Trey Roberts and the Ancient Relics

by Lee Magnus

  Trey Roberts

  and the

  Ancient Relics

  ~

  Book 1

  By

  Lee Magnus

  Cover by Cakamura

  Tanarkin House

  Text @ 2019 by Lee Magnus

  Cover design by Cakamura @2019 Lee Magnus

  Trey Roberts and all related characters and elements are TM of and @ Lee Magnus

  “Hey Jude” The Beatles 1968

  “Mask Off” Future 2017

  Trey Roberts publishing rights @ Lee Magnus

  All rights reserved. Published by Michael Matthew Publishing. The dragon logo and all related logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Michael Matthew Publishing.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Tanarkin House

  An imprint of Michael Matthew Publishing

  First Tanarkin House paperback edition November 2019

  The Library of Congress Catalog 2019951494

  ISBN 978-1-7340748-0-2 (Ebook)

  ISBN 978-1-7340748-1-9 (Paperback)

  To my amazing boys who constantly inspire me

  Contents

  The Science Teacher

  A King’s Curse

  Unexpected Partners

  A Trip to Egypt

  Donald Smith’s Office

  Jessie’s Girl

  Tiny Island

  Airhame

  Deception

  The Keeper’s Burrow

  Western Oasis

  Carry on

  Confirmation

  Enter the Protector’s Realm

  The Etherios

  The Eye of Kartho

  Escape

  Rescuing Don Smith

  Tanarkin The Green

  A Long Drive Home

  Test Results

  Reunion

  Dream

  The Science Teacher

  Nick Hampton walked a sandy street. The noon day sun blistered the back of his neck, but he barely noticed. He wandered aimlessly, searching in vain for an unknown object in a nameless town accented by a vast desert to the south and a large lake to the east. He was neither anxious about the destination or casual in his lack of control.

  A stoic glare from an elementary school aged girl prodded a shiver in his spine. She appeared from nowhere wearing a headdress of neat golden tassels decorated in vivid pink and plumb wrappings. Without removing her glower, she raised a listless finger toward a donkey and several young men wearing keffiyehs loitering outside of what looked like a shop made of clay – the design of most structures in the village. A sign hung above the door depicting a shield with wavy horizontal lines bordering a green jewel riveted in the chief point.

  The girl was no longer at his side when he turned back. He looked again to where she pointed, finding himself in the shop facing a furrowed man with grey hair and a long, more grey than black beard. The shop keeper’s hauntingly leery eyes stared motionlessly through Nick’s soul.

  Nick observed a key attached to a ring on the shopkeeper’s wrinkly right thumb which rested on the counter. He glanced around the room and thought the walls were odd; fully decorated with knives of many shapes, colors and sizes.

  A woman appeared in the doorway behind the old man. A large wooden box with a golden keyhole prominent on top rested like an altar in the center of the room behind her. A crystal geode shone brightly several feet above the box. It grew brighter until the radiance forced Nick’s attention away.

  Nick’s awareness was drawn toward a barking dog standing on a chair with front paws pressed against the window. He didn’t remember it upon first glance around the room. The dog was dark red with white paws and a white tail. A handsome dog, one you would keep indoors but off the furniture – a dog you would be proud to walk around the neighborhood.

  The bark became louder and more explosive as it turned toward the hapless dreamer. Its face became gnarled and bloody. Sapping drool flung about its mouth and dripped to the floor. The malicious canine leapt from the chair toward Nick as it grew six times in size...”NO! NO! NOOOOoooooo!”

  Nick awoke in a cold sweat, panting – relieved to be awake.

  “Ugggg. I hope I never see that guy in real life,” he mumbled to himself.

  He reflected on the dream a few moments then noted the details in a pocket journal.

  A crisp morning nipped at his ears when he emerged from the restless night. Frost-covered blades of grass below a lonely hammock chilled bare feet as he reached for a pair of worn leather hiking boots. He attempted to shake off the overnight cold which had seeped into his bones but was left with little satisfaction in the act. Snow-covered ridges occupied the distant view like everlasting thoughts of companionship – always out of reach. A dense fog escaped his mouth as he released an after-yawn exhale. He pulled a hoodie over the tattered shirt he wore the previous day (and several days before for that matter), which exposed a rounded bicep with bulging veins splattered with his own blood mixed with that of another less fortunate beast. He favored his left leg as well as the bandaged arm as he booted up.

  The nagging thought remained – Why am I here?

  A small fire popped as it heated a tin cup of water he would soon use to extract the bitter essence from tea leaves he picked earlier that week.

  The forest teemed with laughter as he gathered his kit. The caw of a bird, the chirp of a bug - they all seemed to be mocking him and his ludicrous journey.

  Minutes later, soothing warmth of the tea would bring forth a continued desire to complete the task and the necessary confidence that he would survive to find the hidden item an old mystic said would be here.

  He let the fire burn out as he tried to absorb every last bit of heat. He then covered the ashes and continued to plod an overgrown trail like a conscious zombie – each step was awkward and painful. The base of a makeshift cane dotted the cold ground with rough indentions. A repetitive knocking sound drew his attention. With his eyes, he traced a tall spruce to reveal a black bird with white spots, possibly searching for breakfast. He then regained focus on his mission and grimaced upon taking another laborious step.

  He reviewed the hand-drawn map unaware of the challenges resting ahead. He turned west, deeper into the oriental jungle, mindful of the recent encounter – the reason for his gaiting limp. Wading through impenetrable brush and bending back wooden limbs, he arrived at a large flat rock face near the base of a small mountain. His heart paced up. His eyes brightened. He almost smiled.

  Could this be the end? he ruminated hopefully. “The end of the beginning,” he replied out loud.

  Wiping away layers of grimy muck revealed archaic symbols that haven’t been viewed with a human eye in eons. He compared the inscription to the map confirming he was in the right place – the validation offered a glimmer of optimism. He trudged around the east side over a boulder and overgrowth to find hidden behind a dense bush, a small skinny fissure just wide enough to crawl through.

  He shined his light into the hole to reveal nothing but darkness.

  He tossed in a small bag of various items (for he wouldn’t fit with it attached) then followed it into the tiny opening – hoping he was the only living thing beyond the entrance. He left his remaining possessions next to the bush.

  Good thing I passed on the doughnut at the airport, he laughed as he barely squeezed through. He scraped a rock with his hip, causing him to curse at the added pain.

  The hollow
expanded once he breached the entrance. He wiped away dust and grime to notice he could reach to either side and had about a foot to spare over his head. Damp grey-green moss clung to crumbling rock walls. He searched with the flashlight to find nothing out of the ordinary other than the fact he was in a small cave in the middle of a northern Chinese forest.

  He steadily trudged through undulating tunnels. He wiped away webs and dripping roots as he looked diligently for the marking stone. The uneven ceiling produced several crags of which he squatted to avoid. He inhaled, more frequently as he progressed through the passageway, the fragrance of decayed plants (and he thought possibly the remains of an animal of some sort).

  After a stretch of uneventful walking he whispered to himself excitedly, “There it is!” He settled the light on a stone protruding from the wall in the distance ahead. “The marking stone is real.”

  In a relieved state of excitement, he eagerly waltzed several careless steps forward. Suddenly the ground gave way plunging him into a deceptively covered pit. The flashlight fell to his side. Several large objects scurried through the luminescence casting creepy shadows onto the walls. He lifted himself up painfully and looked up into the darkness. He clutched the light – then gasped.

  “Spiders! Oh my god massive spiders!” he screeched like a little girl.

  He jumped and shivered wildly. Trying to ensure none were on him, he rapidly brushed his hands all over his body. Breathing became a hasty pant. He waived the light around the deep pit quickly from side to side kicking several writhing multi-legged bodies to the edge of the trap – each landed with a dull thump. Huge black arachnids with long hairy legs travelled the floor and wall of the circular pit. Some were as big as a basketball.

  Gathering himself trying not to freak out, he took a second to think. He used a retractable stick from his pack to clear a path and brush away the aggressive ones that got too close. He drove several tent stakes into the hard dirt wall to create a ledge about 4 feet from the ground. After putting away the stick, he jumped to the ledge with his good leg then painfully propelled himself with the other high enough to grasp the edge of the hole with both hands. Furry legs crawled next to him, over his hands and up his back. He paused in fear, clinching his eyes shut, as one crawled sluggishly over his shoulder then across his face to exit the dank prison. Doing all he could to maintain composure, he slowly lifted himself out as the monstrous creatures scurried to the surface seemingly happy to be free.

  Shaking off the creepy feeling, safely out of the snare, Nick pushed against the protruding stone. The wall cracked open exposing a narrow passage.

  After a few steps into the passage he carefully navigated a trip wire. He rubbed a finger over tiny holes of death lining the walls intended to greet anyone else less vigilant. He grimaced at his lack of caution that led to the spider trap. That same carelessness would have him forever pinned to the wall in this tunnel.

  Turning left down a corridor he stopped abruptly next to an overly protruding root emerging from the ceiling. Further inspection indicated the root was all that kept a large section of the tunnel from total collapse.

  Carefully navigating under the root trap he found his way to the end of the passage to find a wall – a dead end.

  “This can’t be,” he said to himself. “All the other signs were there.” His face shriveled into a painful grimace.

  He slid a hand across the scratchy rock wall. Just before he turned to leave in utter defeat, his hand dipped into a camouflaged depression. He wiped away webs and dirt to reveal a small opening. A large maroon colored six-legged bug swiftly crawled onto his arm with pincers flailing. He casually brushed it away before inserting a sturdy telescopic baton into the dark hole. Something inside forcefully collapsed, jarring the baton from his hands. He rubbed his hands on his pants unsuccessfully alleviating the pain. He then leaned with all his weight onto the protruding baton and pried the fallen object up while simultaneously reaching in and around the baton with the other hand. His feet dangled off the floor as he shook and wobbled on the baton. He quickly retracted his hand only once as his balance slipped, again slamming the protective object inside the hole onto the baton.

  He again leveraged his weight onto the makeshift lever then said joyfully, “There it is!” as he strained to feel a small box recessed in the back of the perforation in the wall.

  After significant effort navigating the object around the baton and the trap trigger, he pulled out a small ceramic box. Carefully opening the foregone repository revealed a thin copper-colored metal rod bent in the shape of a triangle. He gazed upon it as if it were the key to untold riches or perhaps the holy grail. However, he knew not what it was or why he was sent to retrieve it. He closed the box, secured it in his pack then exited the tunnel, careful to avoid the traps and spider pit. He thought about the upcoming journey back to America. School starts in two weeks and I haven’t yet prepared for my students.

  Backtracking four days through the forest past a cave that made him shiver and grasp his arm, he finally arrived at a 4x4 truck he rented the week before. He drove all day and night to a tiny village where he took the first train to Beijing from where he departed to Dulles International Airport.

  A King’s Curse

  “Happy Monday morning!” said Nick Hampton greeting Trey Roberts at the door of the Lownes Middle School science lab.

  “What’s up, Mr. H!” he said tapping a hanging human skeleton, watching it dance a choppy jig. His bright hazel eyes skimmed the room as if looking for something out of place.

  The lab smelled of ammonia and burnt soap. A poster of the periodic table hung over a shelf stacked with nondescript books. His shoes squeaked on the freshly mopped floor. Trey wondered if an earlier experiment had gone wrong prompting the recent clean up but instantly let the thought slip from his mind.

  “What’s that?” Trey inquired as he pointed toward a waist high metal structure near the corner of the lab.

  “Wha…Oh that,” Nick said running his hand through thick wavy brown hair. I’m, uh, testing the conductivity of this rare copper laden igneous stone,” he said quickly covering up the display.

  “It sure looked like an elaborate set up for a simple test.”

  “It’s well, um, I suppose. So, what brings you by so early this morning?”

  Trey recognized his science teacher’s evasion of his questions regarding the display but didn’t hesitate to continue the conversation. “I thought I'd tap your mind on gravitational waves before I go to home room. I read up on them last night. Scientists recently detected light and gravitational waves from a neutron star merger. To think, Einstein had it right all along.”

  “It is cool, Trey. Did you know it took physicists over 400 years to discover light is both particle and a wave?”

  Trey sat on a desk across from Nick who was standing next to a smart wall.

  “Of course. Everyone knows it started with Newton and Huygens,” Trey replied.

  Nick crossed his arms and said, “You’d be surprised at how little people know about science, Trey, especially 8th graders who are more concerned about which video game they’re supposed to be playing. Not everyone thinks physics is cool. I’m sure old man gravity has a few more details to share over the next several decades.”

  “I can’t wait!” Trey beamed.

  “How’s your mom?”

  “She’s good. She’s been really busy with the museum.”

  “That’s right. She has a big show coming up. When is it, the fourteenth?”

  “I think so.”

  “Tell her to let me know if I can help in any way.”

  “Sure thing. Oh yeah, she wanted me to thank you again for taking me to the robotics challenge last week.”

  “It was my pleasure, Trey,” he smiled

  “She said she’s making a pie to thank you.”

  “She doesn’t have to do that. Is it pecan?” he said with begging puppy dog look.

  “Ha Ha! I don’t know. I’ll tell her.�
�

  “Mmmmm. I can’t wait,” Nick replied rubbing his stomach and closing his eyes.

  “I have to get to History class. Catch you later Mr. H!”

  “See you in class, Trey!” he said ruffling Trey’s thick curly hair that tapered down into a clean fade.

  Nick glanced back to the covered display, giving it a worrisome regard.

  Trey looked back at Nick with a smile just before he disappeared into a throng of children in the hall.

  “Hey T!” hollered Marcus Bouer from across the hall. He held a familiar smug smile.

  Trey shifted his burdensome backpack then walked to the short, skinny boy with neatly combed black hair.

  The pair commenced a series of hand gestures; a fist bump, followed by a two-sided slap, a chest high grasp that converted into a handshake. They resumed the conversation after a short thumb war battle.

  “Dude! You always win!” Trey smiled.

  Marcus said in a scruffy voice with a wide grin while holding up and wiggling both thumbs near his face, “Kid! You can’t beat the monster thumbs.”

  Trey laughed and lightly batted down Marcus’ hands then asked, “So what’s up?”

  “How about catchin’ a movie after your match this weekend?” he replied as he adjusted oval wire-framed glasses.

  “Yeah that’d be great! Sunday afternoon is better. We usually all meet for dinner after the matches.”

  “That’ll work for me.”

  “Something funny I hope?”

  “Of course,” Marcus said.

  “I have to grab something from my locker. I’ll catch you later!”

  “Ok, see ya, Kid!” Marcus said walking on without him.

  History class bustled of robust conversations around summer activities, sports events and gossip of who loves who. The walls were decorated in sayings such as,