Tekoa and the Book of Secrets

By Joe Herrington

Every society has a history etched with unexplained mystery. Every continent boasts architectural marvels built with such skill and technology that they defy any modern explanation or possible duplication. Every culture is shadowed with stories of a parallel world, the other side, another dimension and every civilization has legends of doorways, portals or gates between them.
The story of Tekoa and the Book of Secrets is such a story. It is set in the rugged West Texas, Guadelupe Mountains and its counter world, the land of Tekoa.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Nov 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662914928

Book preview

Chapter 1

Smoke drifted over the scorched valley on a gentle wind that carried with it the stench of sulfur and guilt of death. For ten days, the poisoned air had strangled all life that did not evade its path. The death cloud held low to the ground in the hollows and ravines, while its wispy fingers reached deep into holes and dens for whatever had not been baked to death by the liquid rock that had gone before.

The land lay black with a crust of lava that had flowed from the fissures and ruptured blisters on the great mountain. Tekoa, the immense shield volcano, had once again belched and heaved its molten rock.

The lava flow had not been violent as in years past. It was, instead, apocalyptic and deliberate, slowly moving over the land like a flow of molasses. No force on Earth could stop it or would even try. It went where it wanted to go and stopped when it wanted to stop.

Now it had ceased and hardened like a cast on a broken land. Vestiges of plaster walls and brick chimneys jutted through the black scab. They were all that remained of the peaceful village named after the magnificent mountain.

The people had watched it come. There was no panic, only horror as the fiery, churning mass inched closer each day, choking out dreams and finally consuming their town. They had fought savagely to save life and property, but had only won half the battle. Many lay injured, but none were lost to the mountain. They now solemnly watched from the distant hills where they had fled for refuge.

Even in the last moments before it began, so much had seemed important. The people had rushed here and there with an urgency that seemed to consume them. They had things to buy and sell, people to see and places to be. Now all of that seemed trivial and no longer mattered.

Only days before, they were masters of the land and its beasts. They had built what they wanted to build, done what they wanted to do and were proud of their accomplishments. The problems that had plagued them were petty things, so they tended to focus on the insignificant. They had, only six months ago, won their freedom from the tyrant Croseus. They were a nation fresh from war and captivity. Their future seemed so bright. They were a fast-moving and industrious people on their way up.

But the earth trembled; the mountain vented a bit of molten stone and man was put in his place once more. Things were again in perspective. The men of Tekoa held their children a little tighter now. The women sang songs of gratitude and their hearts warmed at the sight of loved ones. The children were somehow content with the simple things they had salvaged.

Across the valley in a small, wind-forged cave, Vishti leaned against the shaded rock wall. She too was grateful for the simple clothes on her back and the family and friends gathered around her. She had outrun the danger, but had gone back to help others still struggling to escape. The last few days had turned her from the village sweetheart to a village heroine and few had gone untouched by her hand. In that effort, she had taken a wicked fall and cut a long gash in her leg and two fingers of her left hand were badly sprained.

Her face was scratched and bruised, but it did little to hide her warm beauty. It was a beauty that came from deep within and emerged for all to see. This gracious young woman was known and loved by all in the village. Her joy was to make others happy and she had excelled at that since she was a toddler.

But the fiery glow of the advancing molten rock had illuminated another side of her constitution, her courage and quick thinking. Seventeen children lived today because of her actions and many more still wore bandages she had tied to dress their wounds.

Now, they were here, scores of people, bringing items of comfort and words of gratitude. Even at a time when every person had lost almost everything they had, and cause for their own worry was paramount, they still came. They still cared for her needs.

These Tekoans were a gentle people, yet a people molded by responsibility. They would care for her as if she were their own flesh. They had not yet learned to be driven to do good by guilt, pity or some other emotion. These were pathetic, last resort measures used when the sense of love and responsibility failed.

The human has an amazing capacity for emotion. Unlike any other creature, its emotional dynamics swing from hate to love and touch everything in between. Some are a slave to their emotions and allow them to govern their reason … their way of life. Others understand their emotions and use them in balance with right and wrong, reason and judgment. The Tekoans were these kinds of people.

They had only recently won their freedom from Croseus and the Cartokian nation. They would never forget that. Croseus had enslaved them. He had allowed them their homes and families, but had stripped them of their spirit. They were then mere shells of men, ashamed and disgusted at their very existence. But then the Texans came; two mysterious young men that had shown them what they had become and what to do about it.

Now, as devastating as this week had been, these people wouldn’t feel sorry for themselves ever again. The mountain had taken everything they owned, but it couldn’t take their spirit, their courage. They were Tekoans and they would rebuild.

As the evening passed, Vishti’s visitors left and she sat alone, watching the sun set over the blackened crust that had been her home. It felt very still and she could hear the quiet, continuous crackling and popping of the cooling lava. As she watched the sun’s waning light do wonders with the ugly volcanic dust, she smiled. It hurt, but she smiled.

David had loved these sunsets. No matter where he was or what he was doing, he would always stop and watch the sun wink out at the end of each day. Now, she fondly remembered her brave Texan, David Carson. That tall, gentle man of hers that had quietly stumbled into her life from another world. He had captured her heart and then gone back to the other side. He had promised to return, but that was six months ago. Six long months that seemed like years to her. Now, more than ever, she wanted him to return. She needed him.

Sardisai walked over to her with a tin cup of hot broth. Child, he said gently, have some of this. Your mother made it fresh.

Grandfather, do you think David and Shelby will come back?

Now, Vishti, that boy left here so taken with you that nothing could keep him away, and that Shelby, well, his sense of adventure will bring him back. You can count on that.

But it’s been so long.

Six months isn’t long in the scheme of things. Besides, they said they wanted to finish that A&M thing they were doing. He and Shelby had some strong notions about education.

I’m afraid David will never find us now. Our home is gone; our whole village is gone and we will have to move from here. If he comes, he won’t know where we went.

Vishti, there’s something you ought to know. The old man turned away and scratched his gray chin looking for words that might fall gently on his granddaughter. It may be a long time before we see those boys again. Her eyes flashed toward him and in the last golden light of the sun he could see a tear on her cheek. I’ve been in contact with the Nephilim, the gatekeepers. They say the eruption has closed all the gateways that are usually open and then opened some that have been closed for decades. Their patterns are unpredictable now and David and Shelby might not be able to find their gateway anymore. They only know of the one and it might be closed.

But you know! The Nephilim report to you! They tell you what is open and when. You could send Sorek for them. Please, Grandfather.

He faced her sternly. That’s a risk I cannot ask a man to take. Not even a skilled man like Sorek. Passing between our world and the Texan’s world has always had its dangers; but now, after the eruption, the gateways are not stable. He could be caught in one as it closed, or he might get through and never get back. Then who is to say he could even find David. His cities are very large, you know. We don’t even know where his … A&M is.

I’ll go, Grandfather. When I am well again, I will do it.

Yes, child, I’ve been expecting to hear that before this. Just rest now and dream of your fine Texan. Things will settle, and the time will be right for such a journey, but it is not now. The gateways have closed many times in our history. They’ll open again.

She turned away, facing the stone wall of the cave. The tear ran down her cheek and the pain in her heart grew greater than that of her body’s wounds. The wise old man turned and busied himself at some meaningless task. If she needed his shoulder, it would be there, but for now he could see she wanted no one to see the tears.

Bon lay still on a grass mat across the cave, his face half under a blanket, and was thought to be asleep, but wasn’t. The conversation had caught his interest; after all, he too wanted the Texans to return. They were heroes to him. Actually, they had become heroes to the entire village, but they were Bon’s special friends. Even now, in his pocket he carried the sling Shelby had made for him and the thunder stick David had given him after they had rescued him from the Cartok patrol.

The Texans had entered his innocent childhood as mysterious strangers, travelers from another dimension. They had rescued not only Bon, but also Bon’s father and then led his people to freedom. They were indeed his heroes and he sorely missed them. In his young mind, he understood his older sister’s grief and desire to have them back.

Then, as soon as the idea came to him, it set with conviction. He would go and find the Texans. He could go tonight! He lay quietly, trying to contain his excitement and planning what he would do.

When the others had left the cave, Bon went to his sister. Vishti? Vishti, are you awake?

Yes, Bon. What is it?

I’ll go for the Texans. I have it all worked out. I can go tonight.

No, Bon. That’s foolishness talking. I appreciate your thought, but such a thing is simply too dangerous.

But it isn’t. I can do it. Anyway, I want them to come back as much as you do.

Yes, I know you do, but you don’t understand the risks; you couldn’t possibly know what you would be against. My aching heart would simply stop if I were the cause of harm to you. Please, tell me you won’t try this foolish thing. Promise me, please, Bon.

The young boy shuffled his feet in the powdery dust of the cave floor and kicked a rock against the wall. He was not happy with his sister’s response. But he would listen to her; he always had. All right, Vishti, but ….

No buts about it, Bon. Okay? You are a fine brother and I won’t forget your brave offer. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek, which he quickly brushed off.

Vishti smiled at him and leaned back against the wall. She watched as her father returned and began to build a fire just inside the mouth of the little cave. It would reflect light and warmth against the back wall and offer a good deal of comfort. The fire would not only render comfort against the chill of the night, but the lapping, dancing flames would also give rest to the soul.

It was always easy to watch the spectacle within a campfire. The colors transform with the variation in heat as the wood changes from solid to gas … from seen to unseen. It crackles and pops, spits and sputters with a peaceful song recounting its recent past. One could hear the fire and know the kind of wood that burned, how long it had been drying upon the ground or how recently it had been cut from life. But one could not gaze into the fire without listening to it and being touched by its gentle magic.

Vishti watched the vibrant, glowing cinders collapse and turn into fleeting sparks that floated up and faded away. Were they symbolic of her dreams? She quickly turned her head away as if to say, no, they can’t be.

She closed her eyes then and slept. Around her gathered family, busy at their various tasks. Her father and grandfather talked quietly of the future and the decisions that tomorrow would demand. Her mother read in the dim light and paused to whisper a prayer. Bon ignited the end of a stick in the fire and whirled it around, forming glowing, oval patterns above his head. The fire flickered and cast dancing shadows on the walls; shadows that played out an unwatched melodrama depicting the resolve of the human spirit to go forward in the face of terrible loss.

Chapter 2

Vishti woke to the murmur of voices. The words spoken were indistinct, but their passion was evident. She lay still and quiet as sleep begged her to stay a moment longer. The cooking fire crackled and its shadows still danced on the cave wall above where she lay. Her mother moved gracefully, as was her way, and prepared the morning meal. Bon was there, stacking rocks and knocking them down as if a conquering giant. She lay quietly, listening to, and liking the peace of the moment.

Her consciousness returned to the murmuring voices so she got up and moved towards the entrance to hear. Her movements were still painful, but she was rapidly improving. Another day or two and she could do most anything she wished. The older men of the council were in conference with her father and grandfather. One she knew as Calibar spoke his question and concern. Is this not her time? We need her. Look what she has done these past few days! Even severely injured, she has shown her true nature; who she really is. She must take her place. Ask her, Sardisai; please ask your granddaughter this.

Curious as to how she could be the subject of this council, Vishti moved outside the cave and stood behind the men. Ask me what?

All eyes turned to her and she saw a strangeness in the faces of men she knew well; a pleading in those familiar eyes that puzzled her. Sardisai spoke with authority. Now is not the time! Her father and I must talk. Please, my friends, go and we’ll meet again tonight.

The small group slowly dispersed and Sardisai went back into the cave. As he passed her, his hand gently touched her cheek. All is well and as it should be, child. Worry not. We’ll talk after we eat.

Curiosity burned within her, but she said no more. Her grandfather would choose the time. As she helped her mother prepare the meal, Sardisai and her father went deeper into the cave to be alone.

Later that afternoon when Bon had gone off with friends, Sardisai called the family together in the shade of a large live oak. This is a troubled time, he said in a somber voice. "We must rebuild. Three of our towns have been completely destroyed and we have no tools to work with and nothing to trade with. Food we can hunt, for a while, but it will be very hard.

I am chief. Arian here is a capable man and next in line, but the council wants more. Oh, they don’t question my leadership or ability, but they remember the old ways and see great value in bringing them back at such a time.

Vishti questioned, "What old ways?

Sardisai eased his position on the log where he sat. First, he said, let me tell you about your grandmother. Then he paused, a bit teary eyed, and gazed down through the once beautiful valley, now crusted over with black, steaming rock. She was always afraid of this, he said with a wave of his hand. "She would tell me that Tekoa Mountain was too easily disturbed; too quick to heave its black bile.

"The many times she stood before the council and urged them to move the village were more than I can remember. She even told me once that she had found a place. Like a fool, I laughed.

Vishti, your grandmother was a great woman; a princess with grace, beauty and wisdom … oh, she had wisdom. The people loved her. She gave them strength and returned that love tenfold. It was a special thing to have a queen who loved them as she loved herself. She was a Sun, second only to the chief, but the chief made no call without her counsel. It was believed that she offered balance. At that time, her father was chief.

But you, Vishti interrupted, when did you become chief?

"Oh, that was much later, child. I must tell you a story that very few know, only because your grandmother wanted it that way. See, I am not a Tekoan by birth, only by marriage. I am from the same town your young David is from, but I was there in their year, 1885. I know you must think that impossible, and it was, but something often happens to time as we pass through the gateways. Anyway, as a young man, I worked as a pumper for the Texas and Pacific Railroad in a little place called Monahan’s Well in Texas. It wasn’t much. The railroad had the pump station, two water tanks and a boxcar being used like a depot. As I remember, only three families lived there full time and one of those operated the general store; another had a small hotel where everybody ate. The traffic came from railroad travelers, cowboys in the area and a few prospectors who were always in and out.

"One cold, blizzard-like day, I was walking back to my room at the hotel and came upon a little girl about seven. She had been caught in the blizzard and was almost frozen. I carried her to where the sheriff normally was, but his place was empty, so I took her back to my room. I got her warm, cleaned up and fed and she immediately fell into a deep sleep. For two days I nursed her back, although all she really needed was food. The poor child was malnourished and thin as a beanpole.

"When she was able and willing to talk, she told me where she lived. I took her home to find another little girl about five and a boy of three. Their father was not present and the mother was in bed, frightfully ill. They were living in a wall-tent with a wooden floor. Fortunately, they had an iron pot-bellied stove.

"I discovered that their dad was a prospector. He would be gone for weeks at a time before returning with $10-$12 in gold to buy a few needs then leave again. Their existence was miserable and dangerous.

"The mother continued to get worse, so leaving word with a Mrs. Dawson, who knew everybody and everything in Monahan’s, I rented a room in nearby Odessa where she could be in a doctor’s care. That was another sleepy little cow town, only bigger. Strange name, Odessa. I was told it was named after an Apache princess who wandered into the railroad yard one day, but I really don’t know for sure. You know how legends are. Another story said it was Russian immigrants working for the railroad who coined the name. No matter. I provided for that sick mom and kids as best I could on my meager salary and kept them fed through the winter. I transferred to the Odessa Railroad depot, and as manager, I was able to sleep in the back room of the office.

"The reason I tell you all of this is to say that when the dad, Ben Sublett, returned, he was most grateful and we became very close friends. He brought with him a sack of gold. It must have been a thousand dollars’ worth and it wasn’t dust or nuggets, it was in strange disks about two inches in diameter. He told me he had pulled a mountain lion off of a very old Indian, saved his life, and was led to the gold. ‘Yance,’ he said—that was my name back then, Yance Duncan—‘There is too much gold there for one man. That ‘Pache … least I think that’s what he was, told me that Geronimo himself said it was the biggest stash of gold in all the West and that old Indian was some kind of a guard. I asked him how long he’d been guardin’ that gold, and you know, real matter-of-factly he said he’d been there several hundred years. Imagine such a thing!’

"Ben bought a house, new clothes for his family and set ‘em up real nice. About that time, his wife died. He hired a nice old lady as a nanny, but he was restless to go back and started makin’ plans.

"We’d talk long into the night about making a trip together. He told me the gold was in the Guadalupe Mountains, but I remember a geologist friend with the railroad said the conditions there could not produce gold. It was all sediment rock or some such. Perhaps it was Apache gold as Geronimo had claimed, but from where? That old Indian was no nonsense and seemed to know all about it. I’ve always wondered how he could have been so old. What a great mystery.

"One day, we packed up and did go. Three weeks we traveled on horseback and all of the last week we watched El Capitan rise to almost 9,000 feet of magnificence above the western horizon. When we were a few miles away, we came to what had been the Pinery, an old stage stop on the Butterfield Trail. It was now an Army outpost for patrols tracking the Mescalero Apaches. From there, we turned north along the base of the mountains for several miles and entered a great canyon.

"At sundown, we camped at a strange outdoor cave of sorts. It had grotesque, coarse stalactites and all you would expect to find inside a cave, but this was just a deep overhang; a grotto exposed to the outside. Three days more we traveled up that canyon, following markings and nooned in a deep place where the canyon split. From there, we took a treacherous climb, and still following markings, we were led to another grotto. It was like the first, but deeper, more intricate and surrounded by white sand.

"Ben picked up a stone and struck the grotto wall seven times. After that, we went about the business of caring for our horses. As I pulled the saddle from mine, I turned back to place it on the ground. When I looked up, an old Indian, gray and wrinkled, was standing straight and proud where no one could have been five seconds ago. Excitedly, Ben quickly went to him like he’d known him forever. The Indian moved easily as a man many years younger and greeted Ben like an old friend. Ben introduced me as the one who saved his children and he wished to show me his gratitude. I was welcomed and we sat in the shade sipping something sweet from large gourds and talked into the night.

"The next morning, I was startled awake by the sound of a woman’s laughter. When I looked, there were three more people in camp and one was the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen. She was dressed in animal skins, finely tanned and had features much like Indians I had known, but with a strange difference I couldn’t really put my finger on. The old one said she was a princess from a far-off place. The others were her travel companions, but by their look and physical stature, I guessed them to be there for her safety. Her interest in me was quick and obvious, as was mine in her.

"We all stayed for several very enjoyable days. We ate well of food that just seemed to appear in the night. The rations we brought remained untouched and the other three only carried small pouches, so the food and drink remained a mystery to me. On the fourth day, they got two sacks of gold and prepared to leave. As Ben and I were securing the sacks of gold, the princess, who had requested I call her by name, Keronica Valeen, asked if I would like to see her homeland. Without a second thought, I told her yes. I guess you could say the thought of gold just wasn’t that important anymore.

"I went with them, back into the grotto. We entered a dark passageway and suddenly we were in another place. We were, as they say, on the other side. I never went back. I fell in love with that Indian princess and I married a Sun. I was accepted without question as one worthy of her, because she chose me, and no one knew or cared from where I came. When her father died, I became Chief. She died thirty years later nursing the village back from a great sickness.

"I am now one of a chosen few to know of the gold and the gateways. Thousands of years ago, the gold was banked for desperate times by the Old Ones in what were the Apache strongholds of the Guadalupe Mountains, the Superstition Mountains and in the Mountain of Two Heads in Arizona. The keepers in Arizona lived in the great cliffs until they were called back to this side.

"Keeping the gold on the other side was a measure of safety against those here who would steal it from The People. The knowledge of the gateways and their openings