by R L Delaney
"What strange words," Amy said while she wrinkled her nose.
"Can't help it," Father Galvéz replied. "I didn't write it. But underneath the title it says something like, 'secrets of the unknown revealed.' If I have anything about this so-called key of Cipher Flux, it will be in that book."
"Come on, Justin," Amy said as she got up with a determined look on her face. "We've got work to do."
Chapter Five
Harrison stuck both of his hands deep into his pockets and blushed as he stared at Stana Growklowsky who was sloshing the drink around in her whiskey glass. Her words had stung, causing Harrison to swallow hard. He did not understand. How was it possible that this wonderful girl could turn so fast, like a leaf on a tree, stirred by the wind? While she would say such wonderful, sweet little nothings one moment, only seconds later it almost appeared ice cubes were spouting out of her mouth.
"You are so bound, Harry," she had mumbled while she wrinkled her nose. "With you, everything always has to be done according to the book. Alvaro wasn't like that at all."
Alvaro? Was he still having to compete with Alvaro Ironbark, a wicked Shadow Walker?
No. Beautiful, ravishing Stana was still a mystery to him. He loved the little lamb Stana. Tender, soft and innocent. On those precious moments when she would lean over and press her soft lips against his mouth… It would cause tremors through his whole body, and this insatiable desire to help, love and protect this angel from paradise would wash over him in powerful waves. He was in love with that Stana.
But then, only seconds later, all the sweetness would be gone, and she acted as if she had detected some awful sin in him that she greatly despised. How could he possible fully please her, and make her his own?
He now had his cupboard stashed with bottles from the liquor store, wore the clothes that she claimed made him look better (She hated his favorite woolen sweater with the running reindeers, and had insisted he wear a black, tight-fitting silk shirt that cut off his breathing) and had agreed to a meeting with her closest friends this very evening.
And even though she had been so nice and wonderful to him only minutes ago, now the little lamb had run off again, and the hard, cold Stana had taken her place.
Harrison licked his lips and while he bit his bottom lip he mumbled, "I-Is everything all right, Stana? You seem… eh… a little distant."
"Of course, I am all right, Harry, and I am not distant," she scoffed. "I am here, am I not? I just hate it when people are late, and you act as if everything is fine." She downed her drink in one gulp and placed the glass with a heavy bang on his desk. "They should have been here already. I am wondering what is going on."
Harrison sighed. How would he know? "I am sure your friends will come," he tried, but he knew his effort was fruitless.
Stana had arranged for them to meet some friends of hers who apparently could help him in locating the key of Cipher Flux. They had apparently invited them to dinner in Dewsbury's only three star restaurant, the Golden Lobster, the same place where he had been a dishwasher. That sounded great. Instead of cleaning the fancy plates, this time he could dirty them, and Harrison was looking forward to a sumptuous meal. Still there was something about the whole thing that caused him concern. Who were these friends and how was it possible they knew something about such secret things as the key of Cipher Flux?
When he had brought up the question, Stana had scowled at him again, and told him to be quiet. Harrison had felt like a fly that had inadvertently gotten himself stuck in a weird, sticky web of a vicious spider, but he had scolded himself for thinking such nonsense. After all, Stana didn't mean any harm. She just had a rough time. Poor girl. She had to cope with the loss of her husband and the related financial difficulties.
Happily, Stana usually would sense his confusion, and quickly plaster him with another string of her luscious kisses. It would always do the trick, and soften his heart.
But now, as they were waiting for these mysterious friends, and Harrison nervously fumbled with the button of his black silk shirt, no kisses came. Harrison tried to tell himself again that everything was wonderful, but this time he did not succeed. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that Stana was wonderful, and everything was just as it was supposed to be, there was this nagging feeling that things were not all that wonderful, and that maybe some of the angry words Justin had hurled at Stana on that dreadful afternoon were true.
The doorbell shook him out of his confusion.
"Aha," Stana said. She seemed relieved and got up. "Here they are. Open the door, Harry."
"Of course," Harry mumbled. He walked over to the intercom and pushed the button. "Who's there?"
There was a moment of silence, but then the voice from down below in the street came through. "We are the friends of Stana Growklowsky."
Harrison pushed the button of the hallway door and opened the front door of his office. Seconds later three husky men walked up the stairs. All three were dressed in long, grey raincoats with Fedora hats and sunglasses. Why would anyone be wearing sunglasses when it was almost evening?
As they were coming up the steps, a strange sense of foreboding rose up in Harrison's chest and for a moment he felt the urge to close the door. But how could he do that? These were the important friends of Stana…
"H-Hello," Harrison said, and he stuck out his hand as the first of the three men reached the top of the stairs and walked over to him. "My name is Harri—"
He could not finish his sentence as, unexpectedly, instead of a hand there was a sudden push. Without warning the big, meaty man planted both of his hands on Harrison's chest and thrust him backward, causing him to tumble into the hallway of his office. Harrison yelped and tried to steady himself, but while his hands swung through the air he could find no support and crashed to the floor.
Instantly, the three were on top of him and began to batter him with their knuckles, exerting such force so mercilessly that within seconds Harrison had to struggle not to lose consciousness. The taste of blood was in his mouth.
"G-Get off me," he screamed. "Stana… h-help me."
Out of nowhere, a gunny sack appeared and was forced over his head, and as he felt his strength quickly waning he noticed a rope was tied around his hands and his feet.
"W-Who are you? What do you want?" he cried out in a broken voice.
"Good work, boys," he heard a familiar voice.
That was Stana.
"Stana, please… tell these folks it's a mistake."
But Stana did not do such a thing. Instead she laughed out loud. It was not the sweet, joyful laughter Harrison had heard when he had told her a few silly jokes, the laughter he had fallen in love with. This was a cackling, cold demonic laughter, something which Harrison had never heard from her before. This was the mocking, victorious cry of the spider who was ready to devour her prey…
It took Justin and Amy quite some time, but at last they found what they were looking for. Hidden right under the overturned plant with the wilted brown leaves, covered under a layer of earth, was the little book that Father Galvéz had told them about.
It was Amy who found it. She squealed with delight as she swung the little book in the air above her head while she glanced at Justin. "This is it, Justin. The very words Father Galvéz mentioned are written on the first page."
Justin flopped back on the chair and heaved a long sigh. "Finally. Let's see what Father Galvéz has to say."
Seconds later they marched back into the bedroom, and they placed themselves by the bed of the old priest.
Resting seemed to have done the old man a lot of good. While he had been dreadfully pale before, a healthy, fresh color had returned to his cheeks, and he even claimed that his headache was subsiding. When Amy showed him the little book, his eyes began to shine.
"Is this the book, Father?" Amy asked as she handed him the book.
Father Galvéz nodded, as he took the small volume in his hands. "This is the one," he mumbled. "I haven't read thi
s book for years. It's like seeing a long, lost friend." He picked up his reading glasses from the nightstand right next to his bed, and lovingly brushed his fingers over the leather cover. "Such an old book," he whispered more to himself than to Justin and Amy.
Then he cracked it open. For some time he leafed through the stained pages, most of which had a yellow shine that seemed to have come with age. Some pages were ripped, while others were missing altogether. Several times he stopped to read a passage or two, squeezed his chin, made a guttural humming sound, and then continued to turn more pages. At last he nodded and looked up with a bright smile. "I found it," he announced. "Here's the passage about Cipher Flux, and more specifically, about his key."
"What does it say?" Amy and Justin spoke at the same time.
"It's actually a manuscript, written in Latin," Father Galvéz replied. "It's recorded by a historian that lived in the days of Cipher Flux. I don't know where this man got his information but here, in this manuscript, he mentions the key and he writes about the death of Cipher Flux."
The eyes of Amy and Justin grew wide. Father Galvéz cleared his throat and began to read.
"Et hoc est causa generationis Cipher Flux—"
"Excuse me, Father," Amy interrupted the man. "We don't speak Latin."
Father Galvéz grimaced. "Sorry, Amy… I thought… you know, with the Elixir and all that…?"
"Please, can you translate for us," Justin asked in an impatient tone.
"Of course." Father Galvéz cleared his throat, slowly, and with difficulty he began to translate the words in the book. "Et hoc est causa generationis… This, eh… is the generation, or the family of… Cipher Flux." He blinked and gave Amy an apologetic stare. "Don't rush me. It's difficult Latin."
And so the old priest stumbled through the epistle about Cipher Flux in his little volume 'Wolves on Fire.' Much more came, but nothing that Justin and Amy didn't already know. It confirmed everything Alfred Rodeo had told them. But then, just when Amy began to lose her concentration, since nothing new was being revealed, Father Galvéz said something that made her tune in again.
"In those final hours, just before his death, when he was deaf and dumb, Cipher Flux took a potsherd and carved the words "Hannibal ad portas" on the wall, which is believed to be a reference to his passing from this world into the next. His words proved to be prophetic for right after Cipher Flux was done with his carvings, the effort proved to be too much for him, and he took a final breath and gave up the ghost. Thus one of the greatest wizards of all times died in the stable of Bitter Grog Chapel.
I, Dilalius Potter, affirm that my testimony and my words are true.
Dilalius Potter. Written in the year of our Lord 1841
Father Galvéz closed the book, with a relieved expression on his face, and he let out a sigh. "Well, that's it. There's nothing more I can tell you about this."
"That's weird," Justin said as he wrinkled his nose. "And how did this Potter fellow know all that?" His eyes were holding a skeptical glint.
"I don't know, Justin," Father Galves replied as he leaned back on his pillow. "There's a lot I don't know. You asked me about the key of Cipher Flux, and I told you all I know about it." He picked up the glass of water that Amy had placed beside him on the night table, and took another sip. After he finished drinking, he placed the cup back on the stand, and peered long and hard into Justin's eyes. "No matter how weird it may sound, Justin… I believe it's all true."
"So, he died in the stable of that chapel. Where is that?" Amy asked.
"It's a three hour drive, east of the Westervale Mountains." Father Galvéz sighed. "It's a dreadful place. You really don't want to go down there."
Amy did not answer him, and seemed deep in thought for some time. At last she asked, "And those words Cipher Flux carved on the wall, Father. What's that all about?"
Father Galvéz shrugged his shoulders. "It's just like the writer of that book, Dilalius Potter wrote. It's Latin, and it referred to his death."
"Tell us," Amy asked.
Father Galvéz cleared his throat. "You must have heard of the Carthaginian military commander called Hannibal. He was a real scourge and a curse to the Roman Empire. He was defeating army after army, and killing and slaughtering the Romans in the second century. He almost became a phantom, and people were scared to death of him. So when kids didn't want to obey, the parents often used the name of Hannibal to scare them into submission. Then they would say 'Hannibal ad Portas,' meaning 'Hannibal is at the gate.' In other words, 'Children, if you don't behave the dark monster is coming. He's already at the door.' "Father Galvéz chuckled. "As a result the kids would scream for mercy and quickly obey. Now, Dilalius Potter however believes Cipher Flux, feeling himself to be like Hannibal, was knocking at the gate of the underworld because he was dying. It's ironic, since that was the very gate he had been seeking so desperately to open throughout his life."
"Could it be…," Amy asked while she narrowed her eyes, "… that these words didn't refer to his death, but are an indication of where the key may be hidden?"
Father Galvéz shook his head. "I don't know, Amy. But, Potter's explanation makes a lot more sense."
Amy wasn't convinced. "Why would such a wicked man with his last ounce of strength announce his death by carving a Latin phrase on the wall, when only three seconds later he actually was dead? Maybe, in a desperate, final and arrogant attempt to fight against the King of Heaven, he carved a clue about the hiding place of the key on the wall." Amy's eyes shone with clarity. "Wouldn't that make sense?"
Father Galvéz nodded and scratched his forehead. "Who knows, Amy? However, I think Potter is right. The Latin is clear. Hannibal ad Portes is a well-known Latin expression, and I can't make more of it than that. Luckily for us and the world, nobody really knows, so the key will safely stay hidden, wherever that is."
Justin seemed relieved too. He leaned back on his chair and rested his head on his outstretched arms. "That settles it then. We know that whoever broke into your house did not find the little brown book, and they know even less than we do. This is where it stops. But, this book actually didn't give us any new clues as to where that key may be hidden."
"So we don't have to destroy it," Father Galvéz said while clutching the book to his chest.
"And Stana Growklowsky?" Amy asked. "What about her?"
Justin shrugged his shoulders. "She knows nothing. We just need to get Uncle Harry to see the light about her, but that won't be so difficult."
"How's that?" Amy wanted to know.
Justin chuckled. "I read this quote the other day, and I think it applies here." He lifted his finger in the air and shook it around. 'You give the devil enough rope, and he'll hang himself. Uncle Harry is a good man. His eyes will be opened."
"But when?" Amy whispered more to herself than in answer to Justin's statement. She wasn't so sure. At last, she looked up at Justin and said, "I don't know, Justin. I have a feeling we haven't heard the last about this wretched key."
Chapter Six
"Justin… Come down!"
Mother's voice was shrill and demanding as she called out to Justin who was playing in his room with Balthazar.
Justin looked at the clock in his room. Nine o'clock. Nothing special was planned for this evening, so why would he need to come down?
He picked up Balthazar and opened the door of his bedroom. "What's the matter, Mom?"
Mother was standing at the bottom of the stairs, and was holding an envelope above her head as she looked up at Justin. "There's a curious letter for you."
"A letter? For me?" Justin put Balthazar down and descended the stairs.
"Somebody rang the bell," Mom said. "Rather loudly too, and at nine in the evening no less. Your friends should know better than that." Mom scowled as she handed the letter to Justin. "Who is it from? Looks like the handwriting of a woman? I thought Amy was your girlfriend?"
"She is, Mom," Justin said as he shrugged his shoulders. He studied the yellow env
elope. His name was written in wavy, cursive handwriting, which indeed had the appearance of the scrawl of a woman.
"Open it." Mom demanded.
"Forgive me, mother," Justin replied. "I'll read it myself. I have no idea what this is. It's private."
Mother shook her head and mumbled something about the young generation not respecting the parents anymore. Luckily, she decided not to make an issue out of it, and she took off to the kitchen, leaving Justin to study his letter.
As he stood at the bottom of the stairs, he brought the letter to his nose and sniffed it. There was no particular scent that could give him a clue as to who it was from, but somehow a knot had formed in Justin's stomach. He dreaded opening the letter. He could just throw it away and not read it. But as soon as the thought had entered his mind, he discarded it as ridiculous. Of course he would read it.
In one swift move he tore open the envelope and fished out a typed note. As he did a small photograph fell out and Justin bent over to pick it up. As he stared at the picture, his heart skipped not one, but three beats. There, on the picture was his Uncle Harry, tied to a chair, his head bloody, and his eyes holding a desperate expression. Justin stuck the picture in his shirt pocket and began to read.
We've got your Uncle Harry.
If you and that ugly girlfriend of yours, Amy Stenson, do not deliver the key of Cipher Flux to us within three days, your uncle will be sacrificed to our god Gogothol and he will surely die. For every day you delay in delivering the key, another one of your loved ones will die. Your uncle told us you have been anointed with a spiritual anointing, which is why we know you can do this. You are not to talk about this with anyone else.
You will be watched, and if we see you seek the help of the Guardians of the Sacred Tome, your uncle will be instantly sacrificed.