowly creature as myself should not need to point out such obvious facts to one of your elevated status.”  Lemarik bowed and pressed two fingers to his forehead.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at the Djinni.  “I see much of the father in the son when I look upon you, my friend.”  The angelic warrior looked up at the clear blue sky and seemed lost in thought for several seconds.

“Can you be a bit more specific, Great One?”  Il Dolce Mio frowned at Lucifer.  “I do not understand the terms you use in describing those in trouble on yonder hill, but for one.  You speak of the Tuathan healer, Selwig by name, as the child of Danu.  Who are these others?”

“I see you are not acquainted with the followers of the Christos.  There are thirty soldiers on the hill.  Fifteen of them are Children of Cain, hyletics, I believe they would be called.  They are attached to this material world and worship the spirits of earth.  Five of them are Children of Abel plus two called sergeants who worship the Demiurge, the false god, the half-maker.  Thirteen of them are Children of Seth or as Valentinus, your great teacher, would call them, pnuematics.  Ten soldiers, a Colonel, a lieutenant and a woman.  There are four Children of Light with whom you may be acquainted and/or related to, those being two great-grandsons of the Mighty Djinni, a grandson of the Mighty Djinni and your own half-sister.  The Luminary, whom you may mistakenly equate to your father.  And last, but far from least, the Nephalim, the son of Nathanael.”  Lucifer explained to Il Dolce Mio.  “Is this more acceptable to you, little one?”

“Much.”  Il Dolce Mio swirled about and several white flower petals drifted to the ground behind him.  “He says that there are thirty soldiers there, two sergeants, one lieutenant, one Colonel, one Tuathan healer; my father, Mark Ramsay, the King; my royal sister, Nicole; my royal grand nephew, Bari Kadif, Emperor of New Persia; my father’s Brother, the Mystic Healer, Simon of Grenoble; my great-grand-nephews, Gregory and Nicholas Sinclair-Ramsay; and Sophia Cardinelli.”  He told Lemarik and Lucio triumphantly.  “It is simply a matter of deduction and semantics.”

“Thank you.”  Lucio nodded slowly and raised one eyebrow.  “That certainly clears things up.”

“You are quite welcome, my father.”  The elven King told him in all sincerity.  “That means that they will be well prepared to initiate and escape when we provide them with a proper avenue.  I will take my captains and see if any of these caves hereabouts may provide a link to the caverns in which they are hiding.  If so, we may be able to get word to them that we are preparing to attack so that they will be ready.  We should make ready to attack near sundown.  I would suggest that…”

“Hold right there, little one!”  Lucifer cut him off.  Il Dolce Mio turned about and put his hands on his hips, clearly aggravated at having been interrupted.  “Your highness….”  The angel inclined his head slightly.  “Before you plan anything, perhaps you would be interested to hear what I and my humble band had planned to do before we found you here.  Had we known that you would be coming and bringing such a formidable force as this, we would have waited for you to arrive before making our plans.”

“Ahhh.”   The King’s expression softened.  “By all means… please.”  He waved one small hand toward a ring of boulders set about a gray cloth covered with drinking skins and loaves of bread.  “Perhaps you would care for a bit of mead and bread?  We could talk over refreshments.”

Lucio’s mouth fell open and Lemarik shrugged.

“That would be most pleasant.”  Lucifer glanced at the Italian before taking a seat on one of the stones.  “Perhaps we should engage in light conversation until your scouts return with news from the south.”

“Of course!”  The elf sat next to him and motioned to one of his captains.  Another elf hurried forward to join them while a third set about filling wooden cups with the honey mead.  The elven King had taken charge of the situation and none of them knew quite how it had happened other than his lack of guile and his complete trust in human nature which did not even apply to creatures such as Lucifer.  Lucifer was quite taken by the little King’s bravery, determination, intelligence and innocence.

“Would you have locusts, perchance?” Lucifer asked and smiled.

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

The pounding continued on into the afternoon.  The stone structure in which they huddled held up surprisingly well under the onslaught of the heavy artillery fire directed at the top of the mound.  Dust and debris sifted down from the corbelled ceilings and cracks appeared in some of the walls, but the interior remained intact as the soldiers and their charges moved about restlessly in the dim enclosure, waiting for the inevitable shell that would be the final straw. The Colonel, Simon and Bari had talked about the possibility of surrender and had, at length, decided against it.  Nicole had informed them that she would not be going out of the tunnel alive. 

They all knew who was outside and what terrible fates awaited them at the hands of the ‘Prophet’ and his dark companion.  Abaddon’s reputation for cruelty had spread far and wide and not a single one of the soldiers trapped with them had not heard of atrocities committed by the infamous General Schweikert. 

Only Mark Andrew seemed perplexed by their decision to stay put as the roof of the structure shook and threatened to cave in on them at any moment.  He had tried to tell them
that
it was time to go several times, but he had failed to tell them how they might do it.  Nicholas and Gregory seemed unconcerned.  They were feeling much better after a bit of rest. The thought of death had apparently never crossed their minds.  It was not an option, whether the roof collapsed on them or not, they had no intention of dying, but neither did they intend to suffer unnecessarily at the hands of the Ancient Evil.  The two great-great-grandsons of Mark Ramsay had offered to go out and face the enemy single-handedly, but their offer had been declined.  As the hours ticked on without hope, Simon began to pace the floor.  None of the immortal members of this ill-fated caravan had voiced the terrible fears that lay in the backs of their minds.  Selwig paced with him and Mark Andrew sat on the floor watching them nervously as dust drifted down into his dark locks.  The air was growing stale and the soldiers reported that the entrance to the underground complex was clogged with broken blocks.

Simon stopped suddenly and sat down facing Mark in the eerie blue light provided by his own mystery.

“Brother.”  Simon leaned forward, scrutinizing Mark’s face closely.  “Do you remember me?”

“Simon.”  Mark nodded and smiled at him.  “Healer.  Friend and Brother.”

“Yes.  Do you remember who you are?”

“Mark Ramsay,” came the automatic response.

“Do you remember what you were?”

“I was King.” 

“King?  King of what country?”

“Macedonia.”

“Macedonia?”  Simon’s face fell.  This was a new one on him.  He glanced at Sophia and she shook her head slowly.

“Yes, away to the north.”  Mark Andrew explained.  “Before Alexander.”

“Ahhh.”  Simon chewed his bottom lip.  “Do you remember your golden sword?”

“Which one?”

“The twisted one.”

“The neck cleaver?”  Mark’s face lit up.

“Ahhhh.  Perhaps.”  He reached up unconsciously and touched the back of his neck.  “Do you remember the Key of Death?”

“Death has no key, Simon.”  Mark looked up as another explosion, almost directly over them, brought down more sifting sand.  “Death is inevitable.  Simple.  We must all die and sleep in the sand.”

“Then you don’t remember the
Chevalier du Morte
?   The Red Cross of Gold?  The Order?”

Mark narrowed his eyes and seemed to be thinking very hard.  He also seemed very pleased that the Healer was speaking with him.

“You are a member of a Holy Order, Simon?  You are a priestly King.” 

“Yes.  And you were a member of the same Order.”

“Ahhh.  Yes!  I was once called a priest and a prophet.  I remember.”

“Do you remember how to release the souls of your dead Brothers?”

“I have no souls to release, Simon.  Only my own.  I do not deal in such things.”

Simon sighed deeply and sat back on his heels.  His horror at the possibility of being trapped under tons of rock and soil for eternity was growing.  Nicole joined him and looked closely at her father.

“He doesn’t remember anything.”  She told Simon.  “I know what you are thinking, Simon.  I have been thinking about it as well and so has Bari.  My father is mortal.  This is the first time in my life I have wished to be mortal myself.  We cannot just sit here and wait to be buried alive!  Is there nothing we can do?  I thought you and the others came to do something about Jozsef Daniel.  What was it?  What were you going to do?  Would it be possible to perhaps negotiate with him?  Buy some time?  Anything to get us out of this death trap.”

“I thought you said you would not leave here alive.”  Simon turned his sad eyes on Nicole.

“That was simply bravado.  I’m really scared, Simon.”

“Do not be afraid, my daughter.”  Mark told her.  “God is with us.”

“Sure, I know, Daddy.”  Nicole smiled at him.

“What is that smell?”  Sophia asked and wrinkled her nose.  An acrid odor suddenly filled the chamber, causing several outbursts in different languages.

“Diesel.”  Simon’s pale face became even whiter.

“Oh, my God!”  Nicole leaped to her feet.  “It’s too late!  Bari!  Do something!!”  She shrieked.  Her panic was contagious as the soldiers clambered for the rock pile that had once been the entrance to the chambers.  They began to throw rocks in every direction, carelessly striking each other in their haste to clear the way out. 

Simon watched in horror as a dark stain appeared in the center of the tunnel floor leading up toward the scrabbling soldiers.  Diesel fuel was trickling slowly along the passageway. 

“What is that?”  Mark Andrew frowned at the stuff as it began to puddle in the central chamber.

“Diesel.  Fuel.”  Sophia told him.  “They intend to burn us out.”

“Oh.”  Mark nodded.  “I see.  Earth.  Air.  Fire.  Water.  Fire must have air, but earth and water will not burn.”

“Diesel will burn.”  Bari joined them and stood looking down at the growing puddle.  “Long enough.”

“Call your people back, my son.”  Mark Andrew told the Emperor.  “Call them.”

Bari was overcome by a sense of false calm.  He had given it a good try.  Now he would burn for his transgressions.  He thought it only fitting.

“Colonel McGuffy!”  Bari shouted the man’s name up the corridor.  “Bring them back down here.  We can at least die with a bit of dignity!”