THE NECRONOMICON ~ The Cthulhu Revelations (21 page)

Within the moment of thine own opening,

Yog-Sothoth!

~

For Yog-Sothoth knows

The gathering of the spheres,

The unity of the gate.

In reflecting the infinitude of the spheres,

Yog-Sothoth is
become
the gate.

For Yog-Sothoth is the key,

And the guardian of the gate

Unto the Utter Void,

Where the Piping Gods doth sing

The vigintillion names of uncreation.

~

Hear me,

O Lord of the Opening of the Way!

~

(In Egyptian:)

Heru-heb!

Apep, Apep izift!

~

(In the Aklo tongue:)

Yogg-Sothoth,

Yogg-Sothoth Neblod Zin.

N’gai, n’gha’ghaa, bugg-shoggog, y’hah.

Yog-Sothoth, Yog-Sothoth,

Wza-y’ei!  Wza-y’ei!

Ygnaiih, thflthkh’ngha

Y’bthnk ygnaiih,

H’ehye n’grkdl’lh.

Y’ai ‘ng’ngah, Yog-Sothoth!

H’ai, L’geb f’ai throdog

Aiah!  Aiah!

Yi-nash Yog-Sothoth,

He-legeb ai’throdogh,

Aiah!

~

(The mutilated remnant of the infant is then devoured, and the spell of the thricefold centuries is cast.)

GATHERING THE SEVENTH

The Nameless City

A Note on the Text

Reflecting Upon the Seventh Gathering

By Professor Kelly

As I decrypt the seven codices of John Dee’s
Necronomicon
, I find that many of the “fictional” revelations shared within the tales of H. P. Lovecraft have come to be misunderstood (and thus, recast as unintentional untruths) by other authors.  One of the most unfortunate and persistent of these fallacies concerns the identification of Irem with an aspect of the Nameless City.

Irem and the Nameless City are entirely separate places.  The Nameless City was raised by human servitors, slaves to the Serpent People.  Irem, in a later age, was built by freed slaves who fled the cataclysm which swallowed the Nameless and raised the massive Deluge in its wake.  The two cities are far from another, although both are hidden beneath the sands of the Arabian Peninsula.

Irem was dreamt of by Al-Azrad, and he first experienced it through the Dreamlands.  In the physical world, it was only “found” by Al-Azrad years
after
the current narrative, long after his time in Yemen, then Arabia, then Babylon and Egypt.  Only with his
later
return to the Rub’ al Khali did he truly discover the ruins of Irem of the Many Pillars.

(Succinctly, this first Codex tells of his youth and Adaya; Codex II concerns itself with Egypt; and Codex III is of the Dreamlands and Irem proper.)

The confusion rises from the fact that Al-Azrad told he first explored Irem within his dreams.

~

The Nameless City, however, was first explored by Al-Azrad soon after his departure from the Clan of the Shattered Jaw.  He was to visit the Nameless City twice in his life:  once in seeking the funereal discs of the Serpent People, and again much later with his own cabal of assassins, coming to slaughter the Cult of Cthulhu.  The
first
adventure, the search for the discs of Anar’kai, is detailed herein.

Following are the scrolls which tell the tale of the tomb of the viper-striders, and the missing secrets of necromancy with which Al-Azrad fashioned his spell to raise the slain Adaya from the land of the restless dead.

SCROLL XXXIII

Of the Land of the Honeyed Locusts

I know not how many of the falling sands of time I poured into the black art with Anata underground.  I learned all that she could teach me in the conundrums of the necromancers.  I observed the Ghuls in their rites, the chanting of their spells, the mourning of lost ages.  I even beheld the feasting many times.  And even—for I feared if I did not, Naram-gal who had risked so much to bring me to his people would deem me to be unworthy—I once partook of their unholy feast myself.

One evening, after I had succeeded in a deft and intriguing trick of the art, animating a corpse’s remnant after it had been feasted upon, Anata was deeply pleased with me.  She said then that she could teach me no more.  I was told that I must leave, and never speak of the cistern where the Clan of the Shattered Jaw stands hidden within the wasteland.

With fondness and veneration, I took my leave of the Ghul-crone Anata and I did hold court in the labyrinthine undercroft ruled by Naram-gal.  I asked of him where I was to go hence, and he said:

“Al-Azrad, your path is clear.  Rise and wander where you will, sleep with the black jewel that I have given you.  And one night, when you are worthy, you will dream of a sunken spire in the wasteland where there is buried the Nameless City.  Go then, venture where you dare, enter the tombs and seek the discs of Anar’kai which Anata told you of.  Of your tomorrows’ wanderings, there is nothing more that I can say.”

I asked of him this only:  that he share my gratitude with Aharon, and my love for the reborn Fatimah.  Neither had yet returned from the Empire of the Blackened Mind, and with sadness I knew that I was not meant to see them as they were.  Naram-gal promised me that he would bear both of these heartfelt tidings in their time.

And then, asking me to trust in him, he did bind my eyes with black silk.  I knew it was time for my own exile.  I let him lift me, and he did carry me into the air of the desert night.

Soon I learned that I had grown too accustomed to the death-stench of the
habrud
, and the coolness of its caves.  Although I could hear in the cries of the locusts that it was the hour of sunset, the air still felt as a fire upon my skin.  The dust tasted sweet, laced with faint promises of cinnamon and windborn seed.  Somewhere, miles distant, a campfire was burning and I could taste its ashes.  Had my senses been so heightened, or had they been starved by my time in the netherworld?

Naram-gal whispered, “We go, my child.  Be of the wind, and of the night.”

Leaping with me carried upon his back, Naram-gal bore me far so that I would not know where the
habrud
of the Shattered Jaw had been.  As we traveled, he warned me that my skin would now be sensitive to the sun, and if I were too soon to embrace the day I might well be blinded.  So had I become a creature of the night.

And why not?  That I had ever been.

~

When at last he set me upon the sands and removed the silk, I opened my eyes.  I stood upon a scarlet dune.  Beckoned by the winds, I looked into them, and beheld the last cusp of a crimson sun as it faded into the west.  I could have been anywhere, but my swift eyes regarded great cliffs to the south.  These cliffs were spun with riblike shadows, and garlanded with patches of
tashir
thorn and stubborn blots of
iocab
tree.  I knew few places where such plants would grow together.  Sea-breezes were near.  I suspected that I was near to Hadhramaut, and therefore near to where Naram-gal had stolen me away so long ago.

And how many moons had passed since then?  Could I still recognize the stranger, the young man who had known so little, the desert guide and warrior I had been?  In feasting upon the flesh of men, what had I become?

As I considered these riddles and looked to the south, Naram-gal said, “Fear not yourself.  There, and near to you, an answer.  Understand.”  He pointed with one wasted claw.

Some twelve paces to our right, there were scorpions in march upon the sand.  A she-vulture chased after them, beak spread and black tongue pointed.  Her wings were raised.  I admired her guile, as she bent and snapped off the stings of scorpions with her beak, gnashing what remained.

Naram-gal did say, “Remember me thus, young Abd.  See how the she-vulture feasts?  The venomous ones, believing themselves to be mighty with their poison, fall prey to the cunning after all.”

“I know that you believe the Cult of Cthulhu murdered your Adaya.  And so may it be.  Yet if you seeketh vengeance, I will neither ally nor dissuade you.  There is far more that you have yet to understand.  If you will seek vengeance upon those you hate, be cunning as the vulture, child Adb.  Do not pursue the scorpions until you know how to strip them of their stings.  Seeketh Jerusalem, far to the west, and there dream of me.  There will I come to you and set you upon your path as the avenger.  But be warned, such a murderous hunt as you contemplate would be a course of many years.”

I said that I was grateful for his wisdom, and it was true that I still sought to avenge my beloved.  I had sworn that I would hunt Adaya’s slayers—and the treacherous Najeed himself, if I could, for I had become not only a fighter of prowess but a necromancer as well—but that my first purpose was to be reunited with my beloved.

And after the resurrection, who could know what might transpire?  If Adaya lived and desired only my love, perhaps we two would live in peace together.  Otherwise …

Naram-gal looked at me sadly, and he said, “You are not a man of peace.”

We turned away from the hunting vulture, and he and I sat upon the dune.  We marveled at the rise of night, an endless majesty of stars.

A sliver of one falling star cast itself across the west, a blessing of beauty.  I had not seen the skies in what seemed like an eternity.  I breathed in the silence, opening myself, no longer understanding who I was.

Was I now only my obsession?  What would love be, to a man who was now as black-hearted as myself?  Was I evil?  What would my Adaya, who had only ever known our childhood and our innocence, believe of me?

Naram-gal regarded me in solemn wonder.  Whenever I was tormented or in reverie, when my mortal passions were swelling at their highest tide, he always then was fascinated simply to sit in silence and behold me.

An hour may have passed.

When he was prepared to leave me, he said:

“You will live, Al-Azrad.  Shelter our secret in your heart.  I regard you as my son.  You have done well, and should you find that your resurrection of Adaya bringeth failure, you are welcome to wander into the desert.  There I will find you, and there will your belly be torn by my kindred.  If you choose, you will become a Ghul and dwell as my heir in the
habrud
of the Shattered Jaw.  Should you ever long for our eternity, all you need do is swallow the black jewel and dream of me.  The next time thereafter you wandereth in the wasteland, there I would find you.”

I thanked him, honored by his tribute.  I had no intention of following the path of Fatimah and Aharon.  I was certain that my resurrection of Adaya would be the victory of my soul.  I needed only to find the Nameless City lost for ages, to unbury a tomb of the viper-striders, to steal the precious funeral discs of Anar’kai, to journey thence to Babylon, to search the ruins of the Tower of Babel, to find the tombs beneath, to unseal them, to discover the lesser discs of the priests of Nyarlat …

~

My time with Anata had blinded me to the futility of my quest.  She was a creature of elucidation, of masteries.  Anata would pose a problem of necromancy:  the animacy of a child’s corpse, the art of seeing through the eyes of the dying, the swallowing of a dying man’s memories.  But now, alone in the trackless wasteland, how was I to accomplish all that was required of me, so that I might learn the last arts of necromancy which were beyond Anata’s own wisdom?

As I realized how impossible my path had become, I beseeched Naram-gal.  “And now what am I to do, father, without you?  And now?”

And he did say, “Trust in the jewel.  In sharing my arcane stone with you, you are gifted with the fringes of my dreams.  The Dreamlands, which you call the Empire of the Blackened Mind, are not home only to Nodens and Koth and the frail gods of frozen Kadath.  No.  There looms one greater, who you know of through the incantations of Anata.  And will you tell me his name?”

And I answered, “Nyarlathotep, the Lord in Ebon.  Bringer of secrets, guardian of the ways.  But is he not the god of the Ghuls alone?”

Naram-gal cackled.  He said, “What you believe to be gods are simple things, the living idols of mortal want. 
They
do not exist.  There are vast powers in this world, child Abd.  This world is but a mote of ash.  There are countless worlds, and reflections of dimensions.  Think of these cosmoses as a desert of ashes, each world a grain.  The powers who stride that desert of all realities are ageless and ravening.”

“To them we are insects, and though we are miniscule, we are not nothing.  They feast upon us, they haunt us.  For these powers have their own purposes, and the purpose of Nyarlathotep is to offer wisdom to the seeker, adventure to the passionate, and the forbidden to the questioner.  In return, he asks only for  adoration.  For what purpose?  Who can know?  But he is the Lord in Ebon, neither god nor of the Ghuls alone.  He whispers to all who hope to find him.  If he comes to you in nightmare, and you do kiss his hand, so will he come to you in the Real as well.”

My head swam with so many conflicting riddles.  How could there be more than one reflection of reality?  I said that I did not understand.  And Naram-gal said:

“Oh, child.  I cannot force you to one destiny.  You are mortal, and that majestic frailty means that you are free to follow whatever path blessed or corrupt you choose take.  I say only, if you begin to fail in your quest for the spell to raise Adaya, call upon the Lord in Ebon with your heart.  Dream of him and hold my stone.  For he will aid you, should you choose to adore him.”

And I asked, “Why did Anata speak so little of this?”

And Naram-gal said, “Because my mother Anata loves you, Al-Azrad.  She could not bear to see you among the damned.  She protected you, taught you all that she could without having you swear yourself to enthrallment before the Lord in Ebon himself.  He beareth greater wisdom still, which would aid you.  But in seeking him, in asking for his gifts and in receiving them, you might come to find that you are no longer free:  not merely a servitor in flesh, but in mind and dream as well.  Should you let Nyarlathotep overwhelm you in revelation, you may find that you do not even have the power over when you choose to die.  All such twisted victories can come as the price of worshipping Nyarlathotep, our dear father who protects us.  You must know that if you seek too much of him, he will grant your every wish, and so you will be damned.  Call upon him as you must, but first, try with all your heart to do everything that you can without his boon.  Do you understand?”