The Apocalypse Script (39 page)

Ben retched as the world picked
him up and slammed him back to the ground. He looked at the scribe
and said accusingly, “
The
Seven
…”

Ridley looked amused. “The
Seven?
Me?
No,
no. Unlike you, nephew, they are
truly
pawns. As was Lilian’s father.
I was the one who spoke the words that drove King Sargon mad,
convincing him that a foreign god was threatening his kingdom. I
fed his nightmares and spoke the words that convinced him to rebel
against the other kingdoms. I was the one who, at my trial, spoke
the words that planted the seeds of destruction in the minds of
seven monarchs – seeds that would grow into a conviction that the
world must be brought to an end.

“
I spoke the
words that ensured three kings would rebel. The war between the
Maqtu and Seven was necessary to thin out the ranks of both, you
see. The script that still runs will make them weaker still. The
planet will be ripe for the plucking tomorrow, Ben. It will be
ready for
you
.”

“
Ready for me?” mumbled the man on
the floor. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

Ridley put his elbows on his knees
and leaned forward. “Whatever you like, Ben. Save lives or take
them. Feed the hungry or raid the homes of the poor. Build churches
or kill priests. The script only calls for you to rule. How you
rule is up to you.

“
Know this,
however: A great power will soon spread from the opposite side of
the world towards Steepleguard and it will take everything that you
do not. It is a power waking from a long sleep, even now. It is
readying itself. It will take what you discard and will fight for
what you call your own. The choice to do nothing is a choice unto
itself, and there will be consequences, so do not think that you
can write yourself out of the script. Without you the Fifth Kingdom
falls and humanity will suffer whatever the
other
wishes it to
suffer.”

Ben moaned in agony as the lines
unraveled in his brain like a giant, industrial spring. His head
felt like his head was being cracked open from the inside. The last
broken and unfocused words he mustered before the blackness were,
“Who is your master?”

Ridley smiled sadly. “The truth,
Ben?
I don
’
t know.
Do
you?”

Part 6 -
September 25
^th
-
Dusk

Her band was shattered, her troupe broken up;

And the gods, her helpers who marched at her
side,

Trembling with terror, turned their backs about,

In order to save and preserve their lives.

Tightly encircled, they could not escape.

He made them captives and he smashed their
weapons.

Thrown into the net, they found themselves
ensnared;

Placed in cells, they were filled with wailing;

Bearing his wrath, they were held imprisoned.

The Enuma Elish (1100 B.C.)

A few minutes before the reception was to begin,
Fiela approached Lilian and said, “I cannot find our husband
anywhere. Has he abandoned us?” The girl was beside herself with
worry.

Lilian concealed her own concern.
“Why should he do that?”

Because I made a fool of
him,
thought Fiela guiltily, but she said,
“Maybe he longed for his old life. Perhaps he thought we were
lunatics and finally made his escape.”

“
Are you certain you have looked
everywhere?”

“
It is
impossible to look
everywhere
. Steepleguard is too
large. The tablet vault is locked but no one answers the buzzer, so
he must not be there, and he is not in his study…”

“
You must suspend the search for
now. It is time for the reception. I will tell our guests that Ben
is with Scriptus Ridley discussing matters of import. They will
accept that so long as we can present him afterwards.”

“
I do not like appearing in front
so many people,” admitted Fiela, thinking of the Duke of the
Ordunas and the eyes that had watched her every move earlier in the
day.

“
You need only introduce me. I
will do the talking. You look wonderful, by the way.” Fiela was
wearing a sleeveless scarlet dress that extended to her knees and
that amply - perhaps too amply, thought Lilian - presented her
cleavage. Her red hair was tied up in a bun. A pair of black pumps
dangled from the fingers of one hand. “But you must wear your
shoes.”

“
They are uncomfortable,” the girl
complained, but she put them on.

“
Are you armed?”

“
Of course.” Fiela motioned at the
small of her back where Lilian saw a handgun tucked into an almost
invisible pocket at the back of the dress. “And I shall have the
spear with me, as required by the ceremony. I still think I should
be in uniform. I am your guardian.”

“
We have discussed this. You are
serretu first and my guardian second. What would those assembled
think if their future king’s serretu, the prospective mother of
princes and princesses that will govern them, was introduced
wearing a combat uniform? You might as well walk in with a cigar in
your mouth. Have you spoken to the fetches’ superiors?”

“
Yes. They know to be inside the
building no later than 7:30 and they will be confined to the
banquet hall. But why is that required of them?”

Lilian had practiced the lie. “I
do not want Ardoon wandering the estate at night. It is a security
risk.”

Fiela nodded as if this made
sense, though she wondered how they would be any less a security
risk
inside
the
hotel.

“
Now,” said Lilian, “ready
yourself for the ceremony. Remember, only Agati is to be spoken
tonight - no English. There are too many Ardoon around
us.”

“
Yes, Sister.”

Lilian put a hand on Fiela’s
shoulder. “Do not be so glum. Tomorrow a new world is
born.”

Fiela descended into the Great
Hall from the left staircase. Diagonally across her body she
carried a seven-foot spear consisting of a gold shaft and iron tip
from which hung silk streamers of various colors. Lilian, dressed
in a purple sequin dress, sleeveless but modestly cut just above
her knees and below her neck, followed. Diamonds and rubies
glittered on chains about her wrists and neck.

As Fiela entered the Great Hall, a
hush fell over the hundreds that had gathered. She led Lilian up
the stage and with the older woman standing a few feet behind her,
slammed the base of the spear into the wooden stage seven times,
sending thundering booms throughout the hall.

She yelled, “Behold the Nisirtu,
Lilitu of Sargon, Regis Filia, Rightful Annasa of the Fifth
Kingdom, Dominus of the Ardoon, Savior of the Nisirtu, and
Vanquisher of the Maqtu.” There was a smattering of untimely
applause that died quickly.

She slammed the spear into the
mahogany planks again as she took in a new breath. “Behold, Lilitu
of Sargon, Charge of the Great Sage and Asatu to the Heir of
Sargon.”

Looking over her shoulder, she saw
Lilian nod. Fiela knew that she had done what was required of her
and was preparing to step back when she saw the Duke of the Ordunas
standing near the stage. Staring directly at him, she slammed the
spear into the stage once more and said, “Behold, my sister,
whom I love
!”

There were murmurs in the audience
and a few confused looks, as this was not part of the required
ritual, but then the throng applauded enthusiastically, some
shouting,
“
Well
done, Fiela!
”
One
person in the back of the room yelled, “
And behold the Edimmu!
”
which resulted in some polite chuckles. The duke
expressed a sudden interest a cufflink.

Lilian moved forward, touching the
Peth on the back in gratitude as she cocked an eyebrow and
whispered, “Nice improvisation.” She kissed her on the cheek and
Fiela retreated to the back of the stage, where she stopped and
rested the spear against her chest. Her heart was beating so fast
she thought it might explode.

Standing in front of the giant red
Lamassu tapestry, Lilian scanned the assembly before her. She was
pleased by what she saw. Yes, a few dignitaries were missing, as
she had expected, but most of the important people were there, in
addition to select members of the citizenry. Three hundred and
eighty seven handsome, impeccably dressed men, women, and children,
the future of the Nisirtu, gathered to watch one era of humanity
end and another begin.

And they trusted
her
to usher them into
the new era.

The power she felt was
electrifying. She had spent over two decades under what amounted to
house arrest. True, a rather lenient and indulgent form of house
arrest, yet there had been no doubt that she was on the periphery
of the great circle, a planet in the smallest and outermost system
in a galaxy full of shining stars.

The Nisirtu standing before her
were, by and large, the secret allies of her father who had escaped
the broad net of his usurpers. She knew that some were loyal to the
blood that ran through her veins. Others supported her because they
distrusted the Seven for undermining the Ardoon that they ruled and
required for their subsistence. Still others, she knew, were
admirers of Scriptus Ridley. Even King Sargon’s enemies treated
Ridley with respect, so when the scribe had covertly announced his
support for Lilian, others had fallen in line, even if they thought
her father mad and her a megalomaniac whore.

Lilian did not care why those
assembled had placed their futures in her hands. She only cared
that they had.

Taking inventory of the audience,
she determined that she would get the best results with a rant
against the Ardoon. She didn’t want the hawks thinking she was weak
and even the moderates loved the occasional fire-and-brimstone
sermon. Her position would be that the Seven had the right idea but
the wrong approach. It was their approach she opposed, not their
hard line against the Ardoon. The collapse was inevitable now.
There was no point in railing against it.

Silly games,
these
, she thought, but as Ridley had
said, the people love a good show.

She began, “Thank you all for
coming to my
reception
.” There were a few laughs at the inside joke and she
grinned. “My husband is in conference with Scriptus Ridley about
matters of great importance, so I will take this opportunity to say
a few words about why we are really here: The end of this era, and
the start of a new one.

“
The sun rarely
sets on humanity as a whole. The weeks and months to come will be a
terrible shock to the Ardoon. For centuries they have experienced
nothing but forward progress and so have forgotten that the thing
they call
civilization
is an artificial construct, a flickering flame
that can at any moment be extinguished. They have become vain,
thinking that it is their birthright to have a stable and fruitful
existence and that the blackness they emerged from can never
reclaim them.

“
The Ardoon of
today are in some ways even more slavish than their ancestors. They
have many more masters yet they have deluded themselves into
thinking they are free and independent. Their toy phones and
computers and the internet have given the slaves the ability to
speak to one another instantly, and to share ideas, and to
communicate, and they imagine this enhanced ability to babel
is
power.
They have said,
‘Who can stand
against us, when we are united? Social media is more powerful than
any government and with it we can topple kingdoms.’
They point to the so-called ‘Arab Spring’ as
evidence of this, as well as the toppling of some insignificant
Ardoon institutions.

“
Having
misconstrued the toppling of a few small governments that had
been
scripted
to topple, they have grown cocky and think themselves gods.
Now they say,
‘It is unfair that we do not
have what our masters have. They are one and we are ninety-nine.
Why should they have more than us? Let us unite so that no
government and no kingdom may rule us! Let us become like our
masters. Let us invade their world and claim it and distribute the
spoils of our plunder amongst our own kind. For if we are
ninety-nine and they are but one, surely it is right that that we
do so.’
”

There were murmurs of disgust in the audience.

“
This
is what happens when masters
share their prosperity with their slaves. The slaves do not love
their masters for what they are given but rather resent their
masters for what they are
not
given. The Ardoon of today have leeched off the
achievements of their superiors far too long. If not stopped they
will raid
field and factory
and gorge themselves with food and toys and
luxuries, and when it is all gone, and their masters are dead, they
will cry
‘More!’
”