I wish there was a way I could share this perfect moment,
to roll it up in a parchment made of mischief
and pass it along with a smile.

Wednesday 29 February 2012

Chapter 11: The Amazons

First they will cleanse him in preparation for the sacrifice.” said their new acquaintance, the Queen’s Guard whose name they were to learn was Sir Benjamin Lovett, son of Mumford.

“Evil!” cried Gadget. “It’s not enough to kill ‘im, they ‘asta torcher ‘im first. Poor Mister Brother.”

“After he has been cleansed they will await the setting of the sun. If they sacrifice him while the sun still shines they risk incurring the wrath of Prosperity and the possibility she will not follow… something they would never dare hazard.”

Emerson took pause, there was something odd in the young knight’s wording and inflection that struck him as curious. However, present circumstances did not allow for further questioning.

“Help me drag Malus behind the temple,” said Emerson to the Queen’s Guard, “before someone gets it into their head to verify whether or not this demon is really dead.” Sir Benjamin was strong enough that he was able to hoist Malus up over his shoulder without assistance.

“Gadget,” said Emerson, “grab Lapis’s satchel.”

***

“Commander Malus’s instincts were sound.” said Sir Benjamin as he lay Malus on the ground behind the northern temple. “These people have built and sustained a nation in one of the harshest places on earth. They are disciplined, Malus saw that in the precision with which they built this remarkable city... all without the benefit of steam or modern technology. They have a desire to spread beyond the confines of this island, however, this prophecy of theirs must be fulfilled in order for them to proceed. They could strengthen the commonwealth of Queen Princess should they so desire. They just need the right... encouragement.”

“That’s nice.” replied Emerson only half listening to the knight who seemed to be chattering on incessantly. “Now, we have to revive Malus.” he said, searching through Lapis’s satchel. “I know it is in here somewhere.”

After a few moments, he found what he was looking for. “Wow, when I told that guy to bring enough sugar to last the trip he took me seriously.” Emerson pulled out a leather pouch that contained no less than a pound of Lapis’s white powder.

“How much should you give him?” asked Junie.

“I have no idea.” said Emerson, “but I want to make sure he wakes up. Here, Gadget, hold my cigar.” he said, handing what was left of the Sagrada Lucia to the boy before reaching into the bag and taking a pinch of the powder which he then blew in Malus face. Nothing seemed to happen. After a moment he reached into the bag again and took a small handful which he once again blew at Malus’s face.

Two things seemed to happen at once. First, Malus in a fit of coughing sat bolt upright looking dazed and confused; second, the heater on the end of the cigar stub upon which Gadget was puffing flared up momentarily in a remarkable sizzling blue flame.

“Whoa!” said Gadget, “What’s in that stuff?”

***

“Calm down son, focus.” said Emerson.

“Where did she come from?” Malus’s eyes were wide as he spoke in rapid disconnected sentences. He rubbed his nose and slapped at his cheeks. “Why can’t I feel my face? That bird... did you see it? SO unfair... Lapis... you!” he stopped, slapping his cheeks long enough to point an accusatory finger at Emerson Lighthouse. “YOU brought him here. And then mother.... somehow you had a hand in that. But how did you figure it out? This is not fair. He cheated. It was all going so well. I was winning. I would have won. I would have... calm... calm...” Malus shut his eyes and made an effort to control his breathing. “0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610, 987, 1597, 2584, 4181, 6765, 10946, 17711, 28657....”

“Malus! Snap out of it!” Emerson grabbed him by the shoulders and started to shake him.

“Do you mind? I am calculating.” he continued. “46368, 75025, 121393, 196418, 317811...”

“Listen son, is there any other way into that temple?”

“What?”

“Is there any other way into that temple?” Emerson repeated slower but with more urgency.

Malus looked up. Emerson followed his gaze and saw an opening about 10 feet above the ground. It looked like the opening to a shaft, about two feet by two feet square.

“Does that lead up to the temple?” asked Emerson with a hint of hope.

“Yes, but you’d get stuck, it’s too narrow. It was meant for the child labourers who built this city.”

“That’s fine, Gadget could fit.” said Emerson trying desperately to figure out an exit startegy.

“I think I might be able to fit.” offered Junie.

“And Dominic is a little man... he’d probably fit too. Okay... I sense a plan starting to come together.”

“Sir Sir,” said Gadget excitedly, “do you ‘ave any more of those cigars?”

“Gadget, I’m wearing a sarong, where would I put a cigar?”

“Here,” said Malus interrupting his litany to reach into his pocket. “I have one.” He looked at Emerson with a sneer. “And it is the last one.”

“Wait, isn’t he too young to smoke?” said Emerson staring hungrily as the last Sagrada Lucia passed from Malus to Gadget.

Gadget took the cigar, stuffed it in Lapis’s satchel which he slung over one shoulder then said, “Come on Miss Missus.”

***

Years on the streets of New Babbage had taught Gadget how to break into a building as silent as any shadow. Holding his hand to the side he signalled for Junie to hold still and not move. He then dropped to the floor and crept over to Lapis who appeared to be in some sort of trance.

Gadget looked up. There were two guards but they were just outside the entrance of the temple looking out rather than in. In the corner, still dressed in her metal bikini, Rose Smith was bound and gagged. She looked at Gadget with wide eyes. Bringing his finger to his lips he motioned for her to stay still.

He then looked back and signalled for Junie to join him. “Cut them free.” Gadget whispered, slipping a knife from the satchel and handing it to Junie. “Then take Mister Brother and Miss Rose down the shaft, make sure they get out quick. I’m going to fix it up ‘ere so there’s a bit of a rumpus.”

Junie nodded, Running over to free Rose first and explain the situation. They then crept back to Lapis who quickly appeared to be regaining his senses. As quietly as they could they cut the leather bindings.

Meanwhile Gadget busied himself. From Lapis’s satchel he removed the sack of white powder. He then twisted it until it was as tight as he could get it forming a ball about the size of a large orange. Then, on an impulse, he took the lamp from the table and soaked the ball until it had absorbed all the oil.

Once he saw that Junie, Rose, and Lapis had already started down the shaft, he took the Sagrada Lucia and broke a quarter off the end which he proceeded to light with the flint he kept in his pocket. After a few puffs to ensure it was truly lit he attached the cigar stub to the oil-soaked ball of powder, left it near the back of the temple wall, then crept to the shaft. He leaped for the opening but he was just a bit too short to reach, missing getting a hand hold on the bottom edge of the shaft by a good six inches. “Oh Bugger!” He took a breath and jumped again...

***

“Miss Rose,” bowed Sir Benjamin, as the young socialite emerged from the opening. “I am so relieved to see you safe.”

“Thank you Sir.” Rose smiled as she reached out to take his hand and accepted his assistance.

Next came Lapis whose glare matched that of Malus’s though they both held their tongues. Junie emerged next, dropping to the ground and joining the group in looking up, nervously waiting for Gadget to appear. The tension mounted.

“Surely...” Junie started but she was interrupted by a tremendous explosion from the temple up atop the ziggurat Though their angle wasn’t good for a clear look, it appeared the roof has collapsed in upon itself in tons of rock and plaster. From the shaft on the wall of the Ziggurat black smoke came billowing out.

Refusing to believe the worst they remained in place, staring up, hardly breathing for worry. Suddenly a small figure appeared coughing and coated in soot.

They all laughed as he climbed down the side to the ground. Gadget spit on his hand and wiped it across his cheek. Bringing his hand away a smile spread across his face as he saw the dark smudge of soot. He raised his arms in the air and shouted with triumph, “I’m cured!”

***

“Are there any ships on the river we might be able to use to escape?” Emerson asked Malus and Sir Benjamin.

“There are a few rafts, we might be able to take one of those.” said sir Benjamin. “But don’t forget, all the Queen’s Guard and Henri Giffard air ship survivors are still here. They are probably not in any immediate danger, but it is not right to just leave them behind.”

“Let’s get ourselves out first and figure out what to do about them once we are safe.” suggested Emerson.

“I agree.” said Lapis. “Though I swore no allegiance to this queen,” he cast an accusatory glare at Malus, “I do not wish to leave her defenseless and at the mercy of any scoundrel who wishes to take her kingdom.” He paused, calculating. “But Emerson is right. We do no good to anyone if we are caught.”

There was no further debate. The group started into a run, making their way through the rain forest. As they broke through the last of the jungle foliage, emerging before the great river, they suddenly came to a stop trying to process what they saw.

Floating upon the waters of the River Dharma, having arrived during the distraction of the fight, spread out as far as they could see in either direction, were barges, more than they could count. And on the bank, facing the jungle like she meant business, was an armour-clad Queen Princess leading and army of no less than 1000 heavily armed women.

Chapter 10: The Fight

In ancient times, back in that epoch when New Nublar was still known as Old Nublar, grandmothers used to spin tales of terror to entertain the village children as they drifted off to dreamland. In hushed and prophetic tones they spoke of conspiracies and controversies… of a future age, when the Great God of the North would do battle with the Fire Wielding Demon of the South.

What crazy road had brought our two priests, men of the modern age, rational in their ideology, residents of industry and progress, to this place where they’d become the protagonists acting out this primitive island’s apocalyptic bedtime tale?

Down the steep steps of the opposing ziggurats the two combatants descended; down to the field of battle to carry out their celestial war in the world of mortal pain. The multitudes had parted, freeing the entire area of the Great Square in order that the two New Babbage brothers might to do battle unimpeded.

On the north we have Martin Malus, tall and lean, his sword gleaming in the late afternoon sun. On the south we have Dominic Lapis, compact and solid, his chest hideous and scarred with fearsome burns. His sword less ornate than his opponent’s, perhaps in need of polishing, but no less deadly. In silent concentration they approached the center of the square until they at last come face to face. A slight nod from Lapis; a slight sneer from Malus and the battle is about to begin.

***

Though they glistened with perspiration, panting with sustained effort, Emerson and Junie pushed on. They were so close... just a little bit more and they would be there. Jungle drums drove them on, setting a pounding rhythm with their frantic beats. They couldn’t see up ahead through the lush foliage but they felt a rush of adrenaline knowing it was all about to come down to this moment. Digging deep they maintained their pace until they heard a great cheer. Only then did they slow somewhat, drawing deep breaths. Clearly some moment of climax had occurred.

“Emerson, look at the crowd up ahead.” Junie said slowing from a run to a walk. “I think we may be too late.” Suddenly they heard the crowd cheer once more. Even at this distance the sound of steel clashing with steel rang out. “By the Builder Emerson, they’ve started. We’ve got to do something. We’ve got to help Lapis, don’t you think? What other way can there be for us all to get away safely if Lapis doesn’t win this?”

“Well,” Emerson hedged, “I’ll concede Lapis has grown on me since you and I tossed his guitar over the side of the Indiscretion and blamed it on Kerchak. But I still like Malus. He and I went through a whole adventure on our own remember; I hate seeing things go south for him like this.” Emerson paused, his lungs burning from the run. He noted with relief the Sagrada Lucia he’d clenched in his teeth since back at the hut was still burning. After relishing a few puffs he continued. “It must be rough losing an empire and a godhood all at the same time. Besides, you just know he’s going to be over-the-top sullen and derisive after he gets his ass kicked.”

As they neared the square, Junie and Emerson noticed island villagers exchanging necklaces and other items of barter. “Incredible,” said Junie somewhat shocked, “I think they are betting on the outcome.”

They continued to press through the crowds, trying to break through in case they might be able to take some part in shaping the outcome. Alternately they could hear the crowd gasp and cheer but for whom they were cheering remained unclear.

“Look,” pointed Emerson as he and Junie found a slightly less dense area of the crowd. “It’s Gadget.... ” Junie followed Emerson’s point to see Gadget riding atop the shoulders of one of Malus’s men, formerly of the Queen’s Guard.

Gadget, catching sight of Emerson and Junie waved them over with great excitement. “The two misters is fierce at it Sir Sir.” he said with great excitement before glancing back towards the field of battle.

“Oh Mister Brother’s down!” Gadget shouted pointing out over the top of the crowd. “Down... OH COR this is good! Mister Brother’s back up he’s spinning and jumping and Bugger if that wasn’t close ! OOOOOOHHHHH...... “ Gadget lost himself to a series of colourful expletives as he started to bounce with excitement atop the soldier.

***

“Your footwork has improved somewhat. It’s not as,” Lapis paused, as if searching for the precise characterization... “chaotic as it once was.

“You must be senile old man. To disbelieve what is so plainly on display before you.” And then Malus paused before saying with a familiar sneer. “Clearly I am the master now.”

“Such a claim requires proof.” replied Lapis.

“If it is proof you want it is proof you shall receive.” Malus lunged and thrust. Lapis shifted and though the strike had shot wide it was closer than it should have been. “Your powers are weak old man.”

“You see only with a superficial eye. I would have expected something more elegant from a god.” Lapis found an opening and struck, slicing a shallow cut into Malus’s side.

Malus looked down, then looked up with a look of utter loathing. “That,” he paused, “was a new shirt. You shall pay, oh yes, you shall pay dearly.”

Malus pressed the attack, each thrust easily parried by Lapis.

“Surely I taught you better than to employ the Moonwall Maneuver,” scoffed Lapis, “Such a lack of finesse.”

“Are you really that forgetful? You were the one who discovered that the Moonwall Maneuver when combined with the defensive stance of Scorpio’s Hammer Feint improves one’s chances of prise en fer when engaged with one of disadvantaged height.”

“Your flourishing tongue is as bad as your flourishing hand.” said Lapis. “It’s a shame you were apparently napping when I explained that the success of that combination falls apart when employed by a natural left-hander such as yourself.”

Yet Lapis was not afforded an opportunity to capitalize. As he backed up he stepped on a child’s wooden toy dropped when the crowds had taken to the margins of the square. Lapis’s stumble, combined with an opportune push from Malus, sent him over backwards landing him on the ground. The crowd appeared equally divided between cheers and gasps as Lapis rolled, narrowly avoiding being stomped on as Malus sought to take advantage of Lapis’ misfortune.

***

“Emerson,” said Junie, “can you think of any positive outcome should Malus win this?”

“I have to admit I am a bit stumped. It would seem the only way for Lapis to save Malus is to kill him.”

“OOOOHH...” Gadget pointed “Sir Sir, Miss Missus, Mister Brother’s down again.”

Emerson and Junie finally managed to work their way to the front of the crowd. They ran across the field of combat as Lapis, lying on his back upon the ground, appeared to be at the mercy of Malus.

“He wouldn’t dare... would he?” called Junie as she and Emerson continued to run.

***

“You’re lucky I am merciful old man.” said Malus, his sword held steady and unwavering the blade tip mere inches from Lapis’s throat. All I need do now is declare victory as the last one standing.” Malus raised his voice for the benefit of the crowd. “Let it be known! I am…” but Malus’s proclamation remained unfinished.

“MARTIN!” a commanding baritone voice called out.

Malus’s eye’s widened as if struck with a great jolting shock.

“MARTIN!” the voice called out once more, sending shivers down the spines of all who heard. All eyes shifted to the Temple of the North.

Perched upon a bust of Malus just above the temple door sat ART Hoo. The clockwork owl regarded Malus for a minute, its eyes appeared to see deep into his soul to a distant time of suppressed memories. He remained silent for what appeared an eternity before his fish lips once more became animated and he spoke with the commanding voice of Elvira Foehammer.

“Martin, you were always such a good boy for mama. Martin, what happened? As if running off with that beatnik Lighthouse wasn’t enough of a blow to your poor mother’s righteous pride.They tell me now you have taken up a life of deviance, full of hedonistic indulgences of such vulgarity that I refuse to give voice to such perversions. Marty, my dear, dear little Marty… come home to mama.”

“Mother, puh-LEEES! Can’t you see I’m winning?” said Malus, looking quite bewildered by this unexpected turn of events. Suddenly he staggered nearly losing his balance. “What’s happening?” he asked to no one in particular. He staggered again and barely managed to remain on his feet. Suddenly he understood. He glanced at the cut along his side.

You!” he wheeled around and pointed an unsteady finger at Lapis. “You did this!” his sword dropped from his hand. He turned again and staggered back towards the steps of the ziggurat only to stumble again. He would have fallen had he not chanced to grab a torch, planted at he base of the steps, for support. He appeared to watch the torch for a moment, flickering wildly as the flame caught the air’s eddies. Pulling it from the ground he then staggered back to where Lapis lay.

He hesitated as he heard Junie Ginsburg say. “They would have slain you Malus had you won.”

Lapis did not waste the moment of Malus’s distraction. Swinging his leg, he caught him just behind the knee. Malus’s dropped to his knees. He glared at Lapis as he struggled once more to rise. But it was futile. He went down on his face in the dirt. He made one last effort to get to rise when Lapis rolled on top of him, grabbed him by the pony tail and slammed his head into the ground. The crowd silenced instantly. “Your proof has a big fat hole, Squire.” said Lapis as he looked down at the still body of his former student.

“Cor!” Gadget exclaimed, as shocked as anyone by the turn of events. “I think Mister Brother just killed Squire Brother.”

The next series of events unfolded very quickly.

“Look,” pointed Gadget, “There’s that nasty bugger wot got me with the soap.” Gadget jumped down from the shoulders of the soldier who’d been his perch and ran across the field to join Emerson and Junie. The large islander was shouting to the people who responded with joyous cheers.

“What do you think he said?” asked Junie.

The Queen’s Guard who had been supporting Gadget had joined them. “I am familiar with their tongue.” he said. “That big man is the former chief of these people. He said: ‘All ye bare witness. The Great God of the North has defeated the false god, known to us as The Malus. In truth, The Malus was the Fire Wielding Demon of the South come to beguile us. All praise the true god whose blood shall bring our people prosperity.’”

“Well this is an unexpected turn of events.” said Emerson. They watched as the former tribal chief, along with two of his brethren, grabbed a struggling Lapis. holding him securely they started dragging him up the steps of the ziggurat, to the Temple of the North and its sacrificial altar.

Chapter 9: The Declaration

The city in which Malus had headquartered himself was far grander than any of them had imagined. Towering ziggurats soared above majestic trees while buildings of intricate and rich design lined wide boulevards paved with crushed limestone.

Their entrance into the city was heralded by all they passed. Laughing island children began to follow. Before long they had a festive procession, a joyous parade trailing along behind. Eventually they arrived in the Great Square at the heart of the city, a marvel of architecture and green space which served as a market and meeting place for the city’s many residents. Rising to frame each end of the square, one facing north and the other south, were two steeply inclined ziggurats topped with splendid temples.

“Mine is the northern temple.” said Malus bounding up the steps as the others followed.

“Cor, you ‘ave your own temple.” Exclaimed Gadget.

“Of course,” replied Malus matter of factly, “after-all, I am going to be declared a god at the end of the week.”

“That’s fascinating,” said Emerson, “But if this one belongs to your Almighty Holiness who has the one to the south?”

“Nobody,” replied Malus. “These superstitious fools believe it belongs to some fire-wielding demon or some such nonsense. The people fear a fairy tale and so it remains vacant… as was this one until I arrived.”

“I wonder what other superstitions and beliefs this culture might have.” wondered Junie aloud as they reached the temple platform.

Upon entering the narrow stone passage, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the temple’s torch-lit interior. Lounging upon a gold brocaded divan sat a young blond woman toying with the hose of a hookah though it appeared not to be lit and Emerson’s discriminating nose could detect no evidence of recent use. She wore a copper-coloured metal bikini with a matching metal arm band in the design of a snake. A sheer silk skirt, which was really nothing more than a cloth that hid nothing, hung from the front.

“Interesting attire Miss Smith,” commented Emerson as his eyes finally adjusted enough for him to recognize the young woman.

“Thank you Mr. Lighthouse,” Rose Smith, the eighteen-year old debutante from the luxurious Henri Giffard XVI, answered with a smile. She rose from the divan and crossed the room to give Emerson a hug. “Do you like it?” She said breaking off the hug to give a little spin. “The New Emperor picked it out for me.”

“Did he?’ Emerson looked from Rose in her metal bikini to Junie, scowling in her fur bikini, then cast his glance to Malus and said with a wink. “I see you are enjoying the benefits of power Sir Squire.”
***

The fever had already set in. It may already be too late. He sat upon the cold hard stone beneath the crescent moon, a stick clenched tightly between his teeth. The risk of discovery was great but the danger of inaction was a certainty.

In a quick but precise motion he sliced a six inch incision along his chest just below the infection then repeated the procedure just above. Using a strip of cotton he’d cut from the garment he’d stolen from a line earlier in the day, he staunched the flow of blood and scraped out all remaining traces of putrification. Once satisfied that he’d completely incised the infection from his body he took another cotton strip and wound it around his hand several times. He then reached into the ceremonial brazier which he’d lit a half hour earlier. He removed one of the red hot river-polished stones which he then pressed into the wound. It was almost too much to bear. He was not superhuman and he’d never pretended to be. This hurt like Hell but it was better than dying.

With nothing more than adrenaline and endorphins to fuel him, he repeated this step three times until the entire area of the wound had been cauterized. When the pain had subsided to the point he could remove the stick from between his teeth he extinguished the brazier and removed all traces of his treatment. He then crawled along the cool granite blocks, back into the darkness, until he was reasonably sure he was beyond immediate detection. With his head resting on the altar stone he slipped into a fitful and disturbed sleep.
***
The feast was lavish. Grilled meats sautéed in spicy island sauces; steamed exotic vegetables; leafy salads and caramelized fruits. Malus had spared no expense. Islanders regaled them with driving beats and strummed instruments while a chorus of girls danced and swayed. Exotic drinks, delicious and intoxicating flowed throughout the night. As the festive mood stretched on into the early hours of the morning, Emerson broached what potentially may have been a sensitive topic.

“Sir Squire, tell me,” he started, “what happened between you and Queen Princess?”

Malus pursed his lips for a moment before beginning. “Let’s just say we had a difference in philosophical direction.” He took another drink. “We have an opportunity here to forge something remarkable... a society based on order and logic. Instead she sits around emulating some long dead relative...”

“Wait a minute.” Emerson interrupted, “which relative?”

Malus looked annoyed. “Irrelevant, what I was saying...”

“You don’t mean the Virgin Queen do you?” Emerson snickered.

“Stop interrupting.” said Malus. “I was saying this could be the start of the new world order.”

Even Gadget burst out laughing at that.

“A toast,” winked Junie Ginsburg raising her glass. “To the new world order.”

***

The fever had broken. How many days had passed? Somebody was here. In an instant he was alert, knife in hand. He looked possessed, demonic. Before him was an old woman, who couldn’t be less than eighty, on her knees with her head bowed. In her hands she held a wooden bowl with what appeared to be a boiled starchy ground root of some sort. Grateful he grabbed at the substance with his fingers nodding as he filled his mouth. It was lightly seasoned and absolutely delicious. The woman, with her head still bowed, began to chant.

***

Almost a week after their arrival, Emerson was resting in the master hammock inside the hut Malus had provided for he, Junie and Gadget. He was idly watching how the purple haze of the Sagrada Lucia swirled and danced in the air when he heard a sing song voice calling from outside, “Oh Mr. Lighthouse.” followed by a suspicious sounding giggle.

‘What is she up to?’ he thought with a smile, slipping from the hammock and stepping out onto the porch of what Malus had dubbed the honeymoon hut. He was no more than a second through the door when he was met with a handful of mud in the face.

“Miss Ginsburg, this means war!” Emerson said laughing as he chased her back down the steps and into the brush behind the hut. He was closing the distance between them when he suddenly went head over heels having tripped over a large flat stone.

Junie started to laugh, “You better be okay or I am going to feel horrible for laughing at you.”

“I’m fine, I just tripped over this stone...” his eyes narrowed as he cleared some leaves from the top of it. “Look, it has some sort of writing all over it.”

“See right here? ” she said crouching down and pointing. “This pattern repeats itself. It must be a common word.”

Emerson nodded crouching down beside her and staring for several minutes; then on a sudden inspiration he said as he turned to face Junie, “When the great god from the north...”

Junie turned to him and added, “...has been sacrificed...”

“...prosperity will follow.” they finished together.

“Great Builder!” said Junie. “Emerson, we have to warn him.”

After a moment’s hesitation the two of them jumped up and broke into a run, making their way towards the Great Square as fast as they possibly could.

***

“So let me get this straight.” Malus clarified as he and Gadget walked towards the city square with its two great ziggurat temples. “You are saying they didn’t share a cabin the entire time they journeyed here from New Babbage aboard Captain Maynard’s vessel and that this is the first time you have ever seen them share an accommodation?”

Gadget furrowed his brow wondering why any of this could possibly matter. “I guess.” he replied.

“So they were not married before they left New Babbage.” Malus reasoned aloud before starting to wonder what other fabrications spun out from this central core.

“They could ‘ave gotten ‘itched after we left port. I mean I can’t rightly say what they got up to after I went to sleep. Could be Cap’n Maynard married ‘em; ‘e can do that right? Or maybe even Mister Brother since ‘e is one of those church buggers.”

Malus stopped in his tracks and spun Gadget around to face him so abruptly the boy cried out in startled alarm.

“Which church bugger would you be talking about?” For the first time in a long time Malus looked quite agitated.

“Mister Brother, sir. We call ‘im Mister on account ‘e don’t want no one knowing ‘e is filated with the church.”

“What?” Malus shook his head. “Stop being cute! You’ve got one chance kid. So I repeat... which church bugger?” But Gadget, somewhat stunned by Malus’s change of mood didn’t have to say anything. Of course it would be him... who else would come all the way down here to this cursed and hellish island with Emerson Lighthouse to get him?

“Lapis.” Malus said it like it was a curse. Making a fist and raising it to the sky he hollered “LAPIS!”

Dropping the boy, Malus ran to the central square where a midday market had brought a large crowd to the area. He crossed to the great ziggurat and scaled the steps to the upper platform from which height he could gaze down upon the crowded square.

A silence suddenly descended upon the multitude. All eyes, whether they be the queen’s men, crew members of the Henri Giffard XVI, or the several hundred island natives turned to watch him atop the great pyramid, stopping whatever they were doing to give him their undivided attention.

In a voice that carried across the entire square Malus called out: “I have existed from the morning of the world and I shall exist until the last star falls from the night. Although I have taken the form of Sir Squire Brother Malus, I am all men as I am no man and therefore I am…” here he paused for effect, dropping his voice marginally but punctuating each word… “a God.”

“Mr. McGregor,” Malus looked to the former purser and recently fired military commander. In his new role as lackey, he had joined Malus on the ziggurat and stood on the steps just below the temple platform. “I will accept the unanimous will of the people.”

“All those who say aye SAY AYE” bellowed McGregor to the crowd below. While the queen’s men and air cruiser crew offered their assent with subdued western enthusiasm, the Islanders all fell to their knees, threw their arms in the air and in unison joyously exhalted: AYE!

The final proclamation was about to be announced when the insult rang out across the square… oh how grievous... a lone voice calling out to shatter the solemn silence: “Nay!”

Malus’s eyes narrowed as he saw the man step from the shadows of the opposing temple, sword drawn, staring him down from across the square. “Mr. McGregor,” said, Malus without taking his eyes from the familiar and most unwelcome figure, “fetch my sword.”