by Bo Luellen
Excited murmurs and banter came from the assembly, “A few short days ago, former Tulsa Police Detective John Utterson went public regarding the corruption in our political offices. He outlined how the Christian Crusaders were actively investigated by local and federal offices in an attempt to douse the flames of our Christian faith. As a whistleblower, he uncovered the corruption present in our governing bodies. He proved that Governor Hill, Chief of Police Kelly and the FBI were acting against the will of the Christian people of Oklahoma. For this, Kelly was fired, and an investigation into alleged and unsubstantiated corruption and substance abuse was brought against Brother Utterson. This was clear retaliation and an attempt to smear that hero’s good name. The truth be told, John Utterson was the only voice in the halls of our police department that saw the wisdom of joining forces with the Crusaders. It was because of the politicians that Henry Jekyll was able to escape, and Oklahoma suffered the deaths of dozens of police officers, nurses, and civilians. Our Crusaders arrived too late, and that falls on the head of the leadership of this town.
Because of his noble actions, Brother John lost his badge and his gun, but not his dignity. Oh, Brothers and Sisters, no! His actions only heated the coals that will burn those who decided to act out against a good man. Former Detective John Utterson, will you join me on stage?”
From the wings, John was wheelchaired out next to Richard. He wore a new brown suit, and his graying beard and hair were now jet black. He had a smile on his face as he shook the hand of Enfield. With some considerable effort, the man stood out of his chair. He gave a big hug to the Lieutenant Governor-elect.
As the crowd applauded, John Utterson used his cane to climb the steps of the stage, “Brothers and Sisters, I give you the new leader of the UCC, General John Utterson!”
Over the next hour, message boards and social media blew up with discussions over the new appointment. Daniel Harris had a challenge getting Richard out of the stadium’s parking lot and back to his estate. Throngs of Christians lined the streets, blocking the way and holding up signs that read, “God is in Control” and “Dunn for President.”
The ghost of Samuel Howard manifested in the seat next to him and Richard thought, What did you find out?
The white-haired spirit replied, “John Utterson is a dirty cop through and through. I was in his head for only a few minutes and saw enough blackmail material to keep him in line for a lifetime. He’s a drug addict, alcoholic, and has affiliations with criminals.”
Richard grinned, “Excellent.”
The ghost rubbed his snow colored beard, “My boy, we have a more pressing matter to discuss.”
He turned to his old mentor, What matter?
Samuel had a quiver to his voice, “Cthulhu calls to me. He commands I take you to the Dreamlands.”
Richard looked astonished, “He spoke to you? Directly? Why would he address my underling instead of me? I’m ushering in his awakening!”
The ghost wrung his hands together, “Must we go over this again? You are indeed a powerful leader in his cult, but you are not his Herald. Besides, communicating with the Great Dreamer is unsettling.”
Richard’s curiosity outweighed the insult, “What is it like when he talks to you?”
Samuel let out a long sigh, “He doesn’t speak to me in what you would see as words. It is like a powerful pull to action that makes your very soul feel thin. The only way to keep your sanity is to do as he commands.”
He felt the anxiety pouring off his old mentor and enjoyed seeing him in distress. “Go on.”
The ghost began to tremble, “I’m his servant, and the Old One compels me to act. I will fly ahead and prepare the necessary spell work. Once you are home, bathe yourself in sea salt and burn charcoal as you do. Once you are done, come to the ritual chamber under the garage. Everything will be ready.”
Richard wasn’t used to being commanded like this, “Wait! What is the Dreamland? What am I being summoned for?”
The spirit gave him a sympathetic look. “The Dreamland is an alternate reality to our own world. A place where magic and madness reign. Mythical beasts and legends intersect in this realm. I don’t know why you are being called, but you dare not refuse the command. Take this seriously, my boy, and we just might survive the journey.”
Samuel disappeared from the car seat, and Richard felt a shiver of fear run through him. Being the leader of the Tulsa Crimson Brotherhood Sect came with many perks. Still, he never contemplated he would gain an audience with the Great Dreamer. The car hit a bump as they turned into his estate, waking him from the impending spiritual journey.
An hour later, he finished the ritual bath and put on his robe. Standing in front of the mirror, he saw the greatness of his own face. Squinting his eyes, he tightened the cotton belt and marched out.
His maid, Emilia Nores, greeted him with slippers, “Senior Enfield, your guest Shoshannah has arrived. Shall I show her into the study?”
He was frustrated at the timing of his servant, “Tell her to enjoy the estate for now and offer her anything that makes her comfortable. Assure her I will see her as soon as I’m out of my next meeting.”
The short Hispanic maid replied, “Si, Senior Enfield.”
As the woman waddled out of the room, Richard looked out the window and saw the ghost of the maid’s husband. He was walking the grounds outside, his restless spirit still bound by Samuel’s spells to forever guard the estate from spiritual intruders. The ghost looked weary and shuffled along in the tattered clothes he had been wearing the night he had been sacrificed to Cthulhu.
Richard traveled downstairs, and out the side door that faced the garage entrance to the ritual room. The cold November air whipped up the robe and sent a chill through his bones. He cursed to himself as he crunched through the day-old snow on the ground.
He squinted his eyes at the freezing wind, Bathing I can see, but why am I to arrive in such a state?
Richard slammed the garage door behind him and rubbed his hands together for warmth, as Daniel gave a curious, “Let me guess, auditioning for the Polar Bear club?”
His nostrils flared, “That mouth of yours is going to get you killed one day.”
He continued waxing the car, “Calm down Rich. I’m already legally dead, remember?”
Richard grabbed the rungs of the ladder that led downward, “Call me that once more and you’ll wish death was an option.”
His driver went silent as he descended into the secret chamber. As his bare feet touched the marble floor, he turned to see the fully manifested Samuel sitting cross-legged in the center of the room. Over a hundred black candles were lit and dotting the floor in an odd pattern. The body of a man lay nude in the corner of the room, with a red-handled Athame dagger sticking out of his chest. The man’s blood had been used to paint a crimson line connecting the candles. Samuel motioned for him to join him, and he carefully inched his way between the blood.
As he went to sit down on the marble floor, Samuel warned, “Take your robe off. You must be nude and barren of any pretenses. Come as honestly as you can, lest Cthulhu strips you of your reason.”
He took off the robe and threw it onto the Samuel’s old oak desk. Looking back, he noticed the design of the candles were in the shape of the symbol of the Crimson Brotherhood. The great tentacle head of an elephant-like squid stared up at him with twinkling lights and drying blood.
Samuel commanded, “Sit, as I am.”
Richard lowered himself down in front of the ghost and crossed his legs in the same fashion. In front of him was a bronze cup full of a dark liquid he suspected was from the corpse. Samuel levitated up from the floor a few inches, as a wind came from nowhere and flickered some of the candles. The spirit was as solid as Richard had ever seen him, as the power of Cthulhu caused his old mentor’s eyes to glow blue.
Samuel droned, “Cthulhu commands you to the Dreamland. Mortals can only travel there in their sleep. Drink from this cup and slumber.”
Richard
hesitated, wanting to ask a question, but decided against it. He put his right hand on the ceremonial goblet and picked it up. The metal was warm with the contents of the recent kill. To his surprise, the scent of elderberries and honey wafted into his nose from the liquid. It compelled him with thirst, and an invitation to drink. Wrapping both hands around the etched cup, he poured the thick fluid into his mouth. He nearly gagged as he greedily gobbled up every drop and found himself longing for more. He slammed it down and gasped for air. The edges of the cup stamped a red grin on his face. Caught in the ecstasy of the potion, his tongue snaked out and licked the crimson from his lips.
Samuel’s bright blue eyes flamed, as he started to repeatedly chant, “C’hafh throdog Cthulhu l’ fhtagn shugnahh ahagl Nyarlathotep ahuh’eog!”
It took Richard a minute to make out the translation, Guide us great Cthulhu to the Dreamlands where Nyarlathotep rules.
The sound of the ghostly alien words penetrated his mind and soaked into every narrow of his consciousness. He never felt the drink take hold and sleep overcame him. His head bobbed once, and in an instant, he woke back up into a dark version of the ritual room. The ceiling to the underground chamber was ripped away to reveal a purple sky with rolling black clouds. The remaining pieces of the underground study now looked ancient and unkempt. The bookshelves were coated with thick cobwebs and dust. The candles were puddles of wax, seemingly burned away long ago. The edges of the ceiling had icicles that pointed upwards and a ladder ran along the eastern wall. Dots in the sky were silhouetted against the lavender heavens. Some of the specks were close enough for him to make out the winged serpents. One flew only a few dozen yards overhead and let out a hiss that sounded like a shrieking violin.
He looked back down and saw a living Samuel sitting in front of him. He was no longer a ghost, but flesh and blood. His mentor was finishing his incantations before coming out of his trance. The elderly Howard had no clothes on, and his lean body was covered in Egyptian Hieroglyphic tattoos. The black ink went from his neck, down to his ankles. He had never seen this language before, except in history books.
Richard stirred and rose to his feet, “This is the Dreamland? It looks like earth, but not.”
His mentor got up and joined him, “The Dreamland is a mirror dimension to our own. It is influenced by the dreams and nightmares of the living. It’s a place gods and immortals use to cross over into other planes of existence. Some are bound here, others are simply passing through.”
Richard started to step towards the ice-covered ladder that led up, when Samuel grabbed his arm with a firm hand, “Do not cross outside of this circle. Mortals that find their way here become subject to dangers and wonders of this realm.”
He jerked his arm free, “Do not think you can command me!”
Samuel moved in front of him, “This is no time for your arrogance! We were invited here. Like any good guest, we wait until we are collected.”
From the direction of the ladder came a feminine voice, “I would listen to your wise counsel.” Richard shot his head around to see a slender woman dressed in a golden robe, “Em Hotep, Master Enfield. Em Hotep, Djedi. Lord Cthulhu has granted me an audience with his servants. So I bid you welcome.”
On her head was a tiara with a golden symbol of Anubis in its center. Her skin was smooth and bronze, with only her neck and face exposed. Charcoal lines went from the corner of her eye to her temple in a bold, sweeping line. The smell of cedar and cinnamon emanated from her as she walked towards them. As she stepped, the tiny gold links in her mantle chimed together, matching the slow and seductive sway of her hips. Richard found the jingling hypnotic and alluring.
She stopped short of crossing the protective circle, “I’m Princess Ankh-es-en-amon, daughter of Pharaoh Amenophis the Magnificent, and betrothed to Lord Imhotep.”
The purple light from above illuminated her face, and Richard noticed a striking similarity to the woman from the Preserve, Samuel, do you see it? She looks almost exactly like Amanda Lanyon!
His mentor didn’t respond to his mental telepathy. Richard noticed there were slight differences. The eyes were a little different, and the mouth had a slight upturn, like that of a cat. He was shocked to see the rest of her was an exact duplicate.
The chiseled features of a man’s face appeared in on the golden clad woman’s robes, “My love, the faithful priest of Osiris, Imhotep sends you his blessings. He gives thanks to the great Cthulhu for this audience.”
Richard suddenly realized his nakedness and covered himself, “H-h-how can we help you, your highness.”
Samuel squinted his eyes in embarrassment and interjected in a mixture of ancient Egyptian and English, “Nesew. Em heset net Osiris. We are honored to be in your presence. Dua Netjer en ek!”
Ankh-es-en-amon granted the slightest of nods to Samuel, “The Sleeper of R’lyeh, the great Cthulhu, will soon lay waste to the earth when he awakes. All the creatures that reside in Cthulhu’s home will spill out onto the earth, and shall rejoice. A new era of prosperity will dawn from his footsteps. In the wake of Cthulhu’s apocalypse, he will grant my love Imhotep dominion over a part of the earth, to rule for all time.”
Richard felt the pit of his stomach gurgle, and his skin started to sweat. He instinctively wiped his forehead and felt his extremities begin to chill. To him, it felt the same as the beginnings of the flu.
Samuel regarded his former protégé, “The potion is wearing off. Princess Ankh-es-en-amon, we don’t have much time. What do you have to tell us?”
She spoke faster, but with no loss of composure, “The cycle of history has a rhythm of life and death. In your faith through Cthulhu, you called it an Aeon. At the end of each Aeon, the earth is purged, as a new deity takes over from the previous one. The cycle refreshes the roots of the planet in the blood of mortals. However, all prophecies need a specific series of events to come true, or the Aeon cannot cycle. Imhotep was chosen long ago to be the Herald of Cthulhu, and to visit seven plagues upon the nation you call America. Once these prophecies are fulfilled, Cthulhu rises from the Pacific and travels like a hurricane to Israel. He will destroy it and undo the Law of Moses. This will undo the Hebrew God’s control of the earth, and Cthulhu will visit an apocalypse upon the world. “
Richard coughed, and blood shot out onto his hand, as Samuel pleaded, “Yes, but what of Master Enfield’s role in this?”
She spread her arms wide, causing the image on her robes to change to a stepped pyramid, “My love is imprisoned in Duat by Osiris, while his body rests in a forgotten chamber at the Pyramid of Djoser. As the prophecy states, Anubis will only allow him to return to his body if a chosen follower of Cthulhu completes three challenges. Once my love walks on earth again, Imhotep can awaken the Great Sleeper. That chosen follower is you, Master Enfield.”
Richard leaned on his mentor, as Samuel held him up and screamed, “Please, Princess! Make haste, our time here grows to an end!”
Ankh-es-en-amon put her hands at her side and stopped the illusionary image, “The first challenge is to appease Thoth’s wife, Seshat. She will only make the location of the Scroll of Thoth known if the chosen of Cthulhu can prove himself a great leader. Once done, then you, Djedi, may divine its location. The second challenge is to appease Sobek, the protector of the scroll. The chosen of Cthulhu must prove himself capable of being wise and resourceful in retrieving the scroll from the clutches of Sobek.”
Enfield’s legs stopped working, and he collapsed to the cracked marble floor. He vomited the contents of his stomach at the feet of the Egyptian beauty and gasped for air. The dark red liquid had lumps of tissue in the regurgitated potion, and the room started spinning. Samuel helped him sit upright on his knees as he watched the room age and rot away. The gold-clad woman’s face wrinkled, and the skin pressed to her skull. Her teeth tumbled out of the emaciated face, and her eyes fell out from her head. The Princess’s neck cracked to one side, and the bones holding her spine seemed to sway from the weight of the go
ld. Bandages sprang up from the floor and wrapped her body like twin snakes.
Samuel shouted, “Quickly, my future Queen! What of the third challenge?”
As the wrapping worked its way up her body, Ankh-es-en-amon’s voice became faint, “The third challenge is to appease Seker. Seker is the protector and guardian of the Memphis Necropolis, where the Pyramid of Djoser stands. The chosen of Cthulhu must prove his cunning by overcoming Seker’s sentinel and discovering the resting place of Lord Imhotep. Read the scroll over his body, and resurrect my beloved. Be warned, Master Enfield! Jealous gods who do not want to see this Aeon come to a close have anointed a champion that has the power to put the Great Dreamer back to sleep. You know her face, as my own.”
Richard shook from chills on the ground, as he managed a weak reply, “A-Amanda Lanyon?”
The weathered bandages engulfed her upper body, as the brittle corpse hissed, “Yessss. Take care, Master Enfield. She could tip the scales and return the Old One to his slumber. You must send her to Duat!”
A sharp pain coursed into his stomach as his bowls released as she continued, “The gods are forbidden from ending her life, just as they are barred from ending yours. I will offer this gift, she travels with a company of knights by foot from Stirling Castle to the Cullerlie Stones in Scotland. She must not be allowed to live, Master Enfield! Everything hinges on you! Do as Cthulhu bids or suffer an eternity of payment for your failure!”
The world around him went black, and the sounds of the Dreamlands quieted. He shut his eyes and blacked out, only to burst back into consciousness. Richard sat up and felt the cold marble floor once again under his naked body.
The ghost of Samuel Howard was once again in his usual grey suit, “Easy, my boy. Take your time and recover. It’s not every day that a mortal travels to the Dreamland and returns.”
Richard shot up and stumbled backward over the lit candles, slamming into his desk, “The gods, immortals, they’re all real!”
