Ancient Illusions

by Joanne Pence

  “Of course, we were following the right guy. There aren’t many 6’2” Westerners hanging around the Lafcadio Hearn Museum, believe me. We knew it was him the minute he showed up.”

  More ranting.

  “Okay, okay. We’ll ask at the museum, then will search. Up and down the highway, I know … I know … We’ll find him. You can count on it.”

  Rachel and Ceinwen spent the night in an inexpensive Salmon motel. Both scarcely slept.

  They met Jake before dawn at the sheriff’s station. Only by getting a very early start would they make the round trip in one day. He had borrowed three quarter horses from a rancher friend, and a three-horse slant load trailer to move them.

  “I guess I should have asked if you know how to ride,” Jake said to Ceinwen. “If not, you could wait here for us.”

  “I’ve ridden,” Ceinwen said. “We do have horses in England.”

  “That’s right. You go after little foxes, don’t you? Here, we go after grizzlies.”

  “Now he’s Grizzly Adams,” Ceinwen said to Rachel. To her surprise, Jake grinned at the comment.

  Rachel sat between the two in the truck. They headed north to the Salmon River, and then westward along the Salmon River Road until it became no more than a footpath. There, Jake turned onto a fire road that was even worse.

  Ceinwen was awed by the beauty of the Salmon and the high mountains edging it. “I never quite knew what you Americans meant when you sang about ‘purple mountains majesty.’ Now, I do.”

  Even Jake seemed pleased by that statement.

  They rode in silence until Rachel faced Jake. “You didn’t mention Michael Rempart. Have you heard from him?”

  Jake flashed her a quick, cautious glance, then went back to watching the narrow roadway. “I saw him once last year. He came here with some weird ass story about a pearl with demons. I didn’t understand half of it. Charlotte seemed to. More power to her, is all I can say.”

  “But you haven’t heard from him lately?”

  “No, and I think Charlotte would’ve mentioned if she had.” But then he added, “Or, maybe not.”

  “What was that about a pearl with demons?” Ceinwen asked, ignoring his odd remark.

  “It made no sense to me,” Jake admitted. “The pearl supposedly gives demons power, so he wanted to keep it away from them.”

  “I should hope so,” Ceinwen said dryly. The story sounded ludicrous.

  Jake snorted. “Yeah, me, too. Even crazier, was that rare earth elements neutralize the demons. Since we have rare earth elements in the mountains of Idaho, I can’t help but wonder if he hid the pearl here. Who knows? Maybe it’s working. I haven’t seen any red men with horns and forked tails scurrying about. Lots of other weird stuff, though.”

  “Strange,” Ceinwen said. “I don’t know anything about Michael Rempart, other than he was once popular enough for a show on American TV. Not sure if that’s impressive or not. I’ve also been told he’s quite a good archeologist, but seems to have retired since the strangeness out here two years ago. What’s your opinion? Is he a weird duck?”

  “Not really,” Jake admitted. “Although a lot of what he says is gobbledygook to me. But Charlotte likes the guy—quite a bit, in fact. And she’s usually a good judge of character.”

  “I wonder if Michael has retired,” Rachel said. “My professors were saying he’s been quiet since finding a Han tomb in Mongolia. Anyway, maybe he’ll come back here and help us figure out what’s happening.”

  “You’d have to ask Charlotte what he’s up to,” Jake said gruffly. “In fact, I wish you would. And tell her all you told me. I think she’d be interested. Maybe if Michael was going to show up, she’d come back.”

  Rachel cocked her head slightly at his tone. “I’ll do it. Of course.”

  He grimaced. “Oh, happy day.”

  Ceinwen wondered what all the sarcasm was about. “Do you really think he might come here?”

  Jake rolled his eyes.

  “I don’t know how to get hold of him,” Rachel said. “If I did, I certainly would let him know something’s going on. He’s the one who saved … I mean, he understands a lot of this stuff.”

  “Understands what? And saved what?” Ceinwen asked. “Are you saying whatever happened here had to do with archeology?”

  “Well, no,” Rachel said. “Not exactly.”

  “Hell,” Jake muttered. “We’ll try to get Michael here if we need him, okay? Then you, and all the other women within a hundred miles can come see him. I don’t know why all you women like those dark, moody, brooding types. Not when there are guys like, well, me around.”

  Ceinwen and Rachel couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Ouch! That hurt, ladies,” Jake said, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “But, anyway, I guess the guy’s pretty much okay. Most of the time.”

  “Frankly,” Rachel said, “he kind of scared me.”

  Jake snorted. “I hate to admit it, but there were times he scared me, too.”

  A scary archeologist? As Ceinwen thought about her nerdy professors, she couldn’t begin to imagine such a thing.

  When the fire trail ended, they led the horses from the trailer and saddled them up. The horses would quickly and easily get them to the site Rachel both feared and yet felt eager to see once more.

  As they rode northward, Rachel admitted to being glad Jake had accompanied them. She would have been completely lost if she had tried to direct a guide out here.

  The land was dotted with pine and fir trees, and low-lying scrub brush. Because of the heavy snows of winter, strong winds, high altitude, and harsh terrain, little vegetation grew, and few animals of any kind lived there. Not even the various Indian tribes that made Idaho and Montana home had ever inhabited that particular area, and when forced to cross it, they would travel as quickly as they could to make their way out of the inhospitable, dangerous land.

  The three rode for a couple of hours before reaching a cliff that overlooked the small valley they searched for.

  “I remember the wonder I felt when I first stood on this cliff and looked out at the valley,” Rachel said. “In its center was what looked like a perfectly shaped symmetrical mound of earth in the form of a pyramid with the top lopped off. It was some twenty feet tall and forty feet across. At the top, two granite pillars soared high into the sky. The pillars were stark and frightening, and at their very tops were Egyptian hieroglyphics.”

  “Did you say hieroglyphics?” Ceinwen asked. She was dumbfounded at Rachel’s description. All she saw, now, was a small, flat valley.

  “That is not for publication!” Jake insisted.

  “Of course,” Ceinwen agreed.

  He went on. “Charlotte is a scholar of ancient Egypt, so she recognized a few of the symbols, but no one could explain how such symbols—let alone the pillars—came to exist in the middle of Idaho.”

  As Ceinwen looked at the landscape, she couldn’t imagine the scene they were describing. Still, something eerie and surreal hovered over the land, and it was clear to her the two were telling the absolute truth. Or, what they believed was true. She couldn’t help but wonder about the true depth of Charlotte Reed’s knowledge. Egyptian hieroglyphics in Idaho? She didn’t think so.

  Still, as she studied the valley the hair on her arms seemed to stand on end. “This place is creepy,” she admitted. “What happened out here? Where are the pillars and the pyramid-like mound now?”

  Neither Rachel nor Jake answered.

  She drew in a deep breath as she followed them down the steep hillside to the valley floor, taking care to find a route that the horses could easily walk.

  Up ahead, Jake suddenly stopped and dismounted. Rachel and Ceinwen did the same, then holding the reins, approached to see what troubled him.

  The land before them was shaped like a giant bowl or basin with steep, sloping sides. The ground was black, as if it were a field of charcoal rather than soil. They inched forward and saw that in the center of the “bow
l” was an enormous round hole. It was as if they were ants standing on the edge of a funnel. From where they stood, although the sun was high in the sky, they couldn’t see how deep the hole went. Jake took a couple of steps onto the lip of the funnel, but when he did, the rocks slid under his feet and he had to scramble back up to the flat land. Ceinwen grabbed his hand to steady him. It looked as if anyone who went over the side would very likely slide, unable to stop, into the hole.

  Jake found a rock and heaved it as close to the hole as he could. It didn’t make it all the way, but as they suspected would happen, when the rock landed the burnt coals gave way and slid toward the hole, taking the rock with them. The three listened for the “kerplunk” that told them it had landed.

  They never heard it.

  They glanced at each other and backed away.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Jake said.

  “Do you see that black cloud?” Rachel murmured, staring straight ahead.

  “Where?” Ceinwen scanned the sky, but didn’t see anything.

  “What is it?” Rachel cried, her voice filled with fear.

  “Look, it’s over there!” Jake said, eying the area to his right as he drew his Smith and Wesson. “Let’s go! There are too many.”

  “Too many what?” Ceinwen cried, looking where he indicated but seeing nothing.

  They were about to mount their horses when they heard a loud gunshot. It sounded quite close. The horses whinnied and reared in fright.

  Rachel couldn’t hold on to her horse and he ran off. Ceinwen threw herself onto the saddle, holding on tight as her horse bolted to follow Rachel’s.

  She glanced back to see Jake struggling to calm his horse at the same time as he was trying to reach Rachel.

  Ceinwen’s horse didn’t slow down until it reached a narrow stream. Only then could she regain control. Rachel’s horse was in the water taking a drink. Ceinwen managed to take hold of his reins along with her own horse’s.

  She took out her cell phone and, as expected, had no service. She couldn’t even send a text. Around her was nothing but rocks and a few scraggly bushes near the water. A feeling of panic struck. What if something happened to Jake and Rachel? Who knew she was out here? What if no one could find her?

  She fought to stay calm, but thoughts of the University group that disappeared came to her. There had been eight of them, and they could not be found. She was only one.

  All the words about this area: roadless, wilderness, uninhabited, deadly, came at her in all their full, frightening meaning.

  She didn’t even know which direction to go in. The hillside they had descended wasn’t visible, and she realized how completely alone she was out here. Not even the sound of a breeze broke the complete silence. Her heart pounded with unnamed fear and her mouth turned dry as she considered her options. They weren’t great. The best thing to do, she believed, was to wait.

  Two very long hours later, she began to think waiting was hopeless, and she might need to try to find her way back alone. She stood, doing all she could to muster her courage when she heard a faint cry.

  She held her breath, listening. Again … it was her name. Yes, her name!

  She answered, loud as she could, and soon spotted her friends in the distance. She waved her arms, running toward them.

  “Are you all right?” Rachel called. She was seated behind Jake and slid off his horse when they reached Ceinwen.

  “I’m fine, and beyond glad you found me,” Ceinwen said, breathless and joyful as she gave Rachel a big hug. “But that was the damnedest thing. Did you see who was shooting at us?”

  “It wasn’t a gunshot,” Rachel said, her eyes wide with fear. “It came from the black clouds.”

  “Clouds?” Ceinwen repeated.

  “I think she means clouds of dust,” Jake said. He, too, sounded nervous and even a bit shaky. “They were some real bad asses, and all carried massive cudgels.”

  Rachel stared at him with confusion. “What are you talking about? The cloud surrounded a coven of witches, horrible creatures. Somehow, they were able to fly and zoomed toward us, cackling and throwing fireballs that made booming noises. I don’t know how they didn’t catch us.”

  “Flying witches?” Jake scoffed. “What did they use? Broomsticks?”

  “You saw them, too!” Rachel insisted. “You ran from them!”

  “Not from witches,” he said. “I saw something, yes—huge, strong … ogres, I think they’re called. More than a dozen.”

  “And I saw none of that,” Ceinwen said as her gaze swiveled between them. “But it sounds as if you both saw your scariest fantasies come to life.”

  Jake looked stunned by her words, but quickly recovered. “All I know is, we need to get the hell out of here. Whatever’s out there probably wants us dead.”

  “Maybe you have enemies out here,” Ceinwen said, “who may or may not want you dead. But I saw and heard nothing, while you two rattle on about witches, ogres, and thunderbolt ICBMs. Either you two have serious traumatic delusions from your previous ordeal, or you’re having flashbacks from having been drugged back then.”

  Jake made no reply. He spat on the ground and turned away. He was obviously both angry and frustrated.

  Rachel moved closer to Ceinwen. Her eyes held a stark intensity as she spoke in a low, solemn voice. “This place is like no other. It’s an intersection where two planes of reality meet and interact, one trying to dominate the other. I don’t understand it, but it is real. As real as our favorite pub in Oxford. Jake and I and others have lived in this reality and in a way it’s always, always with us. Be glad you don’t see what we see. You’re free.”

  Rachel broke eye contact and backed away. For one of the rare times in her life, Ceinwen was speechless. Her well-honed skepticism was shocked, outraged. But in the back of her mind, she couldn’t deny the force of Rachel’s words, or that they held a ring of truth.

  Finally, she mumbled, “Okay. Okay, I’ll think about it. A lot. But now, like Jake said, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter 20

  Michael awoke the next morning to discover that the power was out. It must have gone out during the night because his cell phone’s battery was dead. Fortunately, the house had gas for cooking, so he could make himself coffee.

  The electricity remained out all day. The shops, where he went to stock up on food and supplies, must have run on generators. No one seemed surprised or worried about the power situation, so he guessed it was a frequent problem here. In fact, he enjoyed the time away from the internet.

  As dinnertime approached, Michael found he need not have worried about locating the Nakamura house. All he had to do was to say "Nakamura" and people pointed up the hill from the Hearn house. He walked and soon reached a large estate with a view of the entire town at its feet.

  Michael was near the front gate when a man wearing a dark brown yukata over black slacks ran out to him, bowed low, and led him into the house where an elegant, middle-aged woman met him. She wore a silk dress with a Western style cut, but the delicate bamboo pattern on a sky-blue background was pure Japanese. She waited while Michael switched to slippers, and as soon as he stepped up to the tatami floor, she bowed and said, “Thank you for coming to my home.” Her voice was low and pleasant. “I am Nakamura Haruko.”

  “Thank you for the invitation,” Michael said.

  “First, I must apologize that we are without electricity. A power pole has gone down. It should be back sometime tomorrow, but often one such problem leads to others. Kamigawa is remote, and our infrastructure old, so these things happen frequently. The good news is it will give you a sense of living in old Japan. Also you’ll find gas lines for cooking and kerosene lamps, as well as battery-powered lamps and candles throughout your house.”

  “It’s not a problem at all,” he said.

  “Good. Thank you for being understanding. Now, I will bring you to meet my son, Nakamura Seiji—oh, excuse me, I should say Seiji Nakamura in the Wester
n manner. If we were still a daimyo family, Seiji would be called Lord Nakamura, daimyo of this entire region.”

  She said the words proudly, but Michael also recognized that she was explaining the family situation, and that she was widowed. He nodded to show he understood.

  Her voice was hushed as she added, “Also, you should know, my son is very ill.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “The doctors cannot say what is wrong with him, but I fear that he will die if we do nothing. His affliction came over him one year ago, and it has steadily grown worse.”

  “I imagine,” Michael said, not sure how proper it was to talk about this, “you’ve taken him to some of the world’s top specialists.”

  “Of course.” She dropped her gaze a moment before adding, “Switzerland, the US, France, China—we tried everywhere. Some doctors said he needed psychiatric help, that he suffered some psychosis that is causing him to make himself ill.” She stared hard at Michael. “Such doctors are fools.”

  Her vehemence surprised him.

  “I am hoping you can help him, Doctor Rempart.”

  Michael couldn’t have been more shocked. “Me? I’m so sorry, but I’m not a medical doctor. I’ve been a visiting professor at several universities. It’s a tradition there for those of us with a doctorate—mine is in Archeology—to be called doctor. It seems you may have been misled. If so, I’m sorry.”

  “I know exactly who you are. And what you are. As I said, medical doctors have not helped us. Psychiatrists were less than useless. Once we ruled out any physical issues, my son and I were forced to face what we both know.” She raised her chin defiantly. “My son is being attacked by a demonic presence.”

  Michael drew in his breath, stunned that she would make such a declaration so openly, without apology or embarrassment. “Most people contact a Catholic priest when they feel that way.”

  Mrs. Nakamura’s eyes turned cold. “This situation has nothing to do with Christianity.”

  “Demons don’t care what the beliefs are of a person they possess.”