Akkadian Forever, Part 1 of 5

Is this the final chapter?

Akkadian Forever, Part 1 of 4

 

The grounds outside the Akkadian Knights’ keep were unusually quiet.  A soft breeze blew over the long grass of the fields.  Although a few crickets could be heard, no other sounds presented themselves.  Overhead, the sky was crystal clear and the moon was full, its large smiling face shining down on the home of the home of the veteran team of heroes. 

 

The keep itself was originally constructed over four hundred years ago.  Its towering stone walls were easily three stories high and, true to the time, there were not all that many windows on the outside.  Those few that were present were installed at a much later date when the castle was already considered ancient.  The small moat, such that it was, had long been filled in with dirt and stones.  Within the last few decades, it had been paved over and now a circular driveway ringed the mansion, allowing easy access by the local community.  This late at night, though, there were no visitors.

 

When the team wasn’t present, the mansion was often opened up to the community for social gatherings, its large ballroom a perfect meeting place and often doubled over as a dining hall, dance floor, and even a livestock showroom on one occasion.  The Akkadian Knights’ had gone to great lengths over the years to become a part of the community.  For the most part, they had succeeded.

 

Recently, a new addition was added to the grounds.  Made out of imported white marble, a statue stood in the courtyard in front of the main entrance to the edifice.  It was fifteen feet high and carved in the likeness of Eron, the Akkadian founder.  It had taken the stone mason four months to complete with the help of four helpers and was a gift from the community for all of the love shown to them over the past years.  Benches ringed the statue on all sides and occasionally townsfolk would come by and leave flowers at its base.  Today, under the sparkling stars, a lone figure sat looking absently at the statue. 

 

Wyldcard was dressed in a leisure suit of white linen.  Standing over 7’, it was amazing that anyone could make him a suit in his size, and he looked like a fish out of water with it on.  Had it not been for the service, he would not have made the effort.  He felt like a monkey.

 

As he looked off into space towards the statue, he wondered to himself what he could have done differently to have saved Eron.  Nothing came to mind.  He’d been told over and over by Caledonia that there was nothing any of them could do, but he had a hard time accepting it. 

 

Shortly after Eron’s loss, the entire Gods Knights family of leagues suffered another loss.  Their entire leadership team departed.  The final straw was Stalkers apparent “insanity” which left the collected heroes leaderless for the very first time.  Although he had come back to his senses, the ever-present trust he had endeared over the years was badly shaken and the leagues of superhero teams were struggling to find direction.

 

Wyld looked down at his watch, realizing he’d been sitting on the bench for several hours.  Looking back at the keep, he stood up, dusted off his blazer, and started inside.   As he walked up the cobblestone path towards the door, he composed himself.  It was late at night and it would be unlikely that anyone other than Batman would be awake, but he needed to present himself as Eron would.  He owed his mentor that much.

 

Reaching for the doorknob, he stopped to the sound of a melodious voice.  “You really are beating yourself up too much you know…”  Wyld turned to see Cal sitting on a small stone bench in the shadows.   “You need to begin having more faith in yourself.”

 

Wyld’s brow furrowed.  “That’s easy for you to say.  Everyone isn’t looking to you for guidance.” 

 

Cal stood up and placed a hand on Wyld’s broad shoulders, “you’d be very surprised.”

 

 

Along the British western coastline in a rural part of Wales, a Spanish trolley drifted aimlessly in the water.  Had anyone been close enough to see it clearly, they would have seen a ghost ship.  The crew was nowhere to be seen.  The lights were off and the anchor had been weighed. 

 

Standing on the deck were two imposing figures.  The first was a cloaked man about three meters tall.  Unlike the man beside him, no steam escaped his mouth in the cool morning air and his face was completely concealed. 

 

The second man wore decidedly Egyptian garb, although not contemporary in any sense of the word.  Wearing solid gold, gilded gauntlets and an obtrusive chest piece, he was a massive man cresting 3 meters himself.  His head was shaven bald and the deep red drapes around his waist were made of the finest silk.  Although it was chilly, his lack of heavy garments did not seem to phase him in the least. 

 

“Altius said it was here.”  The voice of the cloaked figure was hollow… unearthly.  Despite the unnatural sound, he man beside him did not flinch at his intonations.  The two had spent three weeks on this tug getting here and although Curse was rather frightening by his very nature, the Red Pharoah had seen worse.  It didn’t take long for him to gain a certain level of comfort with Curse’s habits and appearance.   Actually, comfort might be a strong word.  Around Curse, whose skeletal appearance could curdle milk, managing discomfort was about all any super powered being could do.

 

“Rest assured, it is very close.  Altius’ directions place it somewhere nearby.  There is also something else you need to know… she is also nearby.”  The tall man turned to face his companion, looking for a reaction of some kind.

 

Although it was hard to read Curse most of the time, the Red Pharaoh did understand him.  He knew what motivated the supernatural creature and what he desired.  It was his job to know such things as a member of the Order and Curse was directly involved in one of the most ancient of legends.  The ‘she’ he referenced was the demi-goddess Caledonia.  She was a member of a superhero team known as the Akkadian Knights and their Earth-side base was located not too terribly far from here. 

 

Curse did not respond.  The Red Pharaoh had anticipated this.  Curse was not in the habit of allowing others a glimpse into his thoughts.  It mattered not.  It would serve the Order that he sought revenge in the long run. 

 

Curse’s hollow voice emanated from the folds of his cloak, “the item is yours.  I have no faith that it can actually do what the late Altius promised.  Just stick to the plan.”

 

The two stood on the deck as the moon slowly set behind them, leaving nothing more than glimmering stars to light their way, they both rowed to shore.  All the while, Curse uttered not one more word.

 

 

Vexator sat in the rather large and opulent formal room just inside the main entryway to the Akkadian’s keep.  Furnished with rather contemporary accommodations, its walls had been painstakingly restored to the state they were in over three hundred years ago when this keep served as a seat for the local lord.  The molding was hand crafted and painted in gold relief.  Adorning the roof were hand drawn frescos depicting life as it was so long ago. 

 

There were no electronic devices of any kind such as televisions or computers, although there was a rather large and old radio the size of a desk.  A technological breakthrough at the time, it was filled with fuses and tubes, one of the very first radios available to those affluent enough to be able to afford them.  It now served as a table, the speakers having long disintegrated into uselessness.  It was upon this device that Vexator now focused his attention.

 

In his chair, he studied the schematics of the ancient device, confident that he could somehow make it work properly once again.  A series of boxes were arrayed around the room, each containing a replacement part of some kind, whether it was wires or speakers.  All were identical replacement parts and had taken him several months to accumulate.

 

“Vex, got a second?” 

 

Vexator turned and smiled, “Sure thing Wyld.  What’s up?”

 

Wyldcard sat in an opposing high backed chair.  Cal stepped in behind him and sat down on a plush sofa between the two.  Wyld leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees.  “Vex, Cal, I need to know something.”

 

The two waited with rapt attention.

 

“I’m not so sure I can do this.  I mean, Eron’s shoes are so big and he had the ability to lead without even uttering a word most of the time…”

 

Cal held up a hand.  “Wyld, I’m going to stop you there.  Something you have to understand is that we are here for a reason.  We have a purpose.  You were selected by all of us to follow in Eron’s footsteps and none of us have the desire to change that opinion.  You were chosen for a reason too.”

Vex chimed in, “Cal’s right.  You, among us all, have the ability to pull everyone together in a way that none of us posses.  We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

Wyld smiled, but it was a humble smile.  “I know.  I’m just worried that your trust is misplaced.  I don’t really feel like a leader.”

 

An unearthly, echoing voice came from behind him and Wyld knew that Quantum Elemental had arrived.  “Wyld, you have to understand something about Eron.  He didn’t always feel confident either.”

 

Wyld turned to face Quan.  Of all of the Akkadians, Quan was now the most senior member.  He had a much clearer understanding of the team prior to Wyld’s arrival.  As of late, since Eron’s loss, Quan had taken on a human appearance once again.

 

“Eron often didn’t know which way to go.  This is the strength of our team and the reason we’ve succeeded for so long.  We worked together, counseled each other, and built on each others’ successes.  We’re now here for you too.  Rest assured you cannot fail.  Thanks to our collective efforts, it’s now impossible for that to happen.”

 

Another voice interjected from the doorway to the large room.  “Quan is right.  Our team was founded on the friendships formed between us.  These things," he put his hand on the door frame, "are transitory.  Our team is much stronger than these things.

The conversation continued on for another hour before the team settled in for the night.  Little did anyone know that his words would be prophetic...

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Note to readers... in Strange Bedfellows, a cliffhanger leaves you wondering about Quan's status in AK. In a story I did not write, yet was written by a friend of mine, The portal on the AK Moon Base was used by an external evil to assault the Earth. Eron leads a charge with all Knights responding, including Quan, and stops the surge. Eron dies in the process, giving his life to save everyone. Quan is accepted back into the Knights.