Chapter 52: The Crownless Again Shall Be King
"There exists no magic in ink, your power lies in your blood."
If Kurt slept that night, he wasn't aware of it. Even after a few days of it, he still wasn't used to sleeping outdoors, with little more than his coat as a blanket. He piled up as many dry leaves as he could scrape together, but he could still feel the cold hard ground beneath him. Every sound in the woods caused him to jump awake; he wasn't so much afraid of the animals there, but that Azazel would return having figured out his plan. Kurt hoped he could convince Martuska to help him; that she could help him. Though he'd been thankful for Azazel's shortcut, he never wanted to feel so cold again.
When he heard the sound of the old engine on Franco's car start, he stood and started towards the camp. Sitting on a large rock outside the door to Martuska's trailer was that accursed black kettle, empty and expectant. Sighing, Kurt snatched it up and took it to the well. He was sitting on the side of a large log besides the fire pit tending to the boiling water when Martuska sat down beside him.
For a few minutes they said nothing while Martuska made tea and poured it into two enamelware mugs. Kurt took the mug from Martuska and wrapped his hands around it as though it were possible to warm his whole body with it.
"I need to set things right," Kurt said at last, still staring into his tea, not daring to look Martuska in the eye. "If there really is a path, you know, what you were describing last night, then Margali and Amanda should be on it, not me."
When Martuska was silent Kurt continued. "And, at the same time I need to hide myself from Azazel," he said, looking up at last. "I didn't mean to, but I've ruined everything. Will you help me?"
Martuska stared at Kurt impassively for a few minutes as though weighing her options.
"And what do I get out of this?" She asked. "You're asking an awful lot it seems."
"You said you were on the Winding Way by yourself. You'd have Margali and Amanda there with you again." Kurt said. "And, you'd be rid of me of course."
Martuska gave a short laugh. "Are you saying I'm stuck with you until I grant your wish?"
Kurt shrugged. "That or your husband catches me."
She regarded him for a long time, staring at him with such hard cold eyes that Kurt couldn't help but squirm; it felt like she was looking through him, reading his thoughts, his deepest desires, and his greatest fears. He shrank away from her without meaning to.
"Azazel has plans for you." She said at last. "His time has past, but you… Your ascension is at hand. You could rule the world. And yet you wish to hide? Why is that?"
Ascension? Rule the world? What was she talking about? Kurt shook his head. "I don't know what you mean by my ascension, or ruling the world, but that's not what I want. I… I want to perform in the circus, and serve God, and…" Kurt paused, it sounded so strange put into words because it should have been obvious. "I want to be normal. Just me. Just Kurt Wagner." It was what anyone would have wanted. Why couldn't anyone see that?
Martuska squinted at him thoughtfully.
"It will not be easy," she said at last.
Kurt sat up straighter. Was she going to help him, to grant his wish? Did she even know how?
"Putting the Way back to its natural order is simple, but as for Azazel…" Martuska shook her head. "I have never heard of such a thing being done. Very few may hide from angels."
Kurt's hands were shaking as he unfolded the paper from his pocket. It was deeply creased from the years it had spent tucked inside his bible. He handed it to Martuska.
"I looked inside of Margali's books to find their meaning. And… Azazel uses them. I thought maybe I could use them too, to keep him away." Kurt said.
Martuska stared at it, written in his neatest thirteen year old hand writing, and started chuckling.
"Margali told you nothing did she? You really didn't know?" she said.
Kurt shook his head.
Martuska pursed her lips as she stared at the symbols. "I don't know…" She said, more to herself than anything else. She turned the paper over in her hands a few times as she thought and then spoke. "Angels are divided into choirs, each with their own task in accordance to their position. Azazel is a watcher."
"A watcher?"
"They see those who sin so that they might be judged. Anyone who has the mark of a sin upon them, Azazel sees." Martuska said.
"And if one is innocent?" Kurt asked.
Martuska shook her head. "They are invisible to him."
Kurt nodded. This was why Azazel hadn't been able to see him after his Baptism at eight. It also meant that he had been invisible once again after Father Dietrich had performed the extreme unction. But he'd gone and summoned Azazel himself. Plus there was the matter of his ability to teleport. From what Azazel had told him during their first meeting, it seemed that Kurt passed through Azazel's realm each time he did it. So there was no way he could truly hide for long, not unless he chose not to teleport again. But it would be difficult to give that up, the ability to move from place to place in the blink of an eye like that had opened so many doors to him, doors that had previously been closed because of his appearance.
"You would need to be marked, permanently, in such a way that Azazel would not be able to find you," Martuska said.
"Yes," Kurt said quickly. "I was thinking the same thing." He told Martuska about Kiwi Black and his son Amiri, how in the Maori culture the tattoos on their faces were believed to drive away evil spirits. "Could you do that to me?" Kurt asked. "With those symbols? Would that keep Azazel away?"
Martuska smiled. "Very clever." She said. "You have the right idea, but this is different." She took Kurt's hand in hers, turning it over so she could see where he had bit his own hand in order to bleed on Azazels' sigil.
"Your blood is of great significance." Martuska said, running her fingernails along the palm of Kurt's hand. It made him uncomfortable and Kurt tried to pull his hand away. Martuska tightened her grip. "The magic I could do with you, dead or alive. It seems that Margali wasted yet another opportunity."
Kurt gave a stronger tug and finally freed his hand. He rubbed his hands together vigorously – trying to rid himself of the feeling of her grip. He folded his hands tightly against his chest – making himself as small as possible.
Martuska laughed. "Don't worry," she said coyly. "I won't hurt you."
Kurt wasn't convinced. He flinched and moved away as Martuska ran a gnarled finger down his cheek. He didn't like it, the way she was touching him now when yesterday she wouldn't even let him take her hand in thanks.
"Do you know what to do?" Kurt asked and Martuska gave a snort of laughter.
"In theory, yes, but such a thing has ever been tried. Your kind is very rare."
Kurt bit his lip in thought. "What about Margali and Amanda? What do I need to do to return them to their proper place?"
"You're lucky in a way. The simple act of cutting yourself off from Azazel will restore the positions Margali and Amanda once held, if they choose to retake them." Martuska said. "You see, the Way is a structure created by legacy. Each stop along the way is represented by another generation." Martuska explained. "The first position is said to be held by Merlin, who served King Arthur."
"Wow," said Kurt, "But I thought it was all women."
"Who said Merlin wasn't a woman?" Martuska asked.
"Legends and stories?"
"Who said legends are always true? The Way is very old and its arcane ways are very secret. With each passing generation the Way is fortified; Margali is very powerfully magical, Amanda even more so. Angel kind are different – they are immortal. And their children who walk this earth…"
"Yes?"
Martuska shrugged. "Like I said, they are rare."
"Azazel said there were others."
Martuska nodded and gave him a small sly smile. "He's been very busy I suppose. He's been trying to re-ascend for years and that is exactly why Margali's mistake was so grave. Where you now stand, you could destroy the Way forever."
"I can?" Kurt furrowed his brow. It was like something out of a legend or fairytale. Was this really happening to him? "And then what would happen?" he asked.
"That depends on you." Martuska said.
"Oh, like whether I want to take over the world or not?" Kurt said with a laugh.
"That's exactly it, you… and those who have influence over you. Do you think you're in this alone?" Martuska said. "It only emphasizes the gravity of Margali's error. That's why she fears you now. She meant to save you and instead made you the key to the end of creation. "
Kurt furrowed his brow. Who had influence over him? No one, except for maybe Azazel but even then he wasn't sure. Other than calling Margali to the place of his birth and showing up a few times, how much affect had Azazel had on his life? And the end of creation? That seemed a little much. He frowned.
"Okay then," Kurt said in his most matter of fact voice, "what do I do to keep any of that from happening?" That was the goal wasn't it? None of this mattered if he could somehow hide himself from Azazel's influence. If Azazel couldn't find him then there was no danger, right? He wouldn't be able to end creation or anything.
"Simple." Martuska said. "You must look like you have never sinned."
Kurt laughed. "But that's impossible," he said. "I mean, everyone sins sometimes, even in small ways. It's inevitable. I'm not a saint."
Martuska shook her head. "I didn't say you must never sin. I said you must look like you haven't. It's all a matter of what Azazel sees. If you don't appear to have sinned, he can't see you."
"Okay, I think I understand," Kurt said. "But how?"
"You were right about the symbols, they can be used to create zones of magical influence. It may be possible to create one around you." Martuska said.
"Like the tattoos that Kiwi and his son have," Kurt said.
Martuska ran her finger down Kurt's cheek again. "There exists no magic in ink," she said. "Your power lies in your blood."
"My blood? But how…" Kurt trailed off. What did that mean? That he needed to be marked by his own blood?
"The cuts must be deep enough to shed blood," Martuska said.
"Cuts?" Kurt asked, sitting up a bit straighter. "What are you talking about?"
"Each mark made must go deep enough to draw your blood." Martuska said simply.
"You're going to cut me?" Kurt asked.
"No," Martuska said. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. "You'll make the cuts yourself."
"What?" Kurt asked in surprise, sitting up and jumping back. He had backed away so many times in the course of the conversation that he was running out of log.
"You must be the one to perform the act. The power lies within you, not me." Martuska said.
Kurt shook his head. "I can't cut myself. I… I don't understand why it has to be me."
"It must be a deliberate act on your part, but don't worry, you won't know you're doing it."
"I won't?" This was getting confusing.
"You see, you're still quite young. You have a whole life time to commit sinful acts and in order for this to work, they must all be hidden. So, unless you want to keep coming back, you'll have to hide them all at once." Martuska said.
Kurt couldn't help but laugh. "How do I do that?" He asked.
"I'm a seer. I can guide you."
Kurt frowned. "So, let me see if I understand this. You're going to foretell my future so that I can cut marks into my skin but that I won't know I'm doing it?" He said.
"Exactly," Martuska said. "It's the only way."
Kurt shook his head. This all sounded so far fetched.
"It's the only way," Martuska said again.
Kurt stood up. "I don't understand," he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced back and forth.
"If you want to be rid of Azazel then you have to give me control. If you want to hide yourself forever, you have to give me control." Martuska said simply.
Kurt stopped and turned back to her. He wasn't sure he trusted Martuska especially not enough to allow her to control his actions in the way she seemed to be suggesting. "I can't do that." Kurt said.
Martuska shrugged. "Then it is only a matter of time. The fact that you're still able to decide tells me that Azazel has yet to truly attempt to persuade you."
Kurt slumped back down on the fallen log that had been his seat. "I can't," he said.
Martuska said nothing.
Kurt looked back up. "It was Azazel who brought me here," he said.
Martuska smiled. "Did he?"
"Yes, I… I tricked him." Kurt said, but it suddenly sounded silly in light in all that Martuska had said.
She smiled again, but said nothing. It made Kurt feel even more indecisive. He thought about his conversation with Azazel outside of Father Dietrich's house. Azazel had made it seem like he controlled him from the moment he was born, pulling strings from behind the scenes with Kurt as his puppet. What if this was just another string? Even worse, what if Azazel had called to Martuska in the same way he had called to Margali?
Kurt frowned, grinding his teeth together as he thought. On one hand, he would do anything to rid himself of Azazel. And yet, Martuska was asking so much. Somehow the idea of the tattoos that Kiwi and Amiri wore was more palatable than the idea of slicing into his skin. The message was so different. Would anyone understand what he'd done and why he'd done it?
"Where would you… Where would I… Where would the marks go?" Kurt asked.
Martuska shrugged. "That depends on what I see," she said.
"And I won't know what's happening?"
"You'll be conscious, but unconscious to your thoughts and actions. I will guide your hand."
That didn't sound like something he wanted to do. Kurt shook his head. "I can't." He stood up and paced around the small fire. Martuska watched him impassively.
"It's your choice." Martuska said. "Is that your decision?"
Kurt turned quickly. That was it, she was giving him just a few moments to decide? "No, I… I'm thinking." He said, stalling for time.
Martuska straightened as though she was listening to something. Kurt strained his ears but heard nothing. "You'd better think fast then. Time's almost up."
Kurt was pondering what this meant when he heard the roar of a car engine. Franco was returning. He turned back to Martuska.
"If you let him catch you, I won't stop him this time." She said. "That is, if you say no…"
He had seconds to decide. And yet he still had so many questions, so many doubts. But he already knew what would happen if he said no. In a way it already had and in those moments he'd felt more hopelessness than he ever had.
"I'll do it." Kurt said, as he watched the grill of Franco's old car burst into view from the trees. He turned back, expecting to see Martuska still sitting on the log, but she was up and standing right behind him.
"Good. I was hoping you'd say that." She said. She reached out; grabbing Kurt by the shoulder so hard he could feel her nails digging into to his skin.
"Hey!" but even as he shouted, he could feel something strange happening. He was slowly dropping down onto his knees without meaning to, as though he no longer had control of his own legs. Was it Martuska's doing? He tried to tell her to stop, that he wasn't ready. He didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this. Candles maybe, magical talismans, like the things that Margali had around the place when she read fortunes for people. He hadn't expected this. He tried to speak, but the words came out as strangled grunts, completely unintelligible. And at the same time he realized that his own thoughts seemed to be slipping from his control.
Kurt looked up and realized he was now lying on his side on the ground. Franco was standing over him, his sons flanking him as usual. There was a sharp knife in Franco's hand and Kurt realized that they had come prepared, that if he'd refused, then Martuska would have been the one to persuade him. Not that she would have needed to. When Franco knelt down and pushed him on to his back, Kurt realized he was totally unable to move. Eyes wide, he stared up into the sky. Franco and his sons were pinning him down, but there was no need. Knowing that he could no longer speak Kurt screamed at the top of his lungs, anything to get them to stop.
"It will be easier if you don't fight," Martuska said.
Kurt could still feel her fingernails digging into his shoulder, closing down so hard that he could feel blood seeping beneath them. His eyes were closing and his last thought was how could he fight if he couldn't move? And as consciousness left him entirely, he was sure he was going mad.
Author's Note: The titles of this story and "Not all who wander are lost" are from J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. They are part of a poem describing the manner of Aragorn, the Kind of the West's return to the throne of Gondor and it's one of my favorites pieces of verse in the book.
