The Ancient Evil, page 6
part #25 of Red Cross of Gold Series
He stopped and looked around once more. “Anyone who wishes to leave this life now may put his head on this stone, and I will oblige him. If anyone wishes to retreat to the coast, I will permit it. Make your wishes known, now.”
The men gathered about him glanced at each other, and then, at the stone in front of the Knight of Death. Then entire time he had been speaking, he had not replaced his sword in the scabbard. He stood holding up the twisted blade that glowed and flashed in the fire light as he moved.
“You would invite them to commit suicide?” Catharine’s voice split the heavy silence. “Without the benefit of the Consolamentum?”
“I would invite them to make a choice.” He told her and tossed his head. “I will make their passing, as easy as, possible. God will receive them, and lay the blame on me. I will not lay my head on the stone, Sister.”
“Suicide is not a good choice.” She smiled at him. “It is an abomination. How will we learn what we were sent to learn, if we play hooky from class?”
“That is a good question.” He returned her smile. “I, simply, said, it was a choice. It doesn’t matter if they die here, or on the coast, or on the continent a month from now, or a year from now. If they do not understand what is at stake here, then, they will die, and their families will die, and the entire earth will follow. I am making a point.”
“I don’t believe anyone here is going to take up your offer, Brother.” Simon spoke up. “I believe, we understand what is at stake.”
“If anyone is opposed to staying here, let him speak now.” D’Brouchart stood up. The sound of yet more planes could be heard overhead, though, nothing could be seen.
No one spoke as the sounds grew louder. Presently, they were pelted by what they, at first, thought was sleet, but the stuff was not cold nor did it melt when it struck the ground. Much was caught on the canopy, but some filtered through the weave.
“Che cosa e` esso?” Lucio bent to pick up some of the stuff and held it under his nose.
“Salt.” Someone spoke. “They are salting us? Why?!” Another voice shouted as they retreated from the rain of pellets under the cover of the canopy.
As they gathered together in silence under the thin shelter and listened to the patter of the stuff on the cloth above their heads, they could see the ground beyond turning white with the stuff as plane after plane passed over, dumping tons of the stuff on the island. What the herbicide did not kill, this would surely finish when the rains came and washed it into the ground, and the rivers, and streams. The Isle of Ramsay would be completely barren. Their silence was broken by the sounds of horses. Many horses. Out of the gloom, came the first of the Tuathan soldiers led by Luke Andrew and the colorful King Corrigan. They rode under the cover of the canopy and dismounted.
“What is going on here?” Corrigan asked as he shook the salt from his feathered cloak. “Where is the son of the devil?” He whirled around, dramatically, and sought out Omar’s presence.
Mark Andrew stepped between the King and the Prophet.
“My great-grandson is not here, Alexander.” Mark lowered his head and blinked twice at Corrigan. “He has gone south with the others to Rushen.” He added, after a few tense moments.
“I have offered my help in payment of a favor owed to your son, Lord Adar.” Corrigan raised his chin, slightly. “I will honor that agreement as long as the devil child remains out of contact with my people. If he comes here, we will not be able to stay.
“He won’t be coming here, Alex.” Simon interposed himself between Mark Andrew and his half-brother.
“Ahhh. Simon, my brother.” Corrigan’s expression changed, and then, changed again as Edgard clapped him on the shoulder.
“Alexander!” Edgard smiled into his son’s startled face. “Grand to see you, son! Come along, now, and sit by the fire. We have many tales to pass the time while we wait.”
Edgard, practically, dragged the startled Tuathan toward the campfire.
The Tuathans were appalled by the conditions in which they found the forces of King Ramsay. They stood near their horses in complete silence blinking up at the filmy camouflage over their heads.
111
Eleven days passed according to the watches they wore and carried in their pockets. Of outward signs, all things remained static under Ereshkigal’s obscuring blanket of darkness. The good Queen had basked under Mark Andrew’s compliments for two days and, then, disappeared for three days. She had returned again to hear more on the fifth day and gone, again. She had walked about the ruined land on his arm in the darkness as if they were walking on a moonlit beach in Hawaii. Over and over, she tried to convince him of the futility of his efforts to intervene in the affairs of men, and how much better off he would be if he were to, simply, return to the Abyss with her, or perhaps, retire to some other place to his liking. She had even offered to help him cast Nergal back into the depths of his smoky realms, so they would not have to listen to his moaning and complaints. He had, graciously, declined her offers on the grounds it would not be right to take her from the Lord of the Fifth Gate, primarily, because Nergal would be lost without her; and secondarily, because his conscience would bother him too much if he were to wrong his brother in such a manner, again. She seemed to accept his stories. His Brothers watched these promenades with great interest and varying emotions. Luke Andrew warned him two or three times a day to watch his step. Louis disapproved of his close contact with his inestimable mother-in-law. Oriel kept her distance. Simon watched in complete horror, it seemed. Edgard wore a smug smile when he saw them together. Luke Matthew was furious with him for catering to her. Lavon, Christopher, Izzy, Philip, and Barry kept close watch on the Chevalier du Morte, but kept their opinions to themselves. Lucio, on the other hand, complained, loudly, that Mark Andrew should not be parading the Queen about, as if he was King Solomon and she was the Queen of Sheba, but his complaints were voiced only to Catharine. Catharine, merely, smiled at his colorful outbursts, sometimes sympathizing with him and, other times, aggravating him further by blaming his outrage on jealousy. Who was jealous of who was never made clear. She pointed out, Mark Andrew was, fully, aware of the distress he was causing and was enjoying himself, immensely.
The salt crystals covered the ground in long swaths, up to a quarter inch thick in some places. The grass withered and died from the combination of poison, salt, and lack of sunlight. They saw no animals, birds, or even insects except for a few creepy crawlers under the canopy and rocks surrounding them. By the third day, what little provisions they had brought with them were gone, and Mark Andrew was feeding them manna from the bundles in the caves. He wondered how Il Dolce Mio had known he would need this ‘bread of the gods’. There was no water, but Omar used his particular brand of magick to produce water from beneath the rocks of the cairn, and so, Mark’s little army had full stomachs and plenty of sparkling cold water to drink. A damned sight better fare, he reminded them, than what some of them had survived on in centuries past under such conditions. The little bands kept forming and reforming, giving impromptu concerts, from time to time. The addition of the Tuathan musicians and musical instruments livened things up, dramatically, and even some of the Queen’s boggans joined in the merry-making from time to time when Plotius was not looking. Louis, Barry, Luke Matthew, and even Simon kept the men entertained with their stories, and they had plenty of experience and anecdotes to draw on, but even these were growing thin as the Knights searched their memories for new things to tell when the days and nights dragged on, endlessly. The air remained still and breathless, the temperature was neither hot nor cold which was a definite plus, but the monotony was working on their minds, and even the Knights who had withstood some serious sieges in the past, were getting on each other’s nerves. They longed for clean clothes, baths, and shaves as their beards began to grow, and the three women with them had their own complaints, but all in all, they were, generally, quiet and patient as time wore on.
They heard planes in the sky, occasionally, and Konrad, Omar, and Philip, Knight of the Sword, agreed, these planes were, most likely, using infrared surveillance equipment to try to keep an eye on them. Whether or not the latest ground imaging technology could penetrate the canopy under which they gathered was unknown. It had been a state-of-the art design when Mark had brought it here to cover his helicopters, but technological advances had been made since then, and none of them knew if they could be seen or not. They guessed, they could not be seen, because, from the sound of it, the planes crisscrossed the area as if they were flying routine search patterns.
Corrigan had gathered his soldiery about him under one portion of the canopy, and his troubles were far greater than Mark’s. His people were not used to the overworld, and they were experiencing some of the same problems Vanni had encountered when he had, suddenly, been thrust into the world of men. Vanni had been dispatched to help the King and his captains as they tried to deal with the complaints of the soldiers as they learned to take care of some very personal problems. Vanni insisted on taking his constant companion, Selwig, with him, much to Corrigan’s chagrin, but the ministrations of the little healer and his kind personality and soothing demeanor, soon won the love and respect of the Tuathan forces. Before the end of the sixth day, his works had won for him the title of ‘beloved friend’ or even ‘hero’ and all because they were unfamiliar with the strange bodily functions that had overtaken them in this ‘very foreign’ land. When their own stores of food ran out, and they began to eat the manna, they seemed more content with it than even Mark’s people, and their hygiene problems ceased altogether, giving them cause for much cheer.
They had heard, absolutely, nothing from the towns on the coasts. Their radios were useless as the King’s troops set up a jamming net over the island. They had no idea what was happening beyond the horizon which was very near in the darkness, and the scouts they sent out, returned with nothing to report. Their only connection to the outside world was Catharine de Goth as she used the skull of Santa Lucia to look beyond the darkness. Mark was dead set against this practice, assuming the connection worked both ways. He felt anything she knew, the enemy was bound to learn if she continued to look into the depths of the crystal eyes. But so far, no evil had descended on them other than the common sorts. Catharine reported her grandsons and the families of the Templars gathered in the villages and communities around the island were all being treated quite well, though they were suffering because of the darkness and the constant fear of what was to come. They had plenty of food at Rushen and Ramsay, and for the moment, they were being allowed to come and go without restriction along the coast roads to trade for food and clean water. There were many soldiers, marines, and sailors in the towns, and the atmosphere was most depressing, as the time passed, and nothing changed.
She had looked farther afield and saw the War of the Americas, as the war in the west had been dubbed by the news media, continued in the Rocky Mountain chain in the western parts of what was, formerly, the United States and Canada. The Emperor and his allies had begun another campaign, coming at the west coast from the sea, but his progress was slow, and the forces on the ground continued to prevail against his efforts to make successful landings, and he was reduced to sitting offshore, lobbing missiles at the cities while more and more of the population fled into the mountains, causing great devastation, famine, and disease in the lands along the Pacific Coast. Thousands of people, once again, were taking to the seas in every conceivable vessel that would remain afloat. Many were sunk and the passengers drowned, but many more got through and made their way to parts unknown.
The news from the southern countries and the eastern portions of the beleaguered nations was improving. The battles had ceased and the reconstruction had begun in the, more densely, populated areas, but the atrocities continued, and the population was thinning, dramatically, due to persecution, execution, and starvation. Lucio badgered her for news of the Mississippi Delta. He learned, the area called New Louisiana was the best place to be. The people, in general, had fared better there due to George Watkins influence. The former Fox general wanted to restore order there, and continue the production of the crops and the industries that had escaped destruction during the first onslaughts of the war. Food and fuel were his main objectives. That and keeping the waterways open for commerce. Anyone willing to take an oath of allegiance to the governor was allowed peace and encouraged to work toward rebuilding what was lost under the protection of the Prophet. Apparently, he had also sent out an invitation to the thousands of refugees who had fled the lands, asking them to return to their homes and promising immunity under the same conditions. Some of them had taken him up on the offer, and a steady stream of ships plied the Mississippi River with half-starved refugees, trying to get home. There was still much chaos and some guerrilla fighting in the swamps, but this was dwindling as the holdouts were rounded up and subjected to gruesome public executions. The Golden Eagle learned everything he needed to know about the conditions in New Orleans, though, Catharine had nothing with which to make a direct connection with Nicole Ramsay-Dambretti. There was another force at work in New Orleans. The city had attracted numerous speculators from all over the world. European and, especially, Asian money was pouring into the city in a sort of support to the governor, as they saw possibilities arising to make economical killings on various fronts. The governor welcomed these risky investments with open arms and grand promises. All he needed was an identity and money, and he would be in the door. Once, he was satisfied with this, he turned his attention to the problem at hand.
His boots crunched, irritably, in the salt on the rocks as he climbed over a pile of rock and sat down, wearily, to have a drink from his canteen. He was miserable, and the salt kept getting into his boots, somehow. He could taste it in his mouth, constantly, and his beard was scratchy and dry. This was his second excursion into the darkness which had become a dark gray blanket to his eyes. Mark had coerced him to use his powers, twice. He had attempted to fly to the coast as an eagle, but the darkness was not conducive to the flight of a day-loving raptor. Anna would have been much better at it in the guise of an owl, but Anna was not with them, and his ability to transform himself into a serpent was, totally, useless. He turned up his canteen, and then, froze as a hazy form on horseback seemed to appear out of nowhere in front of him, riding straight for him. He threw down the canteen and scurried back over the rocks, taking cover from whoever this was. He pulled his pistol and trained it on the rider, but the rider was not alone. The sounds of many hoof beats drifted to his ears. The lead horse pulled up several yards away.
