Necropolis: Book 3: Pharaoh Page 2
~
January 13th, 1995
Something by night hunts and feeds upon the dead.
CHAPTER III: FEAR THE UNKNOWN
The Eye of Osiris
Ancient Egypt,
circa 1242 BCE
(3167 years ago)
When they removed the blindfolds Pharaoh found himself deep within the crypts and tombs below his temple.
Although his mental energies were depleted and his body was bound and physical exhaustion still gripped him, his mind was at least cognisant now. He surveyed his surroundings. Other than a few guards or soldiers most of the people with him were priests... but not his priests!
They were in the middle of some sort of ritualistic preparation. As he watched closer he noticed several musical instruments – mostly stringed – as well as rolls of cloth linen wrappings!
Pharaoh began laughing. The gag in his mouth made it sound more like a muffled chuckle. What? Did they think they would mummify him?
The alien-facet of his Symbiot slowly began generating psychic energy. He may not be able to do much yet, but he would frighten these priests beyond their wits! The simpleminded fools!
It was when a trio of priests diligently began reading the inscriptions on the tomb’s walls that Pharaoh’s laughter stopped. They were reading the Music of the Spheres!
Now he began struggling against his bonds, but to no avail. The soldiers held him still and other priests began wrapping him in the linen.
The trio began playing their instruments. As Pharaoh’s struggles became more panicked his wrapping only constricted tighter and tighter. It had been decades since he heard that music! But he recognized it! He could never forget it!
A deep monstrous note bellowed below them. The stone reverberated. Dust sifted and fell from the ceiling. The soldiers and priests, once filled with confidence, looked around, confused and clearly second-guessing their actions. The trio of music instrument-toting priests stopped playing, fear and concern clearly and deeply etched on their faces.
The linen wrapped Pharaoh flailed and writhed on the stone but still the other worldly music thundered, echoed and reverberated through the temple’s stones!
Suddenly, the blacked walls of the Gatesphere expanded and encompassed the deep tomb. They all were now in its extra-dimensional space – a space between the spaces! A pocket-universe between our own and the Prison-Universe.
In the centre of the crypt a purple light sparked into existence, and grew into the purple sphere of the Gateway. Neon-blue bolts of lightning snaked like sentient tendrils across its surface.
The group of soldiers and priests seemed on the edge of chaos. Near panic, they had all lost their purpose and focus. The alien music thundered any clear thoughts out of their heads and it played itself now! It was only the senior priest that retained his clarity of mind or purpose. He retrieved a ceremonial dagger from his bag, and began reciting his memorized words.
Pharaoh’s cocooned-like body wiggled like a worm in his desperation. He had no idea what would happen with the alien Eye of Osiris within the Music of the Spheres! Would he still be beyond death?
The high priest plunged the ceremonial dagger into Pharaoh’s chest. Pharaoh’s cry was instantly drowned out by the deafening Music of the Spheres. Although it hurt, it didn’t kill him!
Galvanized by Pharaoh’s trauma and pain, the symbiot-facet let loose a telekinetic tentacle that shattered the flimsy ceremonial dagger, broke the priest’s arm, and snapped his neck in one fell swipe!
Pharaoh’s mind was unhinged now! Panic, fear and desperation ran amok! The Symbiot within him recognized the presence and threat of its predicament. It was on the verge of being banished back into its Prison-Universe!
Mindlessly, thoughtlessly, without purpose or plan, the alien-facet of Pharaoh’s multimind lashed out! Human bodies were torn to blood-red ribbons! The hieroglyphic inscribed walls were painted and splattered with organs and entrails! The massive stone blocks cracked, splinters of stone fragments ricocheting off the soldier’s armour.
The glow of Pharaoh’s amulet was visible beneath the linen wrappings as its alien power infused its environment. The torn and shattered remnants of the men reanimated – shambled back onto their feet; their broken limbs hanging at disturbing angles, their innards draped and dragging on the ground beneath them like red velvet curtains as they cried pitifully. The cursed Eye of Osiris wouldn’t allow them to die!
One soldier ran towards the chamber entrance in a desperate attempt to flee. An explosion sounded, was felt through one’s bones and its bass intonation resonated throughout the temple’s structure. The soldier tried to stop, but too late. He was caught and crushed as the weight of the above temple gave way and collapsed in on the deep crypt.
The entire chamber was entombed in a suffocation darkness.
..................
Schäfer’s Expedition
Egypt: Archaeological site of Nefren-Kha’s tomb,
1925
(3168 years later)
Otto sat hidden in the shadows of his tent. He held a sketchbook in one hand and a short stubby pencil in the other. He sat motionless as he stared out into the chilly desert night.
He watched Jebediah Stanton, one of the American labourers. The lumbering hulk of a man sat upright, but Otto couldn’t tell if he had fallen asleep or not. He could see his breath in the chill desert night air. The man wore overalls but his massive arms were bare. Otto was surprised he wasn’t cold. His puffs of breath were slow and rhythmic. He reminded Otto more of a resting beast of burden than a human being. Maybe his sheer bulk insulated him from the cold?
Another plume of breath exhaled from Jebediah.
Otto placed his stubby pencil behind his ear and combed his wavy hair back with his fingers. Yes, Otto decided, he must be asleep.
He was trying to sketch the sleeping monster of a man. But there was something about him that evaded him, something odd he just couldn’t quite capture.
Jebediah’s brother, Ezra, shared the same look. They were from Innsmouth, Massachusetts. They were both sickly pale, had little, thinning hair, large wide mouths and – oddly enough – tiny teeth. The pair of brothers were ugly men. Their eyes too far apart. Although Otto couldn’t put his finger on it, there was something oddly ichthyoid about them. They distinctly make him think of fish.
Where was that little prick Ezra? Otto wondered. He knew Ezra carried a pistol. He was the dangerous one. Conniving and lecherous.
That ugly little bastard had his eye set on the expedition’s Hieroglyphic expert, Donita de LaFontaine. Otto chuckled out loud. She was so out of his league. A voluptuous brunette with piercing blue eyes. But that little prick had better watch himself around her, Otto mused to himself. He knew she carried a revolver too.
Otto returned his wandering mind to the task at hand; the sleeping behemoth Jebediah – was he sleeping?
In one of Richard Wagner’s operas there was a magical ring made of Rhine gold and whoever possessed it had power over the entire world. Otto wished he had that ring. Then he’d know if Jebediah was sleeping or not!
He began whistling a piece from his favourite opera. Wagner’s Nibelungenlied.
Jebediah’s head jerked and looked to and fro, somewhat confused. The whistling had awoken him. Jebediah stood up and began lumbering straight towards Otto.
“....scheisse...” Otto mumbled to himself. He began to stand as he noticed a woman coming up behind Jebediah. Her long hair bounced and flowed and she jiggled as she walked.
Donita de LaFontaine tapped the giant’s shoulder. He turned to stare down at her. He must have been over seven feet tall!
Donita’s accent was an odd but not an unpleasant blend of French and Arabic when she spoke. “Your brother’s looking for you. He’s at the canteen tent.”
Otto couldn’t see Jebediah’s face in the darkness so couldn’t read what he might be thinking. The hulking monster of a man just stood, his arms hanging limp by his sides for a momen
t. It seemed like it took him a moment to absorb the information. He said nothing to Donita, turned around, and headed towards the canteen tent.
“Wagner’s Nibelungenlied?” Donita said as she approached Otto’s tent.
He smiled, flashing the most charming smile he could. “I’m impressed!”
Donita returned a smile. “I’ve majored in Egyptian hieroglyphics, but I’ve a minor in music.”
“Wow! Not just a pretty face!” Otto flirted with her. “Are you really passing on messages for the Stanton brothers?” he changed the subject.
Donita stepped closer, and in a quieter tone added, “I don’t trust the pair of them. Especially the little one.”
Otto laughed out loud “What? Ezra? He was ogling you all evening! I think he likes you!”
Donita feinted a shiver of disgust as she rolled her eyes. “Seriously though,” her blue eyes shone in the moonlight, “I think there’s safety in numbers.” She extended her hand. “Donita de LaFontaine,” she introduced herself.
He shook her hand. “Otto Zann.” He was surprised at her grip. “I’m afraid my story isn’t nearly as interesting as Egyptology or hieroglyphics. I’m just a lowly volunteer.”
Donita cocked her head to one side and smiled out of the corner of her mouth. “You strike me as more deep then that. Surely something else brings you here?”
Otto didn’t miss the opportunity. He kept her hand in his and gently held her elbow with his other. He leaned in closer. “Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered and faked looking around fearfully.
“Ooh! For certain!” Donita answered mimicking a schoolgirl’s excitement.
Otto leaned closer still, his lips nearly touching her ear and whispered, “I’m pursuing the legend of the music this missing Pharaoh kept.”
Although Otto couldn’t see Donita’s face, it suddenly became very serious.
She placed her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back. She had a playful smile on her face. “Well, Mr. Zann, I’m sorry for taking your sketch model away from you.”
“That’s quite alright my dear,” answered Otto while taking a bow. “It looked as if he were going to throw me a beating anyway!”
“He might have!” she said as she strolled away. She tossed her hair back as she turned. “I was serious. Safety in numbers.”
“It would be my pleasure and honour. Especially with such a beautiful woman.” Otto flashed a boyish smile.
He heard Donita laugh as she waved over her shoulder, disappearing into a grouping of tents.
Otto took one final deep breath of the chill air, smiled to himself and returned into his tent. The expedition were entering the lower catacombs tomorrow. To begin work on excavating and clearing the caved-in entrance to what they all hoped was Pharaoh Nefren-Kha’s tomb. He had better turn in and get a good night’s sleep.
As the light of the lantern in Otto’s tent was put out something stirred in the shadows nearby. An ugly man stepped out. He had eavesdropped on the entire conversation.
Ezra Stanton sneered slightly as he silently slid his knife back into its sheath. He turned and walked away into the grouping of tents to find his brother Jebediah.
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Diary of a Madman
III: The Strange Tides of Leaman’s Island
June 14th, 1996
The currents and tides were peculiar and outré. I have no expertise in oceanic areas and I don’t understand. But I know what I see. Normally this island exists sitting atop its three-hundred foot column of stone. But come the shortest days of winter, the ocean rises yet again, right up to the coastal beaches. Only the vegetation covered peak would show. The ocean seemed to constantly threaten to overspill down the island’s throat – choking out the bats’ and my only source of drinkable water.
~
June 15th, 1996
It was the moon that I noticed first. I can only describe the lies my eyes tell me. The mad moon has changed shape. No longer round, but elliptical.
As evening progresses it appears as an ever so slowly turning coin, changing through variously elongated elliptical shapes.
~
June 16th, 1996
Although not as noticeable due to its brightness, the sun too has taken on a changing and elongated elliptical shape. Every morning and evening it rises and sets in its warped and bent shape. The sun and moon weren’t like this when I first arrived.
~
June 19th, 1996
When the ocean rises to the beaches of the forest-covered island top during the short days of winter, I hide.
In the centre of the island is a deep hole. A deep cave-like throat down the island’s centre. Like a reverse spring, fresh water cascades down into unknown darkness below. The bats live along the walls of this pit.
This cave is the furthest I can get from the beaches. I hide at night in the cave. I cover my eyes with my hands. I wait in the darkness in dread and fear every night. I pray nothing washes up upon the beach, or worse yet, that nothing arrives.
Until the short days of winter end and the ocean drops, leaving the island’s forest-covered top sitting atop the precipice like a pedestal, I am consumed with terror.
CHAPTER IV: THE SHORES OF SANITY
The Eye of Osiris
Ancient Egypt,
The Catacombs of Nyarlathotep’s Temple,
circa 1242 BCE
(3168 years ago)
This new state of undeath was not only new to Pharaoh Nyarlathotep, but new to his multimind too.
Where physical death would normally trigger its innate ability of metempsychosis, not so now. The accursed Eye of Osiris wouldn’t allow death.
The pain of the dagger through his chest still hurt, but now it was a pain that he could function with. It was no longer debilitating. It was more annoying and irritating than anything else. It was like an extremely strong and powerful itch. He could feel ever so tiny tendrils in his body trying to stitch itself back together again; to heal; but the blade simply was in the way.
He writhed in the obsidian darkness, slowly trying to loosen the wrappings that bound him. He could hear the other undead shuffling and groaning nearby in the darkness. They were of no concern to Pharaoh.
Struggle as he would, he simply was too weak to unbind himself. He needed to feed, and he was in a near perfect situation to do so!
He knew he could leech off the nearby undead, and since they all were in close proximity to the Eye of Osiris, they couldn’t physically die, they were a virtual endless source of power!
..................
Schäfer’s Expedition
Egypt, The Catacombs of Nyarlathotep’s Temple,
1925
(3168 years later)
Jebediah Stanton’s skin was normally a pale grayish tone – clammy and unhealthy coloured. But now his chest and arms turned pink as blood flushed through his straining muscles.
Otto was right, Donita thought to herself, Jebediah was a beast of burden.
Jebediah, Ezra, Otto, and two Arabic men struggled with the final collapsed lintel stone. The four men looked like children beside Jebediah. He was truly a behemoth.
Ezra Stanton shouted something at his brother, but his American accent was so thick and peculiar and strange, Donita couldn’t tell what he said. Jebediah stopped momentarily and looked at his brother. His expression was odd. Donita couldn’t read what was going on behind that ichthyo face. There was an odd quasi-intelligence there – but not much of one.
The giant turned back to his work and put his shoulder into the stone. As it shifted ever so slightly, sand and grit and dust fell from the reinforced ceiling. The ever so faint sound of grinding stone gave the five men hope and inspiration!
The two Arabic labourers began singing as they uncoiled ropes. Otto joined in. Apparently he knew the Arabic song. Donita was impressed. And almost on cue, he turned and flashed her his boyish smile. Even covered in sand and dirt he was handsome she thought. She tilted her head and smiled out of the
corner of her mouth.
“We’re not there yet,” Donita shouted in fluent Arabic. “Secure those ropes and pull, by Allah! Pull!”
Jebediah stopped and retrieved his water. His expression something other than blank but still unreadable. Was he deliberately defying her, or just thirsty? He drank what must have been a gallon of water and put on a pair of old leather gloves. The rest of the men waited on him.
The leader of the archeological dig, Dr. Schäfer, squeezed past Donita, lantern in hand, to oversee the opening of the tomb.
Dr. Schäfer’s English was non-existent so he relied on Donita to translate his German.
Ezra picked up a large lever-like crowbar and Jebediah wedged his arm and shoulder between the stone and wall. The other three stood out of their way, ready on the ropes.
Otto leaned back, craned his neck backwards towards Donita. “How ‘bout a little kiss for good luck?” he playfully whispered.
Although she tried to stifle and push down her amusement, she couldn’t stop a tiny smile from slipping through.
Otto seemed satisfied with his flirtation, turned back and shared a comment in Arabic with the two men on the ropes with him. All three tightened their grip and wound the rope around their forearms.
“Eins, zwei...” began counting Dr. Schäfer when Ezra cut him off frantically.
“-Wait! Wait! Wait!” he shouted. “Quiet! Shuddup!” He dropped his crowbar and pressed his ear to the stone. “I heared something!”
All the men gingerly looked at the ceiling.
“Nonsense! Continue!” barked Dr. Schäfer in German.
“No! Ain’t the stone! From the tomb!” Ezra whispered. “You ain’t hearing dat, Jeb?” he asked his brother. Jebediah just grunted.
“Ezra!” Donita’s voice was piercing. “You stop that right now! You’ll frighten the Arabs. You know they’re a superstitious lot!” Donita continued in Arabic to the other men. She then made eye contact with the hulking Jebediah. “Are you ready?”