Part Sixteen:
Underestimated
If there was one thing JD hated more than anything, it was being underestimated.
All his life, from the time he was old enough to understand what contempt meant, JD knew people looked at him and saw less. Whether it was because he was the son of the housekeeper at the fancy school his mother worked at, or the fact he was small for his age and he had no father to speak of, he always felt the outcast. When he was younger, he would get into fights all the time because of this and the bloody nose he often gave the bullies who came at him, proved quite conclusively, he was nowhere an easy a mark as they believed.
It was why he felt similarly incensed as he sat in the train car on the far side of town, slightly battered and bruised, listening to his captor, Adashir Shah, the leader of the Erran, boast of his plan to use him as a pawn to gain the remaining two Pillars.
After ambushing him at the home of Alex's father and burning the place to the ground, an action which infuriated him as much as it would devastate the lady when she discovered the fire, JD had been sufficiently subdued and spirited away. Looking through the glass as he left the burning house behind him, JD's rage had been fuelled by the thought of all those precious books having survived the centuries only to be destroyed at the hand of these fanatics, to say nothing of how they had razed to the ground, the home Alex had shared with her father.
They drove for almost a good hour, with the Erran making no effort to hide where they were going, telling JD most unequivocally they had no intention of letting him go, even after they got what they wanted. With his fate painfully clear, JD knew he had nothing to lose and everything to gain by escaping. Furthermore, it rankled him that Chris and the others would have to surrender the Pillars to get him back. While it felt good to know they cared for him so much, JD had no wish to be the reason the Erran succeeded in their insane plans to uncreate the world, even if the whole thing was superstitious nonsense.
"You know it's a shame you destroyed all of those books at Doctor Styles's place when you sent your goon squad to come get me." JD commented from the wing chair he had been forced into inside the luxurious train car, Shah had converted into study and parlour. Standing over him, was an Erran guard, ensuring he behaved while the leader of the Erran sat behind an expensive oak desk, studying a parchment rolled across the felt covering.
"I have no interest in what an infidel may have gathered over the years," Shah did not look up as he continued his examination of the parchment, scrutinizing the faded letters through the lens of the magnifying glass in his hand.
"Okay," JD shrugged. "But I'm sure he gathered a lot of stuff about the Pillars and the Heart that you might not have seen."
Curiosity piqued, Shah lifted his head and stared across the room, with its expensive rugs and ornate bric a brac adorning shelves and display cases. "Like what?"
"Well for starters, once you get the Four Pillars and open the Heart, it's not a simple matter of retrieving the Tablets from its Cradle, wherever that might be. In the text I saw, one your gorilla torched, there was an Akkadian translation of Ninurta and the Turtle where most of the legends regarding Enki come from. It talks about the trials that must be crossed by the worthy before the Tablet can be claimed."
"There is no Akkadian translation of that text," Shah declared, but JD had learned enough from Ezra to know the man's tone was slightly less superior than it had been.
"Sure, there is," he said confidently. "Apparently, Doctor Styles found another portion of an Anzu poem unearthed in an old temper near the northern Euphrates. It was a part of something called the Books of Bel."
"Bel?" Shah sat up even straighter. "There is..."
"Bel is what some Babylonians called Marduk, who took the Tablets away from Tiamat's chosen during the battle with her chosen." JD explained almost smugly.
"And you're saying that Styles has a copy of this translation?" Shah stared at him.
"Had," JD emphasized. "It was in the house and it's up in smoke now. So good luck when you find the Cradle."
Shah glared at the boy, convinced he was being played but with the Heart now in his possession, not to mention two of the Pillars, the gulf between uncertainty and absolute had widened considerably. Perhaps it had been a mistake to destroy the doctor's collection. No, he shook his head. This boy was playing him.
"You're lying," Shah declared.
"If you say so," JD said indifferently. "You can see it for yourself, the trials are inscribed on the side of the Pillars."
Shah blinked and glanced at a picture frame on the wall. Convinced the young man was no threat to him, especially since Shah planned on killing him the instant the other Pillars were acquired, he went to the painting, a portrait of Adashir Shah the First, hanging on the wall. Behind it was a safe. JD turned away, pretending to pay no attention but kept it within his view. He watched as Shah turned the dial. With his eidetic memory, JD memorised every turn and pause, confident the man would not think him capable of remembering the combination.
He was wrong.
A few minutes later, Shah produced one of the Pillars and once again, JD remembered everything Ezra Standish taught him this last year about maintaining a poker face, feigning nothing but disinterest when the man took the artefact back to his desk. Once again, JD didn't look at him as Shah scrutinized the Pillar, mostly because JD feared Shah might guess his intentions if he paid too much attention.
No sooner than the thought crossed his head, Shah placed the lens and the Pillar down on the table again. He stared at JD hard. "This translation is ambiguous. The trials mentioned, could be interpreted in two different ways, it could mean physical trials or it could mean keeping the faith with Tiamat. Foolish infidel," Shah snorted. "You assume too much."
"No skin of my back, I just said what I read but you want to be sure in case there ain't no flesh-eating beetles waiting for you when you get there. This isn't the first treasure hunt I've been on, it's the details that end up leaving you at the bottom of a pit, full of spikes."
"I'm sure," Shah sneered and stood from the desk, replacing the Pillar back in the safe. "For your sake," he added viciously. "Your friends better give me the other Pillars or else I will be happy to see you end up that way."
The young man said nothing, feigning a little fear for effect. In truth, JD had too much faith in the six men who had taken him under their wing since he joined their number. There was no way in hell they would let him come to harm. He felt it in his bones.
Shah was on his way back to his desk when the revving of engines filled the air, making the man cross the floor to the nearest window to peer out. JD was uncertain what he saw, but it did not please him in the slightest. A dark scowl crossed his face as he straightened up, allowing the curtain over the glass to fall back in place once more. Regarding the guard keeping an eye on JD, Shah offered a single stern warning.
"Watch him."
Counting down silently, JD let exactly twenty seconds pass before he swung back hard in his wing chair, causing the heavy piece of furniture to fall against his guard who stumbled backwards. Ready for the fall, JD flipped over the armrest before it landed entirely on the Erran. Moving swiftly, JD knew what he would be reaching for the instant the moment allowed it. Practically sweeping the heavy marble statue off the side table, he smashed it into the jaw of the Erran who went for his gun, but never had the chance to pull the trigger. A jaw bone shattered as he careened to the floor, with the young linguist bringing down the statue once more, this time against his skull.
The man slumped to the rug unconscious without a sound and JD tossed the statue against the upended wing chair, certain he was not getting up soon. Leaving the Erran behind him, JD crossed the floor quickly, about to make his own introduction to Adashir Shah the First.
"Am I surrounded by incompetents?" Shah bellowed as he faced his sister and Krestos who were returning with half the men he had send them out with.
Once again, they had returned to him empty handed and Shah was seriously beginning to consider perhaps the men that surrounded Orin Travis was more than either Aisha or Krestos could handle. Being bested seemed to be becoming a regular occurrence. While Aisha and Krestos did not seem any worse for the experience, the same could not be said for the group of Erran that had gone with them. At least a handful had not returned.
"They found an alternate exit out of the bank and we could not stay too long to conduct a search," Aisha explained. "Perhaps we should have waited until they left the premises but the bank appeared self-contained and we had men stationed at the rear exit."
"This is getting tiresome!" Shah snapped. "We have waited a thousand years for this day and you two are being bested by infidels!"
"Forgive me for speaking out of turn," Krestos spoke up as Aisha felt silent, her head drooped in shame at failing her brother once more. "Master, these men are not simple infidels. They're soldiers and men who have been blooded by far more blood than our own have seen. They are skilled."
"That boy in there claims they are treasure hunters," Shah gestured to the railway car a short distance away. The line of track in this area was private and normally used for freight cars delivering cargo that would be bound for the Rio Grande, a short distance away. "Perhaps you ought to interrogate him," he looked at Aisha. "I think it is time we got to know our adversaries a bit better."
"He will tell me everything he knows before I am done with him," she said confidently.
Turning his back on her, Shah stomped back to the railway car, his mood so dark he almost left a trail of smoke behind him. As always Aisha followed a few steps behind, for her brother had the bloodline of a king and she was still a woman. Throwing a sidelong glance at Krestos, the tall servant kept with pace at her, but his eyes showed his sympathy at her brother's rages towards her. Krestos had been Shah's loyal protector since he assumed the mantle of the Erran from their father and though it was never spoken, she knew he kept her safe too.
Around them, the other Erran were helping their injured comrades out of the vehicles they had returned in, with the intention of taking them to the other carriage where they had been hiding since coming to this accursed land. They offered no judgement on the failure of the quest today, keeping their heads low as they passed their master's sister and the captain of his guard. Aisha only looked ahead, her eyes fixed on Shah's back as he made his way up the steps into the rail car he called his private sanctum. He was ready to extract his pound of flesh from the young man whose older comrades had complicated the retrieval of the heart and the remaining Pillars
"HE'S GONE!"
Shah's enraged bellow rose over the raspy wind blowing across the dry afternoon of the New Mexican day. Both she and Krestos jumped at the sharp, almost animalistic cry of fury and hastened their pace into the train car. What they arrived there to find was worse than just an escape and Shah's expression was damn near murderous.
Her brother was standing next to the safe where the Pillars belonging to Hank Conley and Donald Avery were kept, along with the Heart of Enki, stolen less than a day before. It was wide open like a mouth agape with shock, its contents gone. On the floor nearby, lay the unconscious, if not possibly dead body of the guard left behind to watch over the prisoner. His red robes had been stripped off his body.
"That little bastard took the Pillars and Heart!" Shah screamed. "FIND HIM NOW!"
Krestos did not even need him to finish the sentence, having guessed what had happened the instant he saw the half-naked guard. Hurrying to the door, he paused and scanned the area just in time to see a red robe figure climb into one of the cars they had just vacated.
"STOP HIM!" Krestos shouted to anyone who was near enough as the cars engines roared to life. He leapt of the platform, not bothering to take the steps down to the ground, his gun brandished as his stunned Erran brothers tried to discern what was happening.
Inside the Caddy, JD didn't look up when he heard Krestos sound the alarm.
The youngest member of the Seven was too busy getting the car started. Putting it into gear, he released the clutch and jammed his foot against the accelerator, sending it lurching forward. Spinning the wheel around in a sharp turn, the tyres screeched loudly against the gravel road, spitting bits of grit and dirt into the air in a small earthen wave.
So loud was the roar of engines, it drowned out the voices shouting after him furiously until the first burst of gunfire eclipsed everything. JD kept his head down as the back window exploded with the bullet continuing on, exiting the windscreen dead centre. Only a tiny webbed crack remained behind as JD floored the accelerator and left a cloud of dust behind him as he sped away. The gunfire continued and he didn't have to look over his shoulder to know the other vehicles the Erran had at their disposal would soon be in pursuit.
Especially after what he had taken.
As he sped away from the Yards, JD was confident he could lose them in the streets of Albuquerque, because after Josiah's driving lessons, JD had become very well acquainted with its streets. Tossing back a final look at the Erran, JD had only this to say.
"Ambiguous translation my ass."
To say that Chris Larabee was incensed was putting it mildly.
Nothing affected the former captain of K troop and now leader of the Seven as much as fire. After Sarah and Adam's death, his reaction to fire was visceral. It sent a chill of fear down his spine and provoked a rage almost as red hot as the flames that had set his life ablaze that terrible night while he and Buck were in Mexico. While fire no means paralysed him, it did provoke an extreme reaction when he saw it. It was even worse when he knew it was no random act of fate but a calculated move of malicious intent.
His first thought after the shock of seeing the billowing cloud of smoke rising from the pyre of William Styles's home, was JD. The horror of having to search through the rubble of ash and wood in search of the boy's burnt body was more than he could stand. Fortunately, he had been spared that nightmare with his family, since the bodies were well and truly removed from the scene when he arrived at his gutted home. The idea he might have to face that nightmare almost made him gag but then Chris remembered, the body to be recovered was JD's.
Cursing himself for leaving JD alone here, Chris had forgotten that as much as JD had learned from them in the past year, he lived an ordinary life before this, a student driven by circumstances to work for them to finish his studies. He had fight and spirit but the violence and exposure to people like the Erran was still new to him. Chris had no doubt he would have put up one hell of a fight before he was taken down but Chris doubted if he could fend off the Erran if they came in the same numbers they had during previous encounters.
"JD!" Chris shouted into the air, hoping against hope the kid might have somehow managed to defy his expectations and escape.
There was no answer.
"JD!" He tried again but only silence followed and Chris knew there was no JD to hear him.
"Chris!" Vin hollered after him. The sharpshooter was scanning the dirt around the house, in particular those leading from the front door.
"What is it?" Chris asked quickly, "What have you found.?"
"I think JD made it out," Vin gestured to one particular footprint among the overlapping tracks in the dirt beyond the patch of green surrounding the house. The prints were leading towards the driveway and the one Vin focused on, appeared to be flanked by others. "I know his shoe thread and this is about his size. They took him alive Chris," Vin assured his best friend quickly, perfectly aware of what effect a fire had on Chris Larabee's psyche.
Thank Christ for that, Chris thought silently.
As the relief flooded him for that bit of consolation, he saw Alex staring into the fire and a surge of cold hatred for the Erran surfaced again, when he saw her anguish at the sight of the destruction. She stood there, like one of Euripides's tragic women, watching the fire turn everything that was her father, into ash. There were no tears but Chris saw the grief as if the fire was making her lose him all over again.
"Alex," Mary said gently, standing next to her. "I'm so sorry."
Even as she spoke, Vin was crossing the space between them, capturing Alex in an embrace when he reached her..
"Alex, we'll make them pay for this," Vin said holding her when she finally came into his arms. Holding her close to him, Vin saw no tears but her pain was like a knife in his heart and he could only look up at Chris helplessly, wishing the older man could teach him, like he had taught Vin so many other things in life, how to deal with this.
"It doesn't matter," she whispered tonelessly. "They've taken everything of him from me, there's nothing left."
Mary turned away, unable to stand the knots in her stomach. She felt Alex's grief because her own fears for Orin surfaced sharply at that moment. He was the last one left of the original four who went to the Middle East for their adventure only to return with this doom over their lives. Her blue grey eyes scanned what remained of the house, the thickest concentration of flames seemed to focus on the study. Unsurprising of course, Mary thought bitterly. There was no reason to burn the place down, none except spite and focussing on that room, no doubt where he kept a lifetime's research on the Erran, seemed fitting in their twisted world view.
At least they knew JD was alive.
While they had yet to process the ramifications of what this could mean, Chris knew one thing for certain. He didn't just intend to stop the Erran and their continued attacks on the people he cared about, he wanted to wreak bloody vengeance on every last one of the fanatical sons of bitches. Not just for taking JD, no doubt for blackmail, but for the men they had killed. Hank Conley, Donald Avery and most of all William Styles who understood better than anyone what they all risked.
He was about to turn away from the fire when his keen eyes caught sight of something in the bushes outside the window where Styles's study was continuing to burn. The olive bush closest to it was beginning to smoulder as live embers from the blazing house found fresh fuel to burn. Walking towards its almost on reflex, Chris tightened his gaze to focus on what exactly was beckoning him from its hiding place amongst the soon to be incinerated leaves.
It didn't take him long to find out what it was. Suspended above the ground, in between a fork of branches was JD's notebook.
"What is it?" Mary asked coming up alongside of him.
Chris reached for the thing and quickly brushed off the ash covered dust jacket. "It's one of JD's notebooks." He flipped it open and saw the scribblings inside the pages. While Chris couldn't translate all of it yet, he recognised the information relating to the Erran. JD must have jotted down his findings of Styles's research after his perusal and tossed it out here when the Erran had come for him.
"The kid's got a memory of a steel trap," Chris stated, raising his eyes to hers. "He left this for me."
"What's in it?"
"I'm not sure," Chris answered honestly "but if it was important enough for him to toss it out here, I plan to find out."
