New Tales of the Old Ones

by Derwin, Theresa

  “Good morning, Melissa, I’m looking for books on...” he paused, then mumbled, “Sea serpents. Maybe some legends or myths or those books in your Special Collections Room.”

  “Student here?” she asked with that crisp accent.

  “No,” Alex answered.

  “Sir, those books are strictly off limits. I have to contact Dr. Armitage. In the meantime, why don’t you go to the third floor; on the right are the mythology and occult books for the public. Dr. Armitage will meet you,” she said and walked up the stairs.

  He walked up to the third floor and was looking around when he heard a man’s voice say, “Can I help you?”

  Alex turned to see an older man, in his fifties, rather plump and round, with white hair and thick spectacles. Alex stared at him because the man looked familiar to him.

  “I said can I help you? I’m Dr. Armitage, the Head Librarian. Melissa here tells me that you are looking for books on, sea serpents,” he said.

  Yes, sir... Armitage, wait a moment, Armitage, from Princeton?” Alex asked.

  “Yes,” the older man said.

  “I thought it was you; you played polo with my brother, Fredrick Brisbane,” Alex said. Dr. Armitage looked at Alex and thought for a few seconds, then his face lit up with recognition.

  “Fredrick, ‘ole Freddy, I haven’t seen him in years! You must be Alex. You were so young and so much smaller when I last saw you. This is good. Melissa here scared me. You wouldn’t believe the kind of people we have coming here looking over our old books,” Dr. Armitage said.

  “Most of ‘em are just not right in the head,” Melissa added. “Strange lot they are, always dressed in black, acting a bit daft if you ask me, always creepin’ around the library, making weird signs with their hands – and the smells of some of them...” Melissa said before Dr. Armitage shushed her.

  “You look like you could use some coffee, Alex. Here, come with me to my office. We can talk and you can tell me more,” Dr. Armitage said.

  They walked upstairs, through the secretary’s office, and the last thing Alex remembered was Dr. Armitage saying, “Sit here. I’ll have my secretary bring up some coffee...”

  When he and his secretary returned, Alex was fast asleep on the couch. He slept till the next morning. Maybe it was the light coming through the window or the smell of coffee and eggs that taunted his nose and body to life.

  “Good morning my boy,” Dr. Armitage said, sitting up from his desk chair. “You had quite a sleep there! Feel refreshed?”

  “How long?” Alex asked.

  “Oh, just overnight. Don’t worry. Just have some breakfast. You can tell me your story while you eat. I also took the liberty of calling your brother. I might add that I’m sorry to hear about your troubles,” Dr. Armitage said. “Now tell me, amongst friends, what happened to you.”

  Alex did. At first, the words came slowly, hesitantly, then the sentences started to flow, faster and faster until, by the time he was finished, he had worked himself into a near panic. Dr. Armitage listened, quietly at first then more and more intently, especially after Alex mentioned Dunwich. When he was done, Dr. Armitage looked intently at him.

  “This is a serious, deadly business, my boy. I won’t hide that from you. But I can help you. I have had dealings in Dunwich before and I don’t doubt anything you tell me about that accursed place. Follow me to the basement, there are some books we should consult,” Dr. Armitage said.

  Alex followed him down to the basement which Alex swore was colder than it should have been. Dr. Armitage had the keys to the special collection room.

  “Take a seat at those tables over there and I’ll bring some of the books out to you. We’ll need some help with some of the Latin translations. My usage of the language is adequate but not nearly as accomplished as my colleague, Mrs. Loring.”

  Minutes later, Mrs. Loring, a woman in her fifties, Melissa and another young girl with long black hair one and only one visible staring eye joined them. Introduced as Amanda, she mumbled to herself and seemed too distracted to be of much help.

  Dr. Armitage had fetched several old, decaying, leather bound books from the special collection room which he placed gently and reverently on the table. “Let’s start with these,” he said.

  They started with a book from around 1702 called Les Cultes des Goules by François-Honore Balfour and Comte d’Eriette, but that was of little help. The second book, the R’lyah Text from the sixteenth century BC by an unknown author didn’t help either. The third book came from around 1228, and was bound in a strange leather that Alex was told not to ask about. But besides giving off a foul odor and seemingly giving everyone a headache, this Necromonicon did little else to help them in their research.

  After Alex had drawn a sketch of what he saw. Dr. Armitage nodded his head in deep thought at some of the details, like the oval mouth and suction cups along the body, prompting him to retrieve another book, the Cthaat Aquadingen, this time dating from the 15th century. It described things that seemed very similar to the thing Alex saw. There were rituals and spells for dealing with similar creatures but nothing quite like the thing in the pool.

  The sun was setting when Dr. Armitage took out a last book, the Nigra Aqua Daemonum Liber by Cornelius Laelius Marianus, a Prefect in the Roman Navy in 85 AD. He traveled the world’s seas and collected myths, legends and stories of the ocean and especially what he called the “daemones aquae”, or water demons. Since the library didn’t possess a copy translated into English, Mrs. Loring opened the ancient tome ready to translate the relevant text as they leaved through the ancient pages.

  The similarities between Alex’s drawing and one of the drawings in the book were startling. The drawing in the centuries-old book was crude by modern standards, but clearly belonging to the archaic style of Greek art. It was rendered in a geometric style, with a black-figure of the sea-serpent, coiling with outstretched tentacles, against a red-orange background. When Alex took out his sketch of the sea-serpent and laid it next to the book and the picture, they were identical. In Cornelius’s drawing, a long necked beast whose head opened into a circular mouth, was coming out of the water, attacking a ship with its tentacles.

  “That, according to Cornelius, was one of the lesser water demons. It was called Shaa-Shall-Us,” Mrs. Loring said. With little difficulty, she translated a few verses, “The doorway is water, where there is water, so are they. Do not disturb them. Do not draw them out. Do not chant Sha-Illean Invocation. Do not draw the sign of Shaa-Sall-Us, for they see and they are many...

  ”What do you make of this?” Mrs. Loring asked Dr. Armitage. They looked closely at the book and mumbled to each other until she said, “This is a drawing of the sigil of Shaa-Sal-Us,” pointing at a strange symbol, a line with a curving line like a vine being intersected by another curving line

  “They are like children to Ish-Tan-Illa. Cornelius refers to it, or her, as ‘mother’ for some reason. He also calls it the ‘Lorem Bestia’, or Star-Fish Beast. It is somehow connected to the Sha-Sall-Us but no one has ever seen it, sort of like an invisible God of some kind. While it is related to the sea. It’s often mistaken for a sea-serpent. It can use any water to manifest itself. That is what it means by, the doorway is water, where there is water so are they,” she said.

  Alex listened intently while Dr. Armitage wrote notes in a small notebook. Melissa looked bored and Amanda had disappeared off somewhere.

  “It says there was one man, Attalus, a sorcerer from one of the Greek islands. He fought several water demons,” she said and showed him a picture of Attalus, a tattooed Greek man, with a crooked cane in his hand. He was standing on a cliff’s edge, repelling a water demon. He had a small green stone in the shape of a five-pointed star with a strange marking on it, like the end of bare tree branch with five branches.

  “What’s that?” Alex asked.

  “Cornelius called it a ‘lorem lapidem’, or starfish stone. It was used to ward off the Shaa-Sall-Us. It saved the ship and mo
st of the crew. It was a form of protection against them,” Mrs. Loring said.

  “I’ve seen that before,” Melissa suddenly said. “I’ll be right back.” She turned and ran up the stairs.

  “There is much we have to talk about,” Dr. Armitage said to Alex.

  “Is there anything else?” Alex asked.

  Mrs. Loring shook her head “I’m afraid not. I would need some more time for further translations. Alex, nice to meet you, good luck with your research. Gentlemen, have a good evening,” she said, and took her leave.

  Melissa came down the stairs. “Look here,” she said, “I knew I saw that shape before – here.” She pointed to a picture in the book she was holding, an English translation of the seventh century Columba by Adomnan. “My mum used to tell us about St. Columba. He was an Irish monk. One day, he was in Pict territory, a nasty lot and a bad place to be, along the River Ness. He came upon the funeral of a man who had been killed by a water beast. The Picts took St. Columba to the river and his follower, Luigne moccu Min, followed his orders and swam across the river. When the water beast attacked him, St. Columba told it, ‘Go no further. Do not touch the man. Go back at once.’ He then made the sign of the cross and the beast appeared to have been ‘pulled back with ropes’ and fled in terror. It was praised as a miracle.

  “Look: this is the oldest painting of St. Columba,” Melissa indicated. “Look what’s in his hand.”

  Alex and Dr. Armitage looked closely at the picture. There, clutched in St. Columba’s hand was a small green soap-stone in the shape of a five-pointed star. “It was a lorem lapidem that warded off the water beast, not the sign of the cross,” Melissa said.

  Suddenly, Amanda was standing next to them. No one had seen her come down the stairs. “That is not dead which can eternal lie and with strange aeons death may die,” she mumbled to herself. She laid three books on the table. With her head tilted, as if she were listening to someone, she found a certain page and opened it. Then she did the same to the other two books. Satisfied, she smiled, whispered something to the side of her as if someone were standing there and she practically glided up the stairs.

  Melissa and the two men looked down. The first book had a painting of St. George the Dragon Slayer and on his shield, the one thing that seemed to keep the dragon at bay, was what appeared to be a small green stone in the shape of a five-pointed star. In the second book was an old painting of a Hindu priest warding off demons with an identical five-pointed star stone. In the third, an ancient tome showed a painting of Odysseus fighting a multi-headed sea-serpent with a sword in one hand and a green star shaped stone in the other.

  “They have been used through the ages,” Dr. Armitage said.

  “You knew about this,” Alex realized.

  “Yes, more than I wanted to divulge to you but now you deserve to know. I will lock these books away and then we can talk in my office. I have many friends to contact. There are other books I want to reference, but I will help you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Alex said. “When do we leave?”

  “Leave? No, there is so much we have to prepare,” Dr. Armitage said.

  “I’m not a patient man. What can we do now?” Alex asked.

  “We can sit and talk and make our plans. It is the best way. Trust me,” he said, patting Alex on the shoulder.

  “I’ll need some things from my car. Wait for me upstairs in your office. I’ll be right back,” Alex said.

  But Alex had no intention of returning. He ran out of the library to his car. He didn’t have time to wait, or talk. He wanted that creature dead, now, not later. If it could be killed with one of those green stones, he would find one and he knew the one man in the whole world who would have it. He was going to find that old crazy man in the robe. He was going to get that stone one way or another. He drove straight back to Dunwich.

  VIII

  Utterly exhausted, Alex’s car skidded and weaved from side to side along Alsbury Pike. There were few, if any other cars along the road, which was a good thing. Despite his best efforts, he found himself slipping off to sleep, and was constantly haunted by the same dream. The old man from the crowd calling to him, waved to him, urging him to hurry “lest it be too late.”

  As Alex’s head lolled forward for the fourth or fifth time in minutes, he awoke with a jolt. Illuminated in the glow of his headlights, the old man stood in the middle of the road directly in front of his car. Alex slammed on the brakes, cut the wheel to the left, and skidded off the road in a shower of gravel and dust. He jumped out of the car. “Hello! Old man! Are you OK! Where are you?” There was no answer, only silence.

  “‘ey know what ye did, boy?” the old man suddenly said. Alex turned around and found he was standing nose to nose with him. There was a wind blowing, cold against his face.

  “‘Ah tried to warn ye! Now it’s loose and it’s yer fault!” he said, pointing a crooked finger and poking Alex in the chest with his nail.

  “Ye know wh’t this is, boy, don’t ye,” the old man said. In his hand he held an old piece of parchment. On it was a drawing, the symbol and sigil of a symbol, a sigil of Shaa-Sall-Us. His voice echoed into the distance answered by the rumble of thunder as he handed the parchment to Alex.

  “‘An this, ‘ere, the Sha-Illean Invocation, listen boy an’ remember,” he said as he started to chant. It rose and fell, undulations and reverberations,

  Saaa-Laa-Tarn-Naa

  Sall-Laa-San-Naa

  Sal-Laa-Nall-Naa

  Sall-Laa-Mara-Naa

  Alex swayed and flowed with the strange syllables. Unable to move, he could only watch as the old man extended his withered claw-like hand and placed the green star-shaped stone in his hand. “Ye know what this is too, don’t ye boy, cast it into the water whence it came.” His voice boomed in Alex’s ears, his eyes burning like luminous orbs as the wind howled around them.

  “I don’t understand,” Alex screamed.

  “Yes, ye do,” he heard as the old man disappeared. “Ye can’t kill ‘em. But ye can banish ‘em. They don’t belong here. Beware their mother, begot of Ubbo-Sathla, do not disturb her. Her childr’n are many. She is one.”

  “Wait! Don’t go!” Alex screamed.

  “Ye need blood, boy and a sacr’fice. He’s wait’in now fo’ ye,” the old man said.

  “Sacrifice? Wait!” Alex screamed louder but the thunder drowned out his voice.

  “Remember, the doorway is water, where there is water, so are they,” the old man’s voice echoed.

  “Wait!” Alex screamed again so loudly that this time he woke himself up for real. He was at the wheel of the car, his head was on the steering wheel and he was speeding toward the Grand Dunwich Hotel.

  He slammed to a halt mere feet from the front steps. “I must have fallen asleep,” Alex muttered to himself. Then he looked at the passenger’s seat at an ancient piece of parchment and a green star shaped stone. He knew it wasn’t a dream.

  Disoriented and confused, he lumbered staggered into the hotel. It was a shambles of its former glory. He walked toward his office. As he reached for the doorknob, there was a sound, a sensation at the back of his head and the world went black.

  IX

  Alex awoke slowly. He was laying on the floor of the hotel at the door to his office. He tried to move but his movements were sluggish. Everything hurt, especially his head. He reached back and winced as he felt the open wound across the back of his head. He looked around. It was hard to focus, his vision was blurred. He couldn’t see anyone else but he heard someone. A man, singing. His slurred voice was coming from the master bedroom at the top of the stairs.

  Slowly and as silently as possible, Alex crawled into his office. It was in disarray. He quietly dug through the debris until he found his jacket. The .38 was still in the pocket. He slipped the jacket on and followed the sound of the voice.

  When he entered the master bedroom he was greeted by a roaring in the fireplace, a few scattered empty wine bottles and a dancing drunk
hobo. He had a bushy dirty black beard, a wool cap and dirty clothes. The man let out a yell and fell backwards when he saw Alex.

  “My God! I thought you were dead,” the man shouted and stammered out loud. “I thought I gave you a harder knock than ya’ needed,” then added, “To whom am I speakin’?”

  Alex pulled out his gun. “Hands in the air, where I can see them,” he said, “To answer your question, you are speaking to the owner of this hotel. You have attacked me, trespassed, destroyed my property... it is I who should be asking you the questions!”

  The bum wiped his dirty face and nose, sniffed and said, “What do ya’ want from me? I’ll just be on my way.”

  “No you won’t,” Alex said, and the words just came out of his mouth without conscious thought. “I’m a gambler, though. You a gambling man?”

  “Sure, what are ya’ getting at,” the man asked.

  “Well, how about a little bet. If you swim across the pool, you can run free,” Alex said.

  “And If I don’t?” the bum asked.

  “I shoot you right now,” Alex said. He motioned toward the door with the gun. They walked outside, stopping by the car so Alex could get the parchment and green stone, then walked around the hotel to the pool.

  The bum stood by the edge. “It’s cold,” he said. Alex fired a shot in the air. The bum walked down the pool steps into the black water. With a plunge and a slew of profanity, he leaned forward and started to swim.

  Alex took the parchment, wiped it on his head until some of the congealed and fresh blood was smeared on it. He threw it into the pool and started to chant the Sha-Illean Invocation, ‘Saaa-Laa-Tarn-Naa, Sall-Laa-San-Naa, Sal-Laa-Nall-Naa, Sall-Laa-Mara-Naa.”

  The bum was shouting threats as he swam. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just let me go you crazy fool! No man makes me swim in cold water! I’m comin’ back for ya and I’m gonna kill ya! An’...”