The Quest for Immortality: From The Tales of Tartarus

by A. L. Mengel

  I remember each morning when you knocked on my door. I remember you sliding into bed next to me. You weren’t invited.

  Darius woke up.

  There was only blackness, but he felt a heaviness to the air around him. A dampness.

  And then the fog lifted, and he started to gather his surroundings.

  He felt the heaviness on his wrists, the cold steel, the water and the wetness.

  Stop sliding into bed next to me, you obnoxious prick.

  And then his eyes started to adjust.

  “Tramos,” he said, leaning back against a stone wall.

  The man standing before him was the same that he remembered, the demon lover. The long, golden hair. It was all there.

  “I trust you are comfortable?”

  Darius shifted, the chains clanked.

  Tramos rose to his feet. “You are certain to die, my child. I tried so hard to save you. If only you had listened. If only you did what I told you to do.”

  “And what was that, father?”

  Tramos knelt down before Darius, looking him directly in the eyes. “Well, Darius. It seems that you listened to me for a while. But then you went your own way. And this Antoine – look where he has gotten you.”

  “Leave Antoine out of this.”

  Tramos stood back and folded his arms. “And what of this Antoine?”

  Darius looked up at Tramos.

  “You went to Sri Lanka at some point, I know that much, Darius. You found him in Badulla. Don’t think I don’t know this.”

  Darius nodded.

  Tramos stopped pacing and looked down at Darius. “So why do I have you here then?”

  Darius leaned his head back against the wall and let out a laugh. “You tell me.”

  Because Tramos already knew.

  Tramos was the one who conquered Darius. It was Darius who conquered Antoine in Badulla, and it was Tramos who conquered Darius in Lyon. It was all relative. For one, there is always another. And Tramos was the other.

  And so Darius stopped, looked up. “You don’t have to take me the same way you did Antoine. I’m not even immortal anymore you stupid fuck.”

  Tramos snapped his head down and looked at Darius. “You have really become a sorry man. Totally different from what you were back in Lyon. Why don’t you just give up?”

  “So why are you holding me captive?”

  Tramos smiled. Darius looked at his flowing golden hair, which had remained unchanged since they had met hundreds of years ago. “Why are you?” Darius asked. “I am just a simple human now. Aren’t you going to going to let me go and move on to bigger and better things?”

  “I am holding you because I can.”

  Darius stopped. He knew that was true. Tramos had been holding him captive from the mornings when Tramos visited him, so many years and centuries ago, but still so vivid in his mind. “You cannot keep me captive.”

  “Oh, but I can, I have, and I will continue to do so. If you think this is coming from me, it’s not it’s coming from the mother of us all, and you best listen to her.”

  *~*~*

  Doug snapped awake as the plane touched down. “Welcome to Frankfurt!” The shrill voice of the flight attendant seemed so insulting at the early morning hour.

  He lifted the window shade and peered outside. It didn’t look any different than airports in the United States. There were hangars, freight warehouses, runways and trees. Nothing really special to see.

  So he lay back in his seat, closed his eyes, and waited for the plane to taxi to the terminal.

  As they were in a holding pattern, waiting for the early morning flights to take off, he dozed off.

  And he dreamed.

  He dreamt of Darius.

  For the chateau was standing before him, in majestic stone glory, in Lyon, as the sun was setting in sky across the horizon.

  But Douglas was exiting the taxi, at the end of a long dirt driveway, lined by trees and flowers. He stood at the entrance the estate, and watched and waited.

  But Darius did not appear on the front stairs.

  The giant wooden doors that soared towards the second floor remained closed. And the sun was setting.

  But Douglas started walking up the stone path towards the front of the chateau, and stopped dead in his tracks.

  I see you, Douglas.

  I see you standing on the path. Looking at me looking at you. Through the soaring windows, through the shears.

  See my red eyes pierce you?

  Douglas looked directly at the window to the right of the door. The shears were drawn apart.

  Someone was inside looking out.

  “Darius,” Douglas said, walking towards the chateau again. “I’m sure you are expecting me.”

  And then he stopped, just short of the stairs. The earth shook, in deep, methodic rumbles, like gigantic footsteps, coming closer.

  The front door swung open. Darius was standing at the threshold, gesturing Douglas to come inside. “Get in here, quickly! He is coming!”

  Douglas ran up the stairs; his suitcase crashed against each step as he dragged himself inside.

  “Tramos is coming! Get inside Douglas!”

  But Darius wasn’t there.

  Douglas woke up and was the last person to leave the plane. He hoisted his small, leather bag over his shoulder, and trudged down the jetway. His eyes were still puffy, and he picked at the grit at the corners of his eyelids. It was going to be a long trip. He could feel it.

  He rented a small sedan and took the Autobahn east towards Luxembourg and France. He relished the cool morning, the rising sun, and the fresh air. The German countryside was inspiring, he loved the rolling hills, the checkerboard farmland landscape and the small cottages that dotted the hills. And even though he dazed and dreamed during the drive, the hours passed like minutes, and before long, he was headed into France as the sunlight started to fade.

  Not much farther until he was in Lyon.

  And then there was Darius.

  He knew that Darius was supposed to be there. Waiting in the chateau. Waiting for Antoine to return. Waiting for his immortality to return.

  But Douglas knew that there wasn’t any other option to save Darius’ life. Sheldon’s letter was very specific.

  Find Antoine’s grave.

  And stop Darius.

  He pulled his car outside the chateau. The cobblestone driveway was lined with purple lilac on either sides, and he could see the stone masonry of the house beyond the trees. He highly doubted that Darius would be there, but kept his car parked on the street nonetheless.

  There was a call button and wrought iron gate protecting the driveway, but he ignored the button. He searched in the foliage for a break in the perimeter fence. He reached into his pocket and took out his phone.

  “I’m at the chateau,” he said. There was a brief pause. “I can’t find a break in the fence, Delia.”

  “Then get out of there. He will sense you are there.”

  “Who? Darius?”

  “No, not Darius. The sun is setting there, Douglas. You must leave before dark. That chateau is evil. It’s the complete personification of evil. Far worse than the Coral Gables estate. Leave now!”

  Douglas stopped and looked at the sky. Daylight was almost gone.

  Douglas end the phone call and stood on the sidewalk in front of a high stone fence with black spires every few feet. Delia’s warning rang through his mind, but he felt the compulsion to move forward and finish this third task. There was too much at stake now. Douglas saw what happened in Miami, and he knew, now much more than ever, that Darius must not achieve his quest. Antoine must never rise. It was time to put an end to the evil they brought to the land.

  He faced the wall and looked to his right. The fence appeared to travel down the edge of the forest for as far as his eye could see. Behind him, his car sat at the edge of the road, where the gravel met the pavement.

  He chose to press on.

  To find Antoine’s grave, to
complete the task.

  I see you there, ol’ boy.

  Douglas felt a presence. Perhaps in his mind, definitely not in physical form. But with him. As he walked forward, as small twigs snapped under his feet and leaves shuffled, he still felt that he was not alone.

  You are heading in the right direction.

  As the road to his right curved off and the woods deepened, the darkness permeated. And then he finally reached the end of the perimeter wall, and noticed he was standing deep in the thick of the forest. “Now what?”

  Douglas, listen to me. You must travel straight through this forest to reach the cemetery where Antoine is buried. You will come to a small creek. When you reach it, go to your left and follow the creek to a clearing, beyond that, is the cemetery.

  “Sheldon?”

  Douglas leaned against the wall and reached for a cigarette. His lighter clicked against the silence of the night. He scanned the area as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. It was too quiet.

  But that comforting silence ended.

  There was a piercing shriek that came from the woods.

  And then he heard crunching leaves.

  His heart pounded in his chest as he listened. He tried to make out the pounding – like heavy footsteps charging through the woods, twigs and branches snapping, and then trees falling to the ground.

  He turned and ran.

  Scaling the wall, now to his right, he sought his car.

  But the wall seemed to continue, on and on, as the footsteps seemed ever closer behind him. He heard a loud thud directly behind him and he dared not turn around. But he could not help but see a giant oak tree fly past him and land off towards the left.

  He tripped and fell to the ground, losing his breath. He looked towards his left and saw the giant tree lying on the ground, torn from the ground. Giant fingerling roots ran jagged and haphazardly caked with dark soil.

  Douglas fought to get to his feet. His legs burned, as he ran again, along the wall that seemed to reach into eternity. His lungs became hot and breathless, and he felt like he was going to pass out. But the wall stretched on and on, and the forest never seemed to end.

  And then the footsteps stopped.

  And he was in silence again.

  He dared not turn around.

  He leaned against the wall, panting. He mopped his brow with the back of his hand and closed his eyes. His chest heaved with each breath. As he scanned the area, there didn’t appear to be anyone there. But there were uprooted trees all around him.

  But that’s all there were.

  Just a bunch of trees.

  No road, no car.

  Just the wall. And a bunch of trees.

  He reached into his pocket and cursed. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Sheldon, are you still with me? How do I get out of here?”

  The only way out is farther in.

  Douglas scanned the area again.

  There was a bright, shining light coming from the east, beyond the chateau. It certainly wasn’t the sun, given the late hour, but it reverberated through the sky like an aural heartbeat; a pulse and a vision of pale, brilliant color piercing the darkness. It appeared blue, and reflected against the rising trees, the leaves on the forest bed, and shrubbery.

  The only way out is farther in.

  Those words replayed in his mind, over and over, like a metronome. Douglas stooped on the ground, staring at the rotting leaves. He closed his eyes. There was something dead about the light.

  It was not soothing. It was not warming.

  He kept his eyes shut tight. “Close your eyes, Doug. Keep ‘em shut tight.”

  He heard footsteps approaching, crunching through the leaves. Coming towards him.

  Getting closer.

  And then a voice spoke to him. “Douglas, open your eyes.”

  He couldn’t place her voice. But it sounded warm.

  Douglas opened his eyes and saw a woman; she was glowing with a flowing white robe, which reached downwards, towards the darkness of the earth.

  “I want to show you…” She knelt beside him. “I want to show you…close your eyes…and I will show you…”

  Douglas closed his eyes, and instantly saw brilliant colors soaring towards him; like clouds of all colors, vivid, bright, so unlike the world.

  “Do you see?”

  Douglas felt like he was soaring. He was floating on clouds. Surrounded by pastel pinks and blues, in a tender loving arms, like he was and was destined to be.

  There was something warm about this place.

  Something tender and inviting.

  And then he opened his eyes. All he saw was beauty. Like he was living a dazzling painting; dancing through colors, walking on the clouds, staring at a rainbow sky above him, light everywhere, not a pinpoint of darkness.

  “Love is all around you, Douglas.”

  “Yes…” Douglas looked at his hands. So shimmery; translucent. Like he was made from air and living in liquid; the art of the sun, the clouds, and the trees came through in pastel colors amidst a cloudless sky, fingers of beauty passing through shining luminescence.

  The woman’s voice came again. “What do you see?”

  “I see love. I see beauty.”

  “And you will continue to see that.”

  *~*~*

  Darius and Delia arrived at the grave of George Stanley.

  Two shovels in hand, that’s all they planned on needing to get the George’s body from the ground; the grave liner might prove to be a problem, but the pair did not have those type of tools.

  They had to work with what they had.

  Darius started digging; it was not difficult as the soil was loose from all of the recent rains the city had been experiencing. Delia stood back and looked on, watching the forest that was next to the cemetery.

  “Darius, stop for a minute,” she said. She set her shovel down on the ground, and squinted her eyes, never losing focus on the trees.

  “I think they might be coming.”

  Darius stopped digging. “What do you mean? I don’t hear anything.”

  She paused, stood, and looked across the cemetery. “They are coming, Darius, we don’t have much time.”

  Darius stopped digging and looked over at the trees. He remembered about The Four Hoodsmen.

  They wore hooded cloaks and removed the sinners from the world. Their strength was mighty and fierce, they had no faces and piercing red eyes.

  They were the Hoodsmen.

  And Darius knew about their genesis.

  It wasn’t George that was destined to create their existence, for they existed through many years and centuries during years of war and turmoil and peace.

  “They conspire to cleanse,” Delia had told him once. “All of the entities work in unison. The Dark Ones, the green mist. It’s all about cleansing, ridding the world of the dirty ones.”

  But George had his control, had his influence, and didn’t realize the power that he held. For when Claret came into his life, he gathered four portals for the Hoodsmen; bodies for which they could transform from the astral plane and into the land of the living.

  Earlier, when they were still at Delia’s condominium, she and Darius had been sitting on the couch, discussing the origins of The Four Hoodsmen and The Dark Ones.

  Delia had opened Das Buch Des Tartaros. “And who are ‘The Dark Ones’? This book will tell us.”

  “They have been after me for quite a while now.”

  “They are shadow demons, Darius.”

  Darius paused for a moment.

  He was back in the hospital room, lying in the damp covers, in the middle of the night, urgently pressing the button to call the staff.

  The shadows were coming from the walls.

  They were climbing out of the darkness, from behind the chairs, from inside of the corners, into his bed to whip him and prepare him for crucifixion. He had forgotten how close he had been to death at that point.

  And then Delia slapped his w
rist. “Are you awake?”

  “Delia, I can’t die. I can’t. The shadow demons tried to crucify me. They would have strung me up on a cross. They whipped me. I could feel the sting and the blood…”

  Her face fell. “Then they can never find you, Darius.”

  “And how is that supposed to happen?”

  “Well, I don’t have the solution, Darius. I was reborn to the darkness. I don’t have those same visions.”

  “So how can you help me past this?”

  “Face the shadow demons head on, Darius. That’s all you can do. And the four young men. Remember what I told you before?”

  Darius paused for a moment. “Yes. Save their souls.”

  Delia closed the book and took a sip of her tea. “There is a way around this, Darius. You can’t be fixated on the single answer of raising Antoine from the dead, finding the cup, and getting your chance to drink from it. You may not have that kind of time. But here…these four boys…they need your help. It is with those four boys where your redemption lies.”

  “How do I do that?” Darius stood and looked out the window. The storm had subsided, and it felt late.

  “Darius, I cannot help you with that. At least not any more than I have. It’s very clear.”

  “Yes, Yes, I know.”

  Delia stood, and walked towards the kitchen. She found a bottle of red wine and searched for an opener. “You must do this, Darius. One man is searching for Antoine, anyway.”

  Darius paused, and looked over at Delia. “Wait a minute. Someone is searching for Antoine’s grave?”

  Delia stopped and closed her eyes. She sighed and shook her head. “Yes.”

  Darius walked over to the kitchen. His eyes were wide and he was visibly concerned. “Who is looking for him? And why? And how do you know this?”

  Delia looked down at the counter and closed her eyes for a moment. She raised her hand. “Stop, Darius.”

  She poured some wine into two glasses. “I know more about things than you will ever, and you know why. Stop being so mortal. It’s really getting quite bothersome.”

  Darius looked at the floor. “I feel like I am standing in a field of skulls.”

  Delia handed a glass of wine to Darius. Her expression warmed. “Here. Drink this. I know you are stressed. All you can do is listen to me, Darius. Yes, there is a man looking for Antoine’s grave. But he is just a man. And he is a drunk, at that. We must raise Antoine and regain your immortality.”