Yamura

By Jason Doyle

Ten-thousand years ago, demon-like creatures attempted to invade the Earth and were narrowly defeated. Now one of these ancient evils has possessed the body of high school student Jake Stewart in an attempt to seek out the bloodline of his enemies and exact his revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781312806917

Book preview

Yamura

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or places is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Jason Doyle

All Rights Reserved. In accordance with the US Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the author’s expressed written consent constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (except for review purposes) written permission must be obtained from the author.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

Edited by Luke Pino

Cover art by: http://ashasylum.deviantart.com/

Cover Design and Additional Promotional Artwork by:

http ://relentlessart.deviantart.com/

Visit the official website and forum for updates, information, artwork and even role-playing at: http://yamura.boardhost.com

Remember to join the group on Facebook for news, updates and prizes!

Follow me on Twitter @GeneralYamura

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to my Aunt Nancy and Uncle Rusty who inspired this

story for me. Over the years their support and encouragement for

my writing kept it many times from being scrapped.

Thanks to my wife Tammy, my mother Robin, father Larry and

children Azura and Connor for not disowning me all the times I had

my face buried in the computer typing. And to all the teachers that

didn’t flunk me or confiscate my composition books scribbled with

story notes all those times I wasn’t paying attention in class.

Thanks to my friend Luke Pino who took so much of his time

immersing himself in my fictional world and help give structure and

order to a chaos of words.

Thanks to my friends in real life who inspired the personalities and

traits of Jake and his classmates.

Thanks to my Grandfather James Eagler, whom I wish had gotten a chance to read this story. I hope he would have been proud of it.

This has been a long time in progress and I feel a tremendous relief

that it has finally been completed. I hope that you enjoy reading it

even half as much as I did writing it.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

l The End of Peaceful Days

2      City Beneath The Sand

3      The Book of the Black Earth

4      A Boy

5      Imperfect Spell

6      Destiny

7      Hunted

8      Halcyon Terminal

9      We're Going to the Fair

10 Blood, Sweat, and Cotton Candy

11 A Sense of Things to Come

12 To the Victor the Spoils

13 Green Monster

14 Duel

15      Downward Spiral

16      Alignment

17      Twilight of Cataltukuk

18      Choices

19      In Frightful Devotion

20      Escape from the Living Book

21      Cavalry of Levant

22      Rock Bottom

23      Siel Assilare

24      Five Magicians

25 Away

l The End of Peaceful Days

Smoke rises from the flame ravaged landscape into a blackened sky. The thunderous roar of thousands of men on horseback riding to war echoes back against the fortified city walls. The warriors of the surrounding areas are proficient riders and archers, setting off to battle to protect their village. Raised before recorded history, Benares is encircled by 100 foot walls of stone with the eastern side flanked by a deep ravine of natural origin. The men ride into the village through the toppled walls and stare down their foes: shadow-like creatures with fire for eyes. The creatures are called the Tskarii and they have come to conquer. Leather shirts beneath iron hauberks protect the riders from light attacks, but as soon as the men see the opposition’s forces, they realize their armor will be naught. Captain Rivious of Averno’s 5th Regiment, and member of the Cuiain Tribe withdraws his sword from the belly of a farmer and pushes him to the ground with his foot. The farmer’s eyes remain open and lifeless as blood swells out around his form.

It appears that this village has some warriors after all. Rivious grins. Kill them all.

The front lines of men are knocked from their horses as the skies are filled with arrows. Screams fill the air and the Tskarii are quick to rush in and swarm their wounded foes. Swords come down hard in killing blows and the reeling warriors still mounted are forced to break their ranks and ride into the side alleys in an attempt to flank their opponents’ archers. Rivious instructs several groups to pursue and they rush off on foot after their prey. At the end of the alleys, the horsemen turn and spur their steeds onwards in a full gallop. The Tskarii are cut down easily and only a handful are able to pull riders down and kill them. Angered at being out- maneuvered, Rivious calls for his magicians to move forward.

While they are within those narrow spaces they are easily prey! Burn them to ash! Rivious screams. Di’yoso Agneystra!

The soldiers weave intricate hand signs while visualizing the symbols to call forth the magical energies. Flames erupt from their hands in torrents and fill the streets and alleys. It only takes the Tskarii an hour to finish off the last of the village’s defenses and soon no man is left alive. Women and children are corralled by soldiers laughing with delight. Many are lashed with claws and blades, but left alive under the captain’s orders.

Weaklings, the lot of them. Rivious laughs, licking the blood off his blade with a long forked tongue. If this was any indicator or the humans’ strength, we shall not need the might of the invading force; our scouting expedition shall suffice to conquer their world.

There is a larger concentration of humans several miles to the east. A teal-skinned Tskarii soldier says, dragging a crying woman behind him by a leg.

Rope those still remaining alive together as slaves. We shall gain great riches selling these humans back in the capital.

The east is mostly desert, sir. I have not sensed much life in- between.

Gather as much water as possible, then cure and dry the flesh of their dead for travel, we may need the extra supplies should the desert prove difficult.

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Enkidu Hialura leads his horse to the ridge overlooking the walled city of Cataltukuk. His horse is a powerful beast and it snorts before stomping its feet upon stopping. Wrapped cloth covers most of the man’s face, protecting him from the sun and the strong winds of the arid region. Over the years the nearby rivers have been diverted to the larger and more populated city of Levant. This has left the nearby villages having to rely on wells and other sporadic sources of water to sustain them. The 100 foot high stone walls serve to protect the citizens of Cataltukuk from roving bands of thirsty marauders.

Everything will be okay now, Galen. Enkidu says, patting the small bundle strapped to the back of his horse. An infant’s wail responds and he knows that he must reach the city soon and find food for the child. Carefully he leads his horse down the steep embankment. Be careful now, Keiades. With few stumbles, the mighty steed brings them down the hill and to the large gates marking the front entrance of Cataltukuk. Open the gates! It is Enkidu; I have returned from Dwarka!

Chains are pulled over numerous levers and the stone gates slowly begin to rise with a loud rumbling. Dressed in leather armor with long swords at their hips, men of the city guard lower the gates back into place as soon as Enkidu enters.

Welcome back, friend. Amastus Riecen, captain of the city guard says in greeting. The captain towers over his fellow guards at nearly seven feet. Long strands of dark hair wrapped in decorative clay beads drape well past his shoulders to the middle of his back. He approaches Enkidu and clasps his hand tightly with a smile. Is Dwarka as filthy as I remember it?

That city is a vile and immoral pit. Enkidu says as he dismounts. Loose women.. .and men, animal worship, and all forms of debauchery imaginable. He finishes with disgust.

Amastus begins to laugh. Is that so? I may have to volunteer my sword for the next trade caravan. I have already known all the loose women our city has to offer.

Cleanse yourself and pray. Enkidu says with a sigh. Nothing that city offers is to be emulated.

Amastus frowns, realizing his humor is lost on the ever- serious man.

I have not seen your kinsman Iasion for days, but I know he will be grateful you have brought his son forth from that place. Amastus says, switching the topic. What of Teraxime? I do not believe she willingly gave up her son to you. The captain’s face becomes stern. You did not shed blood over this did you?

Enkidu is given a cup of water by one of the city guard and hands Galen to a midwife to cleanse and feed the child. "Her kin

worship at the altar of the serpent. He says, emptying the glass with abandon and asking for another. I did not take any lives, if that is what you ask. Seeing his friend’s relief, Enkidu continues. There are more cults appearing in the west each moon. Something must be done to stop their spread lest the serpent’s fangs reach our own gates."

I am sorry, but my sword is pledged to protecting the village. It is the duty of the warrior-priests such as you to engage religious battles.

Enkidu sighs and hands the empty cup back to the guardsman. I shall pray for guidance on the matter.

If it were I that had a direct line to the heavens I would pray for more swords and less foes, not guidance. Amastus says, beginning to ready his own horse for a security ride outside the walls.

Master Holihs is not at my beck and call. He is a watcher of events and only guides me when he feels it is necessary for me to be guided. Enkidu helps sling a blanket over the back of Amastus’ horse. Regardless, he does not watch over us from Anshar. He resides on a world called Halaven: much closer to our own. The Hashmallim do not have the authority or the ability to order the swords of Heaven into battle.

Yes yes I know, they just watch and guide. Amastus ties the blanket to together beneath the horse. Even so, you are fortunate to commune with a Yazata at all. Many go their entire lifetimes without ever seeing or speaking to one.

Of that I am aware and thankful. Enkidu clasps his friend’s shoulder. Be careful out there, my friend.

Enkidu is given Galen by the midwife and leads his horse by hand down the street towards the temple stables. He passes a dimly- lit building from which raucous noise emanates. Loud voices and laughter pour out onto the streets from the doorway and an older man with long dirt-matted hair and a thin frame stumbles outside and collapses to his face with a pitiful moan.

Fausto, what are you doing? Enkidu asks with disappointment as he helps the drunken man to his unsteady feet.

It is not even yet midday. Is this where you spend all of your time now?

After taking a moment to focus his vision and thoughts, Fausto smiles upon recognition of the blurred face. The man’s smile is jagged and many prominent teeth are missing while the rest are yellowed and chipped.

Did you expect me to return to the temple and worship? Fausto laughs. I told you when I left that I was finished. I dedicated my life to being a priest and have nothing to show for it in the twilight of my life except regret.

Our lives are not our own. We live to serve others. Fausto presses a bony finger towards Enkidu’s face. A man who has lain with his kinsman’s bride is not one to lecture me about morals and responsibilities.

Enkidu stumbles and is taken aback by the former priest’s jab. How is it that every soul in this city knew of their binding except I?

That is an important query. It makes one question the sincerity of your claim.

I have sworn time and again that I had no knowledge of their coupling. Teraxime approached me as a woman with no ties to another.

As you have now seen, that is the way of the Dwarka. They hold no value on faithfulness.

Even Master Holihs warned me that she would be nothing but trouble and bring disaster. Enkidu thinks with sadness. I blocked out all reason and gave into my desires alone. He could have told me the truth, but he knew it was not his place to interfere.

I am no better than anyone I look down upon.

My crimes are no less than any man’s. I do not claim perfection. No man has ever lived that has attained such. We are flawed creatures that fall short of the true path.

Fausto moves back and laughs. I am no longer of the faith, so my drunkenness is no sin to me.

The abandonment of your faith is a grave sin.

Galen begins to cry loudly as Enkidu angrily raises his voice to his former superior.

Do you truly believe that you can mend the relationship between you and your kinsman by bringing his son back to him? Perhaps not, but Galen’s life would be doomed to evil were he to be raised in Dwarka within a household of the serpent.

Fausto pauses, momentarily reflecting on this news.

The Erade Clan worships the serpent?

Galen would have been instructed in their ways and grown into a man of their liking. My actions go far beyond the problems between his father and I. I am preserving my kin and his future.

Fausto glances back into the tavern for a moment before responding. The ale beckons my return. I bid you good day, my former brethren. He returns inside without another word, leaving Enkidu in the street.

You will never find happiness in there. Enkidu whispers

in sadness.

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Ornaxes Erade rides at the front of a small caravan of his two sons Itam and Detava, his eldest daughter Teraxime, and two dozen of their slaves both male and female. 

When we find that pig-dog, do not allow him to escape. Ornaxes says with a strange voice as his nose was just recently broken. If he hides in his temple, burn the damned thing to the ground with him inside.

And if he is still in possession of your son? Itam asks Teraxime.

The child would be better off as a sacrifice to Nylarthrotep than to be raised by those priests. Teraxime responds with coldness.

Ornaxes pauses and holds a hand up to halt the caravan as he sees smoke in the distance. He instructs three of his servants to scout ahead and discover the origin of the smoke. Twenty minutes later, the men return and describe a ruined farming village with bodies lying in the streets.

There does not appear to be any survivors, my lord. One of the servants reports, still trembling. Many were skinned and had large amounts of flesh missing as if they had been devoured. Ghouls? Ornaxes asks, waving his hands to instruct the others to dismount and draw their swords. Let us go wide around the village and avoid whatever causes this destruction. Protect our rear and guard against marauders.

After several more hours of riding, the procession nears the more arid regions comprising the desert of Ayodha and last landmark before reaching the city of Cataltukuk from the west.

Do not show any aggression towards the city guards manning the gates. I shall gain us admittance inside without violence. Teraxime says.

Should we not also kill the boy’s father? Itam asks.

Iasion is devout to me. Even after my betrayal, he shall do whatever I ask. Teraxime smiles. He will accompany us back to Dwarka and if he becomes a problem we shall sacrifice him."

We need only kill Enkidu. No one else concerns us. Should a battle break out, our numbers will not be sufficient enough for our survival. Ornaxes says.

Ornaxes suddenly tumbles from his steed, an arrow driven

through his throat.

Father! Itam screams, leaping from his horse and diving to Ornaxes’ side. He takes an arrow to the right thigh as he tries to shield his father as the man chokes on his own blood. Form a circle with the horses and protect us! He screams at the slaves.

Captain Rivious leads his forces in closer, continuing to rain down arrows.

Strip their horses down and salt the meat for travel.

Rivious smiles as he sees the dark-skinned slave-girls huddling for protection inside the caravan beside Teraxime and her brothers. Try to take the females alive. We can never have too many slaves to sell. He glances back at the procession of two-hundred and sixty bound slaves already in their possession.

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A loud horn blows and the city guardsmen scramble to their lookout posts along the walls. Archers ready themselves and stare out across the wasteland, looking for the threat. Amastus appears in a full gallop on his horse, blowing the horn as he rides towards the gates. The gates are opened as quickly as possible and Amastus nearly topples from his steed in exhaustion.

We discovered the bodies of several women bound with rope lying dead in the desert. I assumed that slavers had raided Benares and these were the poor souls who were too weak to keep up with the procession. We rode out to Benares and discovered the village in ruins and no one left alive. Amastus says, panting with exhaustion as one of his men brings him a cup of water. I have never seen raiders skin and strip bodies of their meat, and ghouls do not use knifes to do their atrocities.

Enkidu approaches after having heard the sound of the horn. Who were they?

"We back-tracked and circled around the marauders and were able to pick off a few of their outliers before being spotted. They were unlike any creatures I had ever seen. They stand on two feet like us and wear armor, but instead of horses they ride giant lizards and their skin ranges in color from a deep red to all shades of blue. Many had horns and all of their eyes glowed unnaturally. They

were surely daemons."

Enkidu leaves to gather his sword and armor.

Enkidu, Amastus says. Take a moment to pray for our village and ask your Yazata for help. Nodding, Enkidu runs off. Amastus calls his men together to prepare their horses and make sure their fortifications are stable. These are no marauders. These creatures are well armored and organized into a military unit. I fear they mean to invade our city. We must ride out to meet them and not allow them the opportunity for siege. They were able to breach the walls of Benares, so I do not believe we will be able to hide behind our own for long.

Captain Rivious grins as his forces approach the ridge overlooking Cataltukuk.

The first soldier to breach their walls shall lay claim to any slave he wishes.

The Tskarii shout with excitement and pump their fists into the air.

The gates slowly rise to allow the city guard out. Led by Amastus and Enkidu, the guardsmen are supplemented by hundreds of other men gathered to protect their city. Untested in battle and fearing for their lives, the men shake with fear.

Hold! orders Amastus. Enkidu, did your angel give you any detail about these creatures?

He warned me a great evil was approaching, but no more. His council is vague to say the least at times. Once you informed me of the threat, he was more forthcoming. They are called the Tskarii and come from a world known as Averno. They are foul daemons with a terrible bloodlust and we cannot underestimate their power.

Will he be lending us any aid from the other Yazata?

Enkidu slowly shakes his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the approaching Tskarii soldiers. His right hand rests upon the hilt of his sword, ready at a moment’s notice to draw. More elegant and powerful than any other weapon in the world, the sword that is called Tihvahhn pulsates within its scabbard. Unlike the other swords and daggers of mankind, Enkidu’s blade is constructed of crystal and the hilt of diamond: a gift left to him by his Great Grandfather. The Tskarii howl with excitement and pump their weapons in the air and stomp their feet. Dozens of horsemen break rank and flee back towards the city walls for protection.

Do not hate them, Enkidu says calmly. Most of them are merchants, builders and hunters and have no true experience in battle. You cannot blame them for their fear; it is natural. Large four-footed reptilian animals appear in the Tskarii’s next advancing line. More heavily armored Tskarii warriors sit atop the Eaupas, which act as their horses. "I too am afraid, but we must stand firm.

We must protect our city."

When did you become a soldier? Amastus asks with a smile. Last I checked you did nothing but hide in your temple and pray. Raising his right hand, he causes the riders to draw their bows and notch arrows. Archers ready!

To commune with the Yazata, one must pray diligently. Enkidu returns the smile and thumbs Tihvahhn. Praying however, is not all one does inside of a temple.

Clad in black armor with numerous spikes jetting from it in all angles, Rivious takes up the front position of his forces and begins to shout commands to his troops in a guttural tongue unheard of by the men.

Di’yoso Agneystra! Rivious bellows. Many of the soldiers begin to weave intricate signs with their hands, closing their eyes and visualizing symbolic glyphs.

Enkidu feels a chill and begins to walk his horse backwards in caution. Order the line to fall back, one of those words was a Yazatan phrase.

Before the captain can respond, fire rains down among the horsemen. Panic consumes the army, causing both man and beast alike to burn.

Stay in formation! Amastus screams. Use all of our water skins to douse the flames! He turns to Enkidu, flushed with concern. Why do these daemons know the Angelic tongue?

Enkidu has no answer. He debates whether the Yazata commune with all beings, not just humans. Surely Master Holihs would have told me were that so, yet he knew of these creatures and did not tell me what they were until they had already appeared. There is much that he knows that he is not sharing with me.

Archers, release! On the captain’s command, thousands of arrows sail across the gap between the two armies. Tskarii soldiers squeal in pain as shafts pierce through arms, thighs and

necks. Monstrous Eaupas rise up thrashing as arrows plunge into their hides. The Tskarii leader shouts more commands, causing Enkidu unease.

Do what you can to break their line, I will engage their leader. When I have killed him, press the attack while their forces are in disarray.

You mean to take him on alone? Amastus frowns.

Be ready to assail them as soon as he falls, they may be able to recover should another take up the lead. Enkidu dismounts, drawing Tihvahhn. His hair hangs down to his shoulders in tangled waves. Once it was a dark shade of blonde, now dried blood and sweat mixed with baked on dirt leaves it brown. His light armor is unable to contain his large muscles and imposing body. Steam-like waves rise from his form: a physical manifestation of his inner strength, energy, or aura. Enkidu charges the Tskarii line, cutting through waves of soldiers with ease. Tihvahhn does not slow to any difference between flesh and mail. Limbs drop and blood sprays into the air in thick mists. The Tskarii’s attack on the man slows, more and more soldiers parting to allow him to pass in fear. The leader thrusts his sword through a fleeing soldier’s torso and scowls.

You cannot blame them for running. They are not like us. Enkidu says, using the Yazatan tongue.

What makes you think that you know anything about me, monkey? growls Rivious.

I would hope that for a being to be as strong as you, one would be able to sense energy as well. I have felt you coming since that accursed portal first opened up.

You sense my power and yet you do not join the other humans in flight? Foolish creature.

I said that I sensed you coming. I am well prepared.

Your preparations have been in vain! Rivious howls. His aura erupts like flames around his body in a swirling, violent cyclone.

Waves of energy rush past the human who does not even flinch.

I told you that I am well prepared, Enkidu says, raising one of his hands.

The Tskarii laughs at the confidence of the man, having taken many lives over his three hundred and fifty years of existence.

Having no fear is not the same as having strength.

Rivious says.

Enkidu smiles as a glowing blue orb of light appears above his held up hand. This is a form of discipline that few humans have learned, and even fewer can master into a style of fighting. By focusing one’s inner light and drawing it forth to the surface, one proficient with the procedure can then shape that power and use it as a weapon. It is referred to as ‘Manifestation’.

True, but possessing both is even better. Enkidu replies with a grin, his orb of focused energy pulsating with sheer power.

A human that can manipulate his own energy into a weapon is impressive, but not unheard of. I have killed others who boasted similar skill.

You are very arrogant, daemon. You underestimate your enemies.

Then unleash your assault and allow me to kill you and move on to more important things.

Lord Marduk needs this city cleared out next, since it is the largest city closest to the portal. I must make way for the rest of his great army. When this village falls, none of the surrounding ones will be able to put up a defense before we can sweep over them. Rivious thinks to himself.

As you wish. Enkidu shouts, hurling the orb into the Tskarii’s chest.

Rivious swings his sword to cut the energy in half but the orb changes direction unexpectedly and slams into his chest. He howls in pain as his body glows white-hot, slowly breaking apart into tiny pieces that dissolve away.

What is this!?! Rivious screams as he is burned alive.

It is called Brahmastra: the Retributive. Soon, the energy will destroy you from the inside out, judging your crimes.

How could a human have learned such a powerful attack? Rivious whispers as his body is nearly fully dissolved.

Learned? No, I created it. Enkidu says as the Tskarii vanishes in a final yelp of agony. Screams fill the air. Burnt bodies, others just mangled, lie strewn across the dirt as refuse. As he stands over the ashes of the fallen Tskarii, a telepathic voice cuts into the man's head, talking to him from another world that is called Halaven.

Enkidu, the Earth’s aura is still sour; something darker remains.

Master Holihs, I killed the strongest. Those remaining are already fleeing back. Enkidu replies to the heavenly voice. The Yazata is a member of an elite class called the Hashmallim which are tasked with overseeing the development and protection of lower races.

That creature was part of a scouting party. The true power that I have prepared you for still remains to show itself.

Master, there is no way such a power could exist. What you sensed was many times stronger than that which I have already slain.

Prepare for the worst. You are a strong warrior, with faith you will succeed.

I must. If I fail, there will be no one else to stop them.

Amastus approaches, blood smeared on his face and dripping from his blade.

The remainder of their host has fled back into the wasteland. I have sent three hundred men in pursuit. He looks down at the ashes of Rivious. I should never have doubted you, my friend.

We must ready the city, more are on their way.

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Rocklyn Indiana, Wednesday February 12th, 1992

Elian Schaeffer holds an ancient golden amulet in his hands. The object is a priceless family heirloom, going back to at least his 8th Great Grandfather in the 18th Century. Beyond that, no one knows whether it was passed on to him by his father or if it was gained from someplace else. The heirloom has never brought great luck to the family as four of its Schaeffer possessors died as criminals.

Elian’s Paternal Great Grandmother Wilheima used to call it Blood of the Scoundrel. His Paternal Great Grandfather Marcious had led a double life, pretending to be at work at a sawmill by day and coming home to his loving family at night. What no one knew until he was shot by police in June of 1958 was that his income was generated through human trafficking. He would collect runaways and sell them to a third party which would then make them available to rich businessmen, celebrities and political figures as sexual servants.

A single symbol is carved on the amulet, yet no one has been able to decipher what it means. The symbol is unrecognizable in any language known. Family history insists that the symbol translates to Do Not or Forbidden, but no one can reliably state where that belief originated. Another name is tied to the amulet: Yamura. Yet again, no one knows where this name came from as it is found nowhere on the object.

Several Schaeffers were institutionalized for madness and screams of voices in their heads. Voices beckoned them to kill and urged them to seek out a city buried in the sand. Despite all of this, no one has been able to part with the amulet in the family. Twice, wives have tried to sell it and both times they and the buyers were killed to retrieve the heirloom. Like his ancestors, Elian does not know the origin of the amulet or why his family carries with it such a violent history.

When his second wife left him and he spent every waking moment in drunken depression, the voices came to him. Slowly and unthreatening at first, but over the months they have transformed into something much more disturbing.

Search out the city buried in the sand. Only there will you find the answers.

The disembodied voice sends a chill down Elian’s back.

No matter how many times he’s heard it, it never becomes any less frightening. The deep, inhuman tone.... the powerful resonance.... the suggestive messages; these things combine to shake Elian’s very psyche daily. When the voice first appeared, he assumed he was just tired. He had been working himself very hard, and the stress of his second wife leaving with his daughters would have put pressure on any man. Yet, the voice persisted. It would come at any time of the day, and it was exceedingly clear that no one could hear it save for Elian himself.

Some kinds of brain tumors will make you start hearing voices. Elian thought, going to the doctor for a full CAT scan and checkup. The results he received would have made any man his age and weight cheerful. Elian however, became more troubled. What other answers could explain this voice if it were not stress or a medical condition? As if on cue, the voice began to clarify its wishes. Instead of cryptic messages, it began to give Elian information that he couldn’t possible know, even subconsciously.

Find the ruins of Methshaluas. Find the Book of the Black Earth. The voice persists.

Elian dabs his sweat-covered forehead with a cool washcloth and tries to take deep breaths. The sweating continues as fear of this voice increases every day. If it isn’t all in his head, then where does the voice come from? And to whom or what does it belong? In severe fright of the answers to those questions, Elian begins to research the names and places given by the voice as a starting point. To his frustration, none of them seem to exist.

Am I just making all of this up? Have I developed some kind of psychosis? Elian wonders as he slams shut another dust- covered book of ancient civilizations. Nothing he can find seems to go further back than ancient Sumer around the year 4000 BC. After that, civilizations become fairly well documented and the chance for a lost city such as this Methshaluas to not be mentioned by any of them is slim.

A break comes for him in the form of radiocarbon dating. Through this scientific method, archeologists dated newly uncovered ruins of an ancient city, in a region that is part of present day Turkey in the Middle East, approximately to the year 7000 BC. Elian is instantly intrigued after hearing of this news. With a city previously unknown to the modern world being discovered that predates our concepts of cities by several thousand years, the chances of there being other forgotten ancient cities rises.

Elian’s personal life, or lack of, becomes swallowed by the endeavors put forward by the urging voice. He continues to go to work at his dojo, training the students in the ways of martial arts. After work each day however, Elian immediately delves himself into archeological research in hope of finding any leads to this phantom city. Investigation continues on the ruins in Turkey after they dub the city Gobekli Tepe. It is found that during a time when man was supposed to be primitive and incapable of higher forms of social interaction, a city with hieroglyphic-like writing and pottery existed. The further archaeologists dig into the earth, the more of this ancient city they uncover. Vast stone pillars depicting animals and human-animal chimeras circle the streets and buildings. By expressing his interest repeatedly in the area, several archeologists form a correspondence with Elian and keep him up to date on their findings.

Professor Aidyn Cohan of the University of Istanbul sends him an email one day with two photo attachments:

To:[e-mail]

From: [e-mail]

Elian, the newest building we have uncovered here in the ruins has some pictographs that I believe you will find very interesting. As you can see, the first is another chimera. They were obsessed with combining human and animal imagery. This chimera, if you cannot tell, is of some kind of fox or wolf. It is slightly larger than the previous drawings we have categorized as foxes, so we are classifying it as a wolf. The second photo is from the inside of the same building on the opposite wall. It appears to be two winged beings, though they are worn down and barely visible, holding up a black sphere. This is the photo that I thought would grab your attention the most. It could very well be a reference to that Book of the Black Earth you have repeatedly asked about. I cannot be quite sure though. The depiction of a wolf could easily draw a parallel to the orb and that would mean that it is some kind of form of the moon. We still have not uncovered any evidence of formal writing, only these drawings. Without writing, it will be difficult for us to completely understand the meanings behind any of them.

Elian spends nearly an hour studying the photo attachments. He tries to visualize them from different angles and see them how they originally existed thousands of years ago. It could be a connection, but it is still not enough. His next break does not come for another three months with an invitation to participate in the World Martial Arts Championship. The tournament is held annually and is hosted in a different world locale each time. This year’s tournament is being hosted by the city of Haifa, Israel. Despite having won a decade ago, Elian hasn’t participated for the past two years. News, however, out of a small village in Israel makes the possibility of a trip two-fold. A sheep herder from the small village of Tel-aBasha tripped over some stones sticking out of the ground in a field about two miles from the village. Archaeologists were called in from Jerusalem when no one was able to dig to the bottom of the stones. It was soon discovered that the stones belonged to the roofs of several buildings and that the desert had swallowed an entire city.

Search out the city buried in the sand. Only there, will you find the answers.

Elian forms a reply to the board of directors for the tournament committee and accepts their invitation. That spring, Elian is flown to Israel and meets up with Professor Cohan, who has also found interest in this discovery and taken a break from the excavation of Gobekli Tepe. A tall and slender man greets Elian at the airport in Jerusalem. His appearance is like that of a scarecrow and his branch-like arms fork into abnormally long and thin fingers. A long white beard frames the elder man’s vastly angular face.

Professor Cohan? Elian asks, extending his right hand in

greeting.

Elian, it is good to meet you in person. It is always nice to meet someone who is so interested in this field that isn’t already strangled and drowning in university politics.

"I must be honest, it is only a fairly recent interest. A