Strange Tales Page 4

THE RELIC

  It was in the beginnings of history that they had buried the relic, buried while still in the grasp of its owner. He had been a priest, a man of god, but he had been slain by the locals for they had feared that with his growing power he would overthrow the old order of the land as he sought to lead the people away from the old path that they had followed for so long and towards a new foreign path that would only bring upon them the wrath of their old Gods.

  The spirit that had always dwelt within the relic, and the priest that had been its master, had not truly died but had gone into what could only be described as a deep sleep, now after eons of history had passed their spirits had been awakened and reached out once more into the world of man, past the Stonehenge and across the Salisbury plains to the new cities that now stood there. All was quiet now at the dig which lay almost within site of the henge, for the day had turned into night and the moon ruled the sky in place of her brother the sun. From the shadows the darkness stirred and a figure moved slowly across the site. Every so often he would stop and look furtively about him before moving on, that is until he came across the grave in the side of the trench. He then committed wanton damage as he dug for the object that he knew to be lying buried there, held in place by the Earth that still covered it from the searchers. Then he held it in his hands, he knew that he had something of untold wealth in his hands for he could feel the great age and beauty through his probing fingers. He could also feel the power emanating from the relic.

  From a nearby tree an owl called across the quiet land causing the man to look up sharply, he was worried now as he realised the position he would be in should he be discovered. They would not welcome his second visit as they had his first when he had been welcomed by all as that nice priest named Mason from the nearby village, but except for his heart racing away the site was as quiet as the grave that it had protected for so long. The darkness that had protected him smothered him up as he slipped quietly away to his home.

  They were also satisfied. They had sensed that the new carrier would not be able to resist their commands as they probed the man’s mind. Long had they rested as history passed them by, but they had been awakened and had immediately sensed that a change was coming to the world, a change that could be of the utmost danger to all that they held to be the truth? They had guided the members of the local archaeologist society to the site of the grave to await the discovery of it. Then they had silently probed the minds of the group in the hope of finding a suitable carrier, but without any success. Then as the day had slipped by they had felt a new mind enter the site and had rejoiced, for his mind was more to their liking, a mind full of thoughts similar to those of their own, not like the others filled that were with the disbelief's of this modern world. They had led him back to the grave that night and guided his hands to the relic, now they were free to move about the land.

  Mason had slipped off into a sleep troubled with the scenes of the grave. He was witness to the final moments of the long dead priest buried there so long ago, as the knives had been buried deep within his frail body. He then watched as the murderers covered the grave with objects designed to protect them against any possible curse made by the shade of the dead priest. But as the sun set they had scampered away to hide from the darkness, less the shade of the priest come searching for them.

  He awoke very early in the morning with a start, almost as if someone had kicked him hard, his bed and his body soaked with sweat caused by the nightmare that had filled his sleep. He knew that for some reason he had to journey to London by the earliest train, but for why he could not think. Given this most people would have stopped to wonder why, but Mason found that he could not concentrate upon the matter and only on starting the journey. He knew that something was wrong and that he should be worried about his present state of mind, but instead he found himself walking towards the station clasping the relic that was wrapped up in a parcel that he held it in a vice like grip. Then he was aboard the train and passing Reading on the express train to London. From the station he took the tube to Golders Green and from there he walked to his final destination.

  Mason turned into the drive of a large detached house within a large walled garden; it was in a secluded avenue in the middle of Hampstead. He hesitated for an instant before he knocked at the front door, for he couldn't think why he had called upon this strange house. Sweat poured down from his brow as he fought to concentrate his mind on just why he had been travelling to this house, but he couldn`t for the life of him think why. He only knew that it was imperative that he should be here. Twice since he had got off the train he had attempted to stop and ask passers-by for help, but both times he had just stood there unable to speak, his whole body shaking from the effort required from him to even try. The people who had stopped to try and help him soon hurried off thinking he was one of those odd people that the Government had let loose on the streets in their bid to cut the ever increasing costs of the welfare state. The thing he clasped so tightly seemed almost to have taken control of him, but try as he might he could not get his fingers to obey his commands, to let it fall to the ground.

  Now he was here at his destination but no one appeared to answer his knocks, did that mean that he could go back to his home now? He found his legs taking him around the back; his eyes were looking inside the rear windows to see if there was anyone home, why? The window of the rear door broke inwards with a shatter of glass, had he done it? Was he going mad or was there someone or something inside of his brain controlling his thoughts and actions? He had found that he was fine so long as he went in a particular direction, but as soon as a decision had to be made or he attempted to resist, he found that he was rigidly back under this control, and why did he think that there was something inside of his brain controlling his actions, making him obey it‘s wishes? It’s wishes, no their wishes, there was more than one being within him, taking him where ever they wanted to go, do whatever they wanted to do.

  Mason entered the house through the kitchen and walked through the room and out into a large hallway. A series of doors led off it but Mason found himself stopping at the first doorway and saw his hand turning the knob. He opened the door and looked down from the top of a steep stairway to the cellar of the house as he felt about for a light switch. Then he was descending down the stairway to find himself before another door. From within Mason he felt a cold dread spreading over his body as at the same time he felt the cold air coming out from beneath the doorway. The first signs of a fresh wave of panic spread over him, his hair was standing on end and sweat once again covered his body. He wanted to run, to flee from whatever lay beyond the door and for a brief instant while he still had command of his body he even turned about to do just that. Then they took control and forced his hand back to the door knob. He felt a force, for that is all he could call it, emanating from within his own body and being directed at the lock of the door, then the door knob was turning, the door opening, and he was standing inside of the room.

  The room was in utter blackness adding to his fear of whatever waited for him there, once more Mason felt about for the switch, but when the light came on Mason wished that the room had stayed dark. At the far end a large stone altar stood silent and foreboding, a black altar cloth was draped over it and upon the cloth were candle sticks which held fresh black candles. Before the altar a large pentagon was painted upon the floor and in its middle sat an animal that could only have come from hell. The guardian hissed as it saw Mason and sprang towards him. Mason would have been half way home had he been able to move; instead his right hand came up holding the bag before him as his left hand unveiled the relic. The amulet, for that was what it was, lit up as it caught sight of the beast from hell and a beam of light sprang from the eye at its centre to drench the beast in a pool of the purest light, The beast was in mid-flight towards Mason’s throat when a scream of pain escaped from its throat and it exploded about him, the foul liquid that was its life force splattering the room, splattering him, with its
evil stench.

  They took Mason all over the room in their search for the thing that was the power behind the satanic coven that strove to bring about the destruction of the world of Man and bring upon it the rule of the ancient Gods. Then as they passed by a large picture of Lucifer hanging there upon the wall behind the altar, they sensed it. Mason pulled the picture from the wall to reveal an alcove behind it. There mounted within was something that looked very much like a mirror, but the image that looked back at him was not his own. Mason's eyes bulged as he recognised whose it was, for within the mirror he saw all the ancient gods of hell struggling to get through to this dimension. For eons they had been trapped here by the lords of the light, unable to escape without the assistance of a powerful warlock.

  Even under control of the amulet Mason recoiled from the sight to spin away from the mirror and run from the house as if all the hounds of hell were after him, and it was very possible that they might have been. The beings within his mind stopped him some two miles away to plead for his