Sherlock Holmes: The Shadow From Beyond (18 page)

“We know now that the relic is certainly the ‘Eye of the Watcher’ Watson, as referred to in many of Lebda`s collected notes. It is the object he has searched high and low for all these many years, and who’s resting place was finally located via Ortega’s journal and provided to Lebda via Professor Harper’s research into elements of the Crusades!

“Many of the papers in this folder focus on the ‘Eye of the Watcher’, information on Ahnke-keth and personal impressions on friar Ortega himself. The notes within state that upon Ortega’s death in 1161 AD, the Order of the abbey of San Pedro de Siresa sorted through the friar’s personal items so as to divide between surviving family members, but since there were no family members on record, most of his possessions were given to the poor associated to the abbey. The actual artifact and a few other trinkets he had collected while on his Middle Eastern journey were assumed to be of some historic interest and so the Order gifted them to a small museum in the area for research purposes.

About ten years later the relic made its first public appearance as part of the exhibit “Treasures of the Crusades: A Window to the Middle East” After a successful run the exhibit ended and the amulet joined the back catalogue of pieces in the museum storage area. It has been shown infrequently over the years as part of other rotating exhibits that feature that time period.

“Six weeks ago the museum was broken into, a night guard savagely murdered and the storage room sacked. I garnered this information from an article in that town’s local newspaper.” Holmes removed a document included within Lebda`s folder and passed the newspaper over to Watson who quickly read out the headline; ‘Museum Murder! Guard Slain! Nothing of value stolen’

“Lebda must have collected that publication himself,” Holmes continued “and considering the priceless value of many of the objects in the museum collection, it was noted that the only item missing was the amulet of unknown origin, gifted from the Order of the abbey.” Watson eyed the blurry photo insert of the relic included in the article, accompanied by a short description which he also read aloud; “Circular in nature with ancient inscription markings on a metallic border, its main feature is a large pitch black jewel at its center, one that neither seemed to reflects nor radiate any surrounding light. No suspects have been caught and no motive other than theft, are suspected. The unfortunate guard simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time, died upholding his duties,” Watson ended his narration before Holmes continued.

“This friar Ortega had in fact found this ‘Eye of the Watcher’ by accident during his trails under the desert sands and returned with it to Western Europe after his journey. Count Lebda, who seemingly needs this relic as a part of his scheme, was most obviously involved in stealing it from the museum storehouse, and subsequently in the murder of the innocent guard as well.”

“What’s next for us Holmes? What is our plan of action?”

“I have formulated that revenge is the motive behind Lebda’s nefarious plans but am not fully satisfied with what exactly his course of action is. I fear that it will feature implications so immense and devastating that our ultimate task can only be to stop him at any cost. We must move ever onward Watson, without haste! But the question now is to where? Obviously one of these markings on the map is our next and possibly final destination, but a mistake cannot be made on our part in deciphering which it may be. With such little time left to us, we must be sure in regards to the choice of direction, there will be no measure left to us for backtracking.”

“You keep mentioning that we have very little time left Holmes? Is there a deadline looming? When do you expect Lebda’s plans to come full circle?”

“For now I am using the notes from Professor Harper which noted the thirteenth as an important date, as well as the charted course of the specific stars focused on in Lebda’s telescope, which also converge on the night of the thirteenth.” Ironically it is a number often associated with ill omens and bad luck.

“But Holmes, the thirteenth is tomorrow night!” exclaimed Watson with wide eyes.

“So it is doctor. You can see that we are hard pressed indeed. Do me a favor and collect a cold lunch and pack our things, I am going out to gather some additional facts and will return before long with train tickets in hand to our next destination.

“Mark my words old fellow, time is against us and each wasted minute may mean our doom!” With that morbid statement he gathered his coat and hat and left the room, leaving Watson sitting quietly with that perplexed look on his face, one he has become used to wearing of late.

The Trail Continues

Sure enough, within the hour, Holmes had returned with two first-class train tickets in hand, destination Bad Münster, a small town just across the French border and to the East of Frankfurt in Germany, an overnight ride by train.

“But how Holmes did you figure this out? How are you sure that Bad Münster is Lebda’s next destination?” asked the now further perplexed Watson.

“Elementary! A simple case of elimination,” Replied Holmes, ever eager to explain his methods. “First we must assume that Lebda’s next destination is on the map and one of the circled locations, not the marked out ones, and of course of the circled locations we focus on those with the checked marks beside them of which there are only three.

“My next step was to enquire with the ticket seller at the train station if the Count or members of his group had purchased tickets of late. None had, and in fact the ticket seller mentioned that the Count had never purchased tickets for the train ever, preferring always to take his carriages for travelling abroad. This is most probably an attempt to keep up the extreme privacy that surrounds his life and to avoid any annoying delays that come at main border crossings with possible passport and identity checks. The use of carriages enables him the ability to travel the often hidden and semi-secret back roads that are rarely patrolled by authorities.

“Now then Watson, of the towns on that map that can be reached well before the dates mentioned in the astrological charts, there can be only one, the rest are much too far away to attain via horse drawn carriage in time. If Lebda is to arrive in time for this alignment of the stars on the thirteenth, then it could only be in the town of Bad Münster in the German state of Rhineland-Palatinate! And what an interesting name for a town indeed! I can only assume of its cryptic origin.” Holmes added with a smirk. “As we are in a rush and not concerned about such privacy as Count Lebda desires, I have secured us passage on the next train that travels through that town. We leave in thirty or so minutes on a coach that travels toward Bad Münster via Frankfurt. The speed of the train and its more direct route will allow us to gain much time on Lebda’s group. Let’s pay our bill and be off, we can do more of our research while en route, and do not forget to bring some food along Watson, I am starved!”

Twenty five minutes later Holmes and Watson had settled into their accommodations aboard the train for another overnight ride. They compared notes and findings once again before enjoying a spot of tea with the meal Watson had brought along. Holmes then spent most of that evening referencing the notes he had copied from the Necronomicon on the subject of dimensional gates and protective wards, and committed much of the information to memory. Watson often heard him mumbling strange verses in foreign tongues under his breath during that process.

Hours passed as the train chugged along the track to their destination. Holmes continued to keep himself in deep thought as Watson dozed restlessly beside him. Holmes may have hoped that his companion was happy in repose, but the truth was Watson continued to be plagued by horrific nightmares related to their encounters. In fact it would be awhile before he was completely rid of them.

Holmes could not sleep. He was wrought with a million minor facts and details that demand sorting in his complex mind, a task made even more difficult by the illogical and overwhelming nature of the situation at hand. It made little sense to him, this insanity of otherworldly elements. Was all this possible? He thought. I cannot relate. I almost cannot believe it. There is no logic in madness, only chaos. He shook his head lightly, but nothing settled.

The detective knew that he could only rely on a fraction of the immense knowledge amassed in that mental library he possessed to aid in this fantastical endeavor. Language, astrology, cartography, cultural history, etc, the stuff of books. That ten percent or so of grey matter and a few sly tricks of the trade were all he could depend on, the rest of his stored knowledge was useless, out of place for this situation. No jewel thieves, adulterers, political spies or blackmailers here, this was massive, well beyond anything he had confronted before. Only Professor Moriarty was this sinister, this wide reaching and this deadly. Holmes had dealt with some of the most villainous of criminals during his career, some true black hearts indeed, and bested almost all, but they were still rank amateurs against his calculating mind. Now, without his mind functioning properly, for it was greatly distracted by these alien ideals, he felt like a blind man seeking guidance, stumbling through the mists of ignorance.

He stared out the window into the blackness beyond. The low thump, thump of the train on its tracks reminded Holmes of a clock, its seconds ticking away. Time! He pondered. Precious time that we cannot afford to waste!

Thump, thump, thump.

Bad Münster

Upon arrival in the town of Bad Münster early the next morning, the adventurers had head out to secure a quality breakfast at one of the local taverns recommended by the steward of the train station. “Zee Valkyrie Tavern und Inn has zee best local zauzagez and cheezez in zee entire village!” he had exclaimed in the rich accent of the region. “Und a very pretty barmaid named Elsa to zerve you!” The steward had added with a sly wink that Watson surely noticed.

After a few turns and twists through the narrow streets of this quaint and old village, that was rapidly growing into a town, they arrived at the Valkyrie Tavern. The establishment was a warm, rustic hang out with a large wooden beamed interior, and very popular with the locals based on the few unoccupied seats that were available. The smoky air was alive with conversation, laughter and the succulent smells of home cooking.

“Other than a quality meal, we should be able to enquire about recent news and events from these locals.” mentioned Holmes after he took up a seat at the center of the dining area. “Especially the arrival of strange foreigners, whom they seem, judging by the constant stares in our direction, to hold a great interest.”

Sure enough, much of the focus of attention had been upon the pair as soon as they had entered the establishment.

The attractive barmaid served them a heaping plate of fresh local delicacies, and as the station steward had mentioned, the sausages and barmaid were both mouthwatering.

Holmes began polite conversation with a few locals at the neighboring table in simple German, one of the many languages he was familiar with, at first enquiring to points of interest in the area, then more specifically to any archaeological ruins or religious sites nearby.

“We are history professors on vacation, and have trouble completely abandoning our interests even while on holiday,” lied Holmes before stuffing a forkful of sauerkraut into his eager mouth. “We never stop researching local lore and culture, can’t seem to get enough of it you see. Perhaps you know of some things to keep us preoccupied during our stay?” The locals willingly obliged and offered up the normal list of touristy spots within the village, which were few. They then described some interesting archeological sites nearby that may be worth a visit: There were a few crumbling mounds remaining of an old roman fort to the north, now just a hangout for bored teenagers; the ruins of Ebernburg Castle was close by, a popular stop for tourists and not too crowded at this time of year; and an ancient circle of well-worn stone pillars thought to have once been a place of pagan worship, lay to the south. The locals stated that near this circle of stones was an entrance to ancient cave complex that meandered deep into the earth. It had recently been boarded over to prevent the curious from wandering in and getting lost in the myriad of tunnels within. It was suggested they avoid the caves at all costs.

When Holmes pressed for more information about that specific area he was warned of its potential dangers. “Zee cave zite is extremely unzafe,” one of the locals warned. He went on to explain that more than a few accidents had occurred over prior years to adventurous tourists and locals alike. About two years ago a group of curious teenagers ventured too deep within the complex, and after what could only be described as a minor earthquake, never resurfaced. Rescue teams failed to discover any trace of them in the few caves they could actually explore as many passages had been flooded and were inaccessible. It was assumed that the tremor had opened an underground water system that may have inundated the lowest levels of the caves and drowned the youths. Since then the entrance has been boarded over, and signs had been posted notifying of the extreme dangers found within.

About three months ago, a local had gone to check on the state of the entrance and noticed that some of the boards had been removed, pushed off from the inside! He took a quick look around within, noticed that the water had since receded from some of the tunnels, but did not venture any further due to a strange atmosphere that had left him feeling odd, fearful.