Mamelon 2 - Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It seemed to Beth that they were falling for an eternity, she and Mulac, although she reasoned much later  it could only have been seconds in Earth time.

They landed close together on a solid bed of red sand where they lay gasping for breath until Beth confided that her motherworld father had visited her in a vision as if come to save her from harm. “It was him,” she insisted, “my dad, Gabriel Martin. He did not say anything, not so much as a hello, but I saw him as clearly as I see you now. But how, why…?” It makes no sense.

                        “This is Mamelon,” Mulac reminded her with a wry smile. I have been trying to make sense of it all my life.

“You called out too,” she told him, adding almost accusingly, “but not to me.”

“Ah, yes.” The Nu-gen’s usual deadpan expression, or so it seemed to Beth, reflected something of her own astonishment and disbelief. “I thought I saw…”

“Who…? Who did you see?”

“Galia, it was Galia of Mamelon, long-ago consort of Michal the Great when our world flourished, its peoples too. Yet, how could I know this?  I know nothing of these times or Galia, only what the legends tell us. Why, of all people, should I call out to Galia?”

“You were as terrified as I was…” Beth began but changed her mind and bit her lip before hastening to add, “…and there is no shame in that. Only, fear has been known to perform a magic of its own. I needed my father and he came. Perhaps you needed to call on the greatness that was once Mamelon to give you strength, help you believe that more than death would break our fall.”

“The Nu-gen’s smile broadened. “You are wise beyond your years, my Bethan. Either that or you have a very vivid imagination.”

They both laughed and felt the tension between them ease. For his part, Mulac could still not quite believe that Ri had brought them together again. Had not his heart assured him time and again that she was the love of as many lifetimes as he might see?  “Even so,” he pondered aloud, “Why should I see a face I have never seen, identify someone who is, after all, no more to me than someone in one of Etta’s stories…?”

Again, Beth bit her tongue even while reminding herself she really must get used to being Bethan again. The vision of her father had unsettled her. At the same time, and for no reason, but intensely all the same, instinct warned her this was not a good time to tell Mulac that it may or may not have been Galia of Mamelon he saw in his vision, but his passionate cry, still ringing in her ears, had been, ‘Mother!’ Had she misheard, she wondered? Could it have been Etta’s name he had all buts screamed?  She sighed, persuaded herself that it did not much matter anyway and resolved not to think about it again. Instantly, the incident was dispatched to the archives of her mind where it would remain until such a time as she might well need to refer to it again.

Mulac leaped to his feet and held out his hand. “Come, we cannot stay here. We must move on.”

“Where to?”” she wanted to know while accepting the proffered hand and hauling herself up to fall into his arms.

Mulac shrugged. “Ri knows. We must trust Ri. It is his mountain after all.”

They walked in companionable silence for some time, content to hold hands, thereby reassuring themselves of each other’s presence while trying to forget the known dangers they has left behind and resist anticipating any that may lie ahead. Suddenly, Beth slipped and pulled Mulac down after her. At first they laughed and got to their feet again, only to have the sand shift under their feet and send them sprawling again.

Bath stared at Mulac in wide-eyed disbelief. “The mountain, Mulac, it’s moving!”

Mulac’s expression tensed before he shook his head, slowly as if in deep thought. “Not the mountain,” he said gruffly, “the Kurzl.”

“Kurzl..?”

“A sea monster that once inhabited a lake in the bowels of the mountain until the water dried up. It must have survived somehow, probably by eating Foss and…”

“Anyone else who happened to be passing…” Beth prompted with a rueful smile. “So what do we do, sit tight until it realizes it is carrying its next meal?”

Mulac grinned despite his growing anxiety for their safety. “Do you have a better suggestion?”

Beth shrugged. “Who are we to turn down a free ride even if we haven’t a clue where we’re heading?  I always did love Magical Mystery tours.” She caught his bemused expression. “Don’t even ask…!” They both started to laugh aloud then clapped both hands to their mouths simultaneously as the same thought crossed both their minds. Presumably even monsters have ears?

Why does it not toss us off its back and have us for breakfast or lunch or supper, whatever damn time it is? Beth wondered, mouthing to Mulac at the same time.

The Nu-gen shrugged. Perhaps it is asleep, he mouthed back, or…

Biding its time…  Beth shivered in spite of a stoic resolve that came from she knew not where.

Mulac shrugged again. Hopefully, it sleeps…

Now I’ve heard everything. A monster asleep on the move with its next meal on its back... Beth’s expression displayed a growing terror.

Mulac grinned. At least we get to stay together if only in its stomach…

Both put their hands to their mouths again to prevent bursts of laughter. Beth began to relax. It was true. Whatever happened, they were together. Could I ask for more? Beth tried to reassure herself. Well, yes, but…

It was Bethan, not Beth, who grinned back at Mulac. For his part, he was much relieved to see that she seemed less afraid although it did nothing to allay his own fears, not for himself but for her. I cannot lose her again, he kept telling himself over and over until he began to believe it.

So it was they continued their journey ever deeper into the mountain on the back of a legendary sea monster.

………………………………………

If Ricci had been delighted if a little bit in awe of being reunited with Galia, he was positively overjoyed to see Etta. He did not trust the Magela implicitly, but had always felt comfortable in her company. She could be devious, yes, but she was also incredibly kind. Wise, of course, but Etta also possessed that rare ability to reassure anyone in her presence that, come what may, everything would work out for the best in the end. At this moment in time, Ricci was particularly anxious to seize upon the latter.

“So what and where do we go from here, Etta dear” Ricci asked, fully expecting a positive response, “I have to confess I consider myself - ourselves - well and truly lost.” He was not disappointed.

“What we do, my dear Ricci, is remain calm and permit ourselves to think clearly without any emotional baggage getting in the way,” Etta responded, glancing pointedly Galia even as she spoke. “As for the where, I sense we must hasten to Dom-Y-Baba. If we are not needed there at this precise moment in time, my gut feeling is we soon will be.”

“Dom-y-Baba!” Galia exclaimed, “Why there of all places? I have heard they call it The Doom and is there not a sea serpent that feeds on whatever chances its way?”

“The Doom, indeed,” murmured Etta pensively, but quickly brightened, “yet we have no cause for concern, my children, serpent or no serpent. Ri is with us and this is His sacred mountain. He will watch over us and keep us safe. He will keep us all safe, you’ll see. Now, this is really not the time to stand around speculating. We have a long way to go yet.”

“Can we not use magic to transport us there?” Ricci asked hopefully.

“Certainly not,” Etta rebuked him, but with her customary smile so he did not feel in the least reprimanded. “There are forces abroad far greater than mine and some which even I have yet to quite identify. We must take great care and remember walls have ears, even for mind talk. So be on your guard, both of you.”

“So do you know the way to Dom-y-Baba, mother?” Galia asked innocently enough and was not prepared for her mother’s angry denial.

“How would I know the way? Would I ever visit such a place? Only a fool would go willingly to Dom-y-Baba unless the need was a matter of life and death. And before you ask, either of you, yes, our need is such. As for which way we take…” For once, Etta looked nonplussed.

“Follow the light,” said a voice out of nowhere. Not one of the three could prevent an instinctive jump while telling themselves they were merely startled and not in the least bit frightened.

“Look,” said Ricci pointing to where the tunnel forked just ahead. A beam of red light that might have come from a puli shone on the wall of the tunnel farthest from where they stood. “This is just so weird, I’ll say,” muttered Ricci. “I mean, there’s no one here but us so…” his voice tailed off in confusion. He looked to Etta for guidance if not an explanation of sorts, but the Magela was deep in thought and did not appear to notice.

“So let’s go then,” Galia finally announced, ignoring a skeptical glance from Ricci, “seeing as how we don’t really have a choice. Unless either of you have a better suggestion?” she added with a hint of mischief that reminded Ricci of the Galia of old whom he had once adoringly served. He sighed, nodding agreement and approval. “Are you with us, mother?”

“What? Oh, yes. You are right, of course. It’s not as if we are spoilt for choice. Indeed, let us follow the light.”

The three proceeded, Etta bringing up the rear which was perhaps just as well since neither Galia nor Ricci could read her fearful expression. Etta tried in vain to shift a coldness that had settle on her heart like a limpet despite the cave’s clammy heat. It was rare for a Magela to know fear, the kind of deep-rooted fear that makes the blood run cold. It was, though, how she felt now, certain she had recognized the disembodied voice. She had not heard it for many lifetimes and of its owner she was not in the least afraid. On the contrary, knowledge of such a presence in the mountain gave her greater cause for confidence in a successful outcome than she had dared hope. Even so, the voice warned her of great, imminent, danger even though it had not spoken of it; it held, not for the first time, the fate of all Mamelon in its deceptively dulcet tones.

Etta sighed, took several deep breaths, and hurried after the others.

………………………………………

In Lunis, City of Moons, Ragund the Dark Mage was also breathing deeply in order to contain a growing anticipation of success. The mirror that answered to his every command had shown him the Keeper and her Nu-gen lover at Dom-y-Baba. The Kurzl had awakened and at his, Ragund’s bidding, would take them where he, Ragund, intended they should go. Suddenly, though, the mirror clouded over like a curtain only to to reveal a new image, one he had not called upon for the simple reason that he had no knowledge of it.

“Etta, Galia, together!” he seethed with rage. That fool, Ricci, was of no consequence, but Etta and Galia, mother and daughter, they made a formidable team. Here was a threat, indeed, to his well-laid plans. Between them, their magic was almost equal to his own... and with Astor interfering at every opportunity…a real threat, yes!. The mirror began to cloud over again, but not before Ragund’s sharp eyes spotted the puli light on the cave wall where it divided into several tunnels. His brow creased in a genuinely puzzled frown, he heard a sound, like a voice but not quite a voice, like nothing he had ever heard before, and yet he sensed it meant danger, great danger, of the kind any strong magic posed when working against another.

The curtain closed to leave the mirror yielding only his reflection. “So I was right, and Astor has help,” Ragund growled aloud, but what, whose…? Not those bastard druids, surely? No, they would not dare. It was way beyond Radik’s capabilities so he could rule out the krill leader. “I must know. I will not be thwarted, I will not!” he cried aloud, and stormed off to find Shireen. Making love to his beautiful consort invariably inspired him to higher thoughts which, in turn, inevitably led to a greater discernment of the status quo. Besides, he could not deny that sex was a pleasurable enough experience even as a means to an end.

“Shireen!” he called, and she was there in an instant, as beautiful as ever, yet not so. Ragund started, and then mentally reprimanded himself. For a moment he had thought to detect a difference in her, in the way she looked, a jaded - if only slightly - replica of his consort. Then she smiled. Shireen had a beautiful smile, one that radiated the very desire and desirability he had devoured since they first met and conspired to rule Mamelon together.  He embraced her.

Shireen reluctantly succumbed to his clumsy embrace. It was, after all, in her best interests to keep him sweet. It meant, however, dismissing the dream-self that fooled Ragund was inclined to summon on a daily basis while she enjoyed trifling with the Krill leader, Radik as Arissa. To perfect such a degree of interchangeability had taken several lifetimes, but it had proven well worth the effort. True, Radik, like Ragund, was a means to the same end, but unlike the Dark Mage, the krill leader was also an incredible lover. She permitted herself a light, self-satisfied laugh that she knew Ragund would easily mistake for the artless coquettishness he had always associated with her and with which she had ensnared him in the first place. Such a prize, Ragund, a Dark Mage, indeed, and for someone so clever, such a fool. The Tomb of the Creator would be rediscovered soon, all her senses told her this…and the secret of eternal youth will be mine, mine, all mine…! No longer would she need to rely on the body of Arissa that, as kikiri, would be left to haunt the landscape of eternity, a mindless, bodiless, spiritless ‘thing’.

Shireen laughed again and Ragund silently congratulated himself, not for the first time, that such was his power over her that this splendid creature had been his, all his, and only ever his since the very beginning of what had been, and always would be, a very rewarding if unequal partnership.

………………………………………

On what had once been the underground lake known as Dom-y-Baba, It was Bethan’s turn to sleep while Mulac kept watch, not least for any tell-tale signs of the monster’s immediate intentions towards them. She had closed her eyes from sheer exhaustion not expecting to sleep. Sleep it was, though, that overwhelmed here and into whose care she gladly if only temporarily committed herself.

It was a she began to awaken that she heard the familiar voice inside her head urging her to be alert. “Tol…?”

“You must wake, Bethan, Motherworlder, for you are in great danger. No, not the Kurzl. Despite what anyone tells you, the beast means you no harm. However, you must leave its protection. Druids are nearby and Krills await you around the next bend. Ygor is a force to be reckoned with, it is true, but he is merely misguided. Radik and his band of cutthroats, on the other hand, are under orders to use you for their own evil purposes…”

“Orders, whose orders, and what evil purposes other than a given predilection for sadomasochism?”

“I dare say no more. Walls have ears. You and Mulac, you must save yourselves for greater things than anyone knows. Now, wake and go. The sand is sound where you travel now, but delay and it will suck you under. Be sure to head for the farther not nearer shelf of the mountain or the quicksand will take you beyond even the reach of the strongest magic. Once at the shelf, you will need to climb higher.” The voice in her head went silent.

“Bethan…” Mulac’s voice floated down to her through the vacuum Tol’s voice had left. He sounded anxious. Beth opened her eyes. “You were restless, a bad dream perhaps?”

“I heard…” she began and thought better of trying to explain her relationships with Arissa’s servant. “We have to leave, now.”

Mulac stared in wide-eyed amazement. “Leave, and go where? Are you mad?

“Mulac, do you trust me?” She had risked standing up and was looking directly into the eyes she had so come to love. “Do you trust me, Mulac?”” she repeated.

His eyes met hers directly and did not waver for an instant as each sensed a challenge of sorts facing each of them. Mulac caught his breath. |It was not in a Nu-gen’s nature to do a female’s bidding, and yet…I love this female and she loves me. She would never knowingly see our love threatened or each other harmed. “Yes, I trust you,” he told her and meant it.

“Then take my hand and come with me to the farther shelf of the cave.”

“Why not the nearer one..?”

“There is quicksand.”

“You cannot possibly know that?”

“I don’t have time for this, Mulac. We don’t have time for this. There are krills waiting around the next bend and we may not be so lucky next time…”

“But how…?” Mulac spluttered.

As he spoke, a bend in the river bed came into view and caught his attention. Beth turned and followed his gaze. We have to go now, Mulac, NOW.”

The urgency in her tone was sufficient persuasion for Mulac to seize her hand and as one they stepped warily off the sea monster’s sand-covered back and began crossing to the farther of the shelves that punctuated the mountain throughout.

Once there, recalling Tol’s instructions, Beth began to climb to the uppermost shelf which, being close to the cave roof, meant they had to squat as there was no room to stand.

“You are mad,” Mulac accused her but with a twinkle in his eyes that told her he was okay with that. She responded in kind while wondering what amused him most, her own behavior which must, at the very least, appear odd to the Nu-gen, or his own for doing as she, a female, had asked. Before she had time to speculate further, however, they heard first noises and then voices coming from the shelf below.

“Someone’s coming!” she whispered.

“I hear,” he murmured. “Be silent and lie flat. We dare not make our presence known until we see who our new neighbors are.”

They peered over the shelf edge. Both caught their breaths. The old adage, out of the frying pan into the fire, crossed Bethan’s Motherworld consciousness as Ygor and his druid acolytes came into view.