A Calamity Of Deadly Secrets

I am home now, safe, or as safe as I can be after what I can only suggest was an adventure worthy of the classics down the avenues of time. From the security and comfort of my writing place I put down the events of this adventure.

Lexington Pratt

1

Gerald

It had been a half dozen years since last I saw my friend Gerald Muldock. I was much disturbed when I received a letter from the Midoaks Sanitorium that Gerald had requested a visit from his oldest and dearest friend Lexington Pratt. Such being myself.

Midoaks was one of those nearly forgotten private hospices whose inmates were recovering from some mental, wretched malady that did not require police or other official attention. Most of the inmates had admitted themselves or had agreed to be admitted by family. I learned, upon my visit, Gerald had wandered in late one night in a frightful state of mental agitation, gaunt as a cadaver and unable to speak above the application of hisses, babbles, and whines. It took six months before he was able to articulate sufficiently to request my presence.

When I arrived and was escorted to his room he offered me a smile that startled me. I could never have imagined a human’s teeth to be the colour of coal enclosed by lips as pale as salt and lined vertically with deep cracks that look like they should be bleeding.

He said, “My dearest Lexington. Thank you for coming. You must listen to me and believe me or there will be no stopping the menace I have encountered and failed to defeat.

Aside from his teeth and lips, in describing Gerald Muldock, I would have to defer to your imagination and offer a suggestion. Imagine if you will a caricature of a mortician decked out in a black tux with tails and a top hat. The top hat removed would reveal a head of hair the colour of fire and splayed out like someone who had just received a cartoon version of an electric shock. His eyes were filmed, like the dead. I could hardly believe there was actually living inside him. I exaggerate not.

Of his character, certain words fit perfectly. Words like, nervous, suspicious, wary, defensive, all of which adds up to aggressive in a confrontation sometimes over even trivial matters in which he feels he is being subordinated, according to the attending psychiatrist.

But he wasn’t always like that which I have just revealed. Once he was the vibrant, courageous, and daring adventurer I had ever met.

The attendant who had escorted me to Gerald’s room stared at him in amazement. “He has not spoken like this since he arrived. Not even under the best stimulants.”

I shrugged my shoulders, arresting an explosion of responses to the attendant's revelation deciding it would serve no purpose. I found a chair and sat before my friend who was wrapped in a wool blanket and shivering.

Said I in the most inviting best and caring friend’s voice, “My friend. What ever have you gotten into?!”

“Something vaguely resembling a smile stretched Gerald’s lips so that the cracks in his them opened even wider. He said, “Something terrible. More horrible than your worst nightmare and a real as the air we breathe and the sun we see, and…” He stopped and shivered then added, “and the death we all meet. Some of before what we think is our time, and some who find it but refuse to accept it.”

“I expect I will not understand any of this without a full explanation Gerald, though your condition suggests something horrendous has infected you,” I replied.

“I will tell you the whole story, but after I have finished you must promise me you will help me. I must go back and put an end to this thing or the whole wide world will suffer.”

I asked, remembering our last visit, “Does this have anything to do with that book of yours, you wrote me about? The one you claimed could save the world from itself.”

“It has everything to do with it and I still believe it can save the world, but I did not realize that it would also open a portal into a place I can only describe as hell. Only, I think, much worse.”

“You were going off to someplace in Africa,” I said.

“That was my first thought when I began reading the book, but after I discovered my destination was much further to the north and east and but a speck on the global map, with barely a mark to displace it. It is called Taraza Village, though it was more of a hamlet lost deep in the Transylvanian Alps.”

I interrupted. “Good lord man. You don’t mean you are about to tell me you have found a nest of vampires.” I nearly laughed.

“Vampires, shmampires. There is no such thing.” Gerald responded angrily and I think if he could have he would have wagged a fist in my face. But he calmed as quickly as he flared, whimpered an apology of sorts, and said, “What I found is far more evil than any vampire could be if there were such creatures.”

“Very well. I apologize. I will not make another stupid outburst. I will listen, but please, leave nothing out.” I said.

For a long time, Gerald sat there, staring into oblivion for a long time. I thought he might have fallen asleep with his filmy eyes wide open, but then the oddest thing happened. His eyes cleared and became their most delightful emerald, green I remembered. Then his lips healed before my eyes and when he spoke again his voice was his own. He said, frankly. I have possessed Lexington but you have given me the fortitude to fight off the demon.”

I nodded unable to doubt my own eyes. I said, “Tell me everything.”

Gerald said?! “You will recall I discovered that book in the bowels of the museum at which I had been installed as the temporary Curator when I was exploring for new artefacts to put on display. And you will remember me telling you that it predated any tome man has devised. How it survived these thousands of year is told in the gist of my adventure. It is old but new after a fashion…or should I say renewed periodically.”

“Yes, I remember. We devoured three bottles of expensive wine celebrating your discovery.” I put in. “That was the last time I saw you until now, six years later.”

2

Gerald’s Journey Stage 1

Gerald Began his narration with, “I should start at the very beginning, which is the day I was rooting about the museum storage rooms in the cellar. I knew there were artefacts that the curator had intended for display but a malady took him away and I was acting in his stead. It never occurred to me at the time that he would never return and that I would have been installed permanently in his place. But in retrospect I never expected the discovery of that book to lead me off on what turned out to be a horrifying adventure that nearly brought death to my doorstep. Or take me away for nearly six years.”

“You were on this adventure the whole time?!” I demanded.

“Except for that which I have spent here recuperating and fighting off the demon that has lodged itself in my…soul…or spirit, what ever you want to call it.” Gerald replied then shrugged his shoulders and went on.

He said insistently, “I will continue now but please try not to interrupt. I will respond promptly to any enquiries when I am done.”

He glanced at me, smiled warmly, and set off on the most amazing dissertation concerning adventures and hellish things that I have ever heard or ever will hear again.

“The book was not openly visible and I would have missed it completely except for my clumsiness. I was moving a box and did not notice a cord on the floor which I tripped over and fell into a pile of boxes filled with bric-a-brac. In doing so I also knocked over a wooden container which sprang open and out fell a small chest like affair onto the floor.

I could hardly believe my eyes. But my eyes did not deceive me. The chest was made of gold, very pure gold I might add.

It was about six inches deep, with a landscape rectangular shape and measured in at sixteen by twelve inches. It stood on four ornate legs.

It had fallen upside down and I spied a key fitted into a slot.

Quickly, rather excitedly actually I snatched the key out of the slot and opened the box. Inside was the book, leathern bound embossed with gold which I assumed was the title of the book, but I did not recognized the writing.

I should have at that point served it to an authority for examination but even in those earliest minutes something was working on my mind, though I thought at the time it was my own desire to be the founder of some profound work and I suppose that was true in someway and the vehicle for my possession.

I took the book home, case and all and took a picture of the cover, then secreted the thing away for safe keeping until I determined what language I was confronted with. Thank god for computers otherwise it might have taken months or years to sort out but it took me but three days to discover the language was Tamil, suggested to be among the oldest languages in the world. The script that I discovered dated back to the 3rd millennium BCE.

I choked upon discovering its identity. The title read Iṟantavarkaḷiṉ Puttalam, The Book Of The Dead.”

I couldn’t help myself. I stopped Gerald with a sharp, “Wait. Wait just a minute. Even I know The Book Of the Dead is Egyptian.”

“Indeed there is such a book, but it is not the only one. Id my research is correct there are several and, well, they are not earthly, as we imagine earthly to be.” Gerald snapped angrily and would not speak again for some time. Not in fact until I apologized for interrupting again and promised I would not commit another infraction. During those few minutes his face began to revert to its deathly aura.

I apologized and things got set aright and Gerald continued.

“This Book of The Dead was nothing like the Egyptian version and as I discovered had nothing to do with the Tamil. The author had simply chosen that language. The author by the way refers to the plural. Though it was all written in the same language the hand writing varied as did the text itself.

With such excitement I raced about preparing to go exploring for I believed at first that my journey would settle me in Sri Lanka. You did not see me after our wine party but I was nearly maniacal in my enthusiasm and was pricked with annoyance when I had to wait for anything. It was fortunate that I already had a passport or I would have gone stark raving mad before I even left my apartment. I was anxious even as I boarded the plane and wished every mile of the way the pilot would go faster. I did not realize I was being reeled in by the nature, the evil nature of the book and I will tell you now, the moment I showed this book to an authority on the matter I was run off, but not until I was told that the book had actually originated in a village called Taraza, high in the Transylvanian Alps. My mentor on the subject offered me a brief tale of a great migration north. I looked into that and, well, lets just say the Tzigane are rooted in India and those parts.

Frustration took hold of me and I cursed my mentor which was the actual reason I was banished and forthwith escorted, luggage book and all to the next boat leaving the island.

The Captain of the boat was not informed of my infraction or I think I would have been tossed over board long before they dumped me on the beach near Dhanush Kodi Beach Road. They gave me some bread and a leather of water. So there I stood with all my luggage, three large suitcases, one containing the book wrapped in a blanket.

I felt doomed to failure but as luck, bad luck in hindsight, would have it, I was rescued by an English tourist who took the most delightful pity on this wayward Canadian that I pledged a life long debt to her. Sierra. I will never forget her name though I am one hundred percent certain she will take every effort to forget me. Despite my pledge I was, for the entirety of our acquaintance filled with anxiety with frightfully little nice to say about the world at large and its human plague, mostly the human plague.

She took me as far as Madurai and though her outward demeanor was tolerant I sensed she was glad to be rid of me. But I did apologize for my poor behavior which soften her opinion of me just enough for her to say, “I hope you find your, what ever you are looking for.” Then she quickly drove away.

I took a room in a hotel near the train station. I needed rest and food and time to settle the turmoil raging in me. I found myself then loathed to even touch that book since it had already brought me nothing but despair but at the same time I could not abandon it. Instead I began deciphering the script and the more I learned the more I was taken and the more I was taken the more I grew anxious to reach Taraza. The urgency was almost painful.

3

Gerald’s Journey Stage 2

“I have told you nothing of the books contents for a reason and a very good reason. Suffice for you to know is that there are such malic in it that I doubt even the purest of human could defy its grip. I was experiencing hellacious nightmares far beyond the concept of demons and satin or any other maleficent creature devised by the human imagination. It cut into my psyche like a scalp, cutting out anything good and replacing it with some so dark and malevolent that it began changing me. I dreamed of murder and torture and things started to happen, out of my control though it was my own hand and mind committing these nefarious actions.

At first it was nothing desperate, just pranks such as upsetting a man riding along the street on his bicycle and causing the wheel to bend so that he wobbled and fell over.

I did this with a thought and the more I read the book, for now I was compelled to do so by some inner spirit, the more I learned and the darker and meaner my nefarious infractions became.

I was rested and somehow less inflicted with the inner hatred of the malevolence chipping at my psyche. I purchase a train ticket Bucharest Romania and damn I wish I could tell you that the trip was uneventful but it was not and I am just fortunate that my actions merely got me sour looks and a shunning to rival the worst of such affairs. It is even possible, though no proof could ever be found that the murderous death of another passenger may rest on my soul. It was fortunate that the conductor of the train had locked me in my compartment and everyone believed that is where I was when the murder occurred. I must say there were some who thought me malevolent enough to commit such an atrocity but as it is said, I had no motive, means, or opportunity. I was detained in Bucharest for less than an hour and when they cut me loose I could see it in their eyes they were glad, ecstatic even, to be rid of me. I can not say one way or the other if I caused that young man’s death, though something even now, deep in my psyche is elated over the matter.”

I listen with some loathing to my friends tale of murder, trying to blot out the vision of him stabbing some innocent young man to his death. But as the thought went through my mind I realized he had not mention how the murder had occurred though it was in my memory as clearly as if he had. I hoped it was just my imagination filling in the blanks. But I did not speak out, this time bent on keeping my promise of silence.

“In Bucharest I hired a car, a jeep to be precise and from there drove to Bran.

I had refrained from reading or even touching the book and the malefactor influence seemed to weaken but still clung to some tendril in my mind. I was a least able to keep it at bay and so my journey to Bran went uneventfully with even a note of enjoyment captured with passing of the country side.

I can only describe the intensity of the malefactor as an itch in my mind that could not be scratched and it was annoying. I can understand the madness of others and their claim that their only relief is the drink. Whiskey seems to be a favorite.”

It flipped through my mind that Bran was the home of Castle bran and that was Dracula country. I laughed inwardly thinking Gerald could still yet include vampires in his narration. But he didn’t. Nothing he spoke of later fit into any horror conjured by man’s imagination.

“I rested again in Bran and even paid a touristic visit to Castle Bran. I must admit there was something about the place that was eerie but that was superficial and I actually enjoyed the tour, given its often reference to vampire movies.

After a good rest I continued my journey and it seemed I was on autopilot for I knew where to go without asking directions, loathed to do so since it would probably cause me more unwanted sneers and stress.

I followed the unseen map and found my way to Strada Principesa Ileana along to its end where I came upon a narrow track barely good enough for a cart let alone a vehicle, but the jeep had been a good choice and, though the going was slow I found my way to Taraza village.

I found it interesting that along my journey I found enough people who could speak English or some version of French. It was precarious at times but manageable, at least until I reached Taraza. Where the spoke a variant language of Tamil, much like French Canadian is to Parisian French.

There were ten chalet like homes and seven stone cottages with slate rooves. There was also a manor house set apart from the main village. There was no doubt that these were mountain people and that they were by and large shepherds and the sheep roamed freely about the village and the grassy slope of the valley. There were seventy people and at least twenty dogs. The dogs were proficient at keeping the sheep in order. There were many sheep, uncountable and I saw some that had been recently sheared. There was a large building in which I learned was a mill for making wool. The village had but one vehicle, a five ton boxer which was used to transport wool to Bran and from there it was trucked to various woolliers.

There was an inn as well, not very modern and somewhat run down but given the circumstances it was good enough for my needs, what ever those needs would turn out to be.

I managed to communicate having derived enough knowledge of Tamil to speak phases and carry on simple conversations. Yet it was frustrating because I was loathed to speak of the book fearing I’d get run out of the village or something worse. In the end I asked the only question I felt I could get away with that pertained to the book.

Are there any caves nearby?

It was upon making that enquiry that the mood of my hosts changed, not entirely for the worst but they seemed insistent to know why I wanted that information. I at last told them I had the book.

To my surprise their response was at worst indifferent, but soon after that I was summoned to the Manor house. And if there is a key, interlocking beginning to mu story it is when I entered the Drawing room of Lord and Lady Taraza.

Lord Taraza was a tall, robust man with a swarthy complexion broad shoulders and large hands with unusually long wrists. He was not handsome as we in the Americas might think but he had an attractive set to his face that caused one to appreciate natures artistry. Lady Taraza on the other hand was as beautiful as one could envision surpassing those idealic princesses and queen of the enchanted forest. I found it interesting that their smiles were practically, well-practiced identical. I sensed I was in the presence of something more empirical than the standard equations of life. Also I sensed that it wasn’t the book that had invaded my psyche, it was them and their intention was evil.

I am not prone to peerage delicacies but I did managed a bow of my head. I may have appeared a little curt but the Lord and Lady still smiled.

4

Gerald’s Adventure Stage 1

The Dungeon

They sat side by side in ornate thrones made of a dark wood of a nature I did not recognize. The throne was on a platform slightly raised to put them above the interviewees. I found that curt and bluntly over bearing but said nothing, which I learned a few minutes later meant nothing. They did not need me to speak. Everything they wanted to know came directly from my mind, or at least they tried to read it. I was quick to learn how to build blocks but it was taxing and I knew I could not keep it up forever and if I slept they could invade my mind without resistance.

The first I sensed of this was that itch in my mind and a feeling of probing, like a mental massage designed to sooth me into compliance. My block almost immediately rising was made of violence, something I had seen in a movie with good actually fighting evil. I allowed the scene to run repeatedly in my subconscious not even knowing how I was doing it. But even after a few minutes I could feel the drain on my energy.

Their smiles turned to grins, dark curvatures of there lips advocating dismay rather than humour. I think they disliked vocal communication because, though they spoke English very well I could see they struggled to do so. They struggled to speak. This was evident because they were too perfect. Every pause was where it should be. Every world pronounced perfectly but there was little quality to the tone, mono tone, flat. It was a computer generated text to speech program.

Lord Taraza finally enquired as politely as he could press. “We understand you have discovered a book that we may be interested in. Do you have it with you?”

Lady pushed with some desperation on my mind while her Lord interrogated me, distracted me. She winced when I sent her a knight’s blow of his sword in a battle with a dragon. It caused an expression of anger to flash in her eyes, but only for a spit second.

“I have found a book. It is written in various version of ancient Tamil. The book appears ancient itself but there is something odd about it. It is called The Book of Death, however, there is

nothing in it that remotely resembles anything a human could consider death. And to be honest it makes very little sense at all. Yet it has an odd quality to it that is both intriguing and disturbing, as well as a little frightening.”

“It is more ancient than any human could possibly comprehend. As for its title, it is, after a fashion a book of death, but not in the version that humanity would understand.” Replied the Lord Taraza.

“It belongs to us. It was stolen by raiders long ago.” The Lady Taraza blurted out with the first hint of emotion, anger, I had detected and this time the English was broken, but slightly yet noticeable.

I replied rather more aggressively than maybe I should have for it raised their hackles, so to speak, “According to our records at the museum the book was excavated from a tomb in 1936. It was estimated be nearly 5000 years old in 1993 then for some reason it was put into storage until I discovered it just a short time ago. This leads me to the question, In all that time, when did these raider rob you of your book?”

I reduced my subconscious imaging to a single set of frames, St. George delivering the last blow that slayed the dragon.

“Long ago, but that is a trivial matter. What is important is whether you will return our property.” The Lady Taraza queried.

I had no reason or desire to keep the book. It had already caused me more grief than I thought it was worth, but I was loathed to relinquish it to my hosts. I sensed it would prove ill though I could not decern how.

I answered after a moment, “I will, but you must allow me to return to my lodging to get it. I of course did not bring it with me.”

Lady Taraza grinned viciously. “You must have it on your person for it is not in your room.”

I was, as it is often put, Made, or had after a fashion. I didn’t have the book with me nor did I leave it in my room or in the jeep. I said wryly, “So you had my room searched as I anticipated. Well, in doing so you have revealed a part of your nature and some underlying agenda. I believe it would be an ill decision to give the book over.”

With that I turned to retreat, hastily if I could. But that was not an option afforded me. Before I made ten steps I was ceased by two very large brutes of a less human appearance than what might be considered normal homo-sapiens. I might suggest the were of the Cro-Magnon gene. The six more formed a circle around us.

“Release the book to us or you will spend your days in a dungeon cell until we can wreak enough havoc on your mind to break down your barrier and bleed the information out of you.” Lord Taraza said in a quietly vicious tone.

I refused and was taken deep beneath the manor and thrown into a cell with and iron grate door and walls of stone. The pressure on my mind was enormous and I felt that I would be driven to insanity. Regardless, I fought back calling upon another image to play out the battle in my mind and discovered at last that I was very powerful and with each counter assault my adversaries seemed to weaken.

I dared not weary and/or fall asleep, or even grow drowsy, at least not until the assault abated. I do not know how long I lasted, hours or even a day or two, but at some point I did, in some odd fashion, lose consciousness.

Gerald had been staring, as it is said, into space as he delivered his tale then, quite suddenly, with the deepest fear I could imagine in those dead eyes he turned his gaze on mine, and said, “And what happened after that is not an event that I can advocate one way or another as being real or illusionary…or delusionary. I can say only that at the time of the events that occurred I believed it to be real. And my dearest friend Lexington I am still at battle with the Lord and Lady Taraza and have managed to keep it up even in sleep, if indeed it is sleep.”

Gerald paused and glanced at the attendant who refuse to retire and leave us in privacy. Gerald said with a crack ridden smirk, “I can see the ridicule in your eyes Bobby. Would you like to see the truth of it or would you like to leave us be?”

I cannot say what occurred between Gerald and Bobby over the next few seconds but the results were amazing. Bobby swooned and nearly topple over, much like a felled tree would, though he saved himself by leaning against the wall. Then without another word, somewhat recovered, he vacated the room, rather hurriedly.

“Shall I continue or would you need a rest old friend?” Gerald enquired gently.

“Do continue please.” I replied casually but was motivated by some sense that the offer was not as deeply sincere as Gerald put out. There was something deeper in his gaze than urgent insanity, something commanding but pleading at the same time.

Gerald then continued and if the story was not weird enough before it out did itself in the next insertion of the macabre.

5

Gerald’s Adventure Stage 2

 The Gate In The Cave

“I escaped.

How is a wonder I itself though not exciting. It might be it was a simple and dumb mistake by a creature whose mind is not quite developed. On the other hand, as I alluded to, it might have been an illusion. Nonetheless after a bowl of gruel and a tin of water was delivered to me and after I ate I discovered my jailor had forgotten to lock my cell gate or even completely close it. Of course I considered it might be a trap but it was still an opportunity to escape, so without hesitation I pushed the gate fully open and stepped cautiously into the stone tunnel like corridor that ran only one way from my sell.

I followed it to find there were only three other cells and they were empty. For point made, the corridor was illuminate by oil torches that gave of a putrid smell. But at that point I did not care. I simply was glad to be free and have a little light.

I did not run but I did not dawdle either. You might imagine a person walking with a purpose. So it was not long before I came to the end of that corridor which opened into another that went left and right. I could not remember making any turns as I was led to my cell so I made my best guess and turned left, contrary to my first thought. Sometime a second thought comes up the correct one and so in this case it was true. What I have not mentioned is the corridor I entered had a curved floor and was ankle deep in water and my boots pushed into squish. I might add that the place smelled of sewage of some sort, but I cared not and followed it until I perceived a light, a light at then end of the tunnel one might say.

I had come thus far unaccosted and must say the pressure of the Lord and Lady’s mind probe had abated completely, though I kept my guard up. Even and Lords And Ladies must sleep.

When I came to the end of the tunnel I found no barrier and the drop to the slope descending upon a river was only a couple of feet. And the slope was about the steepness of a normal staircase, easily descended.

I turned left at the bottom and followed the river which led me straight back to the village and flowed by the inn at which I was staying. When I made the bridge I stopped and reclaimed the book.

I hadn’t gone but a yard or two past the bridge when I realized my folly.

Directly behind me were the Lord and Lady clad in hunter’s garb and approaching me with almost inhuman speed.

Duped…fooled…whatever you want to call it. They couldn’t break my mind so they used a more corporal approach, a feint of sorts.

I ran, intending to find my car but when I found it I discovered all the tires had been flattened and my stalkers were closing in, but it seemed they lagged a little when I was examining the car.

With nothing else I could do I ran, not quite knowing where to run to. I just picked a direction out of the village and hoped I could lose the Lord and Lady in the nearby wood, return to the village, find some sort of transportation, such as the truck and race for the safely of a metropolis.

None of that happen, though I did get into the woods, which proved to be quite a narrow tract and the animal path I had stepped upon led me to the base of a slope, I assumed the same one I had used to escape my prison.

I looked up and with only mild surprise I saw a cave. I’d come to the place to find a cave and there it was, or at least there was a cave and I had every reason to believe it was the one I wanted for it was singular in its existence.

With great energy I began climbing but at that same moment I felt that itch in my mind and almost autonomously my block activated. The assault was enormous, but it was not the book they were after. I only discovered once in the cave what they were about this time.

I made the adit to the cave and started down it, hurrying until the light from the opening could no longer show me the way. After that I crept along cautiously hoping the way was as clear as it had been to that point.

I was some feet on when I remembered my cell phone. Of course it would not be of any use as a phone but I hoped it had enough battery to operate the light, and I was not forsaken by a dead battery. The light lit the way ahead some distance and I was able to move on quickly, but to where, I was only hoping it would have something positive about it, but then, where can a cave lead but deeper and deeper into the earth. Well, I shall warn you now, it led somewhere utterly out of this world and I can not say if it was dimensional or spacial. I can only say it was not any place earthly, above or under a mountain, though…well…I shall describe what came of my escape once I got there.

The light held and I raced on fortunate to have a sand floor with only the occasional anomaly to try and trip me, which I avoided with a degree of skill and luck combined. Behind me I could hear my adversaries advancing at an equal pace, guessing they had their own light.

I suggest I ran, or more like, I trotted steady on for the best part of a half hour. My mind was growing weary already defending against the assault of two determined minds but again I noted they were not trying to steal my thought. Then in an instant I realized they were using my mind to track me. They wanted to know where I was going, which was I learned a little later was not exactly inaccurate.

At last and once again there was a light at the end of the tunnel. I doubled my pace hoping it was an exit to…well… anywhere, someplace I might be able to finally lose my stalkers. The light was bright enough that I was able to turn off my phone and preserve some battery so that in the event I could get signal, I could put out some sort of SOS, or CQ for help. However…

My entourage was but yards behind me when I made the source of the light, a mottled, bluish/white thing held within a circular frame of gold. I suppose I should have examined it first but I chose it as the lesser of two evils and leapt over the lower curve of the circle through the what I can only describe as a mist into a world so foreign to my mind I was complete flabbergasted. Yet I ran on for a time and found to my delight a clump of bushes that would obscure my presence from my aggressors. The itch had subsided but I heard a great cheer from the Lord and Lady and with it came, “You have run from us but you have done what we wished all along. We are home now after so many thousands of years. We have now the resources to bunt you down and reclaim our property unless you chose to release it to us now.”

I did. But first I stepped out of my blind, took the book from the box and taunted them with it. “Your book of magic has been nothing but trouble,” I was saying.

Lord Taraza laughed at me. “It is not a magic fool. It is technology.”

At that moment they changed, a frightening transformation and if I had only one thing to compare them to it would be Praying Mantis only they remained upright with Two shoulder place arms and two hip place legs. The middle appendages seemed to be a dual purpose.

They began to approach me. I put the book on the ground and raised my foot over it. “I will destroy it if you came any nearer,” I warned and that stopped them.

“Leave it there on the ground and we shall let you go and will not pursue you, though I must warn you this world is no place for humans. I suspect you will be prey to some creature before the day is expelled and certainly in the night by nocturnal things that even we are wary of. Alternatively, come with us and we will do you no harm.”

Here I made a grave mistake because I could not bring myself to trust the Lord and Lady. I turned and ran into that world’s version of a forest. I ran straight into the maw of a living hell, where all the beasts and intelligent creatures communicate through thought wave often stalking me in my mind, fooling me into a false sense of security and safety. I am yet amazed that I survived but then I am yet unsure if it was real, illusion or delusion.

6

Gerald’s Adventure Stage 3

A Simple Matter Of Survival

I was trapped in that place for five years running ever from one threat or another and using all my energy to block the assaults on my mind with only brief reprieves between adversaries. I did of course realized my mistake and set out to correct it but I knew not where to search for Lord and Lady Taraza nor was I able to find my way back to that portal, figuring it was a product of the books technology.

Though one day was much the same as another I can tell you I was in a world where what looked like ordinary grass was as tall as corn stalks, and things that resembled dandelions where as big in the stem and as tall as trees. Mushrooms where house sized and…well all those things we find in our gardens and lawns were enormous, including the insects, many of which were as sentient as the Lord and Lady and some were simply monstrous bugs out foraging for food, a category which I fit into. My day to day life was merely an endeavor to survive and avoid becoming some creature’s supper. And they were quite correct. The night was far more precarious than the day light hours and I was quick to learn from other creatures how to hide. I bathed myself in every stinking thing I could find and that proved to be my best protection, day, or night.

So I need not describe the minutes of my adventure in utter completeness, however there are two incidents that I would like to describe that describe my life in Taraz, for that is the name of that world and it came at end that it named after its king and queen whom I knew as the Lord and Lady Taraza. I also learned that in their world they had been abroad for a mere few months of their time.

I must relay to you that the concept of time between here and Taraz is a conundrum. It has no pattern. The Lord and Lady were here, apparently for thousands of years but my time there was some months I think that in our time was about five years, though I have been gone from your company for six.

In light of this I can not be exact about how long I was there but it certainly did not feel like five years. So, the first incident of remarkable note came at what I guess was mid-way through my tenure in Taraz.

I was enjoying a moment of peace and quiet, which means, nothing was particularly hunting me. It that time between first light and sun rise, a sun that was more orange than yellow or white. Many mornings began in that kind of peace when night creatures slipped away and the day creatures emerged. I was just waking from a rare undisturbed nights rest, though I was ever on guard, physically and mentally seldom going deeper into sleep than a lazy doze, when I heard an unfamiliar rattle. Unfamiliar because it was so loud but in my memory some distant inkling sprouted.

I had made myself some tools of defensed, a spear and a club, both of which I was forced to use regularly. And what I killed I was forced to eat for it was the only food besides certain mushrooms I recognized. It is surprising what the pallet can get used too.

Following the noise that arrest my attention I pushed myself further back into my blind and placed the spear point ahead of me. Then the rattle came again followed by a swoosh and a hiss, the later of which I recognized completely. “A snake.” I said out loud, wishing as the word faded I hadn’t vocalized. Nonetheless I had and that caught the attention of the viper. But things were worse than you might imagine. I felt that itch and then I saw the thing, a thing that could have passed itself off as a dragon, though legless and wingless. It was that big.

Sometimes humour comes at the oddest moments because in that moment I thought of St. George and the dragon he slayed.

It was a minute before the beast slithered into sight no more than a dozen feet away. It was big enough that I was sure it could strike me dead and swallow me whole from where it lay and of course my spear was all but useless. I figured the best I could do is nick the beast and that would do not but anger it.

But it knew exactly where I was and it was sending me visions, but not the kind you would think a predator would send. Then came words I did not understand. I replied in y native tongue with as little anxiety as I could muster and almost instantly the viper responded in words I could understand.

It said, “I do not recognized your kind, though I sense you would be a delightful delicacy.”

I couldn’t help but laugh and that proved to my advantage for the next thing the beast said was, “Do you not fear me. Most things do for I am a formidable hunter.”

I thought quickly upon a response and said, “That might be because most things are not me and that most things do not have my cunning or weapons.”

“What weapons. I see but a stick.” The snake hissed.

I pulled out my phone with a great deal of hope attached to the ruse I was about to pull. “Come closer snake and I will show you.”

The snake came closer. Now there was only six feet between us.

I said closer and in one wind of its body his head was but a foot from me.

I raised the phone and switched on the phone light aiming it straight at the pair of huge snake eyes ogling me.

The thing screamed and reared high in the air, twenty feet I’d have guessed, but it was not startled long and came down on me with a vengeance, but to its own folly. The point of my spear pierced its jaw and came out the top of its head, I believe taking passage through its brain. It squiggled for a moment then moved no more.”

Gerald fixed his gaze on me and grinned, asking. “If you’ve never tried snake to eat you should. It is tasty, even raw. I had no means of making fire saw I had become accustom to eating raw.”

I squirmed but offer no response except a grunt expressing my distaste for the idea. Gerald laughed, almost hideously.

“Well then, now I shall go on with the second incident of note which is the cause of my present appearance and condition, which may change somewhat back to normal in time but never be gone, especially the teeth I think. Lest I get dentures I will be cursed with black teeth for the remainder of my life. Which may not be horrible in the end. They are like diamond and I can crush bones without harming them and by the way I have developed very strong jaws.”

I asked, a little nervously, “Are you beast, demon or human.”

“It seems I am a little bit beast but mostly human and my humanity is still intact, including some degree of a sense of humour,” Gerald replied over a weak chuckle.

I smiled and said, “Okay ya clown. Go one. What is this second even?”

“It was weeks later, possibly more than a month and not long before I at last found my way to Fortress Taraz.

There are things there that are, as best as I can describe, humanoid, that being, they have two legs and two arms, one head, two eyes a nose and two ears. Having said that those parts that I have mention are not human. They are reptilian moulded in an abstract form of humanity. They are intelligent and I dare say have the attitude of Attila the Hun.

They are medieval in culture and voracious eaters through sophisticated enough to cook their food.

They captured me with little difficulty and I found myself once again in a stone cell with an iron gate door. These beasts had no telepathic ability which I believe I am thankful for. They could not explore my mind and discover that I was attempting to devise a means to save myself because no one else was there to do it for me.

Now my friend what I am about to tell you will seem completely fantastic and unbelievable, but it is the truth as my mind knows it and my body serves somewhat as proof.”

I nodded and said, “Let’s have it Gerald. How much more fantastic can this story get since it has already reach an unheard of zenith.”

“They weren’t curious. They may have had culinary designs on my carcass but in the interim I was being primed for sport, bulking and conditioned, which took about three weeks, though I truly thought they were fattening me up for the table.

At last, I was taken to another area of their compound and put in a cage. There were dozens of other cages with beasts of nature I can not even remotely compare to our world save that they were biggish mostly and some were mammalian and bird-like.

The very next morning I was taken to an observation tower and again caged. It was from there that I learned my fate. They had prime me for fighting as what I can only call a gladiator. Upon viewing the opponents I might have to face I figured I was about to become table food in my first battle.

Well, obviously it did not happen though I did only fight once, which proved by some quirk of nature to be my saving grace, my appearance and condition being the price.

I do not know what the beast was called. Nothing I encountered at that point could speak English are telecommunicate. All I can tell you is that it was spiderish, meaning, it had eight legs, upward of twenty eyes and had an abdominal stinger about the length of a soldiers sabre and cylindrical in shape. I was given my spear and club.

The thing gave me one whack upside the head with one of its powerful legs then clamped me firmly in its mandible. I stabbed and bludgeoned it a dozen times as it held me but to no avail. The next thing I knew the damned thing shoved the point of its stinger into my leg.

Funny thing, it didn’t hurt. I just felt the pressure then swooned for a second and more or less prepared to die or be devoured alive, but instead, the beast screamed, reared and tossed me aside.

I lay in the dirt quivering, then I began to vomit and shake and thrash. Then…nothing. I laid there still as a stone for some time.

Suddenly I was rich with energy. I jumped to my feet and slaughter the beast with my bare hands, so powerful I was now. I ripped its damned head off and pulled its stinger from its abdomen.

When that was done I turned on my captors and though they tried to run I was upon them with demonic force and slaughtered a dozen before the others could escape while I was occupied committing horrendous murder on their fellows. The entire theatre of horrors was emptied of spectators in minutes except those who were trampled to death.”

What you see now is the creature that spider beast’s stinger turned me into, only it was much more evident while I was in Taraz. Its effects mellowed somewhat when I returned here and with the mellowing went the super human strength. I was in fact a weak wretched thing when I all but crawled to the door of this asylum and before you ask, no I do not know how I came to be here. It took me six months to bring up the energy to ask that you be contacted and that seemed to have some sort of healing effect so that I am able to sit here and describe my adventure.

But I have leapt ahead. I must tell you at last od my return, partially being an escape.”

7

A Miraculous Event of Escape?!

The door opened. An attendant dressed in white and pushing a cart entered.

“Ah. It is dinner time.” Said Gerald hungrily. Then he looked at the attendant and asked, Did the cooks include a meal for my guest. I certainly hope so for your sake.”

There were two trays on the cart plus a pot of coffee. The attendant lifted one of the lids displaying a plate with a normal meat and potatoes meal, with green vegetables. “For your guest Mr Muldock.” He said firmly. Then he lifted the other lid and it was loaded with vegetables, cheese, bread and a variety of nuts, but not a single slice of meat.

Gerald smiled at me. It seems meat causes me to become aggressive and that animal strength returns so I avoid consuming it, though someday I might not always do so. For now, I am building my strength with other sources of protein and vitamins. I hope soon to leave these confines and when I do a great task lays before me, which I am hoping you will see your way through to assist me though you may be loathed to do as I ask.”

We ate in silence. I have never seen anyone become so involved in consuming their food. It was as though he savoured every bite like it was his last.

After we reminisced over coffee and pastries and the mood of the room was light for the first time since my visit began. I also noticed that Gerald was looking much healthier, meaning, his cracked lips seemed to be healing in a way like one watches the hour hand of a clock. You can’t actually see it moving but avert your attention for a short time and you can see it has moved when you look at it again.

At last Gerald continued his narration this being the last insertion before he made a most alarming request which leads us to the second part of this adventure which I will be able to participate in the telling.

“My captor’s domain was not far from the place I had been seeking, though had I struck out from my mark in another direction I would have missed it. As it turned out I chose well and after but a weeks journey through a wide forest, no longer concerned about the dangerous fauna since I myself was far more dangerous than any other I found Lord and Lady Taraza.

They were of course as I have alluded to, the King and Queen of that odd world and much to my dismay and a degree of anger they had been aware of my tragic trek the whole way along. They could have at any time rescued me but, as they said, “We offered you sanctuary and you refused. Why should we offer again? Besides your adventure has afforded you some rather grand changes which you should approve of.”

I said in angry response, “I have been deprived of my humanity. These changes are most unwelcomed.”

“They will be welcomed when you find that you will spend the remainder of your life in Taraz.” The Queen countered in a rather snide tone.

I was about to protest profusely but mastered my anger and allowed cunning to take over, which was enhanced due to my affliction, or what I believe to be at the time an infliction. Instead of an outburst I enquired, “What has happened to me.” My tone was filled with curiosity. I also noticed that try as they might The King and Queen could not penetrate my mind as easily as they were capable of doing before, but I could still feel that itch and I sent back some very dark images that I could see in their eyes had an effect, equally as mild as their own assault on me.

“You were attacked and stung by a Var. You should have died instantly and the Var would have left nothing of you but a dried-out husk. Unfortunately for the Var, the venom did not kill you. It transformed you into what you are now and it seems you have become the most dangerous creature in Taraz, aside from us.”

There was a nervousness in her voice that suggested her conviction that she and the king were yet more powerful than I had become, but of course, I kept that back and allowed them to believe they were.

I did not need them anymore. I set out to find the gate so that I could return home. In that search, I had some minor adventures but mostly it was merely brief battles in which I secured food. I learned through my own version of telepathic communication that there were only two Var, a male and female. I had killed the female, who was the more powerful of the two. The Male would die and that would be the end of the Var and for that some of the more intellectually advanced species were grateful. I refrained from hunting those who were sentient pleased that I had not completely lost my humanity.

Search as I might I could not find the gate and decided that I would not, not without the book. I determined then to return to the fortress and by cunning or force retrieve that damned fool tome that was not magic but a sort of technology. And with that going through my mind I wondered what else that technology was capable of. So another thought came to mind. If I could take possession of the book and examine it, discover its secrets then what good I might do for our world, for humanity.”

I sensed something maniacal in Gerald’s voice that put me on my guard, but at the same moment, I felt an itch in my mind.

“It was so easy. I could hardly believe it. I returned to the fortress, walked into the throne room of the King and Queen, and made my demand, “Deliver the book to me or die.”

To my surprised it was brought to me immediately and immediately I opened it. Within its pages, I saw the intricate nature of the words written on the pages. It was a technological marvel, a system beyond what all the computers in our world could be butone, one-millionth of. Or more.

Then my mind exploded with a terrible understanding and I addressed the king and queen with loathing. “You are not the true owners of this tome. It belonged to the Var, the last of their race.”

The king and queen cringed with fear and tried to push themselves into the corner of their throne.

I could have done anything I wished but instead, I simply turned and started to walk away. But in my retreat, I turned to look over my shoulder and said, “I wonder how long you will remain monarchs of Taraz without this.” I wave the gold case. Then I opened it and displayed the book and said, “Not very long I suspect.”

And so I retired from the fortress and came to find the portal home. And find it I did but I turned away for my knowledge of the book had expanded in part to that of the Var and I was able to read it. It might have been technology to the Var but to me, and my Var, human hybrid mind it was a book of magic and I understood why it was named the book of the dead. It was called that because that reach technology that the Var had attained had also destroyed them. Thus, the last Vars to possess it named it so. The Book of the Dead, the dead being their race and I was loathed in my mind that I had slain the last of them, at least I had murdered the last egg layer, so I believed until I dared to visit their home world, a place I remained for but a moment, just long enough to know there were still Var in the Galaxy and that they were aware of the fate of those who kept the book of Knowledge, as it was originally called. The name book of the dead came from the failed colony of Taraz when the king and queen stole it for their own. With that knowledge, I finally returned home but I know the Var are searching for their book. Not because they wish to use the technology but because if others learned its secrets the technology could be used against them and all the worlds we see in our night sky.”

“The book is here?!” I said.

Gerald replied ominously, “It is and it is a magnet to its owners. They will sooner or later trace it here.” Gerald replied. “So we must learn its secrets if only to protect our world.”

I would have believed Gerald was completely mad if I was not looking at a man, a creature of such grotesque features of body and mind and his uncanny ability to probe my mind. I was barely able to keep him out and I realized I was doing, reacting the same way he had when confronted by Lord and Lady Taraza.

“A now my friend my story is told and though I have displayed a great desire to use this book the truth is it must either be returned to its proper owner or be destroyed. It must never be allowed to enter our world.” Gerald said, now calmed and thinking with some semblance of humanity. And the itch in my mind subsided at the same time.

I asked plainly. “Where is the book now?”

Gerald answered as plainly. “When I seal my release, soon, I will take you to it. It is not far from here. It is buried where I found myself upon my return, but none will ever find it for it is buried not just with dirt but in magic as well, technological magic.”