The Eleventh Scroll (Chronicles of a Magi)

by Gene Curtis

The man asked, “You know of my cousin?”

  “Perhaps.” He pointed into the hall at the back of the room. “This way.”

  The man started walking and the dog followed.

  In the office, the purple tunic sovereign motioned for Rabal to sit.

  “Where did you hear about the capture of war criminals?”

  “I work in the quarry—”

  The dog transformed into its normal form. “You may go,” it said to Rabal.

  The look of terror on the sovereign’s face was even more intense than the man’s had been.

  Rabal wasted no time in getting out the door.

  “Where are they being held?”

  The sovereign, eyes open, mouth wide, hands trembling, just stared at the creature.

  “Answer or die.”

  “Um... um... um... the Arctic.”

  “That is a big place.”

  “I... I... do not know exactly where.”

  “Use your machine.” It pointed at the computer sitting on the desk.

  “That information is not in the network. We have had some issues with hacking.”

  “I do not understand this. Explain it.”

  “Um... our computers are all linked together.” He pointed at the machine on his desk. “This is a computer. There are thousands of them and they are all connected together. We use them to store information, communicate with each other, make calculations and things like that. Someone used another computer to steal information from our network so we do not put high-level information on any computer. The information you want is not in there.”

  “Then you will take me to someone that knows where they are being held. If you try to flee, you will die.”

  “Sure, sure, follow me. We have to leave this building.”

  The creature transformed into a Pakistani bulldog, a canine with a well-deserved reputation as being aggressive and vicious. It nosed the sovereign’s leg and growled. He moved quickly to the door.

  They walked outside. The sovereign paused, looked around and then disappeared.

  This surprised the creature. It turned in a circle three times looking for the man. Enraged, it returned to its natural form and reentered the building.

  The people inside were startled at first, then the look of horror spread across their faces. They remained where they were, not moving, not making a sound.

  The creature walked to the hall in the back of the room. When he crossed into it, everyone in the front room darted toward the exit.

  The first door on the left was open and no one was in the office. He checked the door on the right. It was locked. It kept its hand on the knob and the wood around it began to smolder. A moment later, it burst into flames. A moment after that, the knob melted and fell to the floor, setting the carpet on fire. It pushed the door open. No one was in the office.

  An alarm began sounding and the fire suppression sprinklers activated. The drops hitting the creature sizzled into vapor. It moved to the next door and did the same thing. No one was there.

  A group of dark purple clad people appeared at the end of the hall pulling a fire hose. On seeing the creature, they stopped, dropped the hose and fled.

  The creature went after them. It caught the one in the back of the pack on the stairs.

  The man screamed as the creature’s hand on his shoulder seared his flesh. He stopped and ducked away to remove the pain.

  “Flee and I will kill you.”

  The man awkwardly dropped to his knees and nodded while pulling his smoldering tunic from his shoulder. Through the burned hole, he could see his charred and blistered flesh.

  “You are holding a group of soldiers recently captured. Where?”

  “At an ice station in the Arctic.”

  “You will take me there.”

  “I’ve never been there and I do not know exactly where it is.”

  “You will take me to someone that does.”

  The man nodded.

  The creature transformed into a ferret and jumped up onto the man’s uninjured shoulder.

  The man got to his feet and walked down the stairs, through the smoky hall and then outside.

  “Hang on like you might fall off. I am going to remanifest to headquarters. Someone there might answer your question.”

  An instant later, they were in a different place. The building in front of them was tall and had many windows.

  The man walked inside and said to the few people there, “You may wish to leave. The ifrit on my shoulder has me captive, very dangerous.”

  Everyone that heard him laughed.

  “I am not joking. Look at my other shoulder.”

  Everyone hushed.

  “Is Keith in his office?”

  The receptionist, a young woman, answered, “He should be, but he likes to use the roof instead of the door.”

  “Could you check? If he is in, tell him the ifrit wishes to ask a question.”

  She picked up the phone and dialed. A moment later, she said, “Mr. Richards, we have a sovereign in the lobby with a ferret on his shoulder. He says it is an ifrit that wishes to ask you a question.” She listened a moment, then said, “No sir. There has been no sign.” A moment passed and she said, “Yes sir, I’ll tell him.”

  “Mr. Richards says that if this is a joke, he will take your head.”

  “This is no joke, really.”

  She spoke into the phone again, “He says he is not joking... yes sir.”

  She pointed to the waiting area, “Have a seat. He is coming down.”

  About fifteen minutes after he sat, Keith Richards emerged from the hall. He was wearing a black silk suit, ruby red tie and black crocodile-leather boots. He looked around the room until he spotted the man with the ferret.

  “And you might be?”

  The man stood, dropped to one knee, exposed his neck and said, “Ömer ^im_ek, sir.”

  “Well Homer, you said the ifrit wishes to ask me a question.”

  Without standing or looking up, Ömer said, “It wishes to—”

  The ferret jumped down and assumed its normal form. “Where in the Arctic are the prisoners being held?”

  There were several screams in the room and people started running for the door.

  Keith chuckled as he watched. After they were out, he said, “Mark Young sent you.”

  “It is no matter who sent me. You will answer my question.”

  “And if I choose not to?”

  “You will die.”

  “No biggie. I’m not going to tell you until you tell me who sent you.”

  “Her name is LeOmi.”

  “Ah, I know her well. Let me guess, Solomon’s Signet?”

  “Sir,” Ömer said, “May I go?”

  Keith didn’t answer. He just produced his sword and sliced off the man’s head. “Next time, others will think twice before doing something like this.” He wiped his blade with a red silk handkerchief and turned back to the fire demon.

  “I take it your orders are to find and rescue them?”

  “Tell me!” The creature’s wings snapped out and he raised his arm to form a plasma ball. The carpet under its feet started smoldering

  “Temper, temper. Calm down, I’m going to tell you.”

  The creature yelled and threw the fireball at the wall. It exploded, sending chunks of plaster and stone in all directions. Several shards struck Keith in the back and head. He didn’t flinch.

  “Now, now, if you kill me, you’ll never find out where they are exactly since I’m the only living person that knows where that is. Besides, you are starting to make me mad and I don’t play nice when I’m mad.”

  He produced a small vial. “Whatever you do to me can be healed in an instant.”

  He produced a bottle gilded in gold. “Recognize this?” He held it out for the creature to see. “It’s a spirit trap and I noticed that you don’t cast a shadow.”

  He produced a silver rod about eighteen inches long. “How about this? All I have to do is touch
it to you and your energy drains to me.” He held it out as if he was going to touch the creature and it dodged back.

  “So you do know what it is. Interesting, this is the one I was least sure about.”

  “I have a few more, but I think you get the point.”

  “They will be of no use to you when you are dead.”

  “Somebody else will just take my place. Point is, you’re not invincible. In the end, we will win.”

  “Tell me!”

  “They’re being held on an island in the northern Kara Sea, but you can’t get there and neither can I.”

  “You will take me to someone that can.”

  “That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

  The creature raised its arm again and started forming a plasma ball. “It is time for a new agreement.”

  Keith touched the creature with the silver rod. The plasma ball dissipated but the electrical jolt made his body shiver violently. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

  The creature exclaimed, “Fool!” It picked up the gilded bottle and it melted in its hand. Next, it picked up the vial of healing oil. The oil expanded rapidly and popped the cork. The glass melted and the oil burst into flame. The carpet around its feet burst into flame.

  An alarm started sounding and the fire sprinklers activated.

  The creature grabbed one of Keith’s boots, lifted him. The silver rod fell from his hand. It went to the door. Outside, it dropped Keith, complete with smoking boot, on the sidewalk.

  The creature squatted beside him. Approaching people, on seeing the creature, fled. People began running out the door holding papers and files above their heads, shielding themselves from the sprinklers inside. On seeing the creature, they scattered, some fled back inside. After a few minutes, Keith began to stir.

  “You are powerless against me.”

  Keith opened his eyes, looked around at his situation then disappeared.

  Enraged, the creature stood and screamed.

  Above, a window shattered, glass rained down to the sidewalk. A lone figure poked a fire hose out the window, aimed it and began showering the creature with water.

  A window glass broke on the third floor and another man started spraying the ifrit with water.

  The creature turned and reentered the building.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, Keith exited the healing spa with a bandaged foot and a pronounced limp. He wasn’t smiling when he remanifested to their air base near the Turkey-Bulgaria border. He entered the four-story administration building and took the elevator to the top floor then went straight to their air force general’s office.

  “I want Mark Young’s fort leveled.”

  The general, Tanya Jones, looked at his foot and said, “I heard about the ifrit. Last report says they’re still fighting it and HQ is pretty much destroyed.” She pointed, “Was that the creature’s doing?”

  He nodded, “It said LeOmi sent it, but that’s the same as Mark. How soon can you do it?”

  “They still have enough casters to prevent it.”

  “Well, attack something else that will require them to send their casters to help out before attacking his base.”

  “I don’t know; we lost a lot of units in that last attack. What we have left would be spread pretty thin in a new attack. We won’t be back up to snuff for six months.”

  “How about ordnance?”

  “Good to go. What are you thinking?”

  “Blues Brothers or RED.”

  Blues Brothers was the old codename for the operation for dropping fuel-air bombs, designated BLU-82s, over a target. They were often thought to be tactical nukes by viewers removed from the target. Since then, more powerful bombs had replaced it, but the operation retained the same designation. RED, Really Effective Destruction, referred to use of the Russian designed FOAB, Father Of All Bombs, a similar device with a much more powerful yield.

  “An air-burst stands a good chance of killing Mark or LeOmi. You’d have to get them out first.”

  “I can do that. Can you deliver a stealth attack on a moment’s notice and before they have a chance to mount a defense?”

  “Give me three days to get ready.”

  “Three days, you should be able to prepare for all seven mountains in that time.”

  “If that’s what you want. We have a dozen heavy lift helicopters. We need the three days to prep them as kamikaze drones. It’s just a matter of adding more teams to do more drones, but three days is how long it takes to do one or a hundred.”

  “Do what it takes. I want his base obliterated!”

  * * *

  Mark sat down for breakfast and a waiter set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Salina and Ricky were already there along with a woman he didn’t recognize.

  “The usual sir?”

  He nodded as he took a sip. “Please.”

  When he set his cup down, Salina said, “I’d like you to meet Sharon Rutland, the director I’ve chosen for the movie.”

  She smiled and offered her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Young. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Call me Mark. Mr. Young is my great, great, great, great grandfather.” He counted on his fingers for each ‘great’ he said. “What are your ideas on this project?”

  The director lit up with excitement. “We’ve got some great dystopian scripts. One in particular, starts with Earth being a prison planet sometime in the distant past. The prisoners were spirit beings that had to possess a creature in order to do anything. Trouble was, dinosaurs didn’t have thumbs. They couldn’t do much. Cut to the present; humankind has thumbs. Society evolves guided by the prisoners, which are still here. Their purpose is to develop a space program so they can escape. They change their minds—”

  Mark cut her off. “I want to show you something.” He brought the vision to the front of his mind. As he was showing her, the waiter set his breakfast on the table and he stopped.

  “I heard about the vision; that’s it, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “I’ll show you the rest of it after breakfast if you like. It’ll take a few hours.”

  “Sure, I’d like to see the rest. Could I impose on you to show it to my creature effects team too?”

  “No problem. Are they here?”

  “They’re at my studio in LA.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He got a forkful of eggs and turned to Ricky. “Any news on locations of weird stuff yet?”

  “Iznik, but that’s a no-brainer. That’s all so far.”

  “A week and that’s all we have? Put everyone on it.”

  Ricky moved to get up.

  “You can finish your breakfast.”

  He looked back at Salina, “Billboards?”

  “All done and from what I hear, most are still up.”

  “Good deal.” He looked at LeOmi. “After breakfast, check on Nick’s project.”

  “Been there, done that, got the tee-shirt.” She held up a gray shirt with Mark’s picture on the back printed in alphanumeric characters. “Vince felt guilty about asking for so much money and is doing like a million of these and the variable contrast picture.”

  “God works in mysterious ways.”

  “I think Jamal deserves some credit too. He told Vince that if your campaign fails, he could expect a life as nobody of importance, just another slave.”

  After finishing, he slid his plate away. “Everyone change into casual clothes and meet on the steps to the citadel in an hour. We’re going to LA.”

  * * *

  The building was a large warehouse with more than a dozen garage type doors for the cargo compartments. Sharon stood in front of the regular entry door and said, “None of these people are Magi, but, being typical Hollywood types, they are familiar with mysticism. I’ll introduce you, talk a little about the project, and then talk about a new technique for creative collaboration. Follow my lead and you’ll know when to start.”

  Mark said, “Sounds like a
plan.”

  She opened the door and they walked in. This studio had been sectioned off from the rest of the building. The smell of solvents and other chemicals dominated the air. More than a dozen artists, most covered with body art, piercings and many with unnaturally colored hair, were milling around, drinking various beverages and talking in groups. On seeing their boss enter, they moved as a group and stood in a semicircle in front of her.

  “Hi guys. I’d like you to meet the executive producer for our next project.” She nodded toward him and said, “Mark Young.”

  The group chorused, “Hello, Mr. Young.”

  “Call me Mark, please.”

  Sharon nodded again, “Mark’s executive assistant, LeOmi Jones.”

  “Hello, Miss Jones.”

  “LeOmi, please.”

  “Mark’s personal assistant, Ricky Barns, and his secretary, Salina Hawthorne.”

  “Hello, Mr. Barns. Hello, Miss Hawthorne.”

  “Ricky, please.”

  “Salina, please.”

  “These other four are his bodyguards.”

  The guards nodded, smiled and gave their names.

  “Fritz.”

  “Samantha.”

  “Ray.”

  “Rudy.”

  Sharon clasped her hands in front of her and said, “All right guys, I’ve discovered a new technique for collaboration. Mark is a Vision Whisperer.” She motioned to the floor. “Sit in a circle, hold hands and get comfortable. We’re going to do a little hypnosis and then Mark will whisper to you about the production.”

  When the crew was seated and appeared ready, she stepped into the middle, set a censor on the floor and lit it.”

  The girl with green and purple striped hair said, “I don’t recognize that scent.”

  “Frankincense and myrrh.”

  Sharon pulled her phone out of her pocket, tapped it a few times and mystical, tinkling, falling rain sounding music started playing. She set it on the floor and said, “Okay, I want you to get to that place where you’re just about to fall asleep.”

  About ten minutes later she said, “Daydream about walking in the mountains in the way past. Dinosaurs roam, big ones, little ones. Walk around. Talk to the small ones. Notice how they move, how they sound, how they react to you.”

  After a few minutes, she pointed at Mark. He sat down and his crew did the same. Four hours later, he finished broadcasting his memory of the vision and stood up.