The Centaur (18 page)

“An extravagant trinket. Most fine of workmanship. But you must dispel this circle, or else I can do no work.”

Nicole frowned. Ground the circle. She had no obvious choice.

“All right, but I warn you, sir, no tricks!”

The creature in gray stepped or drifted back as she started the grounding procedure, working from the north to the west to the south to the east and back to the north. When the circle of power dissipated, the wind died and the rain ceased as if she had thrown a heavenly switch. She half expected the specter to disappear. To her surprise, it remained. To her even greater surprise, it no longer looked like a tall thin armadillo, but now looked like an almost normal human being. The clothes were still gray in color and still resembled plated armor much like the ancient Chinese armies had worn during the first dynasty, but the creature, himself, was now a healthy flesh color, his hands were smooth, but not elongated. His face was finely chiseled and his hair was blonde not white. He still wore the mustache and beard, but both contained elaborate braids hanging well onto his chest. He pushed back the hood and smiled at
her with perfect teeth, displaying an oddly shaved head with numerous tattoos. She sighed in relief and knelt again beside Mark Andrew.

Barshak
knelt beside her and easily straightened him out on his back.

“What happened to him?” He asked her and his voice was normal, no longer thunderous and deep.

“I don’t know. He’s not very adept at sorcery. I’m afraid he may have overreached himself,” Nicole explained and then leaned closer to Mark. “Daddy? Can you hear me? Someone is here to help you.”

“He cannot hear you, Daughter of Darkness.”

“Quit calling me those things!” She snapped at him and he laughed.

“He has called up six names of power without resting between,” the spirit told her as he ran his hands over Mark’s chest and stomach. “He has drained his own energy to a critical level.
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Very dangerous.”

“Can you help him?” Nicole asked him again. “You must help him. He is the only family I have.”

“Family? Ahhh. Blood. I understand. Yes, I can help him.” The spirit held up his hand and admired the ring. It sparkled in the last flashes of the dying storm. “You have blood on your own face, Daughter.”

Nicole wiped at her face. She could feel the sting of salt as her tears ran into the scratches on her cheek. “We must get him inside where it’s warm. He’ll freeze out here and so will I.”

“Freeze? Noooo, I don’t think so.” His voice was smooth and gentle now, soothing. “Shall we carry him then?”

Nicole helped him heft the slippery wet, half-naked sorcerer between them and then smiled broadly at the sight of Gregory and Nicholas armed with flashlights and umbrellas hurrying toward them down the waterlogged meadow.

“Who is this?” Gregory asked as he took up half the weight of the unconscious man.

Nicholas shined his flashlight in
Barshak’s face.

“Ahhh. Magick lamps.” The spirit shaded his eyes and relinquished his hold on Mark to Nicholas.

“Nicholas, Gregory, this is… this is… Mr. Barshak. He’s a doctor. Mr. Barshak, these are my nephews, Nicholas and Gregory.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Gregory piped up immediately much to his elder brother’s chagrin. He’d only just been lecturing the younger brother to beware of speaking to strangers.

“A doctor?” Nicholas eyed the stranger suspiciously. “What strange attire for a physician? What happened to Grandfather? How came you to be out in this storm?”

As they walked along, they were assaulted by a barrage of questions.

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

The vote was taken and the count done. They would not open the Ark without the Urim and Thummin. Edgard had protested the decision vehemently, almost coming to blows with Luke Matthew and Louis Champlain. The two monarchs were adamantly in favor of opening the box. The Grand Master finished his say by telling them that they were pig-headed and that destruction would surely follow them. Mark Andrew had voted to throw the box, unopened, into the crevice, but there had been only black balls in the box. The overwhelming majority of the Council wanted the box to remain closed, and the Knight of the Golden Key, Simon’s son, Benjamin, was more than willing and ready to use his mystery and the key to perform the deed, proclaiming that it was his right and his privilege, and if the Creator were on their side as they believed, then they would surely overcome. With all that said and, at the urging of the Knight of Death, they removed the Ark from the wooden crate and carried it to the Wilderness Temple that Simon and Levi had built at the summit. Konrad walked with Simon in front of the small procession as they made the ascent to the summit once more. Lavon waited for them in front of the tabernacle with his uniform covered over by the white robe of the sorcerer, embroidered with red thread, edged with purple, blue and red tassels. They would perform a prayer and invocation of the Wisdom of Solomon for added power and protection while they performed the deed. The Ark would remain closed.

Lavon greeted each of them with a kiss on the lips and a silent hug and then showed them where to stand and they readied themselves for the ordeal to commence as the mountain trembled with rage under their feet and the soldiers and other commanders waited at the base camp ready to assist, retreat or die as the case should turn out to be. They had broken camp, packed up all the gear and made ready to leave on the off chance that there would be the opportunity to do such a thing, but Eduard de Goth had rallied his troops and his commanders and Corrigan, as well, had stayed behind with his Tuathans, preferring to ride out the ‘storm’ at the base of the mountain than to face the menace at the top. The two commanders sat side by side in front of their armies with the Mighty Djinni, Adalune Kadif, who, still wearing the outward trappings of the Zoroastrian prophet, Zarathustra, sat upon his camel. His ‘people’ as he called them, had left just before sunrise, heading into the mountains as he had instructed them. Only the ‘prophet’ had remained behind.

“It should be glorious,” he said after the last of the small procession disappeared from their line of sight.

“I’d give anything for good glass of cognac.” De Goth shifted in his saddle and looked back at the long column of ATV’s, M-3 and M-4 tanks, troop carriers, armored assault vehicles and supply trucks, all facing away from him and ready to move out at a moment’s notice. His army was equipped with the finest remnants of all that the world had left of war machinery. 

King Corrigan’s army, on the other hand, was quite glorious in and of itself, all mounted on prancing ponies or riding in elaborately painted and decorated chariots, a beautiful sight to behold in the barren landscape, but poorly equipped to wage a
modern war, bearing only bows and arrows, lances, swords, knives and slings. Their fanciful uniforms were decorated with brilliant silks, feathers and beads and their armor was buffed bronze, copper and silver. Hardly what de Goth would have considered a threat, but he knew very well that the Tuatha de Danann’s strength lay not in what was evident at first sight, but rather in the magick they possessed.

The Baron’s thoughts were interrupted when Lemarik rode close by and handed a brown bottle down to him. He took the bottle and laughed as he read the label. Cognac!

“Thank you, my friend.” He smiled up at the Djinni.

“It my pleasure.” The Mighty Djinn nodded to him and then looked up at the furious black cloud hovering over the summit of the mountain. Rumbling thunder rolled continuously down the slopes now. “My father has made the spirit of this mountain very unhappy,” he mused in his sing-song voice. “I wonder if it knows that Death has come calling.”

“You believe Yaldabaoth is afraid of Mark Ramsay?” Corrigan scoffed and turned his stallion about in a circle.

“My father has many friends in high places, your Pompousness,” Lemarik looked down his nose at the pretty king.  “And yet, even you have the Divine Spark in your being. But it is with you as it is with the charcoal left undisturbed under the mountains, the glow cannot be seen through the ash that covers it. Tell me, my pretty butterfly, when you are alone, do you feel that burning ember inside you struggling to free itself from the bonds of night? What will you do when none are left for you to insult? Will you then turn on yourself and eat your own tail?”

“You are like your father, arrogant and self-righteous!” Corrigan’s cheeks blazed with anger. “I will not sully myself further with your presence.” With this last insult, Corrigan turned his steed and rode off to join his troops.

“
Oooooh. Ahhhh.” Completely unaffected by Corrigan’s display, Lemarik pointed his quirt toward the upper reaches of the mountain,. “The Healer. Mmmmmm.”

De Goth replaced the cork in the bottle and looked to where the Djinni had indicated. Thousands of points of blue light swirled and circled in the air.

Chapter Seven of Seventeen

The Lord is slow to anger, and great in power

“That is very good, very, very good, my Queen.” Abaddon was truly amazed at Huber’s talent. He had failed to believe at the outset, that she could deliver on her promise and he wondered at his own stupidity at having underestimated her. His heart quaked at the thought of what she might do to him if she learned of his intentions. The dark angel got to his feet and held out his hand to her.

She took his hand and smiled up at him as he helped her up. She needed no help. She didn’t even need
Sabaoth any longer. She could open the gate herself and allow her children free access to this land. The Queen of Chaos would be grateful to her and her position in the new age would be assured very close to the top.

Noxious vapors filled the chamber in which they stood. Already, the mists arising from the crevice were condensing on the rough-hewn walls and running down in yellow rivulets to form puddles on the floor. Abaddon no longer cared for such things. He had lived in the new earth in his new form far too long. He enjoyed the fresh air of the mountains and the feel of rain on his face. He loved the cleansing effect of the great electrical storms that swept with such power across the earth and he had grown accustomed to seeing, hearing and smelling the overwhelming presence of life. Even the colors of the algae, growing on the stones beneath the palace, fascinated him. The more time he spent in the Queen Mother’s company, the more he longed to be far from her. If ever he survived this ordeal and found that the world remained in one piece, he was going to see the sights…. Yes, perhaps take what the English called a ‘holiday’.

“General!” Huber was suddenly back in his mind.

“Yes, my Queen.” He snapped to attention and focused on her lovely face.

“I feel the need for something to eat.” She hooked her arm in his and he escorted her from the storeroom-turned-gateway to the corridor. The air was much less oppressive here. “What did you learn from our prisoner? Was he one of the little ones from outside?”

“Yes, yes. He was simply a scout. Nothing more. His mind was easily crushed. He knew nothing.” Abaddon lied to her and closed his eyes briefly, expecting this lie to be his last, but she believed him.

“A pity. You have the capability to learn what is happening out there. I think perhaps it is time to put an end to this nuisance and get on with our greater glory. After we eat, I want you to check on Jozsef’s whereabouts. Learn what has happened to him and report back to me. While you are out, have a look at this force around the city. We will deal with them when you return.”

“Yes, my Queen. I will go at once.”

Abaddon turned smartly only to be yanked backwards by the nylon web belt he wore around his waist. He stumbled backwards, turning as he fell and then found himself face to face with Huber. She held him as if he were a small boy and spoke directly into his face.

“Abaddon,” she whispered, and he thought he would die, “you would not think to deceive me, would you?”

She kissed him and he was sure that his end had come. His legs would not support him and he felt his spirit fluttering close to the threshold of transition, ready to leave the shell of Ernst Schweikert once again, but she took his terror as something more inviting and kissed him again more forcefully before releasing him. “Tonight we will celebrate properly and then tomorrow night we will open the gateway. I think my father will like you, Abaddon.”

“You are too kind,” he managed to say, and then wobbled slightly on his feet when she released him. “I should count myself honored to be at his service. Do not forget to practice the protective spell, my Queen, while I am away, but be careful of the necklace. It can be dangerous if mishandled.”

“Will you not stay long enough to have breakfast with me?”

“There is much work to do, Your Highness.” He bowed slightly. “I would rather be done with this tedium so that we may enjoy the night without interruption.”

“Ahhh,” she smiled. “Then go on. By the time you return I will be proficient at the spell you have taught me.”

“Excellent.” He waited, holding his breath as she swept away from him toward her quarters. When she was gone, he let out a long breath of relief and steadied himself against the wall with one hand. He wondered how Bari Kadif had been able to withstand her presence for as long as he had. A few more close calls with her power and he would be dissolved. He straightened his jacket and his belt and walked down the corridor toward the makeshift cell in which they held their ‘prisoner’.