The Dark Temple

by The Dark Temple (retail) (epub)

  ‘Alex,’ Stefani called out from beyond the barrier, sounding concerned. ‘What is it?’

  He didn’t reply but instead focused his attention on the structure before him, taking a moment to admire the simple yet effective cover the trees and bushes allowed it. The whole area had been excavated into the soil by a metre or so, over which a trail of thick wooden planks ran directly up to the mouth of an open cave.

  ‘Come take a look.’ he replied quietly and with the rustling of leaves being pushed aside Stefani joined him and herself stared at the oddity in surprise.

  ‘What on earth?’ Stefani gasped, appearing just as Harker dropped down into the trench and cautiously made his way towards the gloomy entrance.

  ‘It’s an entrance,’ he replied, stating the obvious whilst shining his torch beam ahead, ‘and there’s a pathway inside.’

  His curiosity was suddenly replaced with a dose of reality given that, for all he knew, a pack of wolves could be living inside this damn place. He came to an abrupt stop as Stefani jumped down the incline to join him. ‘Look at that.’ He aimed the torchlight up at the stone surface towards the symbols that had been carved into the dull, brown rock. ‘Swastikas.’

  There were fifteen in all, circling the symbol of two circles overlapping one another which Harker was now becoming all too familiar with. ‘The two kingdoms,’ he declared and gestured to the engraving. ‘This is what your father was directing us to. It has to be.’

  ‘So what does it mean?’ she asked, eyeing the emblem carefully as Harker took a first step inside the rocky opening.

  ‘It means we go inside.’

  If Stefani had any misgivings about Harker’s proposed course of action, she didn’t have time to voice them, for he was already swiftly moving along the passageway. ‘Alex…’ was all she managed before, with a shrug, she followed his lead and headed in after him.

  The interior of the passage was clammy as Harker used the torchlight to illuminate their way down the pitch-dark passage. The stone floor was moist and slippery where condensation had accumulated due to hot evening air against a cold rock surface, and he almost lost his balance whenever his leather-soled brogues fought to maintain their grip.

  ‘I think I see something,’ he whispered eventually, now slowing his pace as he approached an area where the passage appeared to open up into a larger space. ‘Stay close.’

  This last instruction was wholly unnecessary because the eerie atmosphere of this dank interior had her as close to his back as was humanly possible.

  ‘What do you see?’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s a room,’ Harker replied after reaching the entrance. He then waved his torch around from side to side before coming to a rest on an object located at the far end of the room – one that provided as much encouragement as it did trepidation. ‘We’re definitely in the right place.’

  Looking over his shoulder, Stefani squinted her eyes to inspect the object his torchlight had settled upon, and she was in total agreement, because there was only one thing it could mean.

  The sculptured marble image of Mithras stared back at them in his flowing cape, as the bull he straddled succumbed to the dagger jammed deep into its shoulder, while a snake, dog and scorpion attacked the suffering beast’s underbelly. The statue had none of the appearance of being thousands of years old but instead looked like something carved only recently.

  As they made their way into the stone-walled room, neither of them said anything, and as Harker shone his torch on the large stone-slab dining table, lined with benches on either side, Stefani produced a lighter from her pocket and flicked it on.

  ‘Hold it,’ she said, moving over to a small oil lamp attached to the wall by a metal bracket. She lit the wick and soon a good portion of the room was illuminated in flickering light. ‘There’s another,’ she noticed and slid past the benches to another wall lamp, which she also sparked into life.

  Another two lamps and the interior of the cavern was bright enough for Harker to assess the area in its entirety, so he now turned off his torch.

  The cavern was oblong shaped with curved corners at either end, and its smooth, stone surface curved upwards into a ceiling over five metres high, which was exactly what one would expect from a Mithras temple.

  Only a year earlier, Harker had made a visit to the evacuated London Mithraeum in Walbrook, which had been restored and opened to the public. Considered the city’s most important Roman discovery of the twentieth century, it had added greatly to what little knowledge existed on that ancient cult. And, as Harker looked around now, he realised that this supposedly lost historical heritage had never been lost at all.

  ‘What exactly is this place?’ Stefani asked, dropping the lighter back into her pocket while taking note of an impressive sculpture placed at the far end of the room and directly beyond the head of the table.

  ‘This is a Mithraeum,’ Harker explained, raising his hand towards a row of tiles running round the base of the ceiling, ‘It’s a Mithras temple and those figures up there show the initiation rites one went through to gain admittance and in order to progress within the cult. And that,’ he was now pointing to the Mithras sculpture itself, ‘that’s their equivalent of the cross.’

  Stefani made her way closer, but something else caught her eye. ‘How about that?’ She raised a finger towards a small adjoining room and what looked like a red, stone, person-shaped coffin resting on sturdy wooden supports. At one end of it two horns stuck out, one on either side, and Harker immediately went over to inspect it.

  ‘It’s not just an ordinary coffin,’ he rubbed a hand across its smooth surface. ‘It’s a sarcophagus.’

  Stefani looked puzzled as she joined him to inspect the stone box. ‘I thought they were confined to the Egyptians?’

  Harker looked up at her and smiled excitedly as his archaeological instincts sparked. ‘Apparently not,’ he replied – just as a large thud came from inside it, causing him to jump back a pace.

  ‘There’s someone inside there,’ he said and, without pause, stepped back to the sarcophagus and ran his fingers along the edges until he found the line indicating the cover. ‘Give me a hand,’ he ordered and began to grasp hold of the heavy stone lid.

  Stefani on the other hand, was far less enthusiastic and she wavered as he began to struggle against the lid’s weight. ‘Is this such a good idea? We don’t know what’s inside… It could be a rabid dog for all we know.’

  The young Templar’s caution was warranted but then there came another thud and now, after a demanding look from Harker, Stefani set about helping him by grasping the opposite side of the lid firmly.

  ‘Damn, it’s heavy,’ Harker observed as he looked over towards her and began to count down: ‘Three, two, one…’

  With some strenuous huffing and puffing, Harker pushed at the lid as Stefani pulled, then in one fluid motion the lid slid back, with a tooth-grating noise as stone ground against stone, eventually revealing a six-inch gap.

  With only the wall lamps in the main room for light it was near impossible to make out what was inside, but Harker could detect something moving. In fact there was quite a lot of movement and he could make out small hints of something shiny, so he pulled out his torch. He clicked it on and shone it directly through the gap, and what he saw there had every muscle in his body tensing as he let out a shocked gasp.

  Michael Donitz’s swollen blue face and bloodshot eyes stared up at him with a look of panic as a large emperor scorpion scurried across his face and disappeared down one side of his neck and out of sight. The sound of multiple other scuttling insect legs and clicking pincers was also audible and this noise was intensified by an echo due to the tight confines of the sarcophagus. Soon, more of the predatory arachnids appeared on the man’s chest to investigate the source of light permeating their dark nest.

  The sight was so hideous that Harker just stood there in shock as Donitz opened his mouth and a bulbous black tongue attempted to form a plea for help through bri
ght-red, enflamed lips but he achieved nothing more than a few saliva-filled gurgles.

  ‘We have to get him out,’ Stefani cried, pulling desperately at the stone lid as Harker continued to stare motionless at the horrific sight, absolutely stunned by the look of complete pain the man was enduring. ‘Alex, snap out of it!’ she yelled, and this time Harker woke from his traumatised inertia, grabbed hold of the lid and began pushing it aside as the poor fellow continued his attempts to speak. He still couldn’t make out what was emerging from the man’s mouth, though he clearly wanted out of his box of torment. But as the stone cover began to shift further, Harker caught sight of some movement at the corner of his eye.

  Two thick arms suddenly wrapped themselves around his chest, like a vice, and he twisted his head around just enough to see a hooded figure clinging to him, but with its face impossible to make out. At the same time Stefani was grabbed by a couple of similarly dressed figures, and one of them raised a small bone-handled blade to her throat.

  Though she went rigid as the hunting knife tip was held to her jugular, Harker continued to struggle for a moment further, the thought of those scorpions crawling over his own body making him feel jittery. A few more seconds of resistance, followed by a sharp knee planted in the back, and he finally started calming down. With his composure restored, he turned his attention to the hoodie holding a knife.

  ‘Don’t harm her,’ he warned angrily as Donitz himself endeavoured to slide the sarcophagus lid back further, but this pathetic attempt was foiled as a two more figures dressed in the same red and black hooded robes entered the small alcove and slammed their hands down on the lid. Harker was now hauled backwards to allow these two newcomers to slide the lid back in place, when a final gurgling squawk from Donitz became nothing more than a muffled yell from within.

  ‘Look, this has to be some terrible mistake—’ Harker began to protest as the person restraining him now gripped him firmly by the throat and then retrieved his iPhone before slipping it underneath his robe. He was then dragged back forcefully into the main room and hurled against the wall, before his handler stood back to stand alongside the others. It was clearly a useless plea and he was already opening his mouth to try again when the same hooded man who had been holding him waved a finger menacingly, then reached over to take the knife still being held at Stefani’s throat – and threw it over to Harker who managed to catch it in one hand.

  It was a perplexing move and he held the weapon out in front of him defensively. It was at this point the knife giver reached over to the wall and on one slab pressed a small tile which then sank back into the wall.

  Before he could even guess what was happening, Harker felt the floor give way beneath him and he found himself hurtling downwards into the pitch dark below, coming to a stop as he slammed hard against the floor and almost snapping his ankle in the process. He gazed upwards to the open trap-door just in time to see one of the hooded figures staring down at him drop something in after him before the trap-door shut, plunging him now into complete darkness.

  Clasping the knife tightly, Harker could feel his heart beat thumping in his ears even as he felt around in the darkness for whatever had been dropped in after him. He didn’t even know if it was important but, as his escalating fear attempted to get the better of him, he continued to slide his hands all around the floor, feeling only gravel and soil. Eventually, close to losing hope, he chanced upon the object and thanked God for it, as he clasped it in his spare hand and turned it on.

  When the torch erupted into light, he found himself staring directly into the face of a bull with thick horns. He yelled in shock and fell backwards, and away from it, only a few moments later to realise he was staring at a painted sculpture of the creature hanging on the opposite wall.

  ‘Get a grip Harker,’ he urged himself quietly and started mustering some semblance of self-control. He forced himself to his feet and began sweeping the torchlight around him, trying to figure out what this place was.

  The first thing he noticed was that the walls were built with red brick and the floor wasn’t rock or soil but rather grey linoleum covered in dust and, although scuffed and worn this space looked relatively modern compared to the rocky cavern above it. He was in a room with tattered bits of wallpaper hanging off its walls. What was more, it looked like old-style flock wallpaper adorned with a flower pattern of some kind. In fact the kind you’d associate with an Indian restaurant back in the Seventies. Apart from that, the room was empty. Harker flashed his torchlight over a small open doorway and, with his breathing now becoming steadier, despite the fact that internally he was close to freaking out, he ventured over and poked his head through the doorway. There was a musty old corridor beyond, with other doors leading off it, and he noticed small wall lamps illuminated further along, which at least gave him a visual sense of his surroundings. With the small hunting knife held out before him in one hand and the torch in his other, he began to slowly make his way towards the nearest open doorway, then on past it.

  He peered around the corner and noticed yet more doorways and even a flight of stairs at the far end. It was at this point it dawned on him: this wasn’t a basement or even the foundations of the buildings above. No this was a house. An underground house.

  It was a bizarre realisation and as Harker stifled his disgust at the vile smell of something he honestly cared not to know about, a scuffling sound had him spinning around towards one of the open doorways. He flinched again as he found himself staring into the eyes of another bull’s head, although this statue possessed the body of a man. He let out a jittery laugh at his own nervousness. The Mithras cult and their obsession with bull symbolism was just as strong obviously down here as it was above. He glared back at the painted sculpture and shook his head in relief. But no sooner had he done so than he now noticed something else that made every muscle in his body tense up. He gripped the small hunting knife and aimed his torch directly into the doorway, and that was when he spotted it. The bull’s head was still staring forward, but its eyes were now fixed directly upon him.

  And this was confirmed as they blinked slowly.

  Harker recoiled as the black bull’s head began to slowly turn towards him. Its deep-set eyes began glistening, then it planted one of its legs forwards and gradually it shifted its massive frame to face him directly. He noticed how its muscular hide was covered with scars and sores as its chest began heaving up and down.

  ‘What the fu…’ was all was all Harker managed as the monster raised its horns and emitted a bellowing growl.

  And then he was running for his life.

  Chapter 31

  Another guttural roar thundered from somewhere behind him as Harker flung himself around the corner in such haste that he slammed painfully against the brick wall beyond. The creature in pursuit was like nothing he had ever seen before, and seemed extremely agile despite its bulky frame. Harker sped on along the dimly lit corridor as behind him the sound of heavy footsteps pounded on the tiled floor.

  Within seconds he reached the staircase, then skidded down it, sending dust up from the floor in plumes as he descended deeper into whatever lay below, while above him the thudding of a large body colliding with a brick wall could be heard. Harker jumped the last few steps down into another corridor but tripped upon the impact of his injured ankle on the hard floor. But he recovered his balance by diving into a roll, using the momentum to get back on his feet. Unfortunately the hunting knife he was still holding got knocked from his hand, and went shooting off into the gloom with a clank.

  With the thudding overhead now rapidly approaching the top of the stairs, Harker instinctively dived into the nearest doorway, praying that his knife had gone the same way. He then came to a complete stop in a dark, stuffy room.

  As he scanned the floor for any sight of his weapon, he noticed that this room adjoined another similar one and was also lit by wall lamps allowing him a vague awareness of the extent of this lower level. Or at least the parts he could actu
ally see.

  Trying to catch his breath he desperately searched the floor, but couldn’t spot it, and he began instead cursing quietly in frustration when he realised something had changed. The sound of heavy footsteps above him had stopped, and the conclusion he took from this was more unnerving still. Either that creature was waiting for him to come back up, or more likely it knew Harker was trapped down here and so was taking its time.

  The latter surmise was confirmed when Harker heard the plodding of footsteps slowly approaching down the stairs, with each step creaking under the creature’s massive weight.

  What the hell was that thing? was the thought that was racing through his mind and he backed as quietly as possible towards the doorway leading into the next room. The monster’s horned head was that of a black bull but set upon a man’s body and, as crazy as this sounded, he could only think one thing. The Minotaur was a creature of Greek legend, half man, half bull, imprisoned at Knossos, on the island of Crete, in a maze that acted as its cell. There it hunted those unfortunate people being regularly sacrificed to it, and this time Harker himself was to be that sacrifice!

  He moved stealthily into the next room and hugged the inner wall as the footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs, there coming to a halt so that a deafening silence fell upon the air. Harker focused solely on breathing quietly because of the irritating dust. He covered his mouth for fear of coughing but removed it immediately upon realising that the sound of his breathing was amplified within the fold of his hand.

  This was insane. Here he was being chased by some psychotic mythical figure inside an underground building and not only had he lost his only defensive weapon through clumsiness but his leather shoes made it impossible to move without revealing his position. A feeling of renewed dread washed over him as the sound of footsteps started up again and began approaching down the corridor alongside the room he was hiding in.