Legends of the West (Part 1)

By X. F. Moix

Century XVII. Mountain range of the Pyrenees, Iberian peninsula.
A peasant from Cerdaña dies in strange circumstances. Suspecting the supernatural and evil character of the event, a priest is sent to investigate the incident.
But there is more ancient and dangerous secret hidden in the heart of some cursed mountains, remembered by the few survivors of a time in which the fog was able to cover too discouraging truths... Now that veil has been broken and the threat is released. If nobody restrains it, the chaos will explode.

The night is falling in which the fables that fired imagination of the little ones will turn into reality to frighten the most skeptic men...

Who would  be able to maintain the sanity when the firm pillars that sustain the reality, collapse? Magic, witchcraft and ancestral secrets will shake the orthodoxy of Christianity.

An adventure that will take us back to the depths of the Pyrenees, to a frontier land, where the impossible seems more real than the common sense longs for. Would you be one of those who accepts the challenge, who pursues the most uncomfortable and archaic mysteries?

Every tree, hill, lake, and cave belongs to two worlds; one of them we ignore. Its exiled inhabitants have fired the fantasy of popular folklore... until now. Could you reveal its presence? If you delve into their domains, you could get to know them. But you'll have to pay a price.

In front, the old paths that lead us toward them are outlined and they are waiting for you. Do you have enough courage, or the necessary madness, to travel across them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: May 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781547534821

Book preview

THE ALBIGENSIAN RELIC

LOST DREAMS

WITHOUT FORGIVENESS

BRIDGE OF HELL

NIGHT HOURS

CONFESSIONS

BALCONY IN THE CLOUDS

SILENCED VOICES

THE TAVERN

THE CAPTIVE

WATCHFUL EYES

HOWLS IN THE DARKNESS

DISPUTE

DECISIONS

MEETING AT THE CROSSROADS

MILL BY THE WATER

TEMPTATIONS

CAUGHT GHOSTS

THE INN

SILENT HOURS

MISUNDERSTOOD ARTIST

WERNER MEYER

FAREWELL

GUARDIAN OF THE HEIGHTS

ECHOES OF THE PAST

NEEDS

THE RAVINE

SPYING ON IN THE MIST

GODLESS ENCLAVE

THE SPELL

DISASTROUS OMENS

MUD AND UNCERTAINTY

IN SEARCH OF A LOOK

BETWEEN TWO SHORES

FUGITIVE SHEEP

BREATH OF REVENGE

SILVER CHEST

IN FRONT OF A LAKE

EVOCATIONS

NOCTURNAL VISITOR

SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO

WOUNDS THAT NEVER HEAL

REVELATIONS

FACE OF DEATH

DIM LIGHT

YOUNG GIRL WITH THE COMB

JOURNEY TO RESUME

PROLOGUE

THE ALBIGENSIAN RELIC

Montségur. Early morning of march 2, 1244.

The fateful day that everyone feared, finally arrived. The fall of the last bastion of the resistance, was to come. A group of Cathars gathered around their leader. He was the Perfect. A man whose soul was completely purified and in communion with God. Together with his followers, he made a few last prayers.

─Oh, merciful Father, we'll soon be deliberated from this prison of flesh, and our souls will be free to reach your Kingdom. Guide us on our last steps. Amen.

─Amen- replied the group.

─In these coming hours, we will demonstrate our strength and commitment to the true Faith. An army of Christians he will come against us; incited by anger and the corruption of those who claim to be the true rulers of the word of God. How false are their arguments and evil their intentions! Everything they touch with their poisonous hands, is used to do evil things. Even if we have to die for it, it's our duty to prevent them from further perverting of the world with their meanness! They are looking for what is hidden behind these walls. We were the chosen ones to guard the most valuable treasure that ever existed.

─ Can't we use it, now that the circumstances require that?-exclaimed one man.

─It is easy to think of everything that we would avoid and even gain, if we would listen to the voice of temptation. Our impure condition cares for its own survival! But let us not be wrong! We all know that this world is only an illusion. An unclean reflection of what awaits us in the afterlife. Any deed achieved through the use of the treasury would bring disastrous consequences. It would alter our work! It's necessary to carefully hide it away from here! –the acolytes shuddered. ─Do not despair, brothers! I have chosen four young deacons, of great perseverance and strength of spirit, to guard it. Years ago, they traveled to remote villages, lost among the steepest mountains, to transmit the word of God. I am confident that they will find the ideal hiding place.

The rams have attacked the doors of the citadel. Hundreds of arrows impregnated with burning tar fell upon various sectors of the fortress. The enemy French soldiers managed to take down the last defenses, and slowly took up positions.

When the dawn broke, a white dove started its flight from the a windowsill of the great hall, where the last "bons hommes" were waiting for their fateful end. The four boys knew that it was the time to leave.

Outside, the commander who led the siege, saw the dove flying over the place.

─Look well, soldiers! It is the sign God sent us to prove that He is on our side! He has blessed this holy crusade against the heresy! And He will guide us to the final reward. The holy grail is waiting for us!

LOST DREAMS

Mountain range of the Pyrenees. The seventeenth century.

The setting Sun faded on the horizon, accompanied by a pinkish sky. A corpulent man remained standing, still and expectant before the vast field that surrounded him. Became aware of the hard work that was waiting for him to do it. Finally decided to carry out his plan. Some voices asked him a question. He responded with authoritative tone. That night he slept peacefully, but his unconcern turned into laziness. It was already well into the morning when he woke up with a startle.

– Oh, damn, I have overslept!–he exclaimed furiously, while frantically leaving his bedroom.

Suddenly a horrible fear overwhelmed him. He looked down at the ground, searching something with his sleepy eyes.

Where is it? he asked. He could have been asking for anything... Where is it?  He could have been the benefactor of all the imaginable blessings until the end of his days. His wishes would have been orders. Oh, where is it?! he yelled desperately as he fell kneeling onto the ground. He was only asked to hold on to the attention and caution. He was incapable of doing so and he would pay for it.

Thousands of strange whispers started to rise around. They seemed incomprehensible. Although he understood them perfectly. Those were words of the death. He knew he couldn't escape, his time had come and all what he had fought for would be lost.

WITHOUT FORGIVENESS

Another unproductive day was passing before the resigned look of father Isidro, feeling again a large gap deep inside. His true passion was the pursuit of knowledge through observation of the world around him, something rare in those times; for some of his fellow churchmen only cared about controlling the will of their parishioners under the orders of the Holy Office. In some part of the path designed to transmit the message of the Salvation, many have forgotten the meaning of mercy and forgiveness. Everything that the Church was feared of served as the fuel for the voracious flames, any danger that could burn its firm doctrine was brutally eradicated.

When Isidro turned off the candles in his chamber and lied down on his rickety old bed, he remembered the intense smell of the burned parchment. Too many fires he had witnessed and that troubled him. He knew that nothing, even though consumed by the fire, could be destroyed if it was able to take root in the hearts of people. He considered the responsibility to guide the lost souls towards the divine path. All of this depended on his ability to listen to them. But with time he did almost nothing, because he had lost hope that anyone understood his words.

At first he felt sorrow, understanding that people's will was weak. Then disappointment, finding out that they were not controlling their actions nor thoughts. Subsequently frustration, discovering that all his well-meaning words were falling on deaf ears.

The human instinct is governed by one simple law: to survive. The power and the fear continued to threaten the fragile sanity of the men and for centuries, the world where they lived was a real hell, where God was only present in words and prayers, in promises of hope and happiness as false and empty as the hearts of those who bragged to spread them.

–I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. –said Isidro to his parishioners.

Probably that man would commit the sin again. At the moment he set off joyfully to his home, being more peaceful than the priest himself.

When he was leaving the lectern a suspicious-looking individual stumbled on him and nervously headed outside. Doubting the intentions of the subject, he inspected the altar. He looked for the chest and found none. He had been a victim of a pillage. One of many, robbed by some heartless, intolerant, coward and vulgar bandit. He closed the doors of the church, the task of forgiveness had been completed.

BRIDGE OF HELL

An individual with an eye patch set off in haste for the agreed shelter. To steal from the priests was a grave sin, he would burn in hell. But his life already was a journey full of poverty; he had to steal the food thrown to the pigs in order to survive. If he managed to put it in a well placed dish, it could even pass for a decent meal. Everything depended on the way how it was consumed; sitting in a chair, on a table or on the floor surrounded by rats. He didn't wish for feeling again like a bloodsucker, picking up the scraps that even the dogs didn't want.

Exhausted, he arrived at the meeting point. With his single eye he noted the pass that had to be crossed. It was a bridge. But not just any bridge. His bastard partner directed him towards a cursed place! In front of him was The bridge of Hell. There had been scattered all kinds of animal bones, amulets and other evil rings dangling from dying trees. He was determined to take necessary detours, if this would assure to avoid the place.

At the middle of his return a brief blaze grazed his back, cutting off the path.

– Please, Prince of the darkness, don't take me with you! It wasn't my intention to desecrate your bridge! I've come here by a mistake! By the fault of one bastard! I have committed sins, but I'm willing to correct them. What I've stolen I intend to return!

–Well, you should not. Is it possible that you would reject your only chance of finding happiness, power and fortune? – replied a somber voice.

– It would be of no use, if I die!

–Your current life will only lead you to the same end, but perhaps a little later. Before it you will have to continue suffering in the world of