by Richard Mann
‘If anyone can find out you can, professor,’ replies the sweating assistant. His reputation is legendary. PhDs in archaeology, anthropology, philology, biochemistry, physics, mathematics, and electronics. President of Mensa, consulted by world leaders. Eccentric, but his intellect is unparalleled.
Under the blistering hot sun, the professor uses a brush to wipe away the dust, revealing a stone slab. Then he uses a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat and dust from his face. As the hot desert sun beats down on his back, the professor takes a swig from his water bottle. Along with his young male assistant, they manage to move the slab to reveal a dark chamber.
They struggle through the small entrance and fall heavily onto a stone floor. There is Sumerian cuneiform writing on the ancient stone walls, and in the middle of the chamber is a sarcophagus. The professor studies the writing, running his finger along the cuneiform characters. “Ah oui…oui, ‘The Shining One from the stars—here he rests.’” The assistant listens intently as inside the chamber, it is cold, and there is an eerie silence. He shivers and looks at the professor.
‘This place gives me the creeps,’ he whispers.
‘Let’s move the top slab,’ gestures the professor.
‘What do you think is inside, Professor?’ asks the assistant almost too afraid to ask.
‘Only one way to find to find out!’
‘Christ, it’s heavy! Here it comes,’ replies his assistant.
They manage to move the slab just enough to reveal what is inside. Professor Picard is shocked at the sight that confronts him. In the sarcophagus lie the mummified remains of an alien creature. It has a large oval head and large eye sockets, where the eyes were. It has long thin arms and legs.
‘Sacre bleu! Sainte Mère de Dieu—it’s not human!’ exclaims the professor.
‘Look at the size of the eyes!’ whispers his assistant. They cross themselves, the professor whispers a prayer, and they edge closer to look at the alien mummy. Professor Picard takes photographs of the ancient writing and mummified alien, while his assistant takes flesh samples from it, being careful not to damage the alien.
‘We can analyse these later, back at the university,’ orders the professor as they make their way out with their equipment. While the assistant loads the gear into their jeep, the professor stands silently looking at the sky.
‘Penny for your thoughts Professor,’ as his young student stands by him.
‘Mon ami, there is a change in the air.’
‘What do you mean, Professor?’
The professor looks at the young man but doesn’t want to frighten him unnecessarily. He needs to talk to his adopted father, his secret protector, from early childhood. He turns and smiles at the curious young man.
‘Take the equipment and samples back to Berkeley. I must travel to Europe, to see an old friend.’
Chapter 22
Count Cassian’s Castle
MOUNTAIN CASTLE – ROMANIA
Professor Picard and Count Cassian, who is wearing a black hooded cloak, stand on a stone balcony, overlooking the mountains under a blue sky. Cassian is deep in thought, his piercing deep blue eyes hide ancient wisdom, the cloak hiding his long blond hair. They are in Cassian’s home in Romania, his ancient castle, forgotten by time, nestling in a remote valley in Transylvania. Due to its remoteness, and inaccessibility by road, it has very few visitors, which is just how Cassian likes it.
‘I know you like to keep a low profile Cassian, mon ami, but you could have found a home…well, a bit more accessible,’ complains Professor Picard.
‘It suits my purposes, Professor,’ replies Cassian as he turns to look at his old friend, giving one of his rare smiles.
‘Your finding that ancient tomb was no mistake, Professor.’
Cassian looks again at the mountains, searching the skies, looking for something. ‘I have become aware of an ancient threat. Our old enemies, that ancient filth, da aliens, are coming back to haunt us. I suspect they are coming in numbers this time, and we are not prepared. Not prepared at all,’ he says in his East European accent.
Cassian slaps the stone balcony in frustration.
‘Not prepared at all.’ He turns to the professor.
‘Cassian, if you are right the humans will need our help. You must meet with them.’ The professor has an urgency in his voice. Cassian is thoughtful.
‘The humans?’ Cassian raises his eyebrows.
‘Professor, you are right, of course. In the past, I have been reluctant to meet with them, they could not be trusted, but now, things are different. It is time.’
Cassian puts his head in his hands.
‘‘We have been complacent Professor, we must start to make preparations, make plans. We cannot meet this threat alone. We cannot.’
‘Cassian, we must consult the old book,’ Picard touches his protector’s arm hoping to lighten his burden.
‘I have always trusted your counsel Professor, but the book, it is full of riddles.’
‘And perhaps wisdom, my old friend.’
They are joined by Lucia, a vampire elder, wearing a cloak. She puts her arm in the professor’s and looks at him with her deep blue eyes, brushing back her long black hair. ‘Lucia my dear, exciting times are ahead,’ announces the professor, looking serious.
‘Yes, Uncle Louis,’ as she rests her head on his shoulder. ‘I missed you,’ as she kisses his cheek.
‘It’s good to see you smile my child.’
As they stand there, a large crow lands on the balcony, still as stone, its black beady eyes looking at Cassian, hiding great intelligence. It blinks then waddles toward him on the balcony, then jumps onto his shoulder.
‘Morfran, Morfran…wise old bird, give me news.’
The cunning old crow caws into his ear as Cassian strokes its head. The ancient vampire listens intently and nods as the wise old bird caws away. He feels inside his pocket and digs out some walnuts and acorns which Morfran eats hungrily, nuzzling his head against Cassian, who strokes his pet’s neck then looks up concerned.
‘We have less time than I thought.’
In the distance, a huge black swarm of birds is fleeing south. In the valley below, they can see hundreds of rabbits and deer running and stampeding through the wood, heading towards a cave system at the bottom of the valley.
‘The birds are fleeing. The animals are hiding. They know something is afoot. We do not have much time. Come, Professor, let us consult the book of riddles,’ Cassian sighs.
‘Mais oui, I need a coffee,’ the professor replies. Cassian whispers into the crow’s ear, and it flies off again, on another mission.
They leave the balcony, and their footsteps echo as they go down a narrow, spiral, winding stone staircase. They brush past cobwebs and walk down a corridor while the professor wraps his cardigan around him to protect against the draft.
‘Cassian, have you ever thought about central heating?’ They walk past suits of armour, tapestries and old wooden boxes. Portraits of Romanian nobility adorn the cold stone walls, bearing a striking resemblance to Cassian. The professor studies the paintings, rubbing his beard, removing his glasses.
‘Come along Professor, we haven’t got time for da history lesson,’ chides the count. He produces an old brass key from his pocket, and he opens a thick, solid oak door with strange inscriptions on it. The Professor looks at the ancient runes written in gold, on the upper part of the ancient door.
‘They protect against unwelcome visitors, Professor,’ says Cassian, reading his thoughts. The thick oak door creaks open, and Cassian looks around the room searching. Then he walks towards a huge wooden chest. He mutters some unrecognizable words, and the chest opens. He lifts out a huge book wrapped in leather. It has an ancient lock on it. He produces a golden key and opens the book.
Cassian blows away the dust. ‘It’s been a wh
ile since I looked at this ancient tome, professor, 200 years in fact. I got a bit bored trying to solve its riddles.’
‘I have listened to you talking about it, but this is the first time I have actually seen it, Cassian.’
Professor Picard stands back in shock when he sees the tome being placed on a large wooden table. He touches the hard leather in reverence as he examines the ornate Greek letters embossed in gold on the cover. As he runs his fingers over it, he speaks to Cassian without looking up.
‘It cannot be. Cassian, where did you get this?’
‘I looked everywhere for it, including Alexandria.’
‘You mean the ancient city of Alexandria?’ the professor stands aghast and looks up from the book.
Chapter 23
Search for the Book of Berossus
‘Yes, some 2000 years ago in fact. I had spent twenty years looking for this book before going to Alexandria. In Athens, I looked in all da temples. I travelled to Rome, I spent a year looking in all the libraries, temples and archives, but da authorities starting asking me questions, got suspicious. Then I heard it was in Alexandria, a centre of great learning and culture, in ancient Egypt.’ He paused.
‘But I got there too late.’ He looks with earnest at his professor friend.
‘There was a fire, when Julius Caesar attacked da city in 48 B.C. He was cornered by the harbour and lit a fire, it burned down da library. I thought all was lost. Then I heard another rumour, after a bit of persuading. I tracked down and questioned da librarians that had worked at the library.’
‘You did more than question them, Cassian,’ mutters Lucia in her East European accent.
‘I discovered that many scrolls had been secreted away by da Romans to da Imperial library of Constantinople, the Eastern capital of the Roman Empire. They wanted their own great library. They wanted their second capital to be great. So the capital city of the Byzantine Empire contained one of the last of the great libraries of da ancient world.’ Cassian’s eyes lit up.
‘It was a magnificent place, columns stretched to the ceiling, great carved arches, murals and paintings on the walls and ceilings. Great rooms filled with scrolls, teeming with scholars, scurrying back and forth, studying ancient texts—you would have loved it, Professor!’ The professor listens in awe as Cassian describes the great spectacle.
Professor Picard beams as he pictures the scene in his mind. ‘Mais oui, mais oui, the book, the book, Berossus Book!’ Professor Picard is beside himself with excitement. ‘Berossus was a Greek Hellenistic-era Babylonian writer, a priest of Bel Marduk, a mystic, He was also an astronomer,’ the professor enthuses. Cassian continues.
‘Yes, da book, Berossus Book of Prophecy. I had discovered that an Arab scholar had bound the Berossus scrolls into leather covers, so this narrowed down my search from 100,000 scrolls to about ten leather-bound volumes. I stole into the main Imperial Library in da dead of night. The guards were sleeping, and I made myself invisible, so that I wasn’t disturbed. It still took me an hour to find it, though.’
Professor Picard is in his element as his eyes water with emotion. He faces Cassian and Lucia.
‘You know after the destruction of the Great Library of Alexandria, the Imperial library of Constantinople stood out as a beacon of ancient culture. It preserved the knowledge of the ancient Greeks and Romans for almost 1,000 years. The Emperor Constantius II established a Scriptorium so that the surviving works of Greek literature could be copied and so preserved. Incredibly, the library survived until 1453 when Constantinople was conquered by the Ottoman Empire, and everything was destroyed. A light went out in the world. Such a tragedy,’ says the professor, shaking his head.
‘It’s in Greek, Professor. Ancient Greek. Now my ancient Greek is a bit rusty, so I will need your help,’ says Cassian.
‘Looks like Berossus wrote in the Koine Greek language—Hellenistic. The new testament was written in this language,’ says the professor, running his fingers over the gold embossed letters on the front of the remarkably well-preserved tome, scratching his beard, his eyes full of wonder and excitement.
Βιβλίο της Προφητεία
“Professor, I’m looking for a passage about ‘Flames of fire come down from the Sky… when the Gods come down from the Heavens.’”
Professor Picard puts on some white gloves and leafs through the book. His concentration does not waver as he totally immerses himself.
‘Fascinating… such insight.’
He continues while Lucia brings him a cup of French roast. The professor does not look up as he sips his coffee.
‘Thank you, my dear.’ Lucia puts her hand on his shoulder.
‘Found anything interesting, Uncle?’
‘Oh here…here is the passage you’re looking for, Cassian!’
‘Flames of fire descend from the sky and blacken the earth, and it is burning and scorched. The gods come down from the heavens and create fear among the people. The nations are scattered, and confused, and they run beating their breasts. Their buildings are rent asunder as they wail and weep. The people flee from the demons in their chariots in the heavens above. They get on their knees and cry unto God.
But there is one who will come forth from the Isle of Albion, from Cymru, from the land of the mountains. A warrior with foresight and strength who will travel to the land of the eagles. And he will destroy the demons in their chariots.’
‘That’s it Cassian.’
‘The land of Albion?’
‘That’s easy, it’s the ancient name for Britain,’ the professor says, scratching his beard.
‘From the land of Cymru?’
‘Wales.’
‘Does this warrior have a name?’ asks Lucia.
‘It says here his name is Caius. He sounds superhuman ‘No one man would be able to brave fire or water like him. He can run as fast as the wind and has the strength of ten men.’
‘Sounds indestructible,’ said Cassian.
‘Caius can go nine days and nine nights without the need to breathe or to sleep, and can grow as tall as the tallest tree in the forest if he pleased. He radiates God-like heat from his hands. Furthermore, it is impossible to cure a wound from Caius’s sword.”
‘He will travel to the Land of the Eagles.’
‘Eagles…eagles…symbolism? Ah, the USA?’ beams the professor.
‘It is decided. We must move to da United States of America,’ Cassian stands upright. ‘We must meet with the leaders and find this warrior. We must seek him out.’
‘He might even find us,’ Lucia says, as she plays with her hair and imagines what this mighty warrior looks like.
They sit in silence at the ancient oak table in the cold, stone room adorned by hunting trophies and tapestries. On the table is a large map of the world. Professor Picard has another cup of coffee and Cassian helps himself too.
The professor smiles to himself—the humans would be amused to know that a vampire drinks coffee, but Cassian was full of eccentricities.
Cassian stands to speak.
‘Our brethren are scattered all over da world. I have not spoken to many of them since the council meeting of the Vampiri in World War Two. It has been too long. It will be difficult. Old friendships will need to be renewed. There are old grudges and feuds among our clans, Professor. We must set aside our differences if we are to stand a chance against da oncoming threat.’
‘Who are our main allies?’ asks the professor.
‘There is Lady Vesilia in England, Lord Aswerne in da Philippines certainly. Those are the ones we can count on— maybe Baron Titas in Germany, but he’s a stubborn old fool. I need to hold a council meeting of da Vampiri—soon. Time is of the essence. He looks at Lucia.
‘Lucia, make da arrangements. They are compelled to attend.’ Cassian strokes his long chin. ‘Professor, you need to come with us, t
o the United States of America, I need your help.’
‘Mon ami, you know I found a tomb with a preserved alien in it, in Iraq, it’s incredible. There are some cuneiform texts I need to translate and papers to write. I need to get back to the university to continue my research, but I will be in constant touch. Meantime I’m going to finish reading this ancient tome. I want to know more about this Caius. Lucia another coffee please, it will take all night.’ Cassian puts his hand on his friend’s shoulder, a look of concern on his face.
All of a sudden the professor looks up from the leather book, his face deadly serious. ‘Cassian, keep this book safe, it might be useful to our enemies.’ Cassian nods.
‘I will keep it in my possession at all times,’ a sense of urgency rising in his voice.
‘We do not have much time, Professor, a storm is approaching fast. Da winds of fate are changing, my old friend, nothing will be the same anymore. Lucia, pack your bags, we leave in twenty-four hours.’
Then he puts his hand on the professor’s shoulder. ‘We may be too late already.’
Chapter 24
Of Questionable Character
EAST END, LONDON
Peter had promised Vinnie he would meet him for a drink after his meeting with Sir Nigel, and he was wondering why he sounded so serious about it—unusual for happy-go-lucky Vinnie. As he walked through the city and down Whitechapel Road, Peter admired the contrast between the old and the new. Flash city skyscrapers and flash city traders in flash suits, drinking red bull and yelling into their mobiles. And old London—cobbled streets, ancient medieval pubs, a sanctuary of old history, wooden beams and cask conditioned ales—an oasis, away from the stresses of the world. As he looked around him, he realised that there was nowhere else in the world quite like London.
The old and the new.
The world was changing fast, but did he fit into this new world? How fast do you have to run to keep up? He thought about the visions he had: the Eternal Warrior, an ancient memory with a magical sword, the priest, and part of him was part of the new. How could he combine the two parts that pulled at him? He dismissed these thoughts as he approached his destination.
