Necronomicon: The Wanderings of Alhazred

by Donald Tyson

  The magi gave to Shub-Niggurath the sphere of Venus as her natural harmony, because Venus is a goddess noted for her concupiscence, who brings fertility to beasts and crops; however, the life-giving power of Venus is wholesome, whereas that of the prolific goat is verminous and foul. As a charm to ward her off during sleep, they engrave upon a plate of copper the seal of the goddess formed on the number square of Venus, which has seven rows and seven columns, each of which sums 175, and the total of all the numbers of the square is 1,225. Some scholars profess the opposite belief, that the seal of the prolific goat attracts the goddess to the bed, and both opinions are true, depending on how the seal is employed, for if it is laid with the engraving downward against the chest, it attracts, but with the engraving upward to the sky, it repels.

  A young man of Yemen who wished to punish a rival in the love for a woman bribed a servant of the rival to bury the seal of this goddess beneath his master’s sleeping place with the engraving down. In the span of a single cycle of the moon, the rival was so troubled by nightly visits of Shub-Niggurath in his dreams that his flesh wasted away and he went mad. The woman gave her love to the remaining suitor, who enjoyed it for a term until the revolving wheel of fortune stole her from his embrace.

  f all the lords of the Old Ones, only Nyarlathotep appears wholly in the likeness of a man. The shapes of the Old Ones are not fixed, but express their nature through a harmony between form and intention; yet it is possible for them to change their appearance within the bounds of this accord, and Nyarlathotep chooses to come to his worshippers as a man of greater than average height who is in all respects human save one: that he has no face but only a blackness where a face should be seen. As the face of Azathoth is darkly bright and radiates outward, so the face of Nyarlathotep his half brother is a void that draws inward both heat and light and never releases them. He is the eater of souls.

  Why he comes in the shape of a man is not known, but it may be to better have dealings with humankind, since he is reputed to enjoy the company of men when they drink wine and gamble, and the bodies of women with whom he lies in lust. He speaks as a man speaks but his voice has the coldness that lies between the stars, and few wish to hear his sardonic laughter, for then there will be death. Men are to him as playthings to a child—to be taken up for a time, then abruptly cast away and trodden into the earth. Even so, he teaches great mysteries to those who worship him, but always leading to evil works, for he delights in wickedness.

  Those who dwell in the Empty Space and seek knowledge in the tombs and caverns of the earth sometimes see Nyarlathotep walking alone across the sands as though lost in thought, wrapped from brow to toe in a swirling black cloak with a hood, a caul upon his face, rings glittering upon the fingers of his hands like so many stars. It is dangerous to approach him at these times. His dealings with men are at his choosing, and his patience is brief. With a single word can he burn the flesh from the bone, so that the skeleton of an unwary man remains standing a moment before it collapses with a dry clatter at his feet. Yet he is capricious, and it may suit his whim to teach a secret to the audacious fool who accosts him.

  When he appears it is oftentimes with the piping of a flute, and the reason is that he has been with his half brother Azathoth at the center of the universe, and through the open gateway that Yog-Sothoth has not yet sealed can for a time be heard the trilling of thin notes that set the hairs on the neck upright. He is not so inconvenienced in his coming to our world as the other Old Ones, though why this should be so remains unknown; perhaps it is the human shape he wears that partly shields him from the poison of the stars. Whatever the reason, he serves the Old Ones as their messenger among men. It is he who keeps the true gods of our race hostage in Kadath in the cold waste of the south, and who deprives them of their minds and makes them dance to the flute of Azathoth.

  A necromancer newly cast forth into the great wastes came upon a tall man robed all in black who stood upon the crest of a dune beneath the stars, head cocked to the side as though listening to music, though no sound broke the silence of the night save the wind. His face was shadowed in the depths of his hood and his back was turned. Emboldened by his disregard, the desert dweller crept up the slope of the dune with knife drawn, his intent to slit the throat of the stranger and steal his cloak and boots. When he raised the knife, he found that he could not move. The stranger turned and gazed at him, and he screamed, for there was no face in the hood, only two glittering stars. For a dozen heartbeats the stars pierced his soul and flayed it open. The stranger turned without a word and walked away, and the dweller fell to his knees and wept over the loss of such exquisite emptiness.

  Nyarlathotep is a trickster who may temporarily put on any form to beguile the wits of those to whom he appears. He delights in lies and misdirection, and for amusement will corrupt the thoughts, so that it is unwise to trust overmuch in his teachings, for sometimes they are sound and precious, but other times they are fatal if pursued. Wisest of the Old Ones with the exception of Yig, who is wisest of all, he knows the lore of magic not merely of this world but of many others. He is called by his worshippers the Myriad-Formed Messenger, but by his detractors he is known as the Chaos That Crawls. Neither dare speak his name without dire need, for to name him aloud on the tongue is to invoke him, even though he is not seen, for he comes to those who call him by name cloaked in shadow so that he is unknown, and studies them to learn their purpose; then he may aid, curse, or slay, according to his humor.

  Because he is the wisest of the Old Ones, and a trickster, and the messenger and herald of these gods, the magi of the Tigris joined him with the sphere of Mercury, quickest of the planets and messenger of the Olympian gods, he who is most learned in speech and in the art of writing. They used as a charm the seal of the god inscribed on a plate of electrum formed upon the number square of Mercury, having eight rows and eight columns, each with a sum of 260, and the total number of this square is 2,080. It was their belief that the square, when worn over the heart, would avert the wrath of Nyarlathotep, as a token having power over his coming and going; but it would be unwise to place overmuch faith in the efficacy of this charm.

  t is the assertion of our cartographers that the seas of the world exceed in their expanse the lands, so it is little to be wondered that another of the lords of the Old Ones should prefer the depths of the ocean for a dwelling. Mighty Cthulhu has his home in R’lyeh in the sea that lies eastward and far to the south off the shores of distant Cathay, but Dagon is reputed to inhabit a deep chasm on the sea floor, the location of which is unknown. It is believed that the race he created in his image, who dwell beneath the waves and serve his designs, have their greatest number in the western ocean beyond the Pillars of Hercules; for this reason some have speculated that Dagon abides in the west, but wiser commentators offer no opinion on this matter.

  Among men he is worshipped most faithfully by the descendents of the Canaanites, who in times past built idols to him that enraged the Hebrews, as is recorded in the sacred texts of that people. The Deep Ones, as his sea-dwelling brood are called, are friendly to men if treated with courtesy, and aided the Canaanites in capturing in their nets rich harvests of fish, greatly to the increase of the wealth of that nation, and to

  the envy of neighboring peoples. In compact with the Deep Ones, the Canaanites gave as a pledge of trust their daughters in marriage, and among the cults of Dagon this practice continues. The Deep Ones admire the beauty of women and delight to lie with them; in return for this pleasure they adorn their brides with rich and cunningly fashioned jewelry, for they are greater in skill than any other beings of our world in the making of ornaments of precious metals and jewels.

  In the northlands of Hyperborea he is known as Kraken, and in the books of the Hebrews as Leviathan. He sleeps and dreams, not imprisoned in a tomb as is Cthulhu, for the leagues of water above his head protect him from the poison of the stars, but lying in the deepest part of the chasm that serves as his house beneath the mu
d that covers him. At times he wakes and travels the sea floor to visit his children and certain holy places on islands or off promontories where members of his human cult make offerings, which they cast into the waves of the sea while chanting his name. As far as the line of the lowest tide he can approach the shore, but no further, for the stars repel him; the shallows he is able to endure only for short spans, and then must retreat to the depths. This is no great inconvenience, for the Deep Ones serve as his hands and eyes in the seas, and his worshippers among men as his hands and eyes upon the land.

  Vast is his body, covered with great silver scales. His hands are as those of a man but longer of finger and webbed between. The same is true of his feet, the slender and webbed toes of which resemble a great tail when he puts his legs together and swims with powerful strokes; this has caused some commentators to write in error that he has no legs. His head is similar in shape to the head of a dolphin, and joins to his body without a neck. In his domed forehead is set a single eye greater in size than the round shield of a warrior, and being devoid of a lid it never shuts, even when he sleeps. When emerging into the shallows he walks upright and bent forward with his long arms dragging in the water. His voice is deeper than the largest bell and may be heard for many leagues when he speaks from out his mouth, which is broad and set low on his head.

  Some artists have drawn this god in the form of a woman naked to the waist, with the tail of a fish. This is a vulgar error born of ignorance, yet it is true that like the fish of the sea, the sexual member of Dagon is concealed within his body, and is reputed to only emerge when the god has copulations with Shub-Niggurath. In appearance he is neither male nor female, but a blending of both. Those who have seen him with their own eyes attest that his body is translucent, so that the light of the moon passes through it as through a cloudy crystal, for he ventures into the air only in the light of the moon, never beneath the heat of the sun; the reason for the watery appearance of his body is that it is composed of no ordinary flesh but of substance carried from beyond the sphere of the fixed stars. Subject neither to age nor decay, it is deathless.

  Those engendered on the daughters of men who are given in marriage to the Deep Ones share in part this longevity, being greater in years than one of unmixed

  race, but shorter of life than the pure spawn of Dagon. When they are born, they resemble a human infant, but as they age they acquire the fishy attributes of their fathers until at length they are more at home in the sea than on the land. They abhor the dryness of the air, and always make their dwellings near the ocean where the wind is damp and salty. By their watery eyes you may know them, and by the moist pallor of their faces. As they grow older their mouths broaden and their voices become deep, and when they speak a gurgling is heard in their throats.

  The cults of Dagon adore as sacred a black pillar, which they say is the source of his power. Each cult keeps in addition to his statue a smaller simulacra of this pillar, the original of which rests beneath the sea at the chasm where he sleeps. Its sides are covered in hieroglyphs of a language that is not to be encountered elsewhere in our world, for it is specific to the Deep Ones. Those who have seen the replicas of the great undersea pillar have drawn out a number of its symbols at great danger to themselves, for it is considered the most terrible violation or blasphemy by the worshippers of Dagon, who hunt down and without mercy put a sword to the violators.

  The magi of the Tigris valley associate Dagon with the sphere of the moon, upon reflection that the moon controls the tides and is of a watery composition, and that Dagon is never seen to walk except beneath the lunar rays, and is bounded by the place where the tide reaches its lowest ebb, as by a barrier that cannot be crossed; also the moon is silver, resembling the color of his scales, and moonlight is translucent, as is his flesh. They use as a charm to Dagon engraved upon a plate of silver the seal of the god formed on the number square of the moon, composed of nine rows and nine columns, each of which sums 369, and the total sum of the square is 3,321. The square is supposed to insure good catches of fish and happy fortune when traveling by water, though in truth these things are dependent upon the sufferance of the Deep Ones, who are capricious in their favors.

  eeply incised into the circular stone dais in the center of the starlit chamber of soul portals that is to be found at the heart of the nameless city beneath Irem is an emblem of curious pattern, different from any other, the full use of which is unknown to men. It has been called by some the Elder Seal, but by others the Great Seal of the Old Ones. Soul travelers who journey to R’lyeh may see it upon the closed gate of Cthulhu’s house, where he lies within his tomb dreaming. Its form may more readily be depicted than described, but it is somewhat like a branch and somewhat like the pattern in a proof of geometry, having angles and circles set in a precise relationship. It has been falsely rendered in various works by writers who knew nothing of its true shape. Ibn Schacabao dared to draw it plainly in two of his manuscripts, but in corrupt form that lacked the spheres and other smaller marks, so that it was without power; those who have it complete possess a treasure beyond price.

  Know you that Yog-Sothoth is the gate and the key, but the Elder Seal is the lock. Created by the Elder Things in the war with Cthulhu and his spawn countless ages prior to the making of man, it has the power to

  prevent the passage of the Old Ones or their children when placed upon any threshold. A householder who rightly inscribes it upon his door may sleep securely from the incursion of these unnatural creatures, for it not only prevents the spawn of the Old Ones from entering the house but also fortifies its windows and walls from their malice, so that the interior is preserved against all designs to breech its unseen barrier.

  The seal was cut into the dais in the starlit chamber to prevent the entrance of the Old Ones, and for aeons it has fulfilled its function, for deep dwellers in the lower chambers assert that no spawn of that space-crossing race has ever passed through the soul portals. To common man and other creatures it offers no barrier, but only against the passage of the Old Ones or those things engendered of the Old Ones.

  It is somewhat effective against the human worshippers of the seven lords, for these men are in constant awe of its power and fly from the very sight of it, though they could cross it if they dared.

  No man understands the working of the Elder Seal. It may be that in its proportions and angles, it concentrates the same baneful influence shining down from the stars that ages ago drove the Old Ones from the surface of our world, in the same way that cunningly polished crystals and curved mirrors capture and concentrate the heat of the sun and cause fires to spring forth from wood and other combustible things.

  When drawn upon the ring of the ritual circle, it serves as an effective protection against Nyarlathotep, who cannot perceive even with his arcane wisdom what transpires within the circle or hinder the progress of the work. Worn about the neck as a charm, it protects the traveler against the voracious children of Shub-Niggurath created from human seed who haunt the wilderness places and wait for prey. Even the doorways of dreams are sealed, and no spawn of the Old Ones can enter the mind of one who wears the charm. Those who invoke the seven lords shun it, for it renders all their preparations void and frustrates all their arts.

  It is written that after peace was made between the Elder Things and the spawn of Cthulhu, and he had withdrawn from the poison of the stars to his tomb on R’lyeh, which was then still above the waves, three members of the Elder Race came to R’lyeh in secret and placed the seal upon the entrance to his tomb, so that after waking he would be trapped for unnumbered ages, for they foresaw the sinking of the city with their astronomical arts and placed the seal on the eve of the cataclysm. In this way they thought to frustrate Cthulhu, for he cannot wake from his sleep of death until the door is opened, and the seal cannot be breeched by either he or his spawn. Yet with all their wisdom they did not consider the rise of our race, still uncreated by them, and it may prove that at some future time the ingenuity
of man can unlock the gate that holds impotent the might of the god.

  fter exhausting the resources in the city beneath Irem and all that can he gleaned by travel through its soul portals, and communion with the deep dwellers who haunt its vaulted chambers and vast, many-pillared halls, the traveler must descend more deeply into the earth, for there is no escape upward past the witch I’thakuah who ever waits and listens. In the lowest reaches of the western halls, beyond a stone stairway bathed in blinding radiance that shines out from the walls with the brightness of beaten gold, is to be found a great door of cast bronze that swings easily and without sound on its hinge although it has received no grease for countless ages. Past it lies a passageway, and farther beyond a channel cut through the solid rock by the waters of an ancient river that ran dry long ago, although to one who stands and holds his breath, the distant echo of its thundering waters may still be heard. The river was called A’zani by the reptilian race, or so it is reported by their descendents, who still crawl through darkness across the dusty gravel bed of that watercourse.

  In antediluvian times the course of the A’zani was impassible, for its surging flood completely filled the cavernous spaces that twist and writhe ever westward deep beneath the sands of the desert toward the Red Sea. It served as the outlet for the mighty fountains that rose beneath Irem, which in the distant past were much more powerful than in the days when men inhabited the place. Over the passage of ages its flood dwindled to a trickle and at last ceased altogether, leaving only the convoluted passage, like the hollow, sloughed skin of some great serpent. Where the rushing stream forced its way into caverns that already existed in the depths, the way is high and broad, and the sound of wings may be heard in the darkness overhead, like the soft sound of bats, but these creatures are not bats; in other places the gravel carried along by the waters has been thrown in sloping piles, so that the way is narrow enough that a man must lower his head.