Tablet of Destinies
‘I must learn to trust the universal process,’ he voiced out loud and Rebecca nodded.
‘Your telepathic skill has not suffered from your memory loss.’ She smiled in reassurance at Zabeel, and he returned the smile, picking up on her mind once more.
‘One step at a time, hey,’ Zabeel conceded.
‘So, then.’ Brian slapped his hands together. ‘Time to get organised.’ He looked at Inanna first. ‘We need a few of these incubators taken to Kila.’ The Governor glanced at Rebecca. ‘I shall bring Tyrus-Leon and Samara to speak with you there. Noah,’ Brian turned to the Sage, ‘I understand that you and Floyd wish to seek out the Lord Gibal?’
Noah nodded. ‘The technologist knows more than anyone about the design of the shield of Orme that protects Nibiru and holds its heat within. I have been musing on it and I believe a similar system may be able to contain the imploding sun’s radiation.’
Inanna shook her head. The shield would not hold, and even if it did, it would absorb radiation like a sponge and before long the poisons would start to leak.
‘A shield drawing its power from Orme might,’ Noah conceded. ‘But a shield of charichalum Orme, I believe, would be a different matter … being a black metal, logic tells us that it wouldn’t allow any particle to escape.’
‘That’s completely brilliant!’ Zabeel was impressed by the scope of the Sage’s thinking.
‘But I understood Orme was only derived from gold, “Or” being the Nefilim name for the mineral?’ Maelgwn queried.
Noah shook his head. ‘I’ve been speaking with Floyd who informs me that there are many different metals from which Orme can be derived. Orme actually stands for Orbitally Rearranged Monatomic Elements. No one has had cause to try and derive Orme from charichalum before, for any being or planet subject to charichalum Orme would experience certain death.’
‘Then seek Gibal by all means.’ Brian gave the Sage his leave and looked at Maelgwn, knowing it was pointless giving his brother-in-law any instruction. ‘What is your plan of action, Dragon?’
‘After returning Zabeel to Kila and seeing to Tory’s welfare, the Devas and I still have several Nefilim to seek out … starting with Ereshkigal on Karleashian.’
‘Excellent.’ Brian was pleased to have one of his responsibilities taken off his hands. ‘I promised Thais some help out there as soon as we could spare it.’
Maelgwn broke into a cool smile of amusement. ‘Thais is not the being on Karleashian who needs help, believe me.’
DJ Nova had not been lying when he’d reported a resistance group of Centaurs on Karleashian.
The young buck that Thais had liberated from Kurra’s prison went by the name of Kyron. He’d led a handful of his fellow mine workers in a rebellion against the Falcon military. His small band were living wild in the untamed mountain wilderness outside of Kurra.
‘Our main problem has been the cold,’ Kyron explained as he led the Shaman Centaur through the dark, damp, misty forest. ‘Having lived our whole lives underground in confined spaces, we’re not used to the harsh elements of the great outdoors … I’ve lost quite a few people due to exposure.’
‘A move to a warmer planet seems in order,’ Thais resolved, in all seriousness.
‘Rumour has it that this planet was once bathed by the golden sunshine from our largest yellow sun … at least that’s what the old folk down the mines used to tell us.’ Kyron shrugged as he trudged on, unsure if he believed it. ‘Maybe they were just trying to give us kids something to hope for.’
‘Did the elders mention what brought about the change in climate?’
Kyron halted from his trek and turned to speak to Thais. ‘They claim Ereshkigal cast a spell that brought down the mists and cut out the sun’s rays. This broke the will of our people, as we no longer desired to escape the underground.’
Thais mulled the information over, thinking it more likely that some sort of technology was used to achieve the feat. ‘Then we shall just have to persuade the Goddess to un-cast her spell.’
The resistance had been hiding out inside a deep cave in the base of a mountain, through the centre of which flowed a freshwater stream. Large stores of wood were drying out around the walls of the breezy, damp cavern, which would be used to fuel the fires that prevented the small resistance force from freezing to death. Kyron and Thais warmed themselves in front of the largest fire.
All the Centaurs at the camp were excited to see their prophet delivered from prison as he foretold. They were beholden to the man in Kyron’s company also, knowing him to be the Shaman who’d come to liberate their people from Ereshkigal and her Falcon forces.
Thais was informed that, although some gold mining was done on Karleashian and the freshwater industry thrived, the main purpose of Kurra was Orme production.
‘Orme,’ Thais gasped, having not heard that term since Egyptian times on Gaia.
He’d known, since before he could remember, that the substance was used to fuel the golden shield of Nibiru — but now he would use it to blackmail the Pantheon into freeing his people.
Suddenly, a Centaur came rushing out of the communications hut to inform Kyron: ‘A communiqué from DJ Nova reports that Kila has been reclaimed by the Dragon, and that Nugia and Nibiru are now under the governorship of the Chosen Ones.’ The messenger’s eyes drifted to the Shaman in their midst. ‘Is that to be the way of it here, Lord?’ he asked hopefully, mystified to think that any one man could meet the challenge.
Thais smiled, heartened by the DJ’s report — provided, of course, that it was true. Thais couldn’t understand how Maelgwn might have reclaimed his home planet from their foe, but he had an inkling that the Devas may have had a hand in it. The Shaman wasn’t exactly sure how he would psychically match wits with the Nefilim Goddess either, yet he did not fear their meeting, for he felt the righteous energy of the Allied Logoi flowing through him, warming his being and determination from within. His people, numbering in the thousands, Kyron claimed, could not be allowed to suffer one moment longer.
‘Tomorrow morning the sun’s rays will shine down on Kurra, a city of free souls,’ Thais assured the messenger and the rest of the rebel band, none of whom looked older than eighteen years of age. ‘I have waited forever to find my people, and I shall not fail them now that I have.’
‘So, what’s the plan, Master Shaman?’ Kyron rubbed his hands together briskly, eager to get with the program.
‘Time I paid Ereshkigal a personal visit.’
‘We,’ Kyron corrected. ‘I have a better knowledge of the palace than any of our people,’ he boasted.
‘And how is that?’ Thais challenged in fun.
‘My spirit takes flight there at every given opportunity,’ Kyron explained. ‘I used the same talent to find us a way out of the mines,’ and those around him nodded to confirm the story.
His positive attitude kept the prophet the fittest and healthiest among the rebel band. ‘I would be thankful for your aid, Kyron, but just you,’ Thais decreed, and the rest of the young Centaurs looked rather relieved. ‘We need to look as inconspicuous as possible until we get inside the palace.’
‘Yeah, right!’ Kyron motioned down at his cumbersome form. ‘So there is no confusion, Ereshkigal decreed that never would a Centaur walk the streets of her city as a free man.’
Thais was doing his best not to resent the Nefilim ruler, as he knew that giving in to such emotion would only weaken his position. ‘A simple deception will overthrow that law, for good.’
22
LITTLE MIRACLES
Every bone and muscle of his mortal body ached with a vengeance by the time Nergal was returned to his palace on Nibiru. He wasn’t used to this walking business and there was no one who would lighten him of the terrible load he was being forced to carry.
Nibiru’s military were no longer answerable to Nefilim command. They would only heed the word of the Dragon’s appointed representative, the Chief Justice of Kila, Cadwallon.
Low-life ingrates, thought Nergal, as he laboured his way to his private chambers, accompanied by his daughter, Aya, Cadwallon and numerous guards. The Nefilim Lord refused to be done out of his immortal birthright and dominion so easily. He had a plan for his redemption, but he needed to shake off the escort if he was to execute it.
The Lord felt as if the Logos was finally smiling upon him, when, at the entrance to his private rooms, Cadwallon instructed that Nergal and Aya were to be locked inside, and several guards stationed outside.
‘I understand that you must both require rest and nourishment,’ the Dragon’s official explained.
But in truth, Cadwallon was only doing as Maelgwn and Noah had instructed him to do. Personally, the Chief Justice wouldn’t have taken his eyes off the two Nefilim for a second, but his superiors had been very specific about leaving the pair alone upon returning them to their private dwelling.
Inside their quarters, Aya collapsed onto a reclining lounge to rest her weary form. ‘Mortals are far stronger than I imagined.’ She held her throat — being forced to speak out loud was a strain on her neglected vocal cords.
‘Perhaps,’ Nergal snarled, hesitant to give humans any due. ‘But even the immortals among them are as thick as two charichalum bricks.’
Aya could not support her father’s view, given their current circumstances. ‘They’ve managed to reduce us to passive captives,’ she said, thinking her father was truly having visions of grandeur if he felt he could outsmart the forces that had brought them to this sorry state.
‘Passive captive, me!’ Nergal roared, before lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper. ‘Not for long.’ The Nefilim Lord dragged his weary carcass towards a hidden safe containing his private stash of Orme.
With all due haste, Nergal prepared himself for the injection.
Most Nefilim chose to inject Orme, because by the time the life-giving substance was due to be taken, the effects took too long to occur when the Orme was ingested. They preferred the elixir to be shot straight into the heart — the icy core of the Nefilim’s failing physical bodies.
Aya actually bothered to raise herself when she caught on to her father’s scheme. ‘But now is not your designated time! You have no way of calculating the specific dosage, and how are you to know that Orme will restore your immortality and your psychic skills? Those monsters altered our molecular structure, and I know I do not feel any more inwardly chilled than normal. What if —’
‘Oh … do shut that mortal trap of yours, Aya. Your vocalisations are most grating on the ear. I’ll just take the dosage a little at a time,’ he reasoned, pressing the tip of the tiny injecting gun to his heart. ‘It certainly can’t make me feel any worse.’
A slight squeeze on the trigger sent a rush of stimulating relief through the Nefilim Lord’s body, and he seemed for a moment to defy gravity as he once had.
Aya, curious, moved to examine her father more closely.
‘Am I glowing with vitality?’ Nergal questioned, appearing euphoric and at peace.
Aya gasped when Nergal opened his eyes and she saw that the whites were glowing brightly. ‘Yes! Quickly, attempt a psychic feat,’ she urged, excited that her own deliverance might be at hand.
Nergal willed the lounge chair to rise from the ground, but his attempts were to no avail.
‘I must have slightly underestimated the dosage.’ He raised the gun and injected more of the glowing gaseous substance, filled with sparkling gold specks of light, into his heart and, following a moment of intense pleasure, he tried to raise the lounge again — without success. ‘You know,’ Nergal turned to his disappointed daughter and smiled, ‘I don’t know why I am even bothering with this psychic nonsense. I don’t need it.’
Aya frowned. She didn’t understand his confidence or his calm acceptance of failure. ‘How do you figure?’
‘Well,’ Nergal raised his brow, ‘I have a lovely wife and two beautiful children to be thankful for … three children, counting Nabu.’
‘Beautiful? Be thankful for?’ Aya backed away as if her father had caught some fatal disease and, in a way, he had. ‘Oh sweet misery, Father, you’ve overdosed!’
‘One can never overdose on love.’ Nergal served his daughter a reassuring smile that did anything but reassure her. ‘Come child, give your father a hug.’ He held his arms wide.
‘Stay away from me.’ Aya ran for the door and began pounding on it. ‘Help me! Let me out of here!’
Back on Kila, Rebecca called a meeting at the Institute of Medical Advancement for all those interested in the capabilities of the artificial womb the Goddess Inanna had preserved from the labs of Ninharsag.
Her pregnancy confirmed, Tory was interested in hearing the lecture, and was on her way through Central Park to attend with Maelgwn and Zabeel. She’d been preoccupied since seeing her physician. What with helping Candace reorganise the city and making Zabeel feel at home, Tory just hadn’t had time to seek out Hawk. Perhaps she’d been evading the issue; she’d been savouring Maelgwn’s company and had no wish to make him disgruntled or uncomfortable by bringing up the subject. Nevertheless, the decisions that she may have to make concerning the sacred child she carried, were not hers alone to make, nor were they Maelgwn’s — Hawk needed to be at this lecture too.
‘I am hardly going to object to the father’s presence.’ Maelgwn, who’d been following Tory’s train of thought, came to a standstill to openly reassure her of his feelings on the matter.
‘Hawk, you mean?’ Zabeel clarified, having been made privy to Tory’s condition. ‘You won’t find him.’
As he said this, Tory glimpsed the image Zabeel held in mind of Hawk wearing the NERGUZ. It saddened her that the pirate would go to such lengths not to see her again. ‘Well, despite what he may think of me, he has to know. So,’ she took a deep breath to steady her emotions, ‘I shall seek Raven, for he is never far removed from the captain.’
‘Send my regards,’ Zabeel requested.
‘We’ll see you both there.’ Maelgwn kissed her cheek and continued en route to the first island ring where the Institute of Medical Advancement was located.
He was making a fine show of being unaffected by the notion of confronting his Falcon self and Tory knew it was Maelgwn’s accursed jealous streak that worried him the most. He’s beyond expending his energy on such detrimental emotions, thought Tory, more certain of her husband’s capabilities than he was.
Maelgwn looked back and winked at her.
‘Swan?’ It took Raven a second to recognise Tory with her long, blonde hair. The pilot was most perturbed by her presence so it was fortunate that the Bil-me was on automatic pilot.
‘I must see Hawk,’ she pleaded. ‘Where is he?’
‘Where he’s been ever since you vanished.’ Raven swivelled around in his seat to face her, his tone far cooler than was usual for him. ‘In his cabin, pissed out of his mind.’
Tory gave a heavy sigh, feeling responsible and guilty. ‘Crow has been getting in his ear, I suppose?’ Tory imagined that Hawk’s older brother had had a field day badmouthing her for rushing off to Maelgwn’s side.
‘If you are implying Crow has been blowing things out of proportion to make you look bad, I can assure you he didn’t have to exaggerate.’
At any other time Tory could have taken the criticism, but in her pregnant condition she just burst into tears. ‘I’m being torn apart, Raven,’ she mumbled in vague explanation.
‘Oh shit, Swan … um, Tory, whatever.’ The pilot climbed out of his seat to apologise to her, being a born sucker for a female in tears.
‘See what I mean?’ She felt he’d highlighted her point beautifully. ‘You can’t imagine what it’s like trying to choose between the same man!’
‘You’re married to one of them.’ Raven saw little chance for his friend winning the contest. ‘Where’s the choice?’
Tory looked Raven in the eye, knowing the pilot was like a father to Hawk. ‘I’m pregnant … with Hawk’s child.’
/> The announcement sent the pilot into a state of shock and for a moment, words and feeling escaped him.
‘Do you think the event will please him?’ Tory prompted the pilot to say something.
‘Of course,’ Raven said soberly. ‘But the circumstances being as they are,’ he shook his head, deeply concerned for his friend, ‘it can only lead to more heartache … which he doesn’t deserve.’
‘No,’ Tory quite agreed, ‘but there must be some reason why Hawk was chosen to father this particular child —’
‘What do you mean?’ Raven was puzzled, but his perplexed expression dissolved into one of amazement when he realised the captain had impregnated an immortal. ‘You don’t mean …’ Raven nearly choked on the suggestion that the long prophesied event was coming to pass as they spoke.
Tory nodded surely. ‘The first Chosen One of your kind, Raven. A messiah to unite the Falcon kind and lead them into a new era of freedom.’
‘So the stories of Lahmu are true, the revolution has started?’
‘Started … it’s all but over!’ She heightened his expectation, pleased to be able to bring some joy and hope to the crew of the Bil-me after the obvious grief that she’d caused them. ‘Most of the troublesome members of the Pantheon have already been overthrown, bar Ereshkigal, and Maelgwn will be addressing the troubles on Karleashian presently.’
Raven found it impossible to repress a smile, and after releasing a mighty ‘Yahoo!’, he took hold of Tory’s hands. ‘Perhaps this scenario could work out better for Hawk than I imagined. I’m sorry I was so harsh on you just now, for none of what has happened has been your fault.’
Tory shook her head, feeling Raven had no need to apologise.
‘In all actuality,’ he insisted on continuing, ‘I am beholden to you.’
As the pilot dropped down on one knee before her, Tory saw Sir Tiernan in the man and her heart jumped into her throat, reducing her to tears once more.