Necropolis: Book 5: R'lyeh

  Necropolis: R'lyeh

  Book 5

  by Michel Weatherall

  Credit Page

  Necropolis© Michel Weatherall 2016

  All rights reserved

  Quotes from the fictitious Icelandic book (In Book 5: R'lyeh, Chapter 5, The Gulur Dögun, by the Icelandic explorer, Davíð Hróðgeir, are actual quoted excerpts from the book “Yellow Dawn – The Age of Hastur,” written by David J. Rodger. (Courtesy of David J. Rodgers © 2008. All rights reserved).

  The author of the fictitious Icelandic book The Gulur Dögun name - Davíð Hróðgeir – is an Icelandic variation of the real life author David Rodgers. This is a little nod the Mr. D.J. Rodgers.

  The fictitious title - The Gulur Dögun – is an Icelandic translation of “The Yellow Dawn.”

  Title font (xxii Arabian Onenightstand) provided with permission and courtesy of Lecter Johnson

  www.dafont.com/doubletwo-studios.d1527

  Cover: Artwork my Michel Weatherall

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced, scanned, distributed in any printed or electronic form in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Published by Broken Keys Publishing

  brokenkeypublishing@gmail.com

  Published 2016

  First Printing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the writer's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-9948189-4-2 (print)

  ISBN: 978-0-9948789-5-9 (digital)

  Printed and bound in Canada

  Dedication Page

  Dedicated to

  my son, Drew.

  You're stronger than destiny.

  You can change the world.

  Also available

  by Michel Weatherall

  A Dark Corner of My Soul

  Mother-Machine

  The Symbiot (I)

  The Hunt: Symbiosys (II)

  Necropolis: Pharaoh (III)

  Necropolis: Hybrids (IV)

  Chapter 1: Alia Moubayed

  Château d'automne,

  Saverne, France, 1930

  “You're looking well,” began Alia Moubayed, her dazzling blue eyes piercing into her pregnant sister, Donita.

  Donita knew many people mistakenly took that stare as a sign of aggression. Yes, her older sister could be aggressive and confrontational when needs demanded it. She had to be to effectively run the entire Châteaux de Etienne-de-Lafontaine estate. But she normally wasn't aggressive. It was just her eyes.

  Her mother, Imani, had always said they had the same eyes. Donita didn't think so. There was something both enchanting and intimidating about Alia's eyes; her look. Why else at 45 was she still single? Alia Moubayed was a gorgeous woman. A tall brunette, her long hair hung in locks. She had a broad beautiful smile with perfect teeth – but she rarely smiled. Donita couldn't remember the last time she saw her sister smile. When they were children maybe, playing in the Roseraie d'Amélie? She should smile more often. Maybe that wouldn't intimidate the eligible men so often.

  Alia Moubayed's natural beauty had always made Donita blind to her own; had lead her down the path from a Tom-boy to the pistol-wielding adventurer she was today... and now pregnant.

  Alia stood behind her desk, eyes half-shuttered, her head held high, literally looking down her nose at Donita, her face expressionless. Well, Donita knew it was expressionless. Many had mistaken that cruel Arabic curl of her lips as the sneer of judgement. Even at this moment Donita wasn't sure. Was Alia judging her? Pregnant and out of wedlock?

  “How is Mr. Zann?” she asked, in their peculiar French-Arabic accent, her face unreadable.

  “Please, Alia. Call him Otto.”

  “Your boyfriend, Mr. Zann, is an incredibly accomplished musician and his academics and theoretical understanding rivals our best professors at l'université de Etienne. But I don't care for the man. Donita, you are my sister and I love you. I am civil to Mr. Zann. Is there really more you should ask of me?”

  “Alia, you need to give Otto a chance. He really is quite charming. He has a great sense of humour -”

  “Nonsense,” her intense stare locked on her and Donita felt herself shrink down. “He is egotistical and overconfident.”

  “He can be charming if -” Donita defended Otto in a tiny voice, but Alia cut her off again.

  “If what? He's flirting with you? He's conceited and self-serving. I won't hear anymore of this. I accept that he is your,” Alia paused, groping for the right word without being offensive, “partner. Don't ask me to like him.”

  The two sisters fell silent. Alia crossed her arms over her bosoms. “You two are lucky to have departed Egypt without trouble.”

  “Our papers were all in order.”

  Alia didn't respond, looking down her nose again at Donita, her lips curled cruelly. “But you did secure The Music of the Spheres. Quite the accomplishment. Do you know why Mr. Zann was after it?”

  “For the same reasons we are,” Donita answered resentfully.

  “...hmmm...” Again with that judgemental sneer. “Has Otto progressed with deciphering The Music?”

  “Yes, but he is reluctant to play it without significant further research.”

  “Really -”

  This time it was Donita's turn to cut Alia off. “-Yes, and I agree. We know what it does. We don't know the consequences once the Gate is opened.”

  “Very well. How can I help you?” Alia took a seat behind her desk.

  “Otto and I have both run into the same problem. I am trying to locate la bibliothèque du Moubayed's copy of The Tao Xian Ching -”

  Alia cut her off, laughing. “The Song of the Abominable Snow-Men?” She was radiantly beautiful when she laughed.

  “Yes, yes! 'The Himalayan Hymn'. I am well versed in the book's legends,” continued Donita. “It isn't in la bibliothèque. I checked with the librarian and it has been taken out, on loan to a resident student. Riley Smythe.”

  Alia sat silently staring at her sister. “Yes. So? You'll have to wait for its return.”

  “Yes, but that's not the problem,” Donita's enchanting blue eyes held her sister's. “Otto is attempting to secure the Icelandic Gulur Dögun -”

  “- That book is part of papa's private library. It's off limits.”

  “Yes!” Donita was losing her patience, “but it too has been on loan to this very same student. Riley Smythe.”

  Alia remained silent, drumming her fingernails on the desktop, clearly digesting this information.

  “I would also like permission to access the Copic Klulu Gnostica from your private library.”

  Alia remained silent. Her piercing blue eyes cutting into Donita. “I think we most definitely have a problem. I am familiar with the name Riley Smythe. He was here a fortnight making this very same request.”

  “And did you...” whispered Donita.

  “I denied his request, of course,” Alia cut in abruptly. “It is a grimoire.”

  “Also, the librarian isn't being cooperative with Otto. Could you grant him special research permission - “

  “I'll set up an appointment with Mr. Siad Abdullah.” Clearly Alia's mind was running amok behind her outwardly calm facade.

  “Alia, Otto won't like having to go through - “

  “Donita, frankly, I don't care what Otto does and doesn't like.” Her eyes flashed her anger. “I will have Mr. Siad look into this student further.”

  “Yes,” answered Donita as she stood up. She walked around the d
esk and gave Alia a kiss on the cheek. “Let me know when The Tao Xian Ching is available.”

  Chapter 2: The Fleet

  The Shoggoth towered over the children, pressing itself up against the cavern's ceiling. Obeying Dante's final command to 'stop', it remained motionless. Most of it. Although it did not move, its gray gelatinous surface rippled with motion. Blisters and boils grew and percolated up to its surface, some to simply pop and secrete its acidic juices, others to form pus-filled gawking eyes, and still others to rip open, revealing teeth in babbling mouths. It filled the cavern with its quiet gibbering madness.

  Tamara was examining the tattered remnants of the woven basket they had lowered themselves down in. It had been torn to pieces, frayed and made inoperable in their battle.

  “How do we get back up?” Dante asked, his voice sounding sharp and harsh in the echoey cave.

  Tamara tilted her head to one side, smiling as she reached her hand out to his. As Dante held her hand, Tamara answered, “We jump,” and in the briefest blink of light they were simply gone. Teleported away.

  * * *

  Leaman's hut was slowly slipping into darkness. The dust motes were lit bright orange as they silently hovered in the day's dying dappled light.

  Hiromitsu's corpse lay still, his eyes unblinking as the dust motes alighted upon them. His eyes stared at nothing; locked onto oblivion.

  The carving of Krulgh's octopoid face stood out in stark contrast to the cold gray stone floor, its etched lines filled with Hiromitsu's blood.

  A light flashed as the children teleported into the chamber, the dust motes scrambling and swirling wildly with the sudden change of air currents.

  Tamara was still smiling as she teleported herself and Dante into the room, holding each other's hand. But her smile slowly faded.

  Her trembling voice was evanescent, a near silent requiem to the dust. “Otouchan Hiro?” the horror apparent in her voice. She knew he would never answer her again.

  “...oh no...” the blond boy whispered behind her, staying in the shadows, Tamara's emotions overwhelming his empathy.

  Tamara fell on Hiromitsu, her heart breaking, her shoulders shaking with her silent tears. “...no. No. No. No... please no...” Her world crumbling around her. All hope fled.

  Dante's mind was linked with hers. He struggled with the soul-crushing loss, but would never abandon her.

  Slowly, hesitantly Dante approached from the shadows, wrapped his arms around her and held her. He began to weep with Tamara as the last light of the day faded to darkness.

  * * *

  Veronica's arms and legs were tense. She could feel the muscles in her neck tightening up with her stress. She was convinced she would have to fight off the madman. But the surfacing of the monstrous city was clearly something more than a distraction for Leaman. His reactions was more akin to obsession. His strange glassy eye fixated on the ancient alien city as he slowly made his way towards what used to be where the beach met the ocean, completely ignoring Veronica. With the ocean over 900 feet below, the sandy beach only led to a cliff's edge now.

  Without a word, without hesitation, and seemingly without a second thought, Leaman swung his legs over the precipice and began climbing down!

  A part of Veronica wanted to stop him, fearing he would plummet to his death, but a stronger instinctive part of her knew – whether Leaman survived the climb or fell to his death – it put him further away from the children. It was her sole focus.

  Veronica had little else to do. She needed to know, one way or the other. She sat on the sand, her feet dangling over the edge, and for the rest of the day, watched and witnessed Leaman's treacherous climb.

  * * *

  When the strange and oblong sun began to slip below the western horizon Veronica had difficulty making Leaman out in the deepening shadows. The temperature had dropped and she had built a small fire to keep warm.

  Combined with the stress of her day, the lullaby hush of the strange ocean tides, and the warmth of the small fire, Veronica drifted off to sleep in the darkening night.

  * * *

  The American naval fleet sat miles outside the outer edge of the GEOP-Event. It was a moonless night with only the stars to light the strange Event.

  In the outer blackness surrounding this isolated oceanic point of inaccessibility, the milky way appeared like fluorescent pixie dust scattered across the night sky. In the inundating darkness it wasn't difficult to imagine yourself floating in deep space admit a bright galactic arm.

  Only the computers and instrument panels offered any light on the bridge of the USS Antietam. The commanding officer was directly linked to Sentinel, high in orbit.

  When originally rerouted nearly a day ago, Command had not expected anything of this nature.

  Although Sentinel insisted the UNCGSC Synchronicity Mandate and the Centinel Protocol superseded all other command hierarchies and authorities, the Admiral simply ignored it.

  “Negative, Sentinel,” the Admiral's accent an unimpressed Southern drawl. “The fleet holds current position. Radar and both short and long range Weapons Systems are blind in the GEOP-Event. We will investigate further action at daybreak.”

  Sentinel: “In accordance to the UNCGSC Synchronicity Mandate of 1993/01/29, all naval and military command are to be relinquished to...”

  The Admiral spoke over Sentinel to his Communications Officer, “Please mute the satellite audio, son.” The bridge fell silent. Several screens began scrolling incoming text and data streams.

  “Inform the USS Curtis Wilbur and the USS John S. McCain we will hold our current position until dawn,” the Admiral finished.

  “Yes sir,” the Com Officer affirmed quietly.

  “I want to see what we've gotten ourselves into.”

  * * *

  “Sentinel insists the oceanic anomaly can be navigated successfully by ship, stating that the bowed surface is due to an unknown gravitational effect.” The Computer Technician Officer reported to the Admiral. The American Admiral had refused to communicate with the orbiting A.I. directly since last night.

  The two men stood outside the bridge overlooking the deck, the Admiral's coffee steaming in the brisk morning air.

  “We will send in an Inflatable Ridged Hulled boat with a crew of two to confirm Sentinel's theory. If correct, the USS John S. McCain will enter the Event and attempt to board the derelict JDS Yamayuki. The USS Curtis Wilbur will follow and hold position two miles port to provide coverage. We will stay a further two miles outside the Event and monitor.”

  * * *

  Veronica awoke squinting, the sun in her eyes. She had fallen asleep on the beach. The newly risen sun was warming her up, but her small fire had long since burnt itself out during the night. The cold had crept into her and her joints ached. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She dared to hope that what she had witnessed the day before was just a bad dream, but her hope was in vain.

  There, sprawling before her was a scene never witnessed by human eyes. A massive oceanic crater, easily a hundred miles wide, its waters held concave by some unknown gravity all its own. And spread across its warped surface, the bizarre angled corpse-city. Although at first glance it appeared like any large human metropolis with its hi-rises and skyscrapers, upon closer inspection it became disturbingly clear, these strange structures were anything but man-made. Monstrously massive monoliths with no obvious purpose. Strange angled geometric shapes suggestive of multiple dimensions. The alien stones were coated with a sickening ooze or slime, having spent countless eons buried beneath the ocean.