Star Metal: 2

 

II

            The world swam back into focus as Adrian began recovering consciousness and he noted a sharp pain in his wrists that briefly made him forget about the painful grinding of his broken collar bone. Apparently, he had been out long enough for them to bind his hands. As he slowly opened his eyes, he saw that he was surrounded by the group of Arabs and in their midst was a large black man.  So, there was a fifth man after all, which must have been on sentry duty that he had missed in his scouting. He allowed himself to give the dead mercenaries a measure of respect for their professionalism.

In the mix he could discern a pecking order in the stature and manner of the men. Some were wretches with pitted faces and ratty hair while a few wore well made clothes and meticulously groomed beards. One man stepped forward, grinning cruelly, shaking his head as if amused and pulling off his gloves one finger at a time.   

            “You are either very brave or very, very stupid my friend.” Said the well dressed Arab with a light English accent. “I am Haquim Aziz.” Adrian looked up with a start at the mention of the man’s name. “Judging by your reaction my name is not unknown to you and yet you are quite unique to me.” Haquim said with a chuckle, “Tell me, who are you that has murdered my servants?”

            “Adrian Morris, an American, and the instrument of retribution that fate has delivered to repay the blood that you have spilled.” Adrian answered with such venom that Haquim’s cruel grin faltered for a moment.

            Regaining his composure, he said mockingly, “Then truly, infidel, the fates are amazingly cruel as to allow their agent to fall so easily.” then turned to his men and barked “Throw him in the second truck and move the rest of our bounty into the others! We have lost enough time thanks to Mr. Morris here.”

            The prisoners were moved quickly to the last three trucks while Adrian was bodily thrown into the second truck alone. Inside of the truck was much cooler than he thought it might be but the heavy stench of unwashed bodies was cloying.  Outside he heard Haquim speaking with someone “Hassan, ride with the infidel and ensure that he is not harmed. Such a strong heart will come in quite useful before this is finished.”

            A whipcord thin man climbed up into the back of the truck with Adrian and sat down on the bench opposite him. Hard eyes ranged up and down Morris but the look was more scientific than militant which Adrian thought out of place in a group like this.

            Pulling Adrian’s buck knife out from its leather sheath and examining its sharpness he asked “Where did you get this Mr. Morris?” Adrian fixed the man with a killing glare then looked away in silence.

            The man continued “I ask only because it is a strange sort of steel that I have not seen since my time in the Damascus museum. There was a staff kept in the gallery that was said to have been wielded by Solomon, king of Jerusalem, during his purging of the land.” Adrian continued to look to the front of the truck behind them. “Maybe you are not familiar with the tales that claim that he was a great magus and pushed the ifrit from his land into the depths of Africa.” Cocking his head to the side he shrugged when no response was forthcoming from the other side of the truck. “It’s no matter now.” And slid the blade gently back into its home.

            Though he kept his face impassive Adrian’s mind was racing as he thought back to the knife. It had been a gift from his grandfather who had received it from his grandfather. The story of that buck knife was well known to every man in the Morris family. His ancestor had been a soldier in the Civil War and was stationed in Illinois when a meteor had struck the earth near his camp. It was an iron rock that had screamed through the night sky and Strong Morris had gone out to gather it the following morning. He carried that rock through the rest of the war and considered it a lucky charm. After the war had ended, he took it to a smith and had the metal forged into the blade then used the stock of his rifle to fashion the handle.  Through the years the blade had maintained its sharpness and had been on the hip of every family member that went to war. He felt a pang of shame that it was now in an enemy’s hand.

            The truck rambled on leaving Adrian to his brooding and Hassan was blissfully silent for the rest of the day.  When the sun began to dip behind the horizon the vehicle lurched to a stop and he heard the Arabs shouting as they pulled their human cargo from the other trucks. Haquim pulled the gate down on the truck and smiled thinly at Adrian “I do truly hope that the journey was not too excruciating Mr. Morris?” he said sharply.  “Hassan, we will make camp here for the night and set out for the temple with the rising of the sun” then nodded at Morris “bring him out and feed our guest.”

            Climbing down from the bed of the truck was more difficult without his hands being free than he thought it would be.  Looking around to appraise his surroundings Adrian felt an odd sense of dread.

            All around him he could make out the silhouettes of crumbled stone walls and the ground he stood on was actually cut stone that had been fit so precisely that one could not push a piece of paper in between the joints. Hassan noticed his discomfort, “The last remains of Ta’al. This was once the seat of a great African empire that was built on the carcass of one even older.  We found it during our prospecting for a new diamond mine but stumbled on something far more valuable.  At first, I thought it a curiosity then I realized where we were at whose kingdom it had been, come let me show you.”  Hassan seemed almost giddy to show off his ruins and walked Adrian to a stone plaque that had been carved with a strange mixture of Arabic and hieroglyphic writing.

            “The language is odd but easily translated” Hassan began, “This stanza here speaks of great beasts of the sky that had made their home here and this one tells of a man of the east that came with a mighty rod made of ‘star metal’.  This hero banished the beasts into the stygian depths below the mountains and sealed them there.” He began playing his palm up and down the handle of Morris’ knife. “Here is the most important part” he continued while pointing at another section of the stone, “the man from the east had with him a beautiful woman that he loved very much. He stayed to ensure that the beasts were truly sealed away and when he left gifted the city to his love. Before he departed, he renamed the city in honor of the woman, he called the city Sheba”

            The look of astonishment must have been plain on his face because Hassan simply smiled at Adrian knowingly. “We found the remnants of the palace.” He said. “The throne room was mostly intact but for the millennia of disuse. Every square inch of the walls is inscribed in the same language except for a section of the wall behind where her throne would have sat. I have only recently been able to decipher parts of that but the story it has to tell is far more interesting.

            It has told me that this was once Ta’al and was the home of a demon prince during a time referred to as the ‘Scourging’. It is a time when the barriers between the worlds grow weak and the denizens of the astral rampage across the world in an attempt to rid the world of man and claim it for their own.”

            Feigning boredom Adrian sighed deeply and asked “So what does this have to do with you kidnapping a whole village and dragging us into these hills, to this blighted place?”

            Hassan spun his face twisted into a manic mask. “The time of the Scourging is cyclic heathen and the true lords of Ta’al will soon return. Haquim and I intend to hold places of honor in the revival by freeing the prince’s minions from under the earth.”  Recovering his composure, he lowered his voice “those villagers are the decedents of Solomon and Sheba and are the debt to be paid on the offering stone, their blood will flow, drawn out by the very same ‘star metal’ that imprisoned Ta’al's defenders so long ago.” Hassan patted the leather sheath on his belt.

            Cold blue eyes held Hassan from continuing his tirade, “Where, then, do I fit into your ascension plan?” Adrian asked flatly.

            “You will be the avatar of the returning prince Mr. Morris.” Both turned to see Haquim leaning against the remains of a wall as he lit a cigarette. “I thought I told you to feed him Hassan not tell him our purpose here?” he exhaled slowly and watched the smoke drift lazily into the sky. “Come, you will need your strength for tomorrow.”

            When they returned to the camp Adrian was fed an MRE and given water. He ate heartily but when he saw that the villagers were being given the smallest of portions and just enough water to keep them going he stopped drinking, his thirst not quite quenched. He lowered his head in guilt for being given so much while these people were being starved before their murder.  He sat in silence and tried to devise a plan that would allow him to win his freedom and put a stop to this lunacy. Realistically there was very little that could be done in his present state; Haquim, Hassan and his men had the upper hand.

            Haquim sat across from Adrian and studied the American intently. Finally, he spoke, “What were you doing in these lands Mr. Morris? There are no white men within a thousand miles of us and none of those are American. So, what is it you are doing here?” He rubbed his beard with a strong hand in contemplation before he continued, “These people should mean nothing to you but you assaulted my caravan and relieved four of my best of their lives. I admit I do not understand why.”

            Adrian listened absentmindedly as he studied the stars above. “These people showed me kindness. There was a debt that needed to be paid and you inadvertently called in their mark. To be honest I had only planned on freeing them until I happened upon the young girl that you and your men ravaged on the road. That act was the seal of your destruction Haquim.” He lowered his head and stared the other man dead in the eye, “Before this is over, she will hear your screams from across the abyss.”

            Shifting uncomfortably under the intensity of that glare Haquim turned to Hassan and asked “Where is Jaba? We sent him to the temple hours ago.”

            Hassan was preparing to answer when a scream rang out and the black man came running back into the camp. His eyes shifted maddeningly and he was flailing his arms around wildly.  Something had terrified this professional killer and Haquim stood drawing his pistol expecting some pursuer to be on Jaba’s heel. Nothing followed the man except silence. Looking down at the mercenary that had fallen at his feet Haquim spat, “What has come over you man?”

            Through panic-stricken eyes Jaba looked up at his master, “It’s not the same up there any more boss!” He tried to get a grip on himself under Haquim’s stern glare.  “I went up to the temple to set up the lights and make sure that everything is in place when the wind started up and knocked all of the lamps over,” Jaba kept looking to the darkness fitfully, “then the seal started glowing and I heard a weird hum comin’ from underneath it.”

            Haquim looked to Hassan, “Does any of this sound right? I was under the impression that the seal kept them down there until we were able to release them.”

            “It should” Hassan replied.

            Looking up again Adrian felt an icy chill run down his spine. Jaba was right, something was very wrong. The stars that he had been watching no more than five minutes ago had moved, subtly, but they had moved.  Haquim screaming at his men drew his attention back to earth. “We are going Hassan! Your calculations were wrong my friend, the stars are right, now, not tomorrow, now! Get the men and rouse our herd it is time for the culling!”

            Then he turned on Adrian with purpose, “Well, Mr. Morris, it seems your appointment with destiny is coming sooner rather than later.”