Moreaugarin's crusade

MOREAUGARIN'S CRUSADE

Ovidiu Bufnila

Ibhib the Gunner of Longville stormed me up from my den.
He had scored about the catacombs of Beauburg for the best part of a
week. He wanted to know my whereabouts so he had inquired left and
right. He made then a spectacle of himself and came to blows with a
couple of batmen. He did them in; he did, and drank their blood. The
fickle bastard! Then he took his time walking along the banks of the
underground river and had a fling with the swarthy broad Brunhilde. He
had a mouthful of her tits and gave her such a hell of a thrashing that
she hollered till there were cracks in the vaults of the galleries
where the stiffs lay dormant.
I surely followed Ibhib with my feelers. I couldn't trust scoundrels
like him. I hadn't seen him ever since Moreaugarin had given us the
slip. The Gunner had not changed a bit. Maybe his belly heaved a little
over the belt. A flimsy haze shimmered over his eyes. The scales on his
strong chest seemed to have become rusty in some places. And his joints
creaked, poor wretch! Well, the old space hound's luck was running
thin&;#8230;
When I had heard the clang of his iron scales I put out the torches in
a hurry. Killed the engines. Pulled out my own iron from my chest. They
I lay in wait.
"Freeze where you are!" I screamed my lungs out.
Ibhib sneered, baring the silver spades of his teeth, and croaked
something. I didn't believe him. His nostrils were flaring. His chest
was heaving. He rolled his eyes. His soul seemed to carry a heavy
burden. The bastard! Through a crack in his shoulder I saw the muzzle
of his gun&;#8230;
It's useless to wait. I fired a volley. The peeling walls resounded.
The echo of the boom rolled to the surface and died in the tubular
streets of Beauburg. The Gunner?
Hah, hah! Mealy-mouthed bastard! He played that dirty trick of his.
Caught all the bullets between his silver teeth and spat them back at
my head. I extended my hairy paw of a hand and Ibhib rushed out of the
dark and hugged me, roaring with glee.
I thought he would break my spine. He was carrying his age well, the
bum!
"Well, Max! Aren't you getting moldy in this place?" Ibhib asked
flapping his drooling lips.
"Nope, not yet," I said with a chuckle.
"When then?"
"Well?"
"And how' s the racket coming?"
"Stop ranting, you stinker. You'd better tell me your business here.
What's the big idea?"
"Well, are you up in dough?" the Gunner asked and scratched behind his
flagging ear.
"No, I'm rather hard up. Not even two nickels to rub together."
"I've got a job for you."
"Spit it out, don't keep me guessing." I said and whisked out a bottle
of hard stuff from my cache.
"I met Moreaugarin."
Well, that topped it all! That addled-brained scholar? Was that the
reason for Ibhib's coming thither and scouring the catacombs? Fat
chance, old man. "Go look somewhere else", I snapped at him. "We should
have slashed Moreaugarin's throat when we had the chance! The cheat
said he'd give us a lot of money. We sweated our guts out on Mars. We
worked ourselves to death combing the QET Galaxy in search of that
shitty toad with silicon brains. The one who had stolen planet Earth to
add it to his collection. We ended up empty-handed. When we finished
the job, that groveling son of a bitch, Moreaugarin came and said that
he had found immortality and could be reborn from a single drop of
blood or from his own footprint, even if it were one hundred years old.
I know what these end-of-the-century scholars are up to, Gunner. They'd
like to give us the go-by."
"Now, what can I say? The man said this time we're sure to hit the
jackpot. Ever heard of ancient-light diamonds?"
"Some rumors, yes," I said and rubbed my hands. "What about
them?"
"Well, this Moreaugarin claims he knows where they can be found."
"Don't be so bloody stupid! An amphibian from B'ol Solar system told me
that these diamonds are far beyond the edge of the cosmos, about
fifteen thousand light years away. What then?"
"Listen, Max, this is the set-up. Moreaugarin showed me one of those
stones and guess what. I took it to the jeweler's at Grazzelli's in
Blue city. Cuts quite a figure in his field, you know. Well, he says
the stone is genuine. Then he takes a gun from a drawer and says he
will prove it&;#8230;"
"Well?"
"Well, he puts a slug through his head! Moreaugarin and I get
splattered all over with his blood and brains. And then Grazzelli comes
to life. Moreaugarin just touches his body with that stone
and&;#8230;"
"You're a goddamn liar".
"No, I'm not! And look, that's all there's to it!"
"You're trying to piss me. Shoot it".
"The other thing is, Moreaugarin said that Pilgrims arrived in some
spot on the Earth&;#8230;"
"Big deal. I heard that one from a sea-devil!"
This is an age-old story. One million years ago these Pilgrims
destroyed civilization on Venus. By treason, perjury and crime.
Pilgrims were sonorous beings born from the primeval sound of the
Universe. They carried the walls of the Ideal City beneath their
mantles of ancient-light. The Venusians couldn't resist temptation.
They wanted to become immortal, too. Abjured their creed. Left their
temples to neglect and decay. Next they stoned their priests. Then they
marched together in the City. Yet the Pilgrims' plan failed. The
Venusians' rage burst out all of a sudden. The walls collapsed under
the canon fire and it took the Venusians just one autumn to butcher one
another&;#8230;
"Do you know what happened next?" Ibhib asked and took slug from the
bottle.
"You tell me."
"These Pilgrims wanted to become masters of all the worlds in the
Universe. They travel from place to place hoping to find a spot to
their liking. After they had destroyed the Venusians civilization they
salvaged part of the walls of the Ideal City and squeezed through one
of the hundreds of "worm holes" crossing the Universe."
"So where they stop?" I asked impatiently.
"Somewhere near here. On planet Terraria."
"That imperfect copy of the Earth, right?"
"Right. But they couldn't build their Ideal City here. The
gravitational field was unstable. Now and then, which is quite often, a
strong temporal vortex changed the geographic position of the
settlements. Garbage and other refuse dumped from the Earth appeared on
the beaches in Terraria. Out of that putrid heap all sorts of
unimaginable beings came to life and they continuously changed the
entropy index of the planet&;#8230;"
"Listen to me&;#8230;"
"Wait. I'll be through in a moment. The Pilgrims got
to&;#8230;"
"To the Earth."
"That's it, Max boy. The Earth. The walls of the Ideal City are made of
ancient-light diamonds."
"And we grab them, all right?" I shouted eagerly.
"Moreaugarin splits the stuff with us."
"Look here, Gunner, do you trust him? I don't. I suggest that we play
his game up to a point then in some way or other we get rid of
him."
"We thought about that."
"Who's "we"? What do you mean?"
"Well, there are others: Brulla, the man with the talking parrot and a
barrel organ, Ploto the butcher from Venus, Vlasko the Trumpeter,
Gargarelli the Philosopher, Totora the Circus man, and one thousand
other rogues, just the best of the whole lot."
I joined them. I had nothing to lose but my life. Seeing only the
bright side of things, the boys in the gang were as playful as kittens.
At the break of day we set off to Moreaugarin's fabled castle. It lay
beyond the high piles of radioactive waste, on the edge of the ocean.
We had the colly-wobbles with hunger when we got there. We nearly broke
down the gates of his castle. Moreaugarin the serpent treated us
gently. Easy does it. Soft spoken. Honeyed eyes. Tricks we all
knew&;#8230;
He gave a speech. Without losing any of his starch, he showed us he
still had the fab gift of gab. He was perched on that funny-looking
machinery puffing out sulfurous clouds. You'll never see the like of it
again so no one knew whether it was a scarab, a mechanical octopus, a
demon of plastic, glass and metal or only a chimera.
The machinery had sparkling red spheres. Silver shafts full of spikes.
Multicolored prisms to read your past, present and future. A huge
Fulton dynamo. Snaking inflatable pipes. Fire balls. A one-ton piston.
A German revolving beacon light. A steel rammer. A Van der Graff jar.
Shiny and slippery scaffolding. Catwalks. Cellophane snakes and winding
holograms. Organic aggregates from which fearsome soldiers were born. A
transparent pyramid emitting blue streaks of lightning. A launching
pad. And a supercomputer Mettryks.
Moreaugarin walked stiffly up and down the bridge deck and shouted at
the top of his voice.
"Welcome, my lions! My tigers! My brave fighters! I remind you that
occult forces are trying to bring shame to my name. My scientific
genius is not acknowledged. The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
to Animals sued me for allegedly experimenting on a brontosaurus, which
I reactivated without their approval. Hah, hah, hah! Moreover, they
even want saddle the nuclear bomb ob me. But forget those pygmies!
We'll show them good and clean, tigers! Quite soon! Swellings?
Spittles? Booming farts? Vomit? We'll dump them all &;#8230; and
now, listen to me carefully! The Ideal City was brought to Earth. By
Pilgrims. Intruders from beyond the cosmic horizon. They laid their
hands on Its walls and carried It all over the Universe. We shall free
It."
That was nice. Soul lifting you may say. But we all really wanted to
know how much of it would be ours. Moreaugarin began fuming. He gave a
piece of his mind. He gave us a hell of a laundering. He said:
"You ignorant pitiful bums! Can't you get it into your goddamned heads
that you will be the Deliverers of the City? In the name of the Cross,
we shall fight, my tigers! The Ideal City belongs to man. He was born
in It millions years ago. He was banished from It. He was robbed of the
City when he was still unable to speak. It is I, Moreaugarin, who will
free It again! We'll do it together, my knights!"
That was pushing a little too far. Knights. We were all weathered
soldiers who had fought planetary wars. That was more to the point. We
kept weapons hidden I our bodies. We could say we were fallen angles,
perhaps. Casual passers-by. Where as deep down we were beasts.
Downright frightening. In short, the Knights of Apocalypse!
"Look, Moreaugarin, you say we should go on a crusade?" Brulla asked
him halfheartedly as he was stroking the ruffled feathers of his
talking parrot. "What about the diamonds?"
"Hah! Moreaugarin laughed. "Is immortality itching you?" Now I see what
you mean! You'll be immortals. That much I can promise. You'll ride
through the centuries by my side!"
"Hold on a minute, don't burn yourself out. You gave us the slip once
before!" Totora the Circus man bleated out, making faces. "We want to
know the price. That's where it hurts. The clink of money is the real
tune for us. Then we shall see about immortality. The crux of the
matter is, what's in for us if we slaughter the Pilgrims?"
"Oh, what a pity! God poured a drop of spirit in a whole barrel of
hogwash! Look at yourselves, poor Totora! You're festering with pus! We
shall cure you by fire. I'll burn you with the hot iron, you
misbegotten son of a bitch. I'll give you money. But glory? Did you
think of that? We shall deliver the Ideal City! We shall throw Its
gates wide open. So God's sheep will drink the ancient light. On your
knees, you God-for-nothing bums!"
We all fell in the dust full with shame. Moreaugarin stepped on a pedal
and a green RAY hurled into the sky. The air sputtered. Oh, God, that
scholar was going to hoodwink us again. We were hopeless. We'd bought
ourselves a lot of trouble, for sure. We were his puppets. He could
strangle us. Or break our heads open, fumble inside and suck up our
vital fluids. Or he could slash open our chests and play with our
hearts and make them sing by driving in his fingernails. We were
mesmerized. Fallen in the trap. All hope of escape gone.
We went aboard Moreaugarin' s battle cruisers and started crossing the
ocean, on and on, to the walls of the Ideal City.
Near the Horn of Africa we sank a pirate's ship already cut to ribbons
by a pack of cuttlefish, which had been doing a spate of foolish things
for the last hundred years. We took on supplies in Gibraltar and lied
to the people telling them we are going to fish for whales in the Far
North. Well, the Americans, the Russians and the Spanish and the
English got wind that something was afoot. Even the Genovese had
inkling. Add to that the people beyond Tibet. Others on a nuclear
submarine followed us, as they wanted to take part in that terrible
crusade, too. We laughed in their faces, cracked our chests and pulled
out our heavy artillery and sent them flying. Poor Earthmen! How could
they fight the Pilgrims if they had no idea how to shift time phase and
tune themselves in on frequency of the Ideal City? We had to conquer
it, first to get our pay, then to rebuild it in the holy lands.
"Hey, can you see anything?" Moreaugarin kept shouting from early
morning till late at night at the man in the crow's nest.
"Just a desert of water!"
For a while we used the sail, keeping our store of coal for the great
battle.
"Ship ahoy!" Vlasko the Trumpeter yelled one morning like a
madman.
We rushed to the steel bulwark, gazed at the expanse of blue sea and
shouted at the mechanics to stop the wind blowing from the stern pumps
to fill our sails.
"This is heavenly," Moreaugarin called out, spraying the waters with
his green ray, and hit the boat.
"Oh God, it's a monk!" Bloto cried and burst into tears.
The monk was barely breathing. He had a wiry tangled beard. He had had
nothing to eat for days. His boat carried a strange device. He spoke in
whisper.
"I've been voyaging for years with a secret yearning. I would like to
record God's voice: I implored Him to say one word to me. A single
word. But He will not. I have records with me. And a gramophone. Yet, I
won't lose hope. If you give me some food I shall wish you every
success, my sons."
Hmm, this skinny monk was worth his salt, he had the hang of what we
were actually after. But how? Could life in the desert waters have
taught him to read others' souls?
We swapped gossip. Gave him some food. He ate ravenously. Then he
explained how he worked his device. Like this and like that. He was
giving us half-truths. My friends, the crusaders, stood rooted to the
spot. The monk kept talking us into listening to some waltz, or a tango
or a conga. To ease the creases in our brows. To forget the business of
war. But how did he know that deep inside us we had weapons that the
eye could not perceive?
"We are at the end of our rope," I said looking him straight in the
eyes. "Let's call it a day and we'll talk again tomorrow, Your
Holiness. Wouldn't you like a soft bed?"
He agreed. His eyes sparkled. He mumbled something under his breath.
Leave him; I couldn't sleep anyway.
I heard him at midnight. He tiptoed noiselessly on to the deck under
the moonlight. He went to the stern. Fumbled in the dark. I watched him
closely. I saw him taking out his gramophone, going through his records
and choosing one of silver. He had no sooner placed it on the turntable
than I jumped out of my hiding place like a bobcat. The other bums were
sleeping soundly. Moreaugarin's snoring could be heard from well beyond
the Polar Circle.
"Your Holiness, did you not fall prey to sleep?"
"Oh, is that you, boy?" the monk mumbled in embarrassment. "I was just
taking a walk. I thought I heard a voice. It might be God's, I thought,
so here I am."
"It is not God's voice. It is the whales' song, Your Holiness."
"You may be right, my son. Wonderful work, this song!"
"If you say so," I said with a sneer and felt for my chest. "Um, just
what monasteries are&;#8230;"
I stopped in mid-sentence. The monk placed the gramophone needle onto
the record and some angel music began, flowing above the waters. I felt
blood bursting out of my mouth and nostrils. I collapsed among the
barrels full of finish. I nearly fell into the water. The sounds turned
into poisonous arrows. My feet, shoulders and palms were
bleeding.
I managed to rise to my feet. My head was swollen to the point of
bursting. I cracked my chest and fired a volley of red-hot bullets,
ripping into the gramophone.
"Treason! Ibhib the Gunner was shouting as he came galloping like a
storm, dressed in his underwear.
"Pirates! Gargarelli the Philosopher yelled as he began throwing swords
of fire through the air.
"The enemy! Ploto the Butcher hollered as he ripped at everything in
sight with his steel claws.
The monk had vanished. Moreaugarin hugged me and pinned a medal on my
chest in an ad-lib ceremony. He kissed both my cheeks and promoted me
to Rear Admiral.
Later on, Moreaugarin and I each lit a cigar and talked while the bums
were again sleeping and snoring like hell.
"Rear Admiral", said he "do you believe in fate?"
"I don't like to waste my breath with flub dub".
"Can't you feel the liberating spark burning in your guts? Hasn't your
spirit ever yearned for the ancient light from the beginning of the
Universe? What will you do when millions of people pour through the
wide open gate weeping with happiness once they have regained the Ideal
City?"
"I don't know. I&;#8230;I'm afraid to find out&;#8230;"
I spoke no more. We were sailing through troubled waters. One of the
pilgrims had tried to kill us. Perhaps by now they had prepared
bubbling craters and heaps of asteroids to stop our march, to slay us
and throw us into the sidereal chasm.
"What will you do with your diamond?" Moreaugarin needled me as he was
puffing billows of smoke from his silvery cigar. "Will you swallow it
to become immortal? And then, how will you use your immortality? Well,
boy? What, then, Rear Admiral?"
The scoundrel! He was trying to sound me out. The old bastard in him
was coming out again. He wanted me to give him my diamond. Oh, the
selfish glutton! I laughed in his face.
"Why shouldn't I be immortal myself?"
"You are na?ve. You should have been prepared for that long ago. It
won't be easy. As soon as you swallow the diamond you'll never die.
That's what I'm asking&;#8230;"
"Asking what?"
"Will you sell it to me? I plan a memorable experiment. And I lack one
diamond".
Oh, God Almighty! What a scamp he was. What a groveling wretch.
Moreaugarin had no intention to liberate the Ideal City and offer it to
he people. Oh, he had tricked us with fine words! I vented my spleen on
him and I went to sleep.
I tossed in my bed all night. In the morning, as we were sailing past
floating icebergs we set our watches for one-second hop. Our armor
clanged. We fell into formation on deck. We knelt and crossed
ourselves. The great moment was coming.
Ibhib the Gunner pulled my sleeve and drew me aside to show me a pouch
full of money. He breathed out a sigh.
"Max boy, let that immortality dream go. What do you care? Look here,
we have all sold Moreaugarin our share of the diamonds. Go sell yours
while the going is good. Good money for the wet days ahead!"
I hit him so hard on the back of his head rust fell off the scales of
his armor. I pulled his flapping ears and, seething with fury, I
slapped him on his trap. Fucking cheap phony! I knew better than let
myself be sold to Moreaugarin.
"We shall see, Gunner! I'll make up my own mind!"
The battle began. Heavy mists descended from the sky. There was snow.
Blocks of ice fell on the deck of our battle cruiser. The Pilgrims
fought like devils to the death. We chopped them to pieces. Ibhib
pulverized them with his temporal gun. Vlasko the Trumpeter slaughtered
them with their own songs that he turned to dynamite. Moreaugarin was
yelling above the din.
"For the Ideal City, fight on! Nice doing, my tigers, let liberate
these ancient-light walls, which gave birth to the human being.
Hurray!"
Well, this did not square with the situation. He was playing it
off-key. The air was trembling. Crackling. Moaning. The frozen waters
began to boil off steam. The orange sun was detailed against the blue
sky. A sickly looking star hung high above all this.
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" Ibhib shouted, pulling faces to
Moreaugarin.
"In the name of the Cross!" Ploton roared.
"Hurray!"
Then there was silence over the wide expanses buried in deep white
snow. It snowed for hours. We thronged at the foot of the Ideal City
and started to clean our armor. The spotless walls were shining
blindingly. Moreaugarin looked for a dry patch of high land to exhort
the sinners anew. He kept looking at me because he knew he had to give
me ancient-light diamond. The other ruffians did not care about me.
They were already stewed to the gills with booze and were singing bawdy
songs. True blooded sidereal hounds.
"Thank you, tigers of mine!" Moreaugarin began. "My
knights&;#8230;."
No one was listening to him so he gave up the rap and taking out his
dagger he started scraping the walls of the City.
I followed him. He roared madly at me.
I told the Gunner to let you rot in your den. Boy, I never liked
you!"
"Moreaugarin, you promised you would give those walls to the
people".
"Oh, yes, you're impassioned. Romantic. Melancholy. How could you be a
true sidereal hound? You're a double dealer, Maxim, that's what you
are!"
"And you? You're a wretched bastard. I know you well. You've tricked us
again. You, the great crusader&;#8230; What experiment are you
preparing? What is above immortality? You said you have already
discovered it, didn't you? You could be reborn out of a drop of blood
or&;#8230;"
"You are as ignorant as dirt," Moreaugarin said, pursing his thick
lips. "I said, I said, I promised&;#8230; Knowledge, my dear fellow,
is above all else&;#8230;. Knowledge&;#8230;"
"I hate you!" I screamed and the sidereal chasm swallowed my desperate
words.
I pelted him with my hatred. I told him to get off the walls and return
to Beauburg&;#8230;
"Don't be a spoilsport. How could you ask me to do that? I must have
all the diamonds. You'll give me yours, won't you? I've got money. I
sold the Ideal City to the shitty toad with silicon brains in the QET
galaxy. For solid money. He went crazy at the idea of having it. We'll
play the old game and cheat him. That wouldn't be the first time for a
bum like you. Am I wrong, Max? Have you forgotten you're a fickle
bastard, an outlaw hiding in the catacombs? You're nobody! How can you
compare yourself to Moreaugarin? Hey boy, don't stunk, will you? You
would break me to pieces, that I know, boy!"
"I'll kill you one of these days, you bastard. You and that
toad!"
"Hah, hah!"
Moreaugarin howled and chased me with the green ray from the machine,
which whirred down from nowhere.
"Oh, boy, you have a lot to learn. We are different beings. Take my
head if you can, come on, do it! Ha, ha! Good-bye, my boy,
good-bye!"
And gone he was. Wrapped in dark blue smoke. Gone was the Ideal
City&;#8230;
At dawn the next day we were again in Beauburg at the edge of the
ocean. We cast the anchor and lay basking in the sun; we were
exhausted. Sunlight made the anchor chain twinkle. Reddish sparkles
played on the crests of the onrushing waves. The burns had started
shooting crap - old habits die hard - and wound up fighting and
trussing like madmen.
I threw my armor into the ocean and stayed awhile on my knees to watch
it sink. I lay on the warm sand and fell asleep and dreamed of the
ancient-light walls of the Ideal City. Through the haze I could make
out Moreaugarin's figure. I called out to him. I felt I could kill him
in my dream. I opened my chest a crack and pulled out my gun.
The report of the volley shattered my dream and my soul. Moreaugarin
stumbled and fell. Face down in a puddle of corrupted blood. I ran up
to him to cut off his head and take it as a bounty. Kicking the body, I
turned it face up. Ready to sever his head, I shuddered and froze. I
was looking at my own face.