The Royal Stones of Eden (Royal Secrecies Book 1)
Page 25
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Dred navigated the mine that the stranger had shown him. The man had long since fled away on foot, after his reward for his information was never obtained. Dred carried a torch, and he followed several paths in the mine until he reached the source of a particular sound that he heard. It was the sound of a metal pick hitting solid rock. Along the way, he ran his hand along the edges of the cave and felt the rough edges that defined his narrow boundary. After he crouched on his last few steps and stepped through a crevice, he reached an open space. It was there that he met Mr. John Anderson.
John was a tall man, with a rugged appearance. He had a thick mustache and curly brown hair. He was surprised by Dred’s appearance and spoke with agitation.
“What the hell do you want?” he demanded.
“Are you the owner of this mine? Is your wife named Mattie?”—Dred approached. He marveled at the protruding rocks and stones from the cave’s walls, and then he sat the torch to the ground briefly.
“I don’t know who the hell you are, so get out!”—John turned away, thinking that Dred would oblige him. Instead, Dred’s eyes lit up a bright red, and Mr. Anderson grabbed his own throat and began to choke himself to death. John turned to face Dred while he still grabbed his throat, his eyes spitting out anger.
“Thank you for your answer, old boy!”—Dred raised his right hand and clenched his fist, which caused a snap to occur within the man’s neck. Mr. Anderson instantly died. He collapsed on the cave floor with the additional sound of his skull cracking when it landed on a sharp rock. Dred had read his mind and had obtained what he wanted from him—this was Mattie’s mine.
In a nearby tent, not far from the cave, there was a restless woman, filled with thoughts about her disappearing husband. She was concerned about the future of her children if her husband failed to return. Her husband had told her that he was going to get a drink. That usually meant that he would do that and gamble as well. She had once spotted her husband coming out of a house of ill repute, but he had denied any involvement other than performing carpentry on a client’s house.
On this particular night, however, the woman did not know that her husband had just been murdered. She assumed abandonment or another betrayal, and she decided that her children were her first priority. That night Mary Renee Madison decided to make a new life. She had enough of wondering where her husband was all the time. She was tired of being apprehensive and concerned about his inability to be faithful to her. That night she decided to leave the camp. She decided that San Francisco would be a new beginning if she could somehow find transport to the city. That night she gave up the married name of Mary Anderson, and she started a new life, on her journey to becoming a modern woman.
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Nikola Vranich, the brother of the dancing woman, led Peter and Haj, whose mind still reeled, to some lodging that was on the east side of the mining camp. Peter again carried most of their equipment and kept a close eye on a dazed Haj, whose smile had never left his face.
The lodging was a place that spoke more of civilization than the shack or the wagons did. It was in the area of the camp reserved primarily for the washerwomen and their families. It was a stronger building than the drinking shack, and it had areas inside it where makeshift beds came and went, depending on the need.
The structure had alternating dark and light brown wood for its walls. It was unpainted and weatherworn. A brook, which was more a small stream, was nearby and served as the source of the cleaning supply for the camp.
The rarely seen site of washerwomen in some other California cities spoke to the shortage of water. In contrast, this small camp was near a stream that supplied both a cleaning source and a small economy. The women and their children were cramped, and it was a noisy place, even after dusk. Throughout the night, it was common to hear the sounds of revelry from saloons and an occasional gunshot. It was, however, the best definition of home in this desert within several miles.
Mary checked on her two children. Her four and six-year-old sons were tucked into a padded bed of cotton, and then Mary arranged another female in the building to sit with them. She stepped out of the building and started her search for her husband. She wanted to tell him goodbye and see him one last time.
As soon as she stepped out into the moonlight, a stranger with a gun, seeking the opportunity of quick love or money, approached her abruptly.
“Hey, mama!”—a young teenager, full of whiskey and hormones, grabbed his pants to suggest what he wanted. Mary started to walk away from him, but the boy quickly reached for her arm and yanked her to the ground. She screamed madly.
Nikola, Peter and Haj were nearby and stopped in their tracks at the scream, which was even above the usual loudness of the mining and gambling town. Haj was the first to reach her. He ran up to them, jerked the boy away from Mary, and knocked him to the ground. The boy drew his gun, and Mary reached for a Remington that she thought was around her waist. She felt her dress and realized that she had forgotten her weapon. Peter dropped his sack and kicked the gun away from the boy who was still on the ground when he drew his weapon.
“Bugger off!” Peter threatened to the boy, who understood only the tone but not the words. The boy got up and ran away like a frightened rabbit.
Nikola helped the grateful woman up, and then she addressed Peter after she detected his language.
“Oh, you are English?”—when she spoke the words, both Haj and Peter looked at each other in a moment of familiarity. They knew this girl. This was Mattie, they thought.
The three promised to escort Mary to the saloon that she was seeking, but only after she refused to go back to her children. They walked to a nearby saloon where Mary expected to find her lost husband. And when they did not find him, Mary insisted on searching the other saloons of the town. After arriving at the fifth saloon, they decided to force the distraught Mary to rest. They wanted to convince her to call off her search until morning.
Mary was still shaken from the attempted robbery and rape, but even this circumstance did not allow for an easy accommodation for Haj’s skin color in the saloon. It was only at the insistence of Mary and a friend of the saloon manager that the group was allowed to sit in the very back, away from the paying customers. This saloon was one of about ten in the town, which was a low number. Many cities boasted a total of twenty or even thirty saloons.
Just as they sat down to calm Mary, the saloon doors suddenly flew open and were nearly torn from their hinges. A drunken and stumbling figure dressed in black came bustling in. White foam leaked out of his mouth. The man went to the middle of the saloon, knelt down, and vomited a yellow-white liquid onto the smoothed wooden floor. It was Dred.
Haj reached into his bag for a weapon in the form of a small syringe. It contained a liquid of black substance, from the stones of onyx. From the corner of his eyes, Dred spotted both Haj and Peter, and then he rose to his feet. He squinted several times as if he was unable to see clearly. He raised his right hand to threaten Haj, and then he looked surprised. Nothing resulted from his actions. No one was moved, no furniture changed position. Dred had lost his ability of telekinesis. Dred looked at his hand in dismay, while Haj kept his hand in his bag. He firmly gripped his syringe.
Of course, Haj thought! Dred had found a quicksilver mine, not a gold mine!
Haj recalled the tombs of Egypt being full of the substance.
The saloon emptied as Dred started to yell, toss tables, and spill profanity across its room. Haj’s group stayed in the back. Peter stood up and held out an arm for protection, to keep Nikola and Mary behind the table as if his arm would be a force to reckon with.
Dred rushed Haj to tackle him but instead fell to the floor in front of their table. He screamed in agony, and red bumps appeared all over his face. Dred agonized as he was on his back and looked toward the ceiling. Dred’s eyes turned to a pale yellow and closed. His body quivered and convulsed violently.
Haj went over to his b
ody and Peter voiced his concern for forgetting their weapons as well as the water.
“I forgot my gun, Haj! I didn’t bring your sword either. I’m sorry, old boy!” Peter said. Mary and Nikola did not understand the remark about the sword. Haj knew that the sword would have been useless anyway as his Sword of Gath was powerless back in his basement in Cairo. Although he did not tell Peter, not wanting to alarm him, the element of the magical sword had been either stolen or misplaced a few days before their trip. The jumping silver metal was gone. They had gone on their trip without the power of the Sword of Gath.
“That’s ok! What I have is good enough!”—Haj knelt down and retrieved his hypodermic. He jabbed it firmly into Dred’s neck and emptied the syringe. A sole bartender peeked over the bar to view the scene. From a brothel upstairs, a scantily dressed woman showed her head briefly from the stairs.
Streams of black colored lines seemed to highlight every blood path on Dred’s skin as the onyx stone mixture flowed through Dred’s body. Haj looked back at Mary who was still in the corner in the back of the saloon.
“Your husband’s mine—was it a gold mine or quicksilver?” Haj asked Mary.
“He was looking for gold, but he only found quicksilver. That is what he claimed!” Mary said, and then Haj asked Nikola to take her home.
“Do you have a sheriff in this town?”—Haj threw out the question to the curious bartender, who was still behind the bar.
Haj watched Mary and Nikola leave. Then he asked the shaking bartender, who had answered in the affirmative, to go and get the sheriff. He told him to bring the sheriff to the saloon without delay. When the attendant left, Peter came over to Dred’s body and knelt down with Haj.
“Peter, we have to go!” Haj said. Dred’s body still convulsed but it decreased in intensity. “I have committed murder, and we both will be wanted by the law soon.”
“Well, the hell with that! Let’s get out of here!”—Peter paused a moment and asked a question that had plagued him the entire night. “What about Aysha?”
“Aysha?” Haj asked.
“Aysha, your wife!” Peter repeated. Haj apparently had no clue.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Haj responded. It was obvious that something was wrong about that statement, but there was no time to debate it. Was Haj under some kind of magic spell that he was unaware of, Peter wondered. Was Aysha a random look-alike, in a world of endless possibilities? There was no time to think about it. It was time to avoid the long arm of the law, in a forgotten town, somewhere in a city of the past.
“It was poisoning! Quicksilver!”—as Haj spoke, Peter did not get the connection.
“Mercury poisoning, my friend!—the one thing that the Anakites cannot touch. It is what first destroyed their world, by the actions of the great Living Spirit. It is why Dred sought revenge. His family was destroyed by a flood of mercury and was melted to death. They were driven underground, by a great flood, or so the legend says. There were rumors that a few of the Anakites mutated and survived, but it was never confirmed. Dred was one of the first Anakites, alive during the beginning of the second creation. He survived by the art of transference and became Medraut—who later…”—at that moment, Dred’s eyes opened, and somehow he had the strength to pull a knife out of his coat. With his last action, his last effort of strength, he took the knife and plunged it into Peter’s chest, and then closed his eyes and died. With blood oozing out of his fresh wound, Peter fell backward on the floor in a state of shock and paralysis.
Once again, as before, in the time of King Arthur, Dred had secured with his last strength a couple of stones needed for transference. This time, the stones were from Haj’s bag, and the stolen stones of blue and white rolled out of Dred’s hand when he died. Dred did not leave the room. Haj still felt his presence as he tried to revive and shake Peter’s body.
The earlier woman from upstairs peered down again at the scene, but she screamed, went back upstairs, and told everyone with interspersed frantic screams to remain in their rooms.
Haj removed the knife from Peter’s chest, quickly and firmly applied pressure, and shouted, “Somebody help me!” Before he could speak another word, the miracle and the evil began, and a green stone fell to the floor from a loosened fist. Peter had stolen a green stone out of Haj’s bag. It was in his grasp when he was stabbed.
The blood instantly dried on Peter’s chest, and his wound closed. Only the stains of the blood on the floor and on Peter’s chest and shirt remained. He rose up and looked at Haj and spoke as if none of this had happened at all.
“The sheriff will be here soon, shouldn’t we be going?” the healed Peter said to an amazed Haj.
Chapter 21
Tunnels in Kanab
Part One
After telling those inside to find cover, he ignited his explosives. The exploding doors tossed downward. It was the distinctive style of Tom Childers. He had waited long enough for David to return. In the midst of flashing lights and alarms, he had found his own way back to the laboratory of the pharmaceutical company, with the aid of the stones of invisibility.
He entered the lab, and he waved the smoke away. He called out, “Let’s get out of here!”—then he stopped in his tracks and looked at Haj. He grabbed and hugged him tightly against his chest.
“Been a long time, Haj! Thank heavens you are alive!” Tom told him.
Tom looked at the floor, just past David and Haj. The sight brought back floods of memories, of a life that was long since past. He saw his friend Robbie lying down. He walked slowly over to him. Tom did not want to find out if he was right in his suspicions.
David said, “He’s alive, but just barely! He is unconscious.”
“No—I’m afraid he’s dying! We have to leave him!”—Tom’s directive was not accepted by David.
“No! We all go…”—as David spoke, Charlie came around the corner to meet Tom.
“What’s up, old fella?”—Tom leaned down to pet the German Shepherd and rubbed his black chin. Then Tom turned back to David. “Sorry, David! He’s dying. Tell him the truth, Haj.”
Haj agreed, “It’s true David. I thought the field would heal him, but the poison is too deep.”
“Poison?” David asked. He looked at Haj for the answer.
“Yes, Robbie was a grandchild of an Anakite. His blood was susceptible to mercury poisoning, just as Dred’s blood was in the story that I told you.”
“Wait a minute! What story?”—Tom asked. He could barely be heard over the alarms that were set off after the earlier explosion. But there was little time for more tales from Haj.
With the sounds of guards coming down a hallway, they left immediately, with the assistance of the stones of invisibility. The three held hands to keep the magic. They walked past the alarms in their invisible state. They only rested briefly between floors.
They would later attempt to sort out everything that had happened, but Robbie was left behind. There was no time for mourning or goodbyes.
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David and Mattie’s condominium showed its smallness as it attempted to accommodate everyone in the cramped living room for an impromptu meeting. The next plan of action for the Guardians was the point of discussion.
“Peter figured it out,” Sam said. He blazed in with his cane, into the room of Knights and the Priest. He had with him a piece of paper that he had chemically treated. It showed enhanced indentations on it. He also had a cell phone record statement, obtained with the help of his friends in the CIA. It contained the records of Peter’s calls that he had made from North Carolina to Kanab, Utah. “The cell phone records confirm it. He checked out the hotels in Kanab just before he left, and I am sure that is where he is now!”
Sam saw Haj, and before he could walk toward him with his assisting cane, Haj came to him instead. They embraced somewhat uncomfortably. Sam was not usually an emotional man, but tears came to him that day, in that Salt Lake City condominium, near Temple Square.
“I realize that the events that David and Mattie have recently experienced, and the incredible stories, must defy imagination,” a cleaned up Haj said with a disarming grin.
“Sam, what did you find out?” Haj said as he grabbed a potato chip in a nearby plastic bowl and savored a luxury, one denied to him for five years—junk food. Then Sam spoke.
“The markings on a notepad confirm that Peter—or I should say Dred—is on his way to the Monte Caves. He reserved a car there for tomorrow. While Peter was in North Carolina, he also went to Banner Elk. His call records confirm that also.”—Sam sat down to explain but was interrupted by Mattie.
“I know Banner Elk. It is a mountain city near Boone, North Carolina, in the western part of the state. Why did he go there?”—Mattie’s cat Pili jumped up and onto her lap while a nearby Charlie wagged his tail and waited for a chance to chase the calico creature.
“He must have gone to see the Ani Nvya (Anee naw YAW), the leader of the People of The Stone,” Tom blurted out. “But he was discredited years ago. His stories were too incredible for anyone to believe.”
“What?”—David had said what Mattie was also thinking. Did they miss something?
“The Magi, Mattie—” Haj volunteered to answer. “—the Magi was the first group of the Guardians to die out, or rather, disappear. For years there was a small group that called themselves the Ani Nvya. They claimed to be their descendants. The one last remaining member of the Magi, it was said, lived in the mountains of North Carolina.”
Tom continued Haj’s thought, “He died about five years ago, but no one ever found anything, either before or after his death, that conclusively proved the claims of the Ani Nvya.”