Homeward Bound (Journeyman Book 1)

by Golden Czermak

  He noticed a few demonic symbols emblazoned on the sheets in red ink.

  “Hello, what do we have here?” he said aloud, rustling the papers to smooth out some of the wrinkles.

  The symbols appeared to be examples of various wards, as the pages went into some detail about demon kind in general, kind of like a CliffsNotes version of a lore book.

  Demoniacal Studies by Kultan Sylas

  Notes by Landon Merryforth

  Journeyman Order I.

  January 7, 1979

  Demons are evil spirits that some conjecture may be fallen angels who reside in Hell. (I wonder why there are so few mentions of angels in any the lore. It's quite odd, especially if Hell is as populated as we are being told. It’s almost as if they aren’t as common or prevalent as demons are. I must investigate this further.)

  Sylas is referring to Hell as the ‘lower plane’ of existence, implying that Heaven is the upper one and that Earth (our universe? Are there more?) is in the middle, sandwiched between two distinct astral planes that some of the other recruits are calling ghost realms. Those sound utterly chilling and not the place one would want to reside in for more than a second, never mind eternity.

  January 14, 1979

  In our next session, we learned that demons and their ‘true’ forms are varied and wide, seemingly a conglomeration of animal parts mixed with human elements; horrific when you think on it. That said, a common trait amongst them all seems to be that their bodies are composed entirely of black ectoplasm (a “smoke” if you will) when on Earth, which can sometimes take on the outline of their Hell-bound bodies. When I asked if the smoke was tangible, he stated that it behaved as normal smoke does, although some demons can use telekinesis to interact with Earthly objects when in this form. This smoke, along with a powerful odor of sulphur, are their most recognizable features when here on Earth, almost serving to subvert their disguises in all but the most powerful cases.

  On this topic, demonic entities can roam the Earth freely if they escape from Hell (numerous methods exist for such; investigate further) but only if they are contained within a human body. This serves as some kind of anchor to the Earthly realm; they are unable to possess animals, even monkeys, which are not that dissimilar from us genetically. I did not get an answer to my question about monster possession.

  January 21, 1979

  For some odd reason Sylas hasn't gone into, demons must be allowed or invited into the host, though it is believed that some of the most powerful demons can forcibly enter a body at will. Our instructor believes this act is incredibly painful for the entity and has lasting effects on both the body and mind of the demon and its host, should they both survive a hostile possession.

  Though it sounds sick, I wonder what it feels like to be possessed – the lack of control over one’s own cognitive functions seems quite frightening. It would be like watching yourself perform actions, whether for good or ill, with no ability to stop it.

  January 28, 1979

  Today we learned that demons can be exorcised from a host using Latin spells and ejected back to Hell if it departs early and cannot find a new host shortly after retreating, or if a banishment spell or stone is used. I am sure there are other items in the world that can perform an exorcism, but we did not discuss that today.

  Demons can be contained in both possessed and demonic forms by iron and with certain symbols. Other symbols can also act as wards to prevent entry into places (interesting topic to investigate further).

  Demons can apparently be killed by supernatural weapons or certain beings and should this happen, their death is final; the entity will not return to Hell but instead be consumed by the void.

  Crap, there was nothing here that Gage didn't already know about or have plenty of experience doing himself. He set those particular sheets down on the chilled rock, rifling back through countless other sheets on demon lore. He found something new, pulling out a short scrap of torn paper about a third of a full page; the rest was missing.

  Notes by Landon Merryforth

  Journeyman Order XVIII.

  March 8, 1997

  A demonic group calling themselves the Noctis, which is based off the Latin for ‘night,’ have emerged domestically. From all accounts, they appear to be loosely organized and currently pose no significant threat to the Order.

  However, it is rare and suspicious for demons to form large groups and even more so that they appear to be at odds with vampire covens up in the northeast, driving them south. I am going to investigate along with a few colleagues. We shall determine if they pose a long term threat.

  Another page, notably weathered, contained a detailed recipe for creating a Hand of Glory, confirming his earlier suspicion that the severed hand he found was one of these macabre tools. He supposed that his dad used it to obtain the items that were stored alongside it in the box, and perhaps most of the materials in the cellar. Of course the extent of his father’s transgressions would never be known, but nevertheless it was upsetting to see.

  He put the papers away, discouraged to read his father had resorted to thievery for his collections. Unsure now if he even wanted to continue for fear of finding out more negative things about his dad, he had to force himself to press on. The next document he pulled returned to the subject of demons.

  Notes by Landon Merryforth

  Journeyman Order XXXI.

  October 22, 2010

  The Order is in a massive state of disarray. A disastrous event known by all as The Incursion has affected the world, cutting our ranks by nearly a third.

  As much as I would like to, I cannot speak anymore on this matter, for my heart is too heavy with grief at the sheer loss of life.

  October 31, 2010

  I may be crazy but I believe the Noctis may actually be looking to open a portal of some kind, to Hell itself no less. This little necklace I obtained from the Middle East may play a part in the tide that would rise out of that foul place and wash over the Earth.

  February 14, 2011

  I bear grave news. After months of probing, inquiries, and research, my suspicions have been confirmed. Indeed, the Noctis are seeking a way to open a doorway to Hell. Where is unknown, but they are planning to usher in a new age of the Earth: the Demon Age, where they will rule. I will be returning home to Denver in order to plan what to do next. I cannot help but think the Council does not want this information out.

  On the subject of the necklace, as fate would have it both the pendant and its chain are two necessary elements in this diabolical plan. Sadly, I am unaware if any other pieces are needed for these plans to succeed.

  April 13, 2012

  Gage, if by some remote chance you are reading this…

  The Noctis are coming for us and they are out for blood. I am sealing both amulet and chain here in this cellar. Though they are keys to opening the doorway, as such they are also keys to stopping the Noctis dead in their tracks. I have learned that there are at least three, possibly four other items that are necessary for the Noctis to have in order to complete their goal. I unfortunately do not have a list of them, but a long time colleague of mine, Om Citta, has made a vow that he would continue researching to find out.

  Now, I have enchanted the container that the objects are stored in so they remain hidden even if a Hell Knight entered this chamber and its eyes fell upon it, but you should be able to find them easily when your heart and mind are in the right place.

  This will be the last entry in my notes.

  Your mother and I are left with no choice but to stand and fight against the Noctis here, within the walls of our own home. As safe as they have been for us, there is no security left in them against this fate. I intercepted a communication; they are sending a demon named Camio to deal with us and the Order will not be here in time to counterattack.

  Gage, my son, I implore you to remember these things if nothing else:

  Their leader and the one who gave the order calls herself Onoskelis. Remember her name. Rem
ember that Keli is the one that sentenced your parents to death.

  Also, if you can, seek out Om Citta. He should still be anchored at 252 Front Street in New York City, unless some ill fate befalls him.

  Don't fret, we won't go down without a fight. I love you, my dear son. We both do. Always have and always will.

  Charles Crosse

  Dad.

  Gage sat in total silence, dropping the paper from his hands. It fluttered to the floor without a hint of turbulence before coming to rest between his feet. Looking down at the cream parchment, he glared at the last line which was facing back at him. Unable to look away as he kneeled down, he handled the document delicately between his fingers, mulling over what he had just read.

  Those final words repeated over and over in his mind.

  “I love you too,” was all he could muster.

  AFTER A COUPLE HOURS, he climbed back out of the cellar, hauling with him a large box of select artifacts. Slinging it off to the side he descended again, returning no less than three times with yet more containers of strange looking gear, a hefty collection of books, and reams of unsorted notes.

  Pulling himself out of the opening, he sat on the edge wiping away a bit of sweat while his feet rested against the rungs.

  “Ady,” he said exhaustedly. “Can you help me load these in the truck? Take the light one over there and I’ll be sure to snag the heavier ones in a few. I think there's a ton of stuff here that J would downright have an orgasm over.”

  She nodded, taking a gulp of her water and setting the glass down on the end table. “Ha! I bet so,” she replied. “It doesn't take much for that guy to lose himself, does it?”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” he replied snarkily.

  With that, she stood up and grabbed the box closest to her, carrying it out toward the front door. Madeline opened it with a wave, leaving the door cracked for when she returned. Her attention then turned to Gage.

  “Any luck finding it down there?” she asked.

  “No not yet,” he said. “Dad left it a lil’ messy down there and I had no idea you could fit that many boxes into that small a room.”

  “I’m not surprised at all,” she agreed, rubbing her hands together. “Organizing was the least of his strong points.”

  “I did find some unique ammo and artifacts down there; you weren’t exaggerating ‘bout his obsession. I have zero clue what a lot of that stuff does and Dad’s notes on ‘em are, at best, sparse.”

  Madeline paced, worried for a moment that all of this effort were for naught. “What if someone managed to make it in there before I manifested? No, that can’t be possible. It has to be down there.”

  Sensing her concern, Gage reassured her. “I’ll take one last look tonight,” he said, mounting the ladder again. “If don't find it now, I'll continue the search in the morning after getting some rest. We’ll get through all the stuff down there… eventually.”

  He receded from her nodding head down to the bottom. Placing hands on his hips, he surveyed the area one more time.

  “Now if I were an ancient relic of death and destruction, where would I be?” He looked around impatiently, eyes darting from one box to another random container to yet another unmarked box. “Ah fuck!”

  Embittered, he punted the tower of boxes just off to his right and a couple of loose coins that were scattered across the top fell, bouncing off the ground with a few light dings.

  He was so drained, both physically and mentally, without a clue as to which was winning the battle to wear him down. Propping a hand up on the stack for support, he drooped his weary head.

  That's when he noticed an indentation creeping its way out at a ninety-degree angle from the base of the pile, not unlike a grout line. Curious, he kneeled and ran a finger along it. There wasn’t any grout there, but instead a fine gap between the surrounding stone.

  With renewed vigor he cleared out the stack directly above the line and in record time, squatted back down. The lines formed a corner of a now uncovered square half a meter wide. In the opposite corner was a tiny divot, which upon closer inspection was a stamped rose.

  This has to be it, he thought anxiously.

  Shifting his fingers fastidiously around the edges, he searched for a means of getting some kind of grip or leverage but it was to no avail. There was no way those meaty stubs of his were going to fit in between there.

  Gage then heard what he thought was a faint chirp, but it disappeared before he could really hone in and listen.

  Steadfast, he stood and walked with purpose over to a foot locker brimming with swords. Yielding one of the stout ones, he returned to the square, drew back and plunged the blade into the space in the floor. Leaning hard into it with all his might for leverage, the side of the stonework rose a couple inches but no more. He slumped back off the sword, reserves spent, and the stone settled back into its locked position.

  “What was it Dad said? ‘When your heart and mind are in the right place’?” Gage whispered, tapping his forehead. “Right then…”

  He took a deep breath to recharge himself and shifted sides, lowering the blade gently into the crack. “Heart and mind, heart and mind, heart and mind…” he repeated aloud as he closed his eyes and slowly pulled down on the pommel. He cracked an eye to take a peek at the progress and saw that the stone moved drastically…

  … less distance than it had before.

  What the fuck? he thought, releasing his grip which sent the sword shaking. As it did so, a tiny tag wiggled itself loose from underneath the cross guards.

  He sat expressionless, staring as the minuscule piece of paper flaunted itself in mid air. Mid-flutter, he snatched it and took an impertinent look. There, written in his dad’s distinct handwriting was the word ‘Excalibur’.

  It might as well have sprouted arms and four heads with the look he was giving. “Oh that’s just fuckin’ ironic, isn’t it?” he said, crumpling the label and flinging himself down on his knees. Balling up a fist, he smashed it against the debossed rose, a faint light kindling from the impact.

  The light grew to cover the entire square and Gage backed away from it, startled. The solid stone became like gravel then dissolved into powder before his eyes. The motes took on the muted shape of Solomon’s third seal before getting carried away by a soft, unearthly breeze that wafted from the hole.

  The alcove was barren except for a mahogany jewelry box which sat in the exact center. It was adorned with baroque, golden floral patterns on each of its eight corners and sat upon four small clawed feet. The lid rose without prompting and settled wide open.

  There was the amulet perched atop a wadded silk cloth that shimmered between ephemeral shades of blue and gray, itself crowning a mound of jewels of various shapes, sizes, and colors.

  There it waited as he reached out carefully, unwilling or perhaps unable to touch its plain metal surface. His hand quivered a hair’s breath from the shiny disc before an overwhelming urge to set his fingers down drove him to do just that.

  As his flesh touched the cool metal it scalded his fingertips, the pain surging straight up his arm and into to his temples. Visions surged into his mind and forcibly commanded all of his senses.

  A foul odor of rotten eggs rushed him as he was whooshed away from the cellar. The sting of sparks cascaded over his body, naked under the night sky.

  The pendant hung low and heavy upon his neck as he looked to the endless stars above. He took a step on an invisible set of stairs, climbing higher as the chain sweltered and the disc burned brightly. The eighth seal of Solomon flashed brilliantly in front of his eyes. He raised an arm to shield his face from the heat, yet the symbol was gone in an instant, consumed by a swirling vortex of fiery tendrils.

  Sparks stung mercilessly again as the cities of humankind burned across the horizon. Packs of hell hounds hunted openly in the streets, flames spitting from underfoot while soot churned like dust devils high into the air. The screams of countless souls rose up in those swirling columns
to join monstrous behemoths that loomed overhead, sending great swaths of shadow across the land as the skulls of hundreds poured from the sky.

  Gage looked down as the shade swept across him. Two rings appeared out of thin air, landing in his palms. The one on the right was made of platinum entwined gold and on the left, a thin circle of rust was on the verge of falling apart.

  The ferrous metal grew thick and weighty, sinking into his skin with an effervescent hiss while his bones were crunched into foul shapes. Black ash leached out of the fissures in his cracked skin, the plumes dancing spherically around his other hand, unaffected as if a barrier protected it.

  Unable to hold it in any longer, Gage screamed as the pain and soot overtook him. He felt a pinch at the nape of his neck and was cinched backwards before blacking out.

  Awakening on a small island set above a sea of stormy clouds, the roiling vapors stretched out beneath him as far as his eyes could see.

  The land abruptly heaved to and fro and Gage became ill from all the rocking. He looked up from the horizon, blazing like a distant sunset, in an attempt to alleviate his motion sickness. It didn't help, as far above another blanket of darkness quaked, sandwiching him in between.

  Lightning flung its way from the topmost clouds to the bottom, building in rage until a massive bolt whipped free and tore a path through the ground.

  Solid rock was obliterated and fell away into the abyss. Gage soon followed, pummeled by the many fragments of sharp stone. As the distant lightning pulsed, he saw things take shape in the swirling debris.

  A golden crown, wreathed in flame, was set upon the silhouette of a man. He turned and …

  An army of Journeyman, both supernatural and human, were locked in a great battle against a legion of demons and other foul beasts that defied description as …