Calliope, page 11
part #2 of Divinity Series
Mason nodded. “Thanks for the splendor. Give me a call, and we’ll go fishing again.”
“You got it. I’ll see you around.”
Mason opened the door and stepped out of the truck, putting his hand in the air. Eric waved in return and backed out of the driveway. Mason watched until the taillights disappeared down the road.
He walked to the front door and let himself in. In the study, he saw a bottle of whiskey sitting on the desk, an empty glass beside it. He poured a shot and drained it, not feeling it. The coke was still having some effect on him. He closed his eyes, realizing he wasn’t tired at all.
Mason poured another shot and drank. Anxious for the feeling of alcohol, he poured another. He didn’t know when he’d be able to enjoy this kind of thing again and wished the evening could last forever.
“Always hate the end of a party,” he said. “Always hate the end of a good thing.”
His life wasn’t a good thing, though, he realized. To the end of that, he looked forward to with relish.
~
The real world was the last thing Eric wanted right now. Real, he thought. That was funny. He thought of it more in terms of regular. The real world was only a step away into some other time and place, away from the bustle of Elk Ridge, Laura, and responsibility. As far as Eric Reese was concerned, the business, the house, the relationship, could take a flying leap.
Eric threw his cigarette out the window. He was smoking a lot lately. He should try to slow down. It bothered him he was indulging in so many other chemicals besides alcohol as well. His father wouldn’t be pleased. Eric wanted to get healthy, start exercising and detoxify his body. It was always fun for a while, but there were more important things to consider now. He wished Mason saw things the same way.
He forgot it as quickly as the thought entered his brain.
Death, yes, he welcomed death. Eric Reese wasn’t afraid to die.
But you can die there as well, you know? You can die there, too. And then what’ll you have?
A new life of my own, he answered himself. Time away from relationships.
He was joking, of course. Or was he?
Where are you Khayman, the informant? I need some information.
He pulled the truck to a stop in front of the house. A dark blue glow from the television was visible behind the bedroom curtains.
Eric pulled out a small leather pouch from his pants pocket. Broken wedding bands weren’t a part of his life. But he understood what Mason had told him. For a long time, he’d been a part of that broken land, if only in dreams. Elk Ridge and the land where Khayman, Lucius, and Gallus lived, were trading places.
He opened the leather pouch and spilled gold and silver coins into the palm of his hand. When he thought about the bar, he realized he’d been paying for drinks with gold and silver all night, and hadn’t noticed until now. Mandy, who’d brought their drinks, hadn’t been wearing a T-shirt and jeans as he’d imagined, but a simple black skirt, a tight white bodice. She’d been barefoot.
The pouch and the coins disappeared altogether. He forgot about them.
Eric shook his head as he walked inside, closing the front door behind him; he went to the kitchen, pulling a glass (goblet?) out of the cupboard.
Malon must be defeated by his own darkness; there is not light enough to destroy him. Malon must somehow defeat himself.
His brows came together. Where had the thought come from?
He filled the cup with cold water from the tap and drank. He heard a door open, the bedroom. Laura came into the kitchen. She looked drowsy and rumpled. She looked at him and sighed as if knowing how heavily under the influence he was.
You are Lucifer, too, he thought. You, Geneveeve, Malon. You’re all the same.
More than just worlds were colliding, meshing. Lives were as well.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
“Have a good time?”
“I did,” he said.
“Coming to bed?”
“I think I’ll stay up for a bit, watch some t.v.”
She sighed and turned to the bedroom. The door closed.
Eric shook his head, pulling a beer out of the fridge. Probably the exact thing Mason was doing now.
Laura and Geneveeve, he thought. You’re perfect for each other. And maybe you can comfort each other when it’s all over. Perhaps, in the long run, you’ll even understand.
I don’t love you anymore, he thought. That’s the difference. I care about you; but I don’t love you, Laura, not the way you need me to.
He didn’t feel like staying now, didn’t want to be in the house a second longer. He downed the rest of the beer and headed for the front door again.
“I’m coming with you, Mason,” he said, aloud.
CHAPTER VI
He closed his eyes and saw the land in his mind’s eye.
His long, reddish blonde hair blew across his face, and he brushed it back with a warrior’s hand. An angry pink scar angled from his left temple to his jaw, all the way across his chin, making a hairless cavity through his heavy beard. His black cloak rippled violently behind him in the rough wind. His breed was dying. That’s how it felt, and he knew he hadn’t power enough to destroy Malon by himself. He didn’t know if any of them had power enough.
Eric Reese sat on a chestnut mare, looking across the land, at the world below. Boiling pitch filled ditches that had been made in the earth around him. When the marauders approached, they set fire to them, sending the beasts, screaming, into the flames. They built pikes from trees, made barricades of pointed daggers.
Malon had confined himself to this world. The god, whatever he was, was still wreaking havoc.
Eric had two short swords fastened to his hips, a longsword at his back. He had a dagger in his belt, a dirk in his boot. He wore leather breeches and a studded vest. The gusty wind continued to berate his face. The beasts had destroyed towns and homes for miles across Calliope.
Ownership and the vow. It came with the commitment, coming to the other side. Resolution and focus.
Purpose, he thought. That’s why you were given strength to defeat the marauders.
Yes, he was different, changed. He had one thing on his mind, just as they all did: the death of Malon.
They didn’t know where the Black God had come from, how he’d been born, but he moved across the land as a sable shroud, gobbling and setting fire to everything in his path.
The wind carried the smell of blood from the east. They still had time, Eric thought. The marauders would make their way across the seas and into Mandripore soon.
“You will, in turn, my friend,” he said to the bloodstained wind, “be blood and fire. You will wallow in your own black poison, your own corruption. You will bleed, too. That, my Black God, is a promise you can count on.”
Eric smiled into the wind and turned the mare around, heading down the hill and into one of the last remaining villages of Calliope.
~
It was cloudy and rainy when Eric woke up. Mist blew in through the open window. He’d been planning to stop at Mason’s the night before but decided against it at the last minute. He’d parked the truck on one of the Smithfield backroads and fallen asleep. He rubbed the glue from his puffy eyes, wishing he had a glass of water. Remembering the cooler in the back, he got out and grabbed a handful of ice, rubbing it across his face.
He declined the idea of inspecting the job sights today. What was the point? The clock on the dash read 7:05 a.m.
He started the truck and drove to Mason’s.
~
Mason Loveless was up surprisingly early. Eric knocked on the door and stepped inside. The man was in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee.
“How are you, Cuz? Couldn’t sleep?” Eric asked.
“You look a little disheveled yourself.” Mason smiled over the cup of coffee. “Like some?”
Eric ignored him. “All the power in the world can’t hold us here anymore,” he said. “It can’t prevent us from going where we have to go.”
Mason looked at Eric and nodded. “Want some breakfast?” he asked.
Eric shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”
Mason sipped his coffee. “So,” he said. “You came by for a reason?”
“You want to go on a drive again?”
“I’m a little on the weary side.”
Eric reached into his pocket and grabbed a cocaine-laced joint.
Mason smiled, putting the coffee cup on the counter.
~
“I think we should go away for a while.”
Eric was looking at the road as he drove.
“You mean, like a vacation?” Mason asked. “Haven’t we already talked about that?”
“Yes. Only more permanent. I just think we should go away for a long while.”
“A camping trip?”
“Something like that.”
They continued to drive through town, not knowing where they were going. The radio was off. Clouds gathered and the wind started to blow. Mason, after taking several hits off the joint, felt high but alert at the same time. He’d dressed, grabbed some water from the fridge, and followed Eric outside into the truck.
“Do you want to go to Wal-Mart or something and get some supplies?” Mason asked.
Eric shrugged. He shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s what we need. Not that kind of camping trip.”
“So, what do you suggest?”
Eric looked at him. “Let’s just drive into the canyon. We’ll figure it out from there.”
~
Eric turned the wipers on when it started to rain. Lightning flashed in the distance under dark clouds. They drove for half an hour until Eric turned off the main road, taking them farther east. They ascended deeper into the hills on a narrow, paved road, which soon turned to dirt. The canyon was desolate, silent except for the sudden downpour of rain, making the road wet and muddy.
“Beginning to wish we had some camping supplies,” Mason said.
Eric pulled out another joint and lit it. He took a hit and passed it to Mason. They smoked until it was gone and continued to drive through the hills. Aspens, pine, and various shrubs surrounded them. A small creek to their right rippled over polished stones. Eric found a place to pull the truck over, and they stepped out into the rain.
“Where to now?” Mason asked.
“Let’s just walk.”
Mason almost laughed and stopped himself. A trail led further into the trees and shrubbery. Rain sprinkled on his forearms and neck. It was a cold rain for summer, Mason thought.
He felt the same thing was happening here as at Black Canyon. The world had taken on a new perspective, or was that his perspective changing?
He peered at the surroundings, and although it seemed the same, it felt different. Yes, they had walked beyond Earth and into the other world. Mason gained focus as he moved ahead through the rain and trees.
Eric seemed different as well, his gait more pronounced. Or was Mason imagining that, too? His cousin’s shoulders didn’t slouch. The paunchiness to his stomach was gone as well.
Mason laughed quietly to himself. This wasn’t his imagination. This was really happening.
For hours, they continued to walk without growing weary. As midday approached, they found a small cave of rock on the side of a hill and stepped inside out of the rain.
“Like a couple of monkeys,” Mason said.
Eric nodded, agreeing.
“What if we run into a mountain lion or something? A bear?”
“Then we’ll kill it,” Eric said.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?”
Eric laughed. They sat in the cave in wet jeans and T-shirts waiting for the rain to pass.
~
It was still raining, getting colder. Mason would give anything for a heavy blanket, something hot to eat.
“Feels weird not drinking,” he said.
Eric nodded. “Your mind clear?” he asked.
“In a way it’s never been before.”
Eric nodded. “Maybe we should get some rest,” he suggested.
Suddenly, Mason realized how tired he was. He curled up on the dead leaves and twigs, trying to get comfortable. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
~
They were in a large hall, a throne room of sorts. Colored tapestries hung from the ceiling. The place glowed with burning sconces along the wall. The floor was marble. Were they in a palace of sorts?
“It’s time for you to choose your weapons,” Khayman said. “Let’s go to the armory.”
Eric didn’t see Mason, but he had the impression his cousin was somewhere close by, perhaps at the ceremony itself. Yes. There would be festivities later. Lucius and Gallus were here.
With his cloak trailing behind him, Khayman led Eric through another hallway with Gallus and Lucius following. They came to a thick oaken door. Khayman pulled it wide.
“After you,” he said, motioning Eric inside.
He couldn’t believe his eyes! It was an armory and more. Weapons of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, the tables in the middle of the floor. Suits of armor, leather breasted tunics, boots, armbands, and a mass of various weapons congested the small room, enough for an entire army. The smell of oiled armor was in the air, gleaming metal glimmering from the candles.
“This might be what you call, Christmas Day,” Khayman said. “At least in your world. Go ahead. Choose.”
“Choose?”
“Anything you want, as many as you want. Don’t laden yourself with so much you can’t stand up, however.” Khayman smiled.
Eric looked back at Gallus and Lucius. Both men nodded.
He wanted to savor the moment, and smiled, feeling like a child. He eyed each piece carefully, broadswords, short swords, rapiers, daggers, dirks, maces, and axes. There were even clubs and hammers. He shook his head.
From the wall, he pulled down two single-handed short-swords with simple, yet beautifully carved handles. The steel was precise, perfect, and sharp. He waved the blade in front of him, testing its weight. It seemed to melt into his palm.
“Perfect,” he said.
A dirk caught his eye, another small dagger for his belt. Eric grabbed several throwing knives and moved to a wall filled with protective apparel. He chose a leather-studded vest, heavier, more durable boots. He studied each weapon carefully, testing its strength and durability on the nearby tables. He grabbed a scabbard for the swords, another for the dirk. He looked at his three companions.
“All set?” Khayman asked.
Eric nodded.
“Let’s get you ready,” Khayman told him. “Festivities await. It’s required you wear the appropriate attire, complete with everything you’ve chosen.”
“Tradition says new recruits buy the ale for every man in the house,” Lucius said, smiling.
“That could get expensive,” Eric said.
“Hope you brought plenty of gold and silver,” Lucius said.
Gallus chuckled.
Khayman shook Eric’s hand. Gallus and Lucius did the same, congratulating him, bounding them together in some silent, simple pact between warriors.
“The people need this,” Gallus told him. “They need a reason to celebrate. We are the hope they need.”
“Come on,” Khayman said. “They don’t roast entire pigs for just anybody, you know? There’s a celebration.”
“The Ceremony of Allegiance, you mean,” Lucius said. “Welcome to The House of Order, Eric Reese.”
~
The rain continued to pour when they awoke in the cave. It was cold and drizzling, no sign of a blue sky. The sun was a feeble silver ball behind the clouds
“We’d better get going,” Eric said. “Gallus will be expecting us.”
Mason nodded and got up. He walked out of the cave and readjusted the sword at his back. During sleep, he’d kept it in front of him, one palm on the hilt. He did not question waking from one world to another, let alone being dressed in a completely different garb, more suitable to the land.
Evening approached, and it was noticeably darker. Mason wrapped the cloak snugly around him. He was still learning how to fight off the brutal chill of the land. A few more weeks, he thought, and he’d get used to it. Most of that was Malon’s influence reaching freezing proportions, which seemed strange considering the fires the Black God had left behind.
Mason put the hood over his head and followed his cousin through the wet rain and shrubs.
“You’ve been instructed in a way no one has before, cousin,” Eric said.
Mason’s old self was still in there, the one unwilling to fight, frightened of battle, and wanting only to drink. Good God, perhaps he should’ve stayed and died an alcoholic in the land he’d left behind. Maybe it would’ve been easier for Geneveeve, for himself, even for Calliope.
You will still die an alcoholic. Never fear.
Mason knew his skills were not quite fully developed, but this was a time of war. He was undergoing the test now.
But another change took place, the part he couldn’t resist. What was he thinking anyway?
He was willing to battle, willing to fight whatever demon came his way. Here, in Calliope, he didn’t want to run anymore.
The rain continued to pour, his boots making squelching sounds on the wet leaves and mud. The trees opened into a large expanse of fields and open lands. Houses lay burning in the distance in an abandoned village. Black smoke billowed into a blood red sky.
“Maybe we’re already too late,” Mason said, eyeing the surroundings.
“Too late for this town,” Eric said. “But not too late for the land. It’s a big world.”
Mason unsheathed his sword, holding it in both hands.
This has happened before. The fight isn’t over. You’re remembering some old skills is all. You have to hone in on the wisdom we shared when we were young.
Eric unsheathed both short swords, holding one in each hand. They walked until they came into the burning village. The structures of falling walls and rooftops collapsed on each side of them. The heat of the flames was intense, making them sweat. At the entrance of one of the houses to their right, a pair of smoldering figures crusted black, lay quiet and burning. The smell of charred flesh and blood hung heavily in the air. Mason put a hand over his nose. Tears gathered in his eyes. He had a feeling they weren’t alone and was suddenly uneasy.
