The Cabal - Chapter 6

The Cabal - Chapter 6 The Cabal - Chapter 6

Status: In Progress

Genre: Mystery and Crime

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Mystery and Crime

Summary

The Icelandic connection -

Summary

The Icelandic connection -

Chapter1 (v.1) - Chapter 6

Author Chapter Note

The investigation takes a mysterious turn -

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: September 10, 2020

Reads: 14

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: September 10, 2020

A A A

A A A

THE CABAL:

 

Chapter 6:

 

Not long after it seemed as though the investigation had made progress, I learned that Detective Kemp had been removed from the case, and was replaced by an Inspector Steinman. I had heard of him, and my heart sank at the thought of him being in charge. Despite countless allegations of fraud and corruption, not only was he still on the force, but he had even recently been promoted. I thought to myself that everything that we had gone through was of no avail. Either they were going to hang the crimes onto some unfortunate fall-guy, or the case would be left to go cold. Now there was no way that I could get involved any-more, even if I wanted to. I thought of Jessica and the others who had put their necks on the line in order to shed some light onto these atrocities, that would probably go unchecked and unpunished.

 

Although the authorities elected to use a scapegoat, some justice was done in that Doctor Waldstein was the one to bear the brunt of the charges, while Jackson was made out to be the hit-man who actually committed the crimes. He was known to be extremely violent, but lacked the intelligence needed to carry out such heinous deeds.

 

I was pondering exactly what I was going to do now when I received a message on my laptop. My phone had been discontinued for the time being, and my e-mail address as well as all my social media accounts had been made incognito for my protection. So I was more than a little suspicious about who could have obtained my address. But then I recognised the name Father Leonard Presven. He was head of an order called ‘The Children of Light’, a non-affiliated movement that had followed in the footsteps of such philanthropic figures as Mother Saskia and the like. Even though I had no direct contact or involvement with them, I had always held the movement in high regard.

 

Father Leonard seldom went out in public as there had been a number of mysterious attempts on his life, so I actually felt more than a little privileged that he wanted to see me, but wondered why. Nonetheless I accepted his invitation, and met him at the so-called Temple of Light. No bigger than a small church, this was the headquarters to the whole operation, one that had positively impacted the lives of countless people in South Africa alone, as well as throughout the African continent. It had originally been built as a Romanian Orthodox Church in the early 2000s, but had fallen into disrepair by the end of the century, when religious organisations began to collapse. The building was almost demolished, but then was taken over and restored by Father Presven and his people. The only change was that the cross was removed from the roof.

 

The patriarch was a tall man, I would say in his forties. He was dressed in robes and had long hair that was almost white. His face was at once kind and regal, and one got the impression that he was learned and wise. He shook my hand and offered me a drink. He pulled his chair closer so that I could see the screen of his laptop, and a familiar face appeared on it. It looked like the alien Govek, even though it was a virtual 3D model.

 

Leonard Presven then said: “I hear that you have come across such a being as this recently.”

 

“Not personally, no.” I replied, “But I have seen one on some footage from a security camera. Someone else confirmed that he was held captive by another of them.”

 

“Do you know who they are?” He asked, and I shook my head in response, “They are known as the Anunnaki, and ancient alien race that were once worshipped as deities in the classic religions ...”

 

“Yes I know about the Anunnaki.” I stated.

 

“Ah but you don’t know them fully.” He proclaimed, “If I were to ask you what they actually look like, what would your answer be?”

 

“That they look like the figure on screen now.” I reacted.

 

“And you would be right in saying so.” He agreed, “But so would others who have seen them differently, some even resembling actual humans. The reason for this is that they do not possess a physical form, but use forms as they deem necessary. These beings are non-corporeal in nature. They only adopt a corporeal body so that they can interact with the physical reality. This is why they were often referred to as ‘Spirits’ in the old texts.”

 

“So why do they use this particular form as opposed to that of another human being?” I asked, “You’ve said that they are capable of doing so. Surely it would be easier for them, I mean in that body they tend to stand out in a crowd.”

 

“That is precisely why.” Came the answer, “Either to inspire awe, or fear in the hearts of those who cross their paths, especially if they are in positions of authority.”

 

“Okay.” I acceded, “So why are they here? What do they want? So far I don’t like what I’ve seen. They seem to have some sinister plans, and I reckon that their intentions are not exactly good.”

 

“And you would be right.” He assured me, “In truth, they are more ill-intentioned than you think. You see mister Buys, their goal is to enslave our race, using whatever means possible: Genetic manipulation, mind control, torture - usually of the most brutal kind ... They will do whatever it takes to make us subservient to them. One of their methods is exactly what we see in society today: Those who are deemed privileged are only there because they willingly do their Masters’ bidding, and those who are outside of this world of affluence either come from those who seek to remain free from this oppression, or are helots in service of those in power, most of whom are indebted one way or another to the Anunnaki who put them there in the first place. These tyrants seek to enforce their will using super-soldiers that have been physically and mentally enhanced to make them even more deadly.”

 

At this point my mind was cast back to the night that woman committed suicide by jumping through the window. I informed him: “But there are those who resist, even among their own ranks.” I told him what had happened at the old laboratories, and then asked: “What if we rise up and rebel against them?”

 

“Then they will carry out their threat to destroy humanity completely along with all life on Earth.” He proclaimed. “There is no bargaining with them.”

 

“So what can we do?” I queried, “If we can’t beat them and we can’t come to some agreement with them, then what hope do we have?”

 

“Come with me.” He responded, “I have something to show you.” He led me into another room with a chair and a desk inside, upon which stood an antiquated old computer, one I had not seen since I was a child. He explained: “This was once the property of a Danish archaeologist by the name of Torben Holm. The reason why we keep it up and running is that we cannot copy the information it contains onto a modern computer, without it being corrupted to the point that it is illegible ...”

 

The first picture that came on screen was a satellite photo of Iceland, followed by a photograph of Reykjavik, Iceland’s Capital. Next he showed me a mountain with the entrance to a cave at the base of a steep cliff. He then continued: “This cave is in an area known as Drangshlid, and was one of the sites that Professor Holm excavated, with some rather alarming finds, such as these three skeletons. When they were analysed, it was discovered - both from physical examination and DNA sampling - that they were not human. At the time, alas, Torben Holm was branded a madman by many of his peers, but because of more recent findings, his theories have become more accepted.

 

He and his party explored the caves themselves, and found them to be much deeper than they first expected. As you may or may not know, Iceland is famous for its lava tunnels, some of which go on for kilometres, although the longest is in Hawaii. The Kazumura Cave is sixty five kilometres long, but Iceland has more of these phenomena than anywhere else in the world. It is also one of the few regions in the world that still have a strong belief in mythical beings, more specifically the race known as the Huldufolk, or Hidden People. And it was at Drangshlid that Professor Holm and his team not only found proof of their existence, but were reported to have encountered one. These are the pictures they took of the meeting ...”

 

He showed me a photo of what appeared to be a ‘Moon-Gate’ - normally garden features that had become popular in those suburbs wealthy enough to have gardens - but this one was about half a kilometre into a cavern. Not only that but it had been maintained, and that despite the rest of the tunnel showing signs of having fallen in at places. A pathway had been cleared, after the rockfall by the looks of it, and stepping stones had been put in place. The other mysterious aspect of this picture was, that the features behind this ‘Gate’ seemed to have become blurred, almost as if something was distorting them.

 

I mentioned this to Father Presven, and he replied: “Yes - we’ve tried to make the image clearer, but to no avail. But it is what - or rather whom - they encountered next that was the final proof they needed ...” The second last image in this collection was the most puzzling of all. It was a portrait of a young male - I hesitate to call him a man - with hair much like that of my host, long and probably blonde in colour. His face indicated that he was barely passed his teens, but the expression on it almost contradicted this. And then I saw the shape of his one ear. I realised that I was looking at an example of the race I had heard referred to as the ‘Sylvan’. Instantly my hackles went up, and I began to doubt the veracity of this man’s claims.

 

“You still are not convinced I see.” He said, almost as if he had read my mind, “Very well. Perhaps this will convince you that the Sylvan are not mere myth.” At which time he pushed his long hair back so that I could see his ears clearly, and to my shock and amazement, they were the same shape, and there was no sign that this had been altered, surgically or otherwise. I was completely blown away.

 

Again he spoke, and once more I felt that he knew exactly what I was thinking. He continued: “... This is one of the legendary Gatekeepers that have been appointed to guard the portals that link this world to that of my fathers. They are charged with only allowing those who are appointed into the realm of Alfheim, home of the Sylvan who were once also inhabitants of Earth until the Great Hunt. He gave the Professor and his team a chart, not of the Drangshlid caves from the side that they had just come, but from the Sylvan perspective. This is the same map ...”

 

He showed me the last picture. It showed a maze of tunnels with what looked like at least four exits to the outside world. There were markings that were obviously some kind of reference points, and in one of the chambers there was a small circle. Father Leonard explained: “... It is thought that this is where the gate that coincides with the first is situated.”

 

“Okay.” I expressed, “This is all very interesting, the history and all, but how does this help us against the Anunnaki?”

 

“That is why I have called you, mister Buys.” He reacted, “Sadly no-one in the Professor’s team were able to enter through the Gate. The Keeper would not allow them. I cannot tell you why, but I believe that you will succeed where others have failed.”

 

At this point I was both annoyed and more than a little perplexed. I stated: “I can’t go to Iceland on some expedition!”

 

“You may not have to.” Insisted the priest, “It has come to my attention that there is just such a Gate here in South Africa. Right here ...” He showed me a picture, and I recognised it as being of the Echo Caves in Mpumalanga. These were not as well-known as the Kango Caves or even the Sudwala Caves - the latter of which were not far from the Echo system. The reason for this was that the areas that had been explored and charted were somewhat smaller than the other two, and thus less attractive to tourists. There were, however, areas that had been left untouched, even by avid cavers, and the exact size of these caves was largely unknown.

 

Then he gave me a memory jack, and informed me: “I have copied two maps of the caves onto this device. Once you have assembled a team, load them onto your phone, and they will lead you to the location where the Gate was discovered ...”

 

“Who discovered it?” I enquired.

 

“My daughter Gina.” He responded, “She has always been one for getting up to mischief. Two years ago, she was a member of a guided tour of the section of Echo Caves that is open to the public. Being rather adventurous to say the least, she became separated from the group, and found herself on the level below - although I have yet to find out how this happened - and that was where she found the Gate. Needless to say it took a search party a day and a half to find her after that. She was also officially banned from ever going back, but that did not stop her once she also found the secret entrance. The maps are drawn from memory, so they might be a little ...” He stopped, and then changed tack a bit, saying: “... I am certain that if I ask her, she will be willing to be your guide. She has always been keen to go back. Will that help you?”

 

“Immensely!” I exclaimed, “Thank you very much!”

 

He smiled, and said: “Good. I will speak to Gina while you arrange your team.”

 

“Well it will probably only be one other person.” I let him know. Erica Brits was a seasoned caver, and fellow member of the University of Johannesburg’s Senior Speleology Club. She was the first person that came to mind for this adventure. If I was really lucky, her father Johann would also join us, but I thought that was perhaps too much to hope for.

 

“That is well.” He assured me, “The smaller the party the better.”

 

“By the way.” I asked, “Did Gina meet anyone at the Gate?”

 

“Alas no.” Came the reply, “But there were signs that someone else had been there some time before she found it.”

 

 

 

I thanked him, and we said our goodbyes. Even as I departed, I still had my doubts as to the validity of his claims. I suppose it was because part of me, that part that thrives on logic and reason, refused to accommodate them. Nonetheless I felt that even if we did not find anything, the adventure would help me to recover from the disappointment I still experienced with regards to the case I had been so involved in.

 

I called Erica as soon as I was back at home. She said yes almost immediately, excepting that we would have to wait a few days until Varsity ended for the year. She also said that she would speak to her father about joining us. Being a senior school teacher, he too would be on vacation round about the same time. That night I received confirmation that they were both in. All that was still needed was for Gina’s dad to let us know whether she was going to be joining us or not. Two days later it was finalised. We arranged to meet Gina on the Friday.

 

She was not what I had envisaged as an ardent explorer. Firstly she looked like she was still in high-school rather than someone who had already graduated from University as an Honours student. She was of small stature, standing at about five-three, and a slight build. What made her appear younger was her shoulder-length hair, that was styled in a loose bob. She was also very attractive, with dark brown eyes that revealed a little of her true age, and a ready smile - the kind that lights up the whole face. I am not ashamed to say that I was more than a little enthralled by her from the first time we met. She was so full of life and energy, as if the drain that many of us suffered from had either passed her by, or she was immune to it. Especially after what I had just been through, I found her enthusiasm extremely refreshing.

 

After much discussion and planning, we decided that we would depart the following Friday. Erica’s lectures ended on the Wednesday, and her father was already on holiday. I had been placed on extended leave after my ordeal, so I did not have any reason to stay on in Jo’burg. In fact almost immediately I began to look forward to getting out of the muck and smog of the city for a change.

 

We booked ourselves into a self-catering bungalow at a small resort near the town of Hoedspruit, which had once been largely a military town and still had an air force base, but was now mainly a tourists’ haven, being close to what remained of South Africa’s once vast areas of natural significance. Having packed everything into Johann’s auto, we were finally on our way. The journey only took about three hours, and we arrived at the Wild Dog Inn, and were shown to our chalet. We all chipped in to prepare a meal before an early night, as we planned to get to the caves before the main entrance was open, so as to reduce the risk of being caught.

 

Gina led us along a narrow path that veered away from the main entrance. Soon it became more of a clamber than a hike as the gradient began to get quite a bit steeper. By mid-morning, having left at five o’clock, we finally found the small opening that she had discovered before. It had once obviously been in use as there were concrete steps leading up to it, but these had become overgrown with time. The ingress was narrow, and also low so that even someone of average height would have to stoop somewhat to manage it. Being the tallest, this made it more than a little difficult for me, but I was able to squeeze in nonetheless. Luckily these cramped surroundings did not last long as the floor began to subside until we were able to stand once more.

 

With our torches on we quietly made our way through the rough passageways that would eventually lead to the place where we could make our descent to the lower level. We had to listen out for any tours that would cross our path at some stage. This would find us in a tight spot, as we would have to explain how we came to be there. Luckily a recent rockfall had caused the tour operators to close part of the caves until the engineers could shore the area up again. This also helped us in that visitors to the site had diminished to a mere trickle, and unbeknown to us, the main entrance had not even opened that day at all.

We almost lost track of time as we weaved our way through the maze, but Gina assured us that she knew where we were heading. After what seemed an age, we came to a place where a sink-hole had appeared. It was then that we knew why she had insisted that we bring climbing ropes. The hole was situated against the wall of the cavern below, and the only way to get to the bottom was to abseil down the almost vertical rock-face. Having done this before, Gina had placed a sequence of pitons so that we could climb back out again.

 

The way down was relatively easy, and the view that met us was spectacular. Unlike the caves above us, the formations on this level had as yet been untouched and unspoilt by human hands, and so were still in pristine condition. The irony of this was, that the very feature that made the site so impressive also made it dangerous, especially because we only had torches to light the way. Stalagmites rose up from the floor while stalactites hung from high above us. This meant that we needed to be extremely cautious as we progressed, always on the look-out for any obstruction. That meant that our journey would be much longer. We had stopped just after our descent for a bite to eat, and were warned not to have too much of our water in case of any delays.

 

Eventually we arrived at an area that had obviously been cleared of all potential hazards, and as we entered the large bare cave, we saw what we had come for: Gina’s Gate! Although in much better condition, it looked exactly like the one her father had shown me from Iceland’s Drangshlid Caves. I wanted to test a theory I had, so I shone my flash-light into the entrance, and was met with an astounding result. Instead of the beam revealing what was behind the structure, it was as if the light could not penetrate the darkness on the other side!

 

We all agreed to explore whatever lay beyond the strange construct. So we stepped across the threshold. Gina and I went first, and Erica and her father would have followed, but something strange happened: As soon as the two of us were on the other side, we became more than a little disorientated and it felt as though the ground had become unstable.

 

Both of us feared the worse, but Gina expressed it when she cried out in horror: “Oh my God! Another rock-fall!”

 

But then we came to our senses again, and it occurred to us that there had been no tell-tale rumblings or crashing of fallen debris. Not only that but there was no dust either. Everything was as it had been a few minutes before. Everything that is, excepting that Erica and her father were nowhere in sight! We called out for them, but were met by an uncanny silence. The Gate was still behind us, obscured by a feint beam of light that shone through the ceiling between us and the portal. Gina and I looked at each other in terror and disbelief.

 

Our trance was broken when a voice spoke behind us, saying: “Your friends were not permitted to enter. Only you are able to see what is beyond the Gate of Ereglade.”

 

We turned round to see who it was, and saw that it was a slender male. But he was no normal man. His facial features were chiselled and angular, his eyes dark and piercing. When he turned his head slightly, I could see his one ear clearly because his haircut resembled that of a mohecan, with the sides shaved and the top long, except that it hung down his back until just below his shoulders. His ear was more pointed than anyone I had seen up until then, and this time it was as though I was looking right at an Elf.

 

I asked him: “Where are our companions?”

 

 

 

To which he merely replied: “They are safe. They could not enter this realm, but they are as unharmed as you are.”

 

“So why couldn’t they come through with us?” I quizzed.

 

“I do not know the answer to that.” He responded, “The Gate selects only those who are permitted to come through. There is a genetic code that it seeks within those who may enter, and those that do not have this code are not permitted. Originally this was established so that only those of Sylvan origin could enter, because of the persecution that drove us from our homeworld in the first place.”

 

Suddenly I remembered that Gina’s father was one of these people, so that would explain why she would be allowed. But I most certainly was not, so why I was chosen was a real mystery.

 

Remembering my manners, I introduced myself and Gina, and he replied: “I am called Alric Galen, and I am Gatekeeper of this portal. Come, night will be upon us soon, and it would not be wise to stay here. I will take you to the camp-site where you will be able to rest. Later you can decide where to go from here.”

 

We were both pretty tired by now, and thus could not fault his logic. We instructed him to lead the way, and he headed off in the direction from whence he had come. Soon we came to a small set of stairs that were hewn from the rock itself. They led to an exit, and we realised afresh that we were no longer anywhere near where we had started early that morning. It was then that the reality struck us: We were really in another world!

 

A full moon was out by the time we surfaced, and it illuminated our way with its silvery light. The first thing we noticed was just how clear the night sky was. Even out in the country, the pollution from the towns and cities meant that the skies back on Earth were permanently murky. By day they were a smoky blue, and on a night like this, the moon shone dully with the edges somewhat blurred. Never in my life had I seen it so clearly. The night was also colder than it should have been. Our expedition had started in early summer, which meant that the temperature should have been mild, whereas there was a definite chill to the night air, and we had to put the jackets on that we had brought as a precaution.

 

About an hour and a half later we arrived at the camp-site. We were invited to join our hosts for an evening meal. We hadn’t eaten much that day, so we accepted the offer gladly. I noticed that there was no meat, the whole menu consisting of fruit, vegetables and various types of breads. We drank what appeared to be something like gluhwein, a spice beverage that I enjoyed very much, especially in cold weather.

 

Having had a substantial dinner, we were shown to our tent. Immediately we realised that there might be something of a problem because we had to share digs for the night. We shrugged it off as both of us were exhausted by that time.

 

Just before turning in, we discussed where we were going from here. Were we going to return to the others, or should we carry on with our investigation? After all, Gina’s father seemed certain that any chance at resisting the Anunnaki lay with these people, and thus it would be worthwhile to discover whether his theory was right. Therefore it was decided that we would press forward rather than go back.

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2020 Tristan Biggs. All rights reserved.

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