Sherlock Holmes: The Shadow From Beyond (13 page)

Stealthily, Sherlock Holmes and Watson investigated the room and its contents. Typical elements of a scholar filled the study from top to bottom; featuring many beautiful artworks, statues, relics and items of mostly ancient Muslim or occult themes were lined upon shelves and tables. Lush patterned carpeting extended underfoot and the faintest smells of tobacco and incense were detected in the air.

In one area near the western wall there was a small chemistry lab, similar to the one Holmes had back at 221b Baker Street. Various glass vials and scientific apparatus littered the table, most covered in dust and seemingly unused of late. Beside this, a large cushioned armchair sat unoccupied before the fireplace hearth.

An ornate ashtray that stood beside this armchair held a few butted out cigarettes, of which Holmes studied intently. He crushed the cigarette remains in his hand, sifted the ashes between fingertips and inhaled deeply using his tremendous nasal attributes to sort out the tobacco’s complex characteristics. He did this twice all the while referencing the encyclopedia of knowledge he had amassed in his mind on the subject.

“A Turkish blend,” he spoke aloud, “very heavy on sage and rolled tightly with the finest of wrappings. A luxury smoke, not available locally. Specially ordered from Turkey itself via the local tobacconist I presume, at no small cost.”

Books and notes seemed to be piled everywhere haphazardly, in no distinct fashion, but a small library, located against the north wall drew Holmes’ interest. “One can always find the books closest to the readers heart Watson, they are the ones always returned to their original organized location. They are cared for with great concern, as if they were the children of the owner. This glass cabinet surely contains the gems of Lebda’s collection. Let us see what treasures are held within.” And with that Holmes strolled over to the cabinet, opened the dual doors and set his eyes on some of the most obscure works of rarest literary antiquity.

“Oh my.” he sighed. “I thought Professor Harper had a collection of strange tomes, but these seem far rarer indeed!”

Some of the ancient texts featured within Lebda’s grimoire included; The Cultes des Goules by Francois- Homore Balfour, a tomb of black magic. Unaussprechlichen Kulten or ‘The Book of Unspeakable Cults’ by the German Frederiech Von Juntz, and its companion De Vermis Mysteriis translated as ‘The Mysteries of the Worm’. Other rare books of note included; I Ching, the renowned Chinese text of cosmology and divination. A well-worn version of The Revelations of Glaaki, copies of the Dhol Chants and the horrific R’Lyeh Text. And although great curiosity coaxed him to take it up these tomes, to look within their ancient pages, Holmes closed the glass cabinet and turned away to focus upon other pressing needs.

“Over here Holmes. I have located another of Lebda’s treasures,” stated Watson from across the study. Holmes joined him along the west wall at what appeared to be a small religious shrine. There was an ornate mat upon the floor, with some thin decorative cushions placed over it. Arabic script flowed across tablets fixed to the wall; “God is Great.” translated Holmes aloud. But what Watson was pointing to sat alone on an ivory pedestal, just before the mat.

“It is the Qur’an Holmes! I remember seeing many while I was fighting in Afghanistan. The holiest of all holy books in the Islamic world. The Bible, one may state, of the Muslim people and the guidelines to their livelihood. But such a copy I have never seen in my life! It shimmers with brilliance!”

“Yes Watson, it must definitely be Lebda’s personal copy and one of great artistic craftsmanship,” Holmes mentioned as he carefully picked up and studied the Qur’an. “The cover is inlaid with mother of pearl and silver, the pages seem to be of hand-made papyrus parchment, and the script within is written in...pure gold! This Qur’an itself, I’m sure, is worth well more than all the items in the house combined!” Watson then noticed that Holmes gently placed the Qur’an inside his coat pocket.

The detective then pointed to the mat on the floor. “And this area was designed for Lebda to perform his daily prayers, with the mat facing west, toward the location of Mecca and the birth place of Muhammad. Lebda is a devoted Muslim follower indeed Watson, and the power of faith can lead men to do any sort of act, even the most horrible. I fear that Lebda may be led by an overwhelming fanaticism, one that forces his hand and blinds his vision at the same time. I always believed that faith is one of man’s most important characteristics, but that religion itself does nothing but tear humanity apart. Personally I have never practiced it in any form and never will. Lebda has been perverting his faith in Islam and the teachings of the Qur’an by intermixing them with the dark powers of occultism and the rituals of the Necronomicon, but to what end?”

Holmes and Watson approached a curtained off area located in the southern portion of the study, closest to the outer wall. Drawing back the curtains revealed a glass enclosed alcove with large picture paned windows that lined all sides of the semi-circular space. At the center of the alcove was a large object of at least ten feet in height, covered in a white sheet, besides this obscured object sat a large oak desk strewn with papers, maps, charts and books.

Holmes gently removed the sheet and it bellowed upon the floor. A large and intricate telescope was revealed beneath. Constructed completely of gleaming polished brass, it was truly a machine of great complexity and astonishing beauty. Watson let out a light sigh of awe as the incredible apparatus was exposed before him.

The detective turned his attention to the gleaming telescope, bent low and strained his view through the eyesight and the starry heavens contained within. The aperture was focused on the constellation Holmes identifies as Taurus, and specifically on a very bright orange star at its center. There were astrological charts with handwritten notes upon the desk beside and he shifted his concentration back and forth between these and the cosmic view beyond the lens.

“Watson,” exclaimed Holmes, “It seems, by referring to these written notes and the image within the lens that Lebda was charting the stars, those in the constellation Taurus, Aldebaran and Fomalhaut, the latter more specifically. Why would he focus on those clusters, and more so upon that bright orange star? What is its relevance?”

He returned his focus once again to the papers strew about the desk. “According to these notes covering a period over the last month, more so these last weeks, these constellations, and certain planets, moons and stars are coming into an astrological alignment of sorts, and by sometime during this week the sequence should finalize. Here,” Holmes pointed out, “he has listed, under the term ‘Celestial Bodies’, the following headings; The Follower, The Demon, The Fishes Mouth. What it all means is still unclear, perhaps a code of sorts, but obviously the conclusion to Lebda’s plans are near to completion if they coincide with these cosmic arrangements. He seemed very much interested in this astronomical event, and with further investigation we will connect these facts!”

Watson was reading the open books and letters on the main table nearby when he exclaimed; “Holmes! Look what I have found! Look at these papers! They seem to be of major import and being on top of the pile would suggest to have been consulted most recently. Here, this map of Western Europe has many markings and notes with dates on it pertaining to within the next week. There is also a small folder of related documents of possible interest as well, one of which has the name Harper scribbled upon it.”

“Good job Watson! Grab them all, we will examine them more closely back in our room. With these documents and other items of note now in our possession we should be able to start up on Lebda’s trail anew. Let’s be off,” hastened Holmes. “The dogs will be coming out of their stupor eventually and it would be wise to have left before they do.”

Hidden Horrors

The two had gathered their bags and turned to exit Lebda’s study when Holmes stopped suddenly. He held up his hand signaling to pause as a eerie sound crept into the study from beyond, a low deep moaning, somewhat human in nature but twisted, painful. They waited another moment, Holmes now holding his finger to his lips for silence, then again the sound repeated, distinct yet remote.

“The sound is coming from behind this wall tapestry Watson. Although faint and muffled, I can discern its origin.” With that said he pulled aside an ornate weave depicting a mountainous scene to reveal a paneled featureless facade of wood behind. Then the moaning once again, low and painfully long, emanated from behind the wall somehow. “There is obviously a passage of sorts behind the wall. Here Watson, pass me the candle there on the mantle. Good, now light it. Excellent! Let us now find the seal.” and with the candle in hand Holmes traced an outline of a rectangle where the flame flickered against a drought of air that escaped from behind the wooden barrier. Then with nimble fingers he explored the fine edges of the paneling until; ‘Click’ the sound of a latch releasing was heard. Holmes then applied pressure to one of the panels and a complete section of the wall swung further inward on rusty squeaking hinges. A sudden waft of cool air confronted the two companions and abruptly extinguished the candle held in Watson’s hand. They re-lit their hand torches and stepped onto a creaky wooden staircase that descended, twisting, into unknown depths below.

The stale air in the confined stairwell was musty with the essence of mold, animal musk and the sickly sweet scent of decay. Now less obstructed by the wall, the labored moaning echoed upward more clearly, a dire beacon that urged them downward.

A flight lower Holmes encountered the outline of another entrance in the stairwell ahead, slight illumination from outside revealed another hidden doorway. With another minor application of pressure the door opened inwards, as the one on the flight above had. There was a thin tapestry blocking the way. Holmes pushed it aside to reveal the lower floor of the mansion, the parlor where they had broken a window to gain access earlier. “Leave this door open Watson, if we must return this way in haste this exit will shorten our distance to the outside world.”

From this point onward the walls of the staircase passage changed from wood to stone, indicating that they had reached the subterranean levels of the estate. The air chilled with each step downward, the darkness broken only by the hand torches they carried, the silence only by the curious wailing moan ever repeated in the depths below. Eventually a light appeared ahead of them, an eerie blue illumination that flickered against the walls of the passage and revealed the bottom of the stairwell. Watson noticed that the scent of animal musk was heavy and dominant here.

The passage opened to the left into a part of the lower cellar complex; a large stone chamber with high vaulted ceilings. Smaller, shadowed alcoves were evident along some of the walls nearby. In the center of the chamber was the source of the illumination, a brass cauldron from which a blue flame burned and danced. It emitted no heat but instead a cool chill, oddly there was no evidence of fuel within the cauldron that kept it burning, in fact other than the magical flames that twisted about within, the vessel was empty. A delicate script of flowing verse in unknown text detailed the surface of the brass cauldron, one that seemed to shift slightly in the azure firelight. Also distinguishable in the bluish glow were other strange apparatus and inventory that stocked the cellar area.

Holmes realized then that they had entered Lebda’s basement workroom.

Jars with samples of bizarre organic materials and many ageing books and papers cluttered the desks and shelves, vying for space with bottles of unknown compounds and vials of ingredients, charts and scrolls. Implements and apparatus for chemistry and alchemy, rivaling the minor ones found in Lebda’s study upstairs, had been set up on large work tables, now collecting dust. Oxidized tools and other devices of torture were strewn haphazardly about. Their ominous implications sent shudders up Watson’s spine.

A large stone surface rested off to the side, festooned with rusted iron chains and shackle, an altar of sorts Holmes pondered. A drain could be seen just beneath this table whose obvious function was to collect what surely must be spilled blood. The dark crimson stained slab above showed evidence of its prior grisly use. On an ornate dais beside the altar was a black leather bound folder. Holmes picked it up and scanned the title; ‘Necronomicon Translations’ was written in embossed script. Within were many loose pages of varying size and quality of paper or parchment, the extreme delicacy of some attested to their antiquity. Assorted languages and script styles abound, indicating that the translations were done from different locations of the world and by various hands. Most probably locations known to have copies of the dreaded original the detective surmised. Lebda had hired many others to gather this work for him, including Harper who had access to the copy at the Royal British Museum in London. Holmes wondered if the other researchers were all met with the same final payment as that of the professor, death. The detective already knew the answer and shook his head as he placed the binder of notes with the rest of the items he had collected.

Suddenly Watson turned to a darkened corner, brandished his revolver from his coat pocket and warned, “Holmes look out! We are not alone!”

Sure enough there was a dark ominous shape in the southwest corner of the chamber, a humanoid form that seemed to hang in mid-air a foot above the floor. It made no move toward them nor sounds whatsoever. Holmes shone his light on the shadowy subject, and both let out a gasp. They stopped short their advance at the sight before them. Revealed in the lamplight was a large humanoid figure, about eight feet in height, with skin as black as ebony and slick with a type of greasy sweat that glimmered in the beam of light. It reeked of a strong musky animal odor, one tainted with burnt flesh. The massive form was almost twice the girth of a normal man, with powerful rippling muscles and wide heaving chest. Large hands and feet hung limply at its side, long pointed talons replaced where the fingers and toes should be. A pair of massive, leathery black wings were folded behind its broad shoulders and an immense single burning amber hued eye stared down at them menacingly. This shimmering orb was the only feature in a face devoid of any other. No mouth, ears or nose were evident, just the visage of tightly stretched black skin that framed a single jaundiced orange eye. It seethed with rage that eye, as it bored down upon the two entranced adventurers, its pupil focused and following their every movement.