The Gathering. Carl Read
many subterranean caverns so that you won’t be detected. I’ve also given some design ideas for crystal power plants to your science departments to develop.”
“That’s very kind of you, Antares,” Ogima commented.
“I want a home to come back to, as do your people,” Antares remarked. “All visitors have disembarked; it only remains for you four gentlemen to say your farewells and I’ll be off.”
PASSAGE OF TIME
Over the centuries Telluric continued to prosper, with Antares returning home every ten years. Her input to Telluric’s development was substantial; they now relied solely on crystals for their energy supplies. Although Telluric was a technological society, the four clans of man opted for a slower lifestyle living close to the land.
As the years passed the four clans intermingled and lived in harmony together. Small groups broke away from their people and moved to occupy the fifteen large islands scattered about the four continents, setting up their own governments. Many of Telluric’s populace had travelled throughout the known galaxies and beyond.
Eight hundred years had passed since the rebel Cadbiens’ exile and many of the populace had forgotten why their forbears were forced to vacate their home world. However, two families had not. Matthew Phillips and Terence Conway were two shrewd businessmen from the Redskin Clan who formed a company called Phillcon Enterprises. They were the wealthiest families to colonise the new world of Telluric. Their corporation acquired all the prime waterfront properties and by utilising all their connections, trade along the river became lucrative. The community grew and expanded outward towards the hills.
The countryside was heavily forested back then so Phillcon Enterprises went into the logging business. Several sections of forest were unique in that strange events took place, terrifying the locals. Logging in those sections was virtually impossible. The outcry was so great that the government of that time intended to burn the forest to the ground.
Phillips and Conway decided to investigate. Upon their return, Phillcon Enterprises subsequently submitted a bid to the government for that particular forest and a dozen other properties. The government was not overly financial back then and jumped at the opportunity to make some quick money. It also removed them from any responsibility for the land. The purchase almost bankrupted Phillcon Enterprises.
Phillips and Conway called that particular forest, ‘Woodlands’. They erected a fence around the perimeter to protect the people, and, where the path from the town met the fence, a gaslight was placed.
Many years later, Phillcon Enterprises amalgamated several of their smaller companies into Woodlands Incorporated, which subsequently purchased all the forests and parklands originally owned by Phillcon Enterprises. Mr Conway then designed a structure consisting of offices and warehouses for Phillcon Enterprises that completely encircled the Woodlands. One night the gaslight mysteriously exploded, burning the encircling buildings to the ground. Woodlands Incorporated had the rubble removed and spent a considerable amount of money having a special wall built to enclose the Woodlands.
Mr Phillips was worried that after his death someone might try to gain control over Woodlands Incorporated. Being a genius in legal matters, he tied everything up legally so no one could ever lay claim to it. Both Phillips and Conway were adamant that nobody was ever permitted entrance into the Woodlands without a personal invitation from the Keeper. Over the years, the reasons for the isolation of the Woodlands and the purpose of the gaslight were forgotten.
CHAPTER ONE
Nathanial, meet me at 71 Lambert Street, under the old gaslight, 10pm; come alone. Kalareena.
A night fog spread out from the nearby river and with the assistance of an evening breeze, it covered the entire waterfront district. The night’s chill seeped through to the bone and mist covered everything in dampness. The sound of Nathanial’s footsteps echoing off the surrounding buildings gave him goose bumps and had him looking over his shoulder as he wound his way through the empty cobblestone streets. The only other noise breaking the gloomy silence was a forlorn foghorn from a lone canal barge plying its trade along the inland waterways.
The streetlights seemed like luminous sentinels as he moved from one murky glow to another, his breath misting in the night air. This was the old section of town and hardly anyone travelled here at night. A hideous howl splintering the night’s silence caused him to shrink deeper into his jacket as a cold shiver ran down his spine and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He quickened his pace.
Moving from Cabot Lane into Lambert Street, he saw the wall that surrounds the Woodlands and the gaslight’s yellow glow. His pocket watch chimed ten as he crossed the road heading towards the light. A voice called from out of the fog. “Who’s there?”
Turning, he faced the direction from which the voice emanated and answered, “Professor Belmont. Who’s asking?”
A dark figure emerged out of the fog. A man walked towards him. He was at least six foot six in height, broad shouldered and swinging a truncheon in his right hand. There was something familiar about him.
“Professor! What are you doing here this time of night?”
“Darshan, is that you?”
“Whom were you expecting?” he asked.
“I’m supposed to be meeting a woman under the gaslight,” Nathanial murmured.
“Why Professor, a secret rendezvous at your age? Wait till I tell Oonah!”
“No, no, no, it’s nothing like that and leave your wife out of this,” Nathanial replied quickly.
“So Professor, when can Oonah and I expect you for dinner?”
“Darshan, we’ve been good friends for almost eight years. Don’t you think it’s about time you called me by my given name, like I’ve asked you to do?”
“It seems disrespectful,” Darshan replied, still unsure.
“Disrespectful! Darshan, of all the thick-headed… Professor is a title for my students, not my friends. Besides, as of this morning, I no longer lecture on mysticisms and the occult at the university. I have resigned.”
“You finally did it. Good for you, Profess…sorry, Nathanial.”
A low guttural growl interrupted their conversation.
“What is that hideous sound?” Nathanial remarked, staring into the murky darkness, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.
“Your guess is as good as mine. But my blood runs cold every time I hear it.”
“Who’s walking your section of wall with you tonight?” Nathanial enquired, hearing the edge in his voice.
“Troy.”
Just then Darshan’s two-way radio started squealing. He adjusted some buttons and Troy’s voice came through loud and clear.
“Darshan, get here quick. I got trouble!”
Darshan was off and running with Troy’s voice still emanating from the radio. Nathanial stood listening to his footsteps disappearing into the fog.
Walking off the street Nathanial headed towards the wall that encircled the Woodlands. Gardens, walking paths, fountains and seats had been incorporated around the outer aspect of the structure. Sitting on a bench behind the gaslight, he wondered if his mysterious stranger would show.
This section of town was almost completely destroyed in a fire when the original gaslight exploded. The ensuing fire gutted the Phillcon Enterprise buildings that encircled the Woodlands. Woodlands Incorporated had the rubble removed and a wall constructed where the buildings had once been. They hounded the council relentlessly to obtain the last remaining gaslight, insisting it be placed in front of what was originally 71 Lambert Street.
His mind wandered from the local history to the message he had received. It was written on an old piece of parchment.