The Lost Treasure Map Deluxe Book Collection (2017 Edition)

by V Bertolaccini

  “Perfect!” Merton replied.

  Bryson walked over to the window, to look about the trees. A few crows flew over them, indicating that there was food or something near them – and they were hungry.

  Suddenly, he saw something moving to the castle, through the wood.

  The figure of the butler emerged, on the road going to the castle, which was attracting the attention of the birds.

  The rest of servants appeared, with the butler leading them towards the castle. He was sure that they had walked from where they had parked their vehicles. They more than likely had left them at a place on the road that would not be covered over in deep snow, under a thicker part of the wood, where they could reach the main road from.

  He was not aware of how dangerous it was. Why had nothing happened to them before? Surely people had walked through there, in the dark, countless times, over the years. The place would have had the same weather conditions – the climate had created many blizzards over the years. Could the place somehow be out of reach of the things in the wood? Moreover, had he come across it by accident – being incredibly unlucky? Its haunts, according to the stories, were at distant and unpopulated regions of the estate. There was no noticeable logic to this logic!

  He listened to the servants enter the building, laughing at a joke. He realized that they might be able phone the local council, or where the snowploughs were, for the region, to ask them to clean the road.

  “Let’s go ...” Mortimer muttered, moving to him.

  Merton and Mortimer led him to their room – where they put on some thick jumpers and jackets.

  Once along the corridor, they increased their pace towards the back door. However, as they moved outside, and they saw the depth of the snow, they walked at a normal speed, trying not to become too tired.

  On their entrance to the trees, he looked for anything suspicious in front of them. There were no footprints or anything like that, but he saw a few marks that looked as though something large had been there, but it became clear that it was just the wind blowing through some trees.

  Distant screeches of crows appeared and vanished from ahead of them, and he listened for any sign of anything. He realized that it was the complete absence of normal things, and the unusual silence, which hid everything there. (Sounds did not seem to carry very far, and the crows were probably screaming, communicating.)

  His tired eyesight was all he had to detect anything there, and the vast amount of shapes and shadows, constantly changing about him, was too vast to search. There could be someone behind any of the hundreds of trees. If they had a dog, it would have helped immensely.

  He wondered if humans had been losing senses that could put them in danger in such places – which all the other animals seemed to rely on, for their survival.

  What captured his attention, more than anything else, was that Merton and Mortimer were in a rush to see the tombs. They were not just tombs to them – they were something important.

  Had they came upon something that had told of something, which told them that something existed out there, which could perhaps show them why the place had something haunting it, or perhaps solve part of the mystery? However, if the others had affected them enough, it might be something to do with the money. But where would they have found that information?

  As they went deep into the wood his curiosity grew, especially because Merton and Mortimer refused to speak about it, and trudged on, determined to complete their mission. He tried in vain to slow them.

  “What is so important about going there?” he finally groaned, walking beside Mortimer, who had perspiration over his brow, and was breathing deeply.

  “It interests me,” he replied, making Bryson smile.

  “Does it have to do with: finding the money here?”

  “That as well!”

  “Perhaps I can answer your queries first – since I have been there and looked around there – and you will not have to wait to acquire the information!”

  “That’s an idea!” Mortimer replied, finally slowing down, to a reasonable speed, allowing him to think.

  “What’s the main thing that you wish to know?”

  “We really want to look about there, to see if we can find out anything – especially from the writing that we were told is on the tombs. And we wish to see if there is any clues about the occurrences ...”

  “And, by chance, do you think that Sir Richard hid the money away out there – at the tombs?”

  “They were considering that clue – ‘where the last dwell’ – and they think that it refers to humans ...”

  II

  Lost in Time

  Chapter 29

  Mysterious Discoveries

  “You may be correct about it referring to humans,” Bryson explained, “but none of my ancestors, in the tombs, were the last ...!”

  “We believe that it may have something to do with your ancestors in the tombs,” Mortimer carefully answered. “They could have believed that they were ‘the last’!”

  Bryson smiled, and thought about it once again. From their angle it was slightly astonishing. The reason that he, and probably the others, had not believed that it had been true had been because they had not been the last – there had been as many of them as there ever had been. But they might have believed that they had been the last! Or, for some reason, one of them could have believed that the family would not have any descendants, or something like that, and had something written on one of the tombs.

  “So you believe that there may be something mentioning the clue on one of the tombs!”

  Merton clapped his hands, congratulating him, on his reply.

  “Nonetheless, we just want to look around, for anything of interest – especially to see the tombs.”

  Bryson was sure that there was more, and just accepted their reasons, with interest.

  “We should have brought torches ...!”

  “Why do we need torches?” Merton anxiously inquired, shoving his way through a deep area of snow, moving next to him.

  “There are stairs running down – to the tombs, and there are no lights – in the underground chamber.”

  “Therefore, we’ll have to go back!” Mortimer grumbled, coming to a standstill.

  “No! It has light. It would have been better ...”

  “My key ring lighter should be good enough,” Mortimer replied. “If we need it to read them.”

  Bryson worked out the position of the road, and where the place was where the servants would have left their cars. It was further away than he had thought. This part of the wood was more isolated.

  Even though the wood held many hiding places, where anything could be – including where the killer of the servant could be lurking, it was far from being as bad as it had been at night. At the most distant parts, as far as he could see, through all the gaps in the trees, he imagined the dark shapes of the trees, branches, and undergrowth as black figures, dwelling there.

  They had correctly timed it, as the sky had hardly changed since they had left – except it growing brighter.

  When he had told them that it was best to go there before it was nightfall, he had not meant to race there. If anything did appear, it would surely kill them. They would not now be able to run properly. The snow was thick and rugged, and it was too hard to keep a reasonable speed going through it.

  Merton instantly halted, removed a cigarette out of his packet, and handed him one. He quickly lit them, before he moved away from him. But he persuaded him to go slow, while they smoked. Mortimer eventually noticed that they had dropped behind him, and waited for them to catch up. He then walked slowly along with them.

  The pace did not last long, and Mortimer soon had them going after him again, but at a more controlled pace.

  There were hardly any differences to the wood, even though he was looking for prints of creatures anyway. It now seemed even more stranger thinking of them, and the murder of the servant and footprints from the castle.


  Why had there been a stranger there at the castle? How many people would have entered the wood? Had the person walked there, or had the person arrived by other means. Nobody had seen the stranger, according to the police. The person had to have been watching the place.

  Why had he not left as soon as he had committed the crime? He had been in the castle when the police had arrived. Had he been hiding somewhere, perhaps doing something, until they had arrived there?

  The trees had slightly sheltered the area that they were in, from having too deep snow, but in areas, it had patches of thick snow, fallen from the branches over it.

  As they approached the building, Mortimer went further out, in front of them. Bryson recalled seeing something in it that resembled a stone seat, and just increased his pace.

  Mortimer only stopped to rest when he reached it.

  Bryson led them around it, cleaning some of the snow and dirt away from the windows that he passed.

  Some had small cracks in them, from something. But it must have been there for centuries.

  Mortimer hesitated, as he crept through the door, vaguely surprised that it opened. Bryson nodded his head, and went straight to the seat in it. Even though it was more like a block of stone than a seat, and was there for decoration – like the columns, urns, and other articles.

  Merton sat beside him, and Mortimer strolled around its walls.

  “It’s dark!” Merton confirmed.

  “What do you think?” Bryson asked. “Do you still think that it’s here?”

  “You have a point ...” Mortimer moaned. “Who would put it away out here! Your uncle would have to have been very eccentric to put it here. Or really determined to hide it from everyone.”

  Bryson was still convinced that Sir Richard would have had the money close at hand – making it safe – with it there if he needed it.

  In fact, it could even be the best clue that they had, as he was sure that he would not have left it for such a long time anywhere else. He would have to have known that he would never need it, and put his trust in the fact that nobody would have found it.

  The interior had much more light than the last time. He was positive now that they had used candles to light it, and he saw places that they could have placed them. It did not have such a bad design, which made the vault under them too dark.

  “Do you think that this place is haunted?” Bryson joked, out of curiosity.

  “Have you heard anything about it ...?” Mortimer instantly inquired.

  “No, but it’s in this estate ... I wonder if anyone has ever checked it! I cannot even imagine any sane person staying out here in the middle of the night, especially with those things rampaging about the wood.”

  Bryson observed the interior, and the windows in more detail. It was in good condition for its age, but it would need a large amount of cleaning to remove the stains from the stone, done by years of wear and tear, especially from the bad weather conditions.

  “We can check it!” Merton explained. “We can set up some of the equipment at some other time ...”

  He wondered if they would run if the things in the wood attacked. They did not seem to see that there was any deadly danger.

  Yet he had only heard the things, and seen the light.

  He did believe it to be a good experiment – leaving their equipment there – but if it led to them staying in it, and those things turned out to be like what he had been imagining them, then it would be the worst mistake that they could make.

  After five minutes of silence, and a proper rest, Mortimer went towards the steps.

  Bryson waited until Merton followed him until he joined him.

  The steps showed signs that water had recently made it into the building, and had flowed down into the vault, but it had not reached very high at the bottom. They had compensated for leaks, from the door allowing water entering into the structure, as the tombs were far above the ground.

  The building also was on a small hill, on slanted ground, which would not allow it to become flooded.

  It was a strange design; apparently designed more for its looks ... What else would they have wanted ...? It hardly was a place, where people would want to stay.

  The original castle had been a castle, and a type of fort, as castles tended to be – so there were few leisure places in its originally structure.

  The area with the tombs was large, and many areas had remained empty, ready for more tombs. Bryson wondered if there would be any more, and if the next owner would copy Sir Richard – and not bother.

  The more he saw the tombs the more he wondered if it proved that the person who had it built had been religious. However, he might have only wanted a respectable place, and for people to remember him for many centuries.

  Merton copied things from a tomb onto a piece of paper, while Mortimer just read them, and thought about what the words meant.

  Chapter 30

  The Tombs

  Mortimer’s attention remained on the tomb of William Randall – the oldest there – the person who had built the castle – and he had been the most likely to have known why the supernatural disturbances were taking place.

  “It’s just as Robert said, and definitely to do with your clue!”

  He looked slightly annoyed, when Merton disturbed him, and he could not make any sense of it as an answer.

  “So we’re still at the same place as before,” Bryson muttered.

  The whole event confused Bryson.

  Mortimer stopped, and Merton started copying down the words from other tombs. Bryson was then able to take a close look, with Mortimer’s key ring light.

  What sort of person had William Randall been? Bryson examined the features of his tomb, all the tombs, and the vault that he had built.

  However, he knew that their hopes of finding it there were little.

  For a long time, Merton and Mortimer went from tomb to tomb, and he did likewise – continuing to read them – until it was obvious that they had everything there.

  Merton eventually lit a cigarette.

  Bryson lifted his bag from the ground, noticing that dirt was beneath it.

  “If the others thought that they all were the last of something,” Merton theorized, “it could be in any of the tombs.”

  “That’s a good point,” Mortimer moaned. “That writing on the tomb could just refer to it. Or it could be something to put people off. Was your uncle as crafty as that?”

  “He might have been – I do not know. He had been a ruthless businessman, who made a fortune. But he seemed to like games – hiding his money like he did ...”

  “How obsessed was he at doing it though?” Merton asked.

  “That’s what I want to know.”

  “So let’s assume that it is in one of the other tombs,” Merton continued. “What one would it be?”

  “I don’t think it’s in any of them.“

  “None of the others do either,” Mortimer replied sincerely.

  Bryson tapped the floor with his sole, almost putting a grin on his face. It was absurd! Who would want to bury it in a burial site?

  He ignored it, and walked about, feeling restless.

  Pieces of material had fallen to the ground from veils that had been at the sides of the walls. The place had a morbid look.

  “It might have been your uncle,” Mortimer muttered, “who thought that your ancestors in the vault had been the last of something.”

  Chapter 31

  The Intruder

  Bryson stamped hard, with his sole, into the vault floor – listening for any variations in tone, and for any hollow regions.

  Even as he walked to new spots, he continued listening and feeling for any movements.

  Yet if it were buried below, it could be drenched in water. And he was sure that Sir Richard would have had to have found a place above the ground.

  He banged and tapped parts of the wall, as he walked around it.

  They could be there all day searching, for nothing. It was
no use – it was not there! – and he was growing tired.

  “Let’s take the information and go,” he finally announced, annoyed. “We’re wasting time! We can find out what that tomb meant elsewhere.”

  Merton and Mortimer instantly agreed, and they speedily followed him up the stairs, while he still instinctively listened for anything beneath his feet.

  The bright warm sun was glorious, and the building was dull and gloomy.

  Mortimer strangely never rushed on, and seemed to have reached a conclusion. He was leaving with what he had wished to know.

  They were just content to walk in the warm sunshine.

  Sparrows flew about the trees, about them, knocking the snow down, making Bryson consider why there were so few. He had been taking it for granted that it was the freezing conditions, altered winter landscape, expelling the wildlife.

  The last time that he had been there, it had been at a different time of year, and he recalled that there had only been crows about the wood.

  The place would make a good golf course: if they removed most of the trees ...

  “What’s that ...?” Merton revealed, wandering into the nearest trees. “Someone’s ...!”

  “They’re fresh footprints!” Mortimer exclaimed, arriving there before Bryson.

  Bryson crouched near them, and measured their size.

  “They look the same as the prints that we followed from the castle,” Merton declared.

  “That killer could be out here ...!”

  “And I’ll bet that they were not there when we came here,” Mortimer remarked.

  “Let’s follow them!”

  They trailed away into the undergrowth, in roughly the same direction as the castle.

  “Where do you think he is?” Merton asked suddenly.

  “Somewhere over there,” Mortimer said, pointing at a slight angle to the castle.