by otis duane
~*~
Together they practiced these skills over and over again. After she had absorbed as much as she could, he explained that Corvus would show her where to build the temple, and that he’d be her constant companion now.
“He’ll be there to serve you and the skull.”
“Who is Corvus?”
“Why he’s my oldest friend,” Apollo said, looking to his shoulder. “I think you call him Muenster Cheese now.”
“So that’s his name,” Zelia said as Muenster squawked and flapped his wings and Apollo chuckled.
“He seems to like his new name.”
“So just how did you two get to know each other, anyway?”
“Oh, we go back a long time. Corvus was once a brave hoplite soldier, and a veteran of many battle campaigns.
He was also a deeply loyal and devoted follower of mine.
Then, one day when he was mortally wounded in battle, in his last dying breath he cried out for me, and I came to his rescue. Though his human body died long ago, his soul now inhabits this creature.”
“I see,” she said, reaching over to stroke his feathery back.
~*~
Apollo and Zelia went on to walk around the inside of the temple and talked until late into the evening. He explained how he would help her and what he expected from her. Then about midnight they returned to the courtyard.
Looking around one last time, Apollo then said to her, “Be brave child. I will always be with you… You ready?”
Nodding her head, they exchanged pleasant smiles, and he handed the crystal skull over to her. Holding it up near her heart, Apollo set his own hands on top of it and began chanting in a tongue she was unfamiliar with. She suspected it was a celestial language that only the gods spoke.
Before long he began to emanate with light, and grew brighter by the moment.
Soon, she could no longer discern between the light and his human form at all, as his presence was shining as brightly as the sun. Squinting, she saw his life force now floating in front of her in the form of a brilliant sphere of light. Quickly becoming overwhelmed, she shunned away, when in a flash, the energy ball skyrocketed up to the heavens where it reached the edge of space. There, it spider-webbed across the sky in a dramatic burst of lightning bolts, followed by a deafening shockwave that shook the very walls of the temple.
Then, without warning, at the explosion’s epicenter, an intense beam of white light blasted down from the sky and slammed into the skull itself.
“Ahhhhhh!” Zelia screamed out as the skull violently shook in her hands, seemingly charging to life with the column of light.
Frozen in place with her eyes tightly squeezed shut, she could hardly hold onto the relic when suddenly the beam plunged down and disappeared inside the skull. Popping one eye open, she looked around and noticed everything had fallen eerily silent. Even the heavenly music once filling the temple had abruptly ceased. It was so quiet one could hear a pin drop.
Hesitantly blinking her eyes, she slowly regained her bearings and peered down into the skull to see a soft luminescent light glowing inside it.
“Amazing,” she mumbled to herself and sat down on the bench.
Just then, Muenster’s body shook and quivered as he transformed back into his feline embodiment and hopped up next to her.
“’Twas a day my little friend,” she said, stroking his head as he purred and draped his tail over her knee.
~*~
“Hmmm, what now?” she asked herself, when the crackling sounds of crumbling marble echoed across the courtyard. Nearby, a distressed Greek column buckled and broke in two and came crashing to the ground. Startled, they both jumped up to their feet and paws, respectively.
“Oh my goodness!” she said aloud as Muenster crouched beside her.
Looking around wide-eyed, she saw that the temple’s translucent glow was beginning to flicker and fade. Nearby, another huge column buckled and tumbled over as a new tremor shook the temple grounds. Even the once-placid pond was now rippling with trembling waves as the strength of the quake began to grow.
~*~
Hurriedly running into the temple’s main corridor, the roof overhead began to cave in all around them.
“Go back! Go back!” Zelia yelled at Muenster, who was right on her heels as she sprinted back out to the open grounds.
“That was a close one,” she said in an exasperated voice, when without warning, the grass lawn near them split wide open.
“Ahhhhhh!” Zelia shrieked as the widening fissure ran straight through the courtyard and into the pond, where it swallowed up all its water.
We’re trapped!
Still holding onto the skull, her heart was racing a mile a minute, when she looked down and saw it was vigorously pulsating with light.
Of course, she thought.
Holding the skull up close to her heart, she began to chant its song like Apollo had taught her. But she was getting distracted by all the forum statues beginning to tumble to the ground all around them.
“Focus, Zelia... Focus,” she said sternly to herself.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath, and started singing the skull’s song once again. This time the crystalline relic glowed and pulsed in harmony with every note she sang, as she imagined both she and Muenster at the bottom of Mt. Olympus.
Growing brighter by the moment, a thick fog quickly rolled in around them, as lightning boomed overhead.
A few seconds passed before a startling blast of pure energy shot out of the skull, forming a sphere of encircling lightning bolts, right in front of them.
“Oh my!” Zelia said, lifting her forearm up, shielding her eyes from the blindingly brilliant light.
Just then, the energy ball sucked both of them in, transforming their bodies into countless, tiny particles of light.
It came none too soon, when another quake ripped open the fissure even further.
This time though, the ancient temple shook so violently it caved in on itself and slid into the abyss below.
In a way it was a poetic ending to The Age of the Gods.
~*~
Down at the base of Mount Olympus, the same eerie fog rolled in, enveloping a large fir tree as the energy sphere appeared above it. Whirling around, spinning ever faster, the portal opened up and spat out Zelia and Muenster.
“Oh nooooo!” Zelia cried out as they both came crashing down through the tree’s many branches, eventually splashing down into the stream below.
Resurfacing, Muenster yowled and paddled over to a half-submerged log and clawed his way up on top of it. Breaking up through the water’s surface nearby, Zelia coughed out a mouthful of water and wiped her eyes.
“Not exactly what I planned.”
Realizing she no longer had the skull, she began to frantically look around for it.
“Oh no, where are you?” she said in a troubled voice, and then spotted it tumbling along the creek’s rocky bottom.
Diving headfirst into the murky water, she saw its fading luminescent light and grabbed it just as its glow extinguished.
Resurfacing, she gasped for air and waded over to a muddy bank, where she collapsed. Catching her breath, she looked up at the fantastic lightning storm raging at the top of Mount Olympus.
“Last encore of the gods,” she mumbled to herself.
Muenster, having once again morphed into a crow, swooped in and landed on top of the skull. Looking at Zelia, he squawked and shook the water from his tail feathers.
“Me too,” she replied with a tired smile as a light briefly flickered inside the skull but then faded away.
Chapter 11 - The Mystery
Summer ~ Present Day ~ Bismarck Home
From across the room, Heinz tossed another green feeder pellet at his fish tank, and yet again missed it. Smacking into the glass, his fish snapped at the pellet before it fell to the carpet, where it joined the rest of the orphans.
At first glance, the young teen’s bedroom would make a
ny hoarder envious. In every direction there were books, disemboweled computers, science experiments gone wrong and piles of empty soda cans and dirty clothes. Next to his desk stood a 50-gallon aquarium that housed Igor, his prized Tiger Oscar.
Frowning, Heinz was bummed out that he couldn’t get his tank shot down as Igor circled, like a shark, awaiting another pellet. At the bottom of his tank laid a graveyard of past meals, including goldfish skeletons, mossy French fries and an array of moldy gummy bears. They sat strewn amongst a labyrinth of gothic castles, a volcano and a bubbling treasure chest with a jiggling skeleton sitting on it.
Reaching into his green pellet bag again, he heard the family’s electric garage door open. It was Paul returning from the library.
“Crap-a-hole!” Heinz said aloud, dropping the pellet bag on the floor.
Looking at his computer’s clock, he realized he had lost all track of time. Quickly snagging his siblings’ phones and a wireless headset, he bolted out of his room. One step into the hallway and he heard the kitchen door shut.
“Honey, I’m home,” Paul announced.
For a split second, he thought about giving up, but instead quickened his pace. The idea of spending two weeks on another one of his dad’s wild goose chases was a strong motivator. He had to get to his parents’ room to set up his surveillance, before Paul got there.
~*~
Nearing his parents’ bedroom, he tripped over his untied shoelace and fell headlong into the linen closet’s door - Thud!
Rubbing the newly formed lump on his head, all he could see were stars circling around him as he rolled over onto his back.
Come on, stay focused, he thought, shaking his head.
Standing up, albeit still a bit wobbly, he turned and placed his ear on his parents’ door. Inside he could hear the shower running in the master bathroom.
It’s now or never, he thought.
Quietly opening the door, he slipped into the bedroom and feverishly darted his eyes about the room. He was looking for the perfect place to plant Tinnie’s phone.
Using it as a listening device, he’d eavesdrop on his folks to get the real scoop on their vacation. The more he knew now, the better chance he and his siblings would have to avoid the misery of another misadventure.
~*~
At heart, Paul Bismarck was actually a good guy but was a little misguided and obsessed with his job that lent itself to most of his bad ideas.
He and Mrs. Bismarck worked together at Mystery, Legend and Lore eMagazine as an investigative writing team. Just as its name suggests, the subscription website was in the business of supplying its members with intriguing articles on lost treasure, historical conspiracies and mysterious legends.
Paul, a former history professor, and Margie, a once newspaper editor, together wrote some of the companies’ most compelling stories. Having traveled the world over, their pieces ranged from lost pyramids in Egypt to the haunted Yeti cave in the Himalayas. However, due to the recent avalanche of subscription cancellations and their untimely demotions, they were in desperate need of a story. It had to be something big and sensational to turn the ailing magazine and their careers around.
~*~
Back inside his folk’s bedroom, Heinz called Tinnie’s phone and tucked it behind the reading lamp on one of the bedside nightstands. It’d be the perfect place for him to listen in on their conversation.
Quickly turning to exit the room, he froze when he saw the door handle begin to turn. As it swung open, he flopped down on the floor and peered underneath the bed to see his dad’s shoes as he walked into the room.
“Hey honey,” Paul said, as he walked over to the bathroom door and knocked on it.
“Be out in a minute,” Margie replied.
Walking to their dresser, his dad shoved an eight-track tape into their vintage player as Heinz bit down on his lip and cringed. He knew right away his dad’s new big idea was going to be a doozy. Paul always seemed to turn to classic rock tunes when he had a new scheme up his sleeve.
Slithering underneath the bed, Heinz disappeared out of sight before his father could see him. Fitting easily into the tight space, he jerked forward but bumped his forehead on a wooden cross support. Reeling from the pain, he covered his mouth and buried his face in the carpet.
Meanwhile, Margie came out of the bathroom wearing her pink robe with a towel wrapped around her head. As if on cue, a sweet power love ballad began to play as Paul handed her a cocktail glass.
“What’d you do this time?” she asked coyly. “Should I even ask her name?”
Here it comes, Heinz thought to himself, trying not to giggle.
“This is going to be the greatest thing that ever happened to us,” Paul said with as much sincerity he could muster up. “I promise.”
“Uh-huh,” Margie replied, doubtfully nodding her head.
Swigging down her whiskey, she handed the empty glass back to him.
“Hit me boss man.”
Refilling it, he handed it back her as she raised her eyebrows and asked, “So what’s the big plan, anyway?”
Paul tried to schmooze her, moving in for a kiss, but Margie snapped her finger and pointed it at him.
“Out with it. Now,” she said in her best authoritative mom voice.
Clearing his throat, Paul then blurted out, “I bought a file full of stolen documents from the Library of Congress.”
“What?!” Margie said, raising her voice as she narrowed her eyes on him.
Opening her mouth up to unload on him, he held up his hand and said, “Just hear me out.”
Underneath the bed, Heinz was amusingly nodding his head as a big grin came to his face.
Crossing her arms, Margie responded in a patronizing tone, “Uh huh.”
But Paul only fumbled through his words.
“Conspiracy… They stole their gold... Pirated it actually.”
Holding his finger up for a moment, he paused and took a swig of her drink.
“And-d-d-d?” Margie prodded as he cleared his throat.
“I found lost treasure in the Bermuda Triangle.”
Dropping her mouth wide open; underneath the bed, Heinz buried his face in the carpet and shook his head.
Taking a deep breath, Paul excitedly explained.
“You know the pirate captain, ‘Gentleman’ Billy Darcy, right?”
Margie, now with her arms crossed, tightly clinching her lips, hesitantly nodded.
“Well, I think these documents prove he was actually working under a secret marque,” he said, opening up the manila folder, he handed her a faded, yellowish document.
“I don’t want to get involved in this,” she said sternly. “This is i-l-l-e-g-a-l,” she spelled out to him.
“Honey, just read it… Please.”
Reluctantly she read it aloud.
~*~
January, 9, 1687
Dearest Captain Darcy,
My contact has informed me you have yet to make a deposit of confiscated treasure. This is troubling news to say the least, especially since our adversary, Lord Craven, grows stronger by the day. Carefully take heed of the following, for it will be my one and only reminder.
Our arrangement has a time limit, one that is quickly running out for you.
You and your crew are condemned men who only continue to breathe God’s air at the leisure of the Crown.
Another unpleasant report and I’ll issue an arrest warrant to have you captured and to carry out your court-martials.
Sincerely, Her Majesty,
Queen Mary II
~*~
“You know this is a felony,” Margie added with concern in her voice as she lowered her hand with the letter in it.
“Honey, I’m going to return them when I’m done... I promise,” Paul said, reaching for her hand. “Baby, this note rewrites history… Look at the broken wax seal. It’s legit. The Queen herself sent this message to history’s most notorious pirate,” he said, looking her straight in the face.
“Go on,” she said, shifting to a more inquisitive tone.
Paul cracked a smile and continued.
“History says Darcy and his men busted out of prison shortly after their court-martial trial. Then they reappeared as pirates on the other side of the Atlantic, plundering Spanish treasure ships. But this document proves that historians got it all wrong.”
“Darcy was secretly working for the monarchy?” Margie asked.
“Yes!” Paul said enthusiastically cracking a smile.
Margie, devilishly smiling back at him, took another swig of her drink.
“What else you got?” she asked, her eyes growing wide.
From his hiding spot Heinz shifted and rubbed his forehead again and thought, This is getting interesting. But he knew from previous experience if his dad was steering a project, he’d probably drive it over the cliff.
“Here’s another one,” Paul said, handing a wrinkled parchment over to Margie.
~*~
February 17th, 1688
Your Majesty – King William III,
I beg of thee to find mercy upon the Spanish Royal Court. His Majesty, King Charles II of Spain has asked me to request your assistance on his behalf in this most troubling hour. As the war to break the French king’s iron grip on the mainland rages on, it continues to take its toll on the King’s treasury.
Although your military support for him is most generous, and mutually beneficial, Spanish taxation has fallen far short of what is needed to keep this endeavor going for much longer. To make up for this deficit, the King relies on Yucatán gold mining exports, which brings me to his Majesty’s problem, the rogue captain, pirate William Darcy.
As much as we’ve all been entertained by his many adventurous stories, he and his crew have become more than just a nuisance. Like rats, they are slowly gnawing away at this lifeline of much needed gold from the New World.
No longer is this renegade pirate just an embarrassment to your crown, he’s become a fatal leech on the neck of your most loyal ally. Therefore, as a friend of King Charles II’s court, I implore thee to send your navy at once to hunt down this scoundrel and his minions and bring them to justice
Your loyal subject,
