The Larmenius Inheritance

by John Paul Davis

  ‘I don’t know. But we’re heading due west.’ She removed a compass from her pocket. ‘Scott not joining us?’

  Matt shook his head. ‘No, he’s asleep.’

  She forced a smile.

  Slowly they continued, the way forward illuminated by torchlight. Matt followed his own torch, its weak glow distorting elements of rock and their shadows, slightly unsettling his already uneasy frame of mind. For now the possibility of finding whatever was hidden down here was of secondary importance. The smell of the rock permeated his nostrils, taking control of his senses. Suddenly breathing became difficult, though not impossible. Despite the thick clothing, the area was becoming increasingly cold. He felt an icy chill penetrate through him as if water had entered his body.

  He pointed the torch, allowing him to take in the small area of visibility. He could just see Sandra in front of him, heading towards what looked like a crossroads of tunnels.

  Together they stopped. A heavy sense of foreboding overcame Matt as he realised the wrong choice could be dangerous.

  Beside him, Sandra checked the compass. She realised that following it exactly was out of the question.

  She shone the torch in different directions, taking in as much as her eyes would allow. The differences in the size of the rock and the tunnels suggested that the area was once part of a natural cavern.

  ‘This must have been altered by man; the markings are too precise to be natural.’

  Matt nodded. The area was strange. Some of the tunnels seemed to be descending, whereas others did the opposite. More worryingly still was the sound of water.

  ‘One wrong turn and we’re drowned.’

  She looked at him and smiled reassuringly. She knew from past experience that the best thing they could do was take in the surroundings bit by bit. Make as many notes and take as many photographs as possible.

  It did not bode well to do too much too soon.

  She removed a digital camera from her pocket and pressed the on switch. The inbuilt lens extended from the camera, accompanied by a sharp noise as it adjusted. She pointed the lens at the nearest wall of the tunnel and took a photograph. A quick flash filled the surrounding area, fading almost immediately, and leaving Matt momentarily dazed. The brightness held more impact in the darkness.

  Sandra checked the quality. The photo was nothing but a blur.

  Matt’s expression changed. The impact of the flash had lit up a certain area of rock that had not been visible before.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘What?’

  He turned the torch to the area briefly lit up by the camera flash. There were markings, not natural but man made. The engravings looked like letters.

  Sandra studied them in detail. On closer inspection, there were more of these symbols, but not in the way she expected. They appeared irregularly, either alone or in clusters.

  Yet the significance was clear.

  ‘What was the first symbol on the inscription?’

  ‘O.’

  ‘Look out for an O.’

  The significance hit Matt immediately. Adrenalin pumping, he walked quickly, checking the area in the torchlight. There were countless markings, perhaps every letter of the alphabet.

  But for now, no O.

  Sandra stopped, her attention on a large rock. The rock was strange, slightly jagged and out of keeping with the others in the near vicinity.

  She shone the torch, lighting up the area directly in front. Its appearance was in the form of an archway.

  Better yet, above it was a gigantic letter O.

  She smiled at Matt. ‘The Knights Templar were amazing.’

  Nicole inhaled deeply. She had always hated flying, but today was one of the worst experiences of her life.

  Through the window to her right, she looked in awe at the Atlantic Ocean beneath her. It was now morning, but the time of day was misleading. The further west they flew, the darker it became. From the seaplane, it seemed as if she was involved in a chase against the dawn. Behind her, the sky was getting light, as if a shutter was placed in between, separating the darkness from the light.

  Across from her, Robert and the abbot sat quietly. Still she failed to quite understand the revelations of the previous hours, but the more she attempted to understand, the more she realised she was out of her depth.

  The time on her watch said 5am, but again time was misleading. Soon it would be six, then five, then six again, then six for a long time.

  She looked at her watch and grimaced. They were due to touch down in Nova Scotia at 6:30am local time.

  But that might not be soon enough.

  53

  Although unaware of it, Matt and Sandra were now directly under the heart of the ruin. Both shone their torches as they headed through the tunnel marked by the letter O. The way was slightly narrower than before, and the light reflected off the hard rock, presenting a harsh exterior of limited appeal.

  Matt walked slowly. The present tunnel was predominantly black in colour, but the light was strange – somehow light was entering from somewhere in the distance. It seemed to sparkle like a diamond.

  Several metres on, the tunnel opened up. A second crossroads revealed three possible destinations. A was to the left, G straight ahead, and U to the right.

  Knowing the next letter of the inscription was U, they continued in that direction. The same thing happened for O.S.V.A.

  According to the inscription, there were only two more sections to come – both V.

  As they made their way through the penultimate V, the light changed. Matt’s attention fell on a waterfall to the right of the present tunnel, flowing from a large gap in the rocks. An angel-like fish clung to the wall.

  ‘What is that?’ Matt asked, slightly nervously. On appearance alone, it looked poisonous.

  ‘A troglobite.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of one.’

  ‘A troglobite is a species that belongs only to the cave. In other words, you’ve just discovered it.’

  Matt smiled briefly, minor relief.

  What happened next was unnerving. At the end of the tunnel came a more open area, not easy to take in despite an improvement in light. Like before, it was not clear where the light was coming from, only that it seemed natural.

  They continued in the same direction. The brightness, sparkling like light on crystals, diminished the further they walked until suddenly the light disappeared completely.

  Sandra stopped. She bent down on one knee and removed two portable lamps from her rucksack. ‘Take this,’ she said, passing one to Matt. The bright orange light, though small, shone in all directions, creating a hazy glow that caused eerie reflections around the cave.

  Thanks to the extra light, orientation was slightly easier. They had reached another set of natural crossroads.

  There were markings, as before.

  ‘V,’ Matt said, seeing the symbol they needed.

  ‘It’s along this passage,’ she said, walking slowly towards another lightless enclosure. She continued hesitantly, and Matt followed. After several metres, the light changed again. Purple and grey dominated their view. Matt looked at it in awe.

  Never before had he seen such a sight.

  ‘It’s an anchialine cave,’ Sandra said, captivated by facts a speleologist would notice. ‘We must be close to the sea.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Well, usually caves are limestone. An anchialine cave needs both sea and freshwater.’

  Matt looked around. Countless stalagmites, poking up through the ground, took him completely by surprise. He walked around them carefully, keeping close to Sandra.

  The next thing he saw startled him.

  The latest corridor had given way to a large cavern. Water fell from dizzying heights, some eighty feet above him. Colours, ranging from green, purple and silver, twinkled like stars.

  Further stalagmites had appeared, while at least ten times as many stalactites were hanging from the roof.

 
‘They’re like chandeliers,’ Matt said.

  ‘They’re called soda straws,’ Sandra said. ‘They form when calcium carbonate or calcium sulphate dissolved in water comes out of the solution and is deposited.’

  Matt nodded, having no idea what she meant. He followed Sandra, carefully navigating the area in front of them.

  Suddenly Sandra stopped.

  ‘Limestone,’ Sandra said, pointing at the water slowly seeping through the gaps in the rock.

  Matt was now feeling breathless. Sandra noticed it too. The air was acrid and pungent.

  They walked on slowly, passing a dripping stalactite.

  ‘Careful,’ she said. ‘That might be corrosive.’

  Matt did not need to be told twice. He eased away from the dripping liquid and walked alongside Sandra, inhaling more shallowly than before.

  Tentatively, they continued. The path was slippery, even more so. Evidence suggested part of the wall had been altered although it was difficult to tell for sure in the poor light. Up ahead, a small gap in the rock led to a massive opening in which several more stalagmites were visible through the floor and about fifty times as many stalactites hung from the roof.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like this,’ Sandra said, adjusting her jacket. For several seconds she gaped in awe before continuing across the cavern. Not for the first time, the sound of water could be heard, landing in a pool.

  She pointed the torch at the next set of tunnels.

  ‘V,’ she said, seeing the letter.

  Through the final tunnel, Sandra led the way, negotiating the maze of spiky ice deposits through to what seemed to be a man-made archway. This tunnel was shorter than most and evidently smoother in presentation.

  There was no chance that this could be natural.

  Directly in front of them was a doorway. A final set of symbols awaited.

  Sandra exhaled with enthusiasm. ‘DM.’

  Matt smiled, as did Sandra. For several seconds she seemed unable to hide her excitement, but discipline took over. Still they had no idea what awaited them.

  They continued in the same direction and soon reached the end of the tunnel. A strange echo reverberating from unknown sources continued for several seconds before fading into nothingness. The piercing sound, vaguely like an ancient bell, made Matt shudder as it resonated through the icy grotto, seemingly trapped in a deafening ring that refused to cease.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Sandra said.

  The cavern was immaculate. Countless columns of rock, manipulated by sharp objects, stood as pillars, giving the cavern something of a spiritual sense, somehow similar to those at Kilwinning and Tomar. The scene was immense, lit by a strange natural light, this time from something nearer.

  To Matt, it was like a miniature version of the Mines of Moria from The Lord of the Rings.

  ‘When the inscription DM is found, in the ancient cave revealed by a lamp,’ Sandra said, practically laughing.

  She studied the area in detail. Including the entrance, the cave completed a perfect Templar cross with an altar in the dead centre. It was at this time the altar revealed its extra significance.

  A tomb was directly in front of them, surrounded by two chests.

  ‘This is it!’ Sandra said with excitement.

  Matt rubbed his hands and breathed on them. Even with gloves he was cold.

  Sandra walked on, stopping some ten paces from the altar. Suddenly she noticed other strange characteristics. There were the remains of tree roots, and possibly other vegetation, scattered at various points. She looked on, confused. Directly in front of her, water fell, trickling into a small pool, revealing the site where they had heard the sound of water.

  ‘I don’t believe it. It’s just like in the painting.’

  Matt nodded, walking slowly towards the tomb. There were no markings, no symbols, no obvious significance.

  Instead, all that they saw was a dilapidated shell.

  Sandra studied it from every angle. ‘Help me open it.’

  Matt walked to the other side and attempted to put his fingers to the corner. Finding a grip was difficult, but eventually he managed.

  ‘On three…One. Two.’

  The lid came free with difficulty and immediately fell to the ground. A cold blast of nitrogen left the tomb, feeling fresh on their faces.

  Sandra cursed herself. She realised that she had potentially made a fatal error of judgment. Surely the tomb at Tomar had been lined with lead for a reason. Was it really possible that the body of Solomon could have lasted for almost three thousand years undisturbed?

  The thought quickly left her. Looking inside, what she saw was unexpected. There was no body, no decomposing corpse.

  Within the tomb was a skeleton.

  Matt pointed the torch at the skull, allowing Sandra to examine it. She did so as best she could. Though the light was not ideal, there was something about the skull that didn’t quite sit right.

  ‘This isn’t King Solomon.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘It’s the head of a woman.’

  The revelation was surprising. ‘You’re certain?’

  She nodded. She placed it back down before examining the tomb in greater detail. There were other things in the tomb, things she hadn’t noticed the first time. There were several small flagstones, perhaps a dozen in total, all the same size. She looked at them. She instantly recognised depictions, all seemingly related to scenes from the Bible.

  Only they were more basic than she had expected.

  Suddenly a loud rumbling noise filled the area. It sounded as though the storm of the night before had returned, but that was not what it was.

  Sandra looked at Matt, now slightly panicked.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘This whole thing could cave in at any second.’

  Sandra retrieved the flagstones and placed them quickly inside her rucksack. Seconds later she was away.

  They made their way back to the start and left the well the same way they had entered. Matt came out first, falling over the edge on getting to the top. He leaned back over to pull Sandra up, practically dragging her out.

  On reaching the hall, they heard footsteps. Scott had appeared at the bottom of the stairs, wearing nothing but tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt.

  ‘Where ya been?’

  ‘Shhh,’ Matt said, placing his finger to his lips. Sandra had appeared behind him.

  For several seconds they remained quiet. The sound of vibrations, momentarily quietened, had increased again. It seemed to be coming from somewhere outside the house.

  Matt followed Sandra. He made his way across the hall and through the back door. He continued across the large garden, coming to a standstill about thirty metres into the lawn.

  Sandra had stopped, her attention on the sky. In the near distance, something was moving toward them.

  A helicopter was approaching the house.

  54

  There was very little cloud in the sky that morning. The storm that had bombarded the town for over eight hours ceased at around 4am, succeeded by the brightness of the dawn. The distant sun burned orange and yellow as it rose over the eastern horizon. It had not rained for two hours, but the road that ran alongside the property was damp underfoot, making for slippery conditions. Less than ten miles away, the ocean was calm and the tide was still out.

  It was 6:07am.

  Matt followed Sandra along the rugged pathway, heading out toward the ruins. His eyelids felt heavy, but adrenalin kept him vigilant. He had now been up for over 30 hours, and time and day was misleading. As he looked to his right, he saw Sandra was standing with her eyes focused on the sky, appearing almost as though she was in a dream. In the distance, a small seaplane was preparing to land at one of the farthest islands.

  But it wasn’t the seaplane that was making the noise. The sound of a helicopter was becoming louder. For several seconds it remained out of sight, but judging from the sound, it was getting nearer.

  Finally it appear
ed. The white and black vehicle descended, hovering above the ground.

  To Matt, the scene was impossible. The noise of its engine reverberated loudly in his ears, its motors causing tremors along the ground. He turned away as a reflex and covered his eyes with his right arm. Even from a distance, debris flew in every direction and caught his mouth and eyes. He blinked and coughed vigorously as soil and dust hit his face.

  As the chopper approached, its force hit him like a category-five hurricane, making it a struggle to retain his balance. Only now could he feel the excruciating feeling in his lungs from several hours down below. It was cold: a chilling sensation further enforced by the strength of the motors. Nevertheless, he attempted vainly not to shiver: determined to show no fear in the presence of whoever was about to come into view.

  Finally, they disembarked. Figures appeared in numbers through the open doors and separated in formation across the garden. Through blurred vision, Matt was shocked to see as many as twelve figures surround them, AK-47s in their gloved hands aimed directly at the three of them. Their faces were covered in ski masks, appearing cross-striped, similar in character to snow-coloured all-purpose uniforms that were sickeningly self-explanatory. All wore white with a red symbol in the centre: a four-pronged cross.

  It was as if the Knights Templar of the past were attacking them with automatic weapons.

  The leader of the group jumped from the open door and walked towards them.

  ‘Ms. Richards,’ Stephane Degen said loudly, his voice audible despite the sound of the motors. ‘We have you completely surrounded, so there is no use in trying to summon assistance. There is no one here, and we are fully armed.’

  She glared at him malevolently. ‘Professor Richards, if you don’t mind.’

  The Swiss mercenary looked at her and smirked. It was obvious from his expression that the threat was worthless.

  ‘Stand still, and follow my instructions,’ Degen said. ‘With compliance, the consequences will be far less severe.’

  Gravel and wind had caused Sandra’s eyes to water, an involuntary show of emotion. Anger had replaced the humiliation of being taken by surprise. Instead, thoughts turned to the people responsible for so much bloodshed. She looked at Degen with a stern expression.