Mists of the Miskatonic (Mist of the Miskatonic Book 1) Read online

  Acknowledgments

  This book would not have been possible for countless friends and family who supported my every step. To each and every one of you: thank you from the bottom of my heart. All of the positive support, patience, guidance, and comments have led me to this moment : my first self-published book!

  Particular thanks go to Brooke, Kathy, and Brenda for help with the initial edits, and to JoDee who is always keeping me on track.

  Thank you to Sarah Hendrix for editing.

  Thank you to Lisa Vasquez at Darque Halo Designs for the cover. She worked very hard to come up with a cover that I am very proud of. You can see more of her work here: https://www.facebook.com/darquehalodesigns

  Thank you to Elise Walters for providing a blurb for the cover. You can see more of her work here: http://www.amazon.com/Elise-Walters/e/B00M1X8UWY/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1420314601&sr=8-1

  Thank you to the readers who supported this book with your hard earned dollars. I hope it was worth the time and money you invested. It means more than I can communicate with mere words.

  If you have a moment, please leave an honest review on Amazon. I greatly appreciate the feedback. If you liked the book, nothing is a greater compliment than telling your family and friends.

  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental, or for the purposes of parody.

  These stories are inspired by the work of H.P. Lovecraft, and draw their inspiration from his writings.

  There will be a Mists of the Miskatonic 2 .

  Mists of the Miskatonic

  Al Halsey

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 Aegyptus - Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft’s The Nameless City

  Chapter 2 Comes Together - Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft’s The Call of Cthulhu

  Chapter 3 Red Ruins - Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft’s The Whisperer in Darkness

  Chapter 4 Sturmbannführer Part I - – Inspired by by H.P. Lovecraft’s The Call of Cthulhu

  Chapter 5 Priest River - Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft’s At the Mountains of Madness

  Chapter 6 Mists of the Miskatonic - Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft’s The Shadow Over Innsmouth

  For artistic and journalistic freedom

  “It was of this place that Abdul Alhazred the mad poet dreamed on the night before he sang his unexplainable couplet: That is not dead which can eternal lie. And within strange aeons even death may die.” H.P. Lovecraft, The Nameless City

  Aegyptus

  Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft’s The Nameless City

  “Augustinus, this desert is killing me,” second in command Prior Lucius Marianus said loudly. He glanced at the man beside him, Augustinus. “Neither man nor beast can survive in such an inhospitable place.”

  The sun blazed, beating down relentlessly on the Roman legionnaires who marched over the rough and sandy trail. The caravan of sixty soldiers, fifty Egyptian slaves, thirty auxiliaries and pack camels snaked out of sight behind rocky hills. Third in command, Posterior Augustinus Septimus licked his chapped lips, then adjusted the linen cloth wrapped and tied around his sweaty head and forced another step. He rested his hand on the pommel of the gladius sheathed at his side and squinted. The intense brightness of the sun hurt his eyes and he looked back at Lucius.

  “Concentrate on the trail, lest you waste strength,” Augustinus said softly through parched lips. “The Egyptian’s Sun God, Ra, looks down on us and tests our mettle. He will spy naught but Roman strength, by Jupiter.”

  “Maybe Jupiter will take pity on his sweltering adherents, sending a temperate cloud of rain for these, his loyal supplicants. Under the orders of Gaius Cornelius Gallus, the Prefect of Aegyptus, we trek hellishly in this most foul place for the glory of Rome,” Lucius said as he marched. He followed the legionnaire in front of him who chuckled quietly at his protestations. He shifted the strap on his pack and tried to find the most comfortable angle for the load’s weight. Augustinus met his eyes, smiled, and looked askance at the tall soldier who marched with him.

  “We have proven our loyalty,” Augustinus said.

  “Whining like a thick-hipped Gaul Princess, or a Briton, or worse a Greek. Focus on the path ahead: your protestations might show weakness to our cat-worshipping allies,” Primus Vitus Tatius called out. He spurred his horse to walk beside Augustinus and Lucius.

  The line of soldiers marched westward into the desert. Even in the last hours of the day, the scorched air burned as Lucius inhaled. An occasional fitful puff of breeze kicked up sand and dust that seemed to seek out his face. The legionnaire could feel the grit in his dry mouth as it ground against his teeth. Since coming to Aegyptus, all the equipment was full of sand. His blanket, sandals, even his armor: the hot and heavy lorica segmentata, all were infested with the stuff. He could not comprehend how these Egyptians could survive in such an awful place.

  Lucius reminisced about Nile River, its waters dark and cool. The massive flow contained crocodiles: huge lizards with mouths full of sharp teeth. Yet, the fishermen dutifully worked the waters in their tiny crafts as they pulled bountiful harvests from the dangerous course.

  Lucius remembered his reflection in the river: his body solid from combat and marches, his brown hair shorn like all of the Empire’s soldiers. How he missed that water. When the men splashed it on their armor, steam wafted as it cooled the metal.

  As they camped beside the river, some of the other legionnaires had netted fish. They roasted them over an open fire. Martinus Marius had speared one of the crocodiles with his pilum, and then finished the beast with his gladius. Even with the bronze shaft cleanly impaled in the creature, it wriggled and thrashed its tail, stubborn until it was decapitated by the soldier’s quick stroke. They butchered the lizard, drizzled olive oil onto the meat and fried it with a sprinkle of sea salt. The Egyptians protested mightily when the legionnaires used the salt. They claimed it was connected to their evil god, Set. The meat tasted strong as it overpowered the taste buds. Yet, the legionnaires ate it all. The Egyptians touched none of it.

  Now they marched across the sandy, rocky trail in the desert. It was much different from the river valley. The massive Nile cooled it and allowed life to grow. The Egyptians planted after the floods: beans, barley, peas and wheat in great abundance. Lucius did like the loaves of coarse bread called cyllestis the Egyptians baked, but only tolerated the lumpy beer made from crumbled barley bread. Any beer that had to be drunk through a straw to filter clumps was not beer, but gruel.

  “This is a strange land filled with strange people. Strange architecture. Stranger still, their primitive customs,” Lucius said as he reflected on his time in Aegyptus as they marched. “I miss the cool waters of the Nile. This open desert vexes me, and my thirst is unending. Even clumpy Egyptian beer would slake my thirst.”

  “When I passed near the Theban Necropolis, I beheld the massive tombs built for the kings of old,” Augustinus said quietly. “Even in Rome, nothing is as massive a construct. The engineering marvels of the aqueducts, as immense as they are, do not compare. All of that for one pharaoh. The decadence.”

  “These Egyptians are quaint. Mayhap for them less time would be wasted constructing these stone behemoths for the dead and warfare practiced instead. If they would have won the battle at Actium, Caesar would have never conquered them. Cleopatra would have never had her tit bit by that asp, Mark Antony would never have thrown himself on that sword, and our Triarri would not be marching here,” Lucius laughed. “Lucky for us.”

  “I bet your quick wit led to many beatings during your years at Grammaticus,” the Primus said wryly. “Careful your theories and protestations do not l
ead to another, here in this sandy hell, as they verge on treasonous. The Triarri marches forward: all loyal legionnaires. It would take an army to thwart us, sixty hot blooded Romans ready for war. ”

  Lucius laughed again as he forced one foot in front of the other. “I received so many beatings at ludus, the slaves tired of holding me down.” The legionnaires who listened chuckled. “Questions were not welcome.”

  “A good citizen of Rome does not question,” Augustinus quipped. “Precocious youngsters deserve the beatings they receive.”

  “Lest you forget why we march. A band of our compatriots vanished to the west on orders from the Prefect. We find them, or clues to their disappearances, and report our findings to Gallus. Would you rather be sitting idly in garrison at Myos Hormos, fat and lazy?” Vitus asked.

  A dot then appeared on the horizon. Lucius watched as it approached. The other soldiers raised their weary eyes and tracked the movement. A rider on a camel.

  “Up ahead, our scout returns,” Augustinus said.

  “Yes, I would rather be lazy and fat than baked in this oven of a desert,” Lucius said quietly. Augustinus laughed and Vitus looked down on the pair.

  “Your reply was lost to me, Lucius. Care to repeat?” Vitus said sharply.

  “For the glory of Rome,” Lucius smiled. He looked up as he trudged. “For the glory.”

  Vitus studied Augustinus for a few seconds, brown eyes narrowed. Augustinus hung his head and concealed his laughter under the brow of his galea. The helmet saved him from the officer’s scrutiny, until he pulled his focale up over his mouth. The scarf, used to keep the armor from chafing his neck, proved useful for more than its intended purpose.

  “Your sharp wit will get you beaten before the sun sets, lest you bite your tongue, Lucius,” Vitus growled. He then turned his mount from the column and rode to meet the scout.

  “I heed your kind warning, Vitus,” Lucius said. “Although marching would stop while the whipping commenced. It would be a blessing concealed, by Jupiter.”

  They continued to march along trail. The sun still blazed as it fell closer to the horizon. Vitus and the scout rode back, the Roman beside the dark-skinned Egyptian clad in light linens.

  “Good tidings, Legionnaires,” the Primus called out. “Tomorrow, by mid-morning, we will arrive at a deserted village just west. There will be water there. For now, we have traveled far today. Let us rest for the night and set up camp.”

  The legionnaires cheered and fell out of formation while the slaves unloaded the camels. In short order, a makeshift camp was laid out, tents were raised and two fires started. The slaves began two pots of gruel for cena, and then laid out a basket of cyllestis for the soldiers. Baskets of dates and olives were also available. The legionnaires ate before the auxiliaries and the slaves.

  “Cena was always the best meal of the day,” Lucius said. He popped a date in his mouth and held out his patera. The slave spooned gruel into the bronze mess tin and the soldier grabbed a loaf of bread. “Sometimes it would take hours to get through it. At times we were swimming in wine in my uncle’s villa.”

  “That would be my desired state now,” Augustinus said and watched the sun set. The sky burned with hues of orange and red. “Swimming in anything other than the crocodile infested Nile would be a blessing. Trade all my coin for an hour in a bathhouse, I would.”

  The Triarri of legionnaires ate and laughed. Several ampules of wine were unsealed and passed around as the Triarri drained them.

  “Legionnaires,” Primus Vitus Tatius called out loudly, his back to the fires. Lucius watched the smoke drift with the wind, and then focused back on the Officer. “We were sent to discover the whereabouts of our missing brothers, The Second Tyraiana. That much is known to you all. Now I must reveal the secret set of orders our good Prefect Gaius Cornelius Gallus entrusted only to me.”

  Lucius glanced suspiciously at Augustinus.

  Vitus continued. “The Triarri, Second Tyraiana, had marched from Memphis. They searched for outposts of a lost civilization. It supposedly was covered long ago in sand by the shifting desert. At the edges of Roman territory here in Aegyptus, one was finally discovered. It had been rumored to exist by the Egyptians. The creatures who dwelled there, more animal than man, had built a distant city, massive and queer in its construction. The creatures are rumored to be unknown to us: half man and half beast, if such a thing can exist. Maybe the cousins or the bastard offspring of the Nile Gods. That is what Egyptians whisper fearfully behind closed doors. These beasts supposedly built a thriving metropolis on the coast, then scattered outposts at the edges of their territories. They are so ancient that they were masters of the world when the Egyptians were still rubbing twigs together hoping for fire.”

  “Sounds too incredible to be factual,” Octavianus Pontius, the group’s Haistiliarius said. Lucius looked at the weapons trainer and hid a smirk.

  “Factual or not in your judgment, we must find where the missing soldiers vanished. Mayhap they met a treacherous end: or are lost and wander the desert. Either way, we will continue to travel west until we divine the truth,” Vitus said.

  Lucius observed that the revelation for the search of lost civilization agitated the Egyptian scout. Augustinus also observed the behavior. He tapped the other legionnaire on the leg and nodded towards the man. The order had shaken the scout on this moonless night. He shook his head and averted his eyes as his body tensed at hearing the command. Vitus was oblivious and continued to speak to the assembled troops.

  “These ancient constructs were raised untold millennia before the forefathers of the Egyptians placed two sun-baked clay bricks end-to-end: long before they bowed before statues of cats and dogs. The name of said metropolis is long lost to the darkness of history: the memory of man clouded by the years.”

  “And that lousy clumpy beer the Egyptians brew,” Lucius whispered quietly. “No wonder such a mysterious place is lost to memory and shifting sands: a city without name. A Nameless City. A mystery undecipherable, even for Minerva herself.”

  “The Triarri dispatched before us, all loyal Romans disappeared without a trace. So now we march to find evidence of their passing and to see if they found this outpost,” the Triarri Primus said loudly. “If our countrymen fell in battle under the blades of the Berbers, or rogue Egyptians, justice will be swift and bloody. Have no doubt.”

  The scout’s body began to shake as he became even more agitated. Then he turned and whispered to his fellows. The slaves and auxiliaries murmured and trembled at the information. Even if Lucius had understood the halting syllables of their language, the results were obvious.

  “So we will reach a deserted village amidst the shifting sands on the morrow, the extreme edge of the Roman protectorate of Aegyptus. Then we will continue on to this uncovered outpost in the Libyan Desert.” Vitus said. The legionnaires clapped and murmured their approval. The natives seemed unsettled, their movements stilted like those of an animal that was being hunted.

  The rest of the loaves were divided and the gruel finished. The slaves huddled together, and talked to the auxiliaries in hushed, harsh syllables. Lucius observed that usually the two groups were separate, but the news of why the Triarri and its support marched had drawn them together.

  Later that night, Lucius walked through the rows of tents lit from inside. The flames flickered eerily. He rounded a corner to overhear a heated argument between the scout and the Primus. The two switched angrily between Egyptian and Latin. Normally, the scout would have been subservient, compliant as his stipend came from the Romans. Tonight, that seemed the furthest thing from his mind.

  Lucius stood quietly and listened. He could only understand bits of phrases as the two argued. “Voices of the dead,” and “Crocodile men,” were two of the phrases he understood in Egyptian. The conversation finally ended when the Primus threatened to have the scout flogged if he agitated his fellows with his fanciful rants. The two parted, neither satisfied with the outcome of the conversation.
Lucius crept through the sand back to his tent.

  “Wandering about camp has entertained as much as it can, has it?” Augustinus said. He polished his gladius with coarse cloth in a circle of lamplight. Then he shook it out before he applied it again to the iron blade. “Sand permeates my very being this night, and every bit of equipment. It would not surprise if on the morrow a stream of sand emanates from prick instead of morning piss.”

  “Shield as pillow again tonight, Augustinus,” Lucius said as he rolled out his blanket. He avoided the other legionnaires as they slept. They used their scutums as pillows. He looked around the tent to make sure his comrades would not overhear. “Primus was in a heated argument with that Egyptian scout. Disagreement about our march, it seems, and the disposition of these ancient creatures that built said lost outpost. The man is superstitious at best, defiant at worst. ”

  Augustinus sheathed his gladius and pulled out his pugio. He polished the blade of the dagger.

  “Most likely, the scout was attempting to renegotiate his stipend. He does not know his place. Egyptians are a curt and scurrilous lot. I have little trust of the slaves or the auxiliaries who will fight beside us if the need arises,” Augustinus said.

  Lucius pulled off the cloth he had tied around his head, wiped his brow with it, then scratched his short, black hair. “No, it was some other concern that had brought about the agitation. It is this place we are marching to.”

  “I think the Primus has had a belly full of sarcastic wit and repartee. On the morrow, you best hide your humor. Rest your tongue and spare your energy for marching.” Augustinus replaced the pugio in its sheath. “We should all be mindful of duty.”

  The sand still radiated heat from the long day, and Lucius lay back using his shield as a pillow. Several of the other soldiers snored loudly.