The second chapter to my story, this is where things really start to get interesting.
A hard cough racked my chest once I slowly began returning to consciousness.
A pile of wet dirt lay on top of me, pinning me under its weight and obscuring my vision. Pain throbbed throughout my body as I started trying to move my arms and legs.
It was pitch black in the area that I had landed in, with the layers of dirt spattered on top of my face making it hard to focus my vision so as to get my bearings.
With a wince and a long involuntary hiss through my teeth, I managed to dig myself through enough of the earth to allow me to sit upright and brush the rest of it off. I needed to arch my neck back to properly shake all the muck out of my eyes and nostrils, which after a few minutes succeeded in letting me see properly enough so that I could look up towards the tunnel entrance high above.
Unfortunately, my squinting eyes only found it to be blackened as well.
'How long was I out?' I thought groggily as I continued moving.
Suddenly a spike of pain ran through the back of my head. Running a hand through my short blonde hair, I gingerly felt a large wet spot at the back.
I had already served some time overseas, having been injured several times in the line of duty, and knew full well what a deep gash felt like.
By now my eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness, and after pulling my hand back I wasn't surprised to make out a dark liquid smeared on my fingertips. At least it wasn't life threatening, that much I could tell from the size of the wound and the amount of blood I'd lost. As painful as it was, I had endured worse than this in the past.
"Those roots must have softened my fall…" I uttered out loud as I looked back up toward the blackened tunnel shaft.
With my adjusted eyesight, I could now make out the faint twinkling of stars in the late night sky through what could be seen of the opening far above.
Grunting as I attempted to stand upright in the oddly spacious cavern that had formed at the bottom of this shaft, I blindly reached out toward the crushing darkness in a vain effort to find anything that would help me pull myself up.
The walls that surrounded me however were covered in huge clusters of long thick roots; so it was hard to actually find something solid to grab a hold of. Eventually though, after using my left hand to push past the damp gangly net that sprouted from the walls' soil, I brushed up against something that felt like the smooth face of a stone boulder.
Letting out a sigh of relief, I applied my full weight against the object in order to help pull myself out of the clumpy dirt I was still half buried in.
As I put more weight onto my hand I accidentally slipped and lost my grip on the stone, making my palm slide a few inches further down its surface before my fingers suddenly V'd away from each other and fell into two small holes.
Suddenly a warning bell went off in my head.
Why would there be two small, evenly spaced holes in a rock?
"Wait a minute…" I whispered slowly to myself, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.
I looked over at my hand, trying to make out what my fingers were holding on to, but it was still too dark for my vision. Then I remembered I still had an old cigarette lighter in my jacket that I'd acquired during Geordie's and my wild antics last night.
I cocked an eyebrow in amusement, being surprised that I even remembered having it considering my rather inebriated state during said events.
Pulling out the small metal case and flicking the cap up, I inched closer to the boulder. Sticking my other hand through the dangling roots, I peered around for a moment before flicking the igniter with my thumb.
A small hail of sparks appeared an instant before bright orange flame assaulted my eyes, blinding me for a moment before I adjusted to the light and got a clear look at what I'd found.
This rock was no rock at all; my fingers were lodged into the eye sockets of a brown human skull that was sticking out of the earthy wall!
(PSYCHO MUSIC!)
"WHOA!" I shouted in surprise as I yanked both my hands away, tumbling backwards onto the dirt pile and losing the flame from my lighter in the process.
I had seen real skulls before, some had been in mass graves found throughout Afghanistan, but to suddenly find one here at the bottom of a hidden cavern was more then enough to give me a bolt of fear.
After regaining myself I flicked the lighter back on and pulled myself back up to the space in the weave of roots.
The skull silently stared back at me; its lower jaw still intact but missing a few teeth. Scratches and tooth marks could be made out along the forehead where small animals had begun eating the body after it had died. As I got closer to where I had been before, I began noticing more.
Below the jaw, I could make out the first few vertebrae of the spine, and then some parts of the shoulder protruding from the wall as well. With my free hand I began gently clearing away the earth around the body, pulling away roots connected to larger parts of the wall and exposing more bones. After a minute I had cleared away enough to find the entire upper half of the skeleton.
My breathing intensified and my heart began to beat faster. I had always been interested in archeology and finding lost treasures when I was a kid, but this was something I never thought I'd get to experience up close.
The skeleton was in near perfect condition; it was even wearing rugged clothing, most of which had been torn apart by the passage of time. Both the arms and parts of the chest were encased in a rotten grey overcoat, while around the exposed ribcage were shreds of a green and brownish dress-shirt that may have been white at some time. From the right shoulder to the skeleton's left hip was a strap of some kind that was still partially buried in the dirt along with its legs.
"Who are you?" I asked, really just to voice the question that was nagging me at the moment. As I gazed at the overcoat, I noticed something bulging around its left breast pocket. Tenderly sliding my free hand in, I wrapped my fingers around something long and slender. Slowly I pulled out the object and held it up to the lighter.
Now I knew I had found something amazing.
I was holding a flintlock pistol, the kind that English and French colonists had brought with them when they first began settling in North America.
On the side of the pistol was a small metal engraving. Once I looked more closely I was able to make out the words.
'ALEXANDRE HENRI, 1680.'
My hands trembled as I gazed back up at the skeleton.
"What were you doing down here?" I asked the skeleton.
(At the time yes, I was talking to dead people.)
On a hunch I began looking over the chest area to see if I could find any indication of what had killed this person. Pretty soon I found my answer, half of a stone-tipped arrow lodged in-between the skeleton's ribs.
"Killed by the Native tribes…just because you were down here?" I noted suspiciously with a glance around the cavern before looking over more of the body.
"Why would they do that, unless…unless you weretrespassing. Trespassing against something important enough to kill for."
With that thought running through my head, my gaze eventually came down to the skeleton's right hand, which was loosely holding the other half of the arrow shaft.
But there was something odd about that hand; something that the hand of a skeleton wouldn't normally be doing after it had just died. Its index finger was extended in a very deliberate way.
Putting the flintlock into one of my jacket pockets, I gently lifted the skeleton's arm to get a closer look. I couldn't understand it, but I was weirdly unsettled by the way it was positioned.
It was as if in his final moments Alexandre Henri had used all of his remaining strength to point at something, something that must have been important to him.
It was either by my excitement, or my sense of curiousity, which compelled me to turn around and see if whatever he had pointed to all those centuries ago might still be down here somewhere.
"What's worth defending at the bottom of a hole?" I asked quietly as I made my way over to the other side of the cavern. My lighter still had some fluid in it, allowing it to continue to burn brightly and illuminate the countless roots that slithered down the cavern wall.
I knelt and peered into the net of vegetation to see if there was any clue that could show if there had ever been something over here back in Alexandre's time. At first there appeared to be nothing, which momentarily caused me to lose some of the wind in my sails, but after a few extra seconds of fruitless searching I noticed something different about this wall.
It was only covered by the longest of roots from high up above me; the rest of the wall however had nothing coming out of it.
Taking note of this I brushed the dangling roots aside and put my free hand on the strange bare earth. To my surprise, it cracked and then began folding backwards, sluggishly bending against my hand as the dirt began crumbling apart.
The more pressure I applied, the more the wall was pushed back; it had the same composition as dirt, with large pieces breaking and falling down around my legs as I pushed more and more, but strangely it folded inward as if it were made of a soft leather.
"There's something behind here…" I announced instinctively before standing up and grabbing the deteriorated material, easily ripping it down from the real cavern wall with a sharp tug.
"No way!" I exclaimed in amazement. Beyond this disguised wall was a dark tunnel roughly cut into the bedrock of the Canadian Shield, one that could easily fit someone of smaller height.
I was 6'-3" but if I ducked low enough I'd still be able to make it through to wherever this led.
Flicking the cap back onto my lighter and snuffing out the flame, I crouched down on my haunches and slowly proceeded inside, feeling the walls with my hands as I disappeared into the inky blackness of the tunnel.
Despite my tall frame I had no problem moving in such a way for prolonged periods, having done so many times during in-field maneuvers and breaching exercises while going through my Army training courses.
I continued like this for several minutes. All the while I was cautious, feeling the rock walls that had been chiseled away centuries earlier.
"It would have taken a long time to cut this, and yet they didn't want anyone to know about it…" I voiced my observation warily as I crept onward. Finally I felt something different in the stone; it felt smoother, contrary to the rough edges I had felt along the rest of the tunnel. Reaching into my pocket, I retrieved my Zippo lighter and flicked the igniter again.
All around me everything had been carefully filed down until the stone held a polished finish, and decorated with intricate wall paintings in the style of First Nations' artistry I had seen before in museums.
As I marveled at the beautiful rolling scenes displayed in the ceiling above me, I looked on ahead and saw something that stood in stark contrast to it all.
Barely a few feet in front of me was the end of the tunnel. Just an abrupt dead-end wall, with a simple design of a faded black circle etched into it.
This didn't make any sense. Why would craftsmen and artisans come all the way down here to glorify the end of a tunnel?
Still on my haunches, I awkwardly crawled over to the wall and pressed my free hand against it, thinking it would have the same effect I had had on the one before. But this time nothing happened, the seemingly solid dirt remained firmly in place despite any amount of force I applied.
I let out a tired sigh of disappointment; whatever Alexandre Henri had been looking for all those years ago had likely been removed by his killers following his death.
I looked back down the way I'd come.
"If you could find this place, the tribes must have known others would too," I remarked toward the long stretch of darkness separating me from Alexandre's body, before smacking the side of my fist against the wall in frustration.
Sitting down in defeat, I leaned back and rested my head against the painted tunneling, taking a moment to gaze upon the fascinating designs all around me.
But then something caught my eye.
As my lighter continued to burn, the flame began to flicker and shift over toward my left.
I looked at it in confusion; the flame was wavering as if a light breeze were blowing against it. Transferring the device to my left hand, I placed my right next to it and positioned my palm so that it was pointed vertically toward the ceiling.
Immediately the skin on the back of my hand felt cooler.
There was an airflow coming from somewhere close by.
Looking back over at the dirt wall, I reached out and placed my palm close to the center of the painted circle. The flow of air was stronger here, coming through a faint crack that had formed in the wall after I'd hit it.
I laughed at my luck.
"Should've known it wouldn't be that easy…" I said with an open smile as I flicked off the lighter and repositioned myself in front of the circle. Balling my right fist, I threw a hard punch straight into the center of the ring. To my delight, I further split open the crack I'd made, causing pieces of hardened clay and dust to break off and fall from all across the wall.
'One more' I thought as I readied my arm again and threw a second punch backed with all the strength I could muster.
Only this time it proved to be a little too much.
My fist drove straight through the hardened barrier, and the rest of my body went flying along with it!
"Ah crap!" I blurted out as my forward momentum caused the rest of me to crash through the wall and somersault head first out of the tunnel.
A painful landing resulted as I tumbled over a small drop-off before smacking down on to a hard stone floor.
I groaned into the stone as the cut on the back of my head began throbbing again. Rolling over onto my side, the first thing I noticed was a glimpse of more sweeping paintings, but this time they were higher up away from me than they had been in the tunnel.
"Now what?"
I slowly got up, lighter still in hand, and looked around. I had landed in a large chamber of some kind, one that allowed me to stand to my full height with no trouble.
After flicking the lighter back on, I got a faint impression of my surroundings.
Tall wooden columns ran up flat painted walls, each column connecting to a support beam that helped to hold up an equally flat roof. However there was something odd about the way the structure was set up; instead of Native architecture the design of the wooden supports looked European in origin. Also, several waist-high stone pedestals stood lined against the walls on both sides of the room, each pedestal cut from the bedrock and adorned with a strange groove running down both of its sides.
Walking toward the closest one, I leaned over and found that it had a large circular bowl built into its center, connecting to the two long grooves that branched away from it.
As soon as I came near it, an odd smell suddenly hit me.
I bent down closer to the pedestal and took a deep whiff, the smell coming stronger to me this time. Interestingly it was an odour that I recognized.
"Oil?" I stated in confusion. Slowly passing my lighter over the pedestal, I could just make out the reflection of a liquid-like substance sitting still within the bowl.
Suddenly an idea hit me.
Lowering the lighter down, I gingerly pressed the flame against what remained of the ancient fluid. In an instant the oil ignited, forcing me to yank my hand back as the entire top of the pedestal became engulfed in flame.
Just as I hoped, the flame raced away from the bowl in the center to go down each side of the pedestal. From there it continued onward inside grooves built along the floor that I hadn't noticed earlier, travelling up and igniting each pedestal down along the wall.
As each groove became wreathed in flame one after the other, the room became alive with more beauty than I ever would have imagined.
Large bear and deerskins hung along both walls, hundreds of Native designs crisscrossed every inch of the ceiling, and large wooden statues of birds and forest animals revealed themselves tucked away in every corner.
I had stumbled upon the find of a lifetime!
I gave a long hearty laugh as the line of fire reached the far wall up ahead and began crossing over to ignite the pedestals along the other wall. I made sure that my gaze came to rest upon every object until the flames ignited all of the oil they could find in a continuous line. With the entire room now illuminated by bright golden light, I noticed that it was actually constructed in the shape of a large rectangle instead of a square as I had previously thought.
"Woooow…" I uttered in hushed awe after letting out a long whistle. Absently I put the lighter back in my pocket, now no longer having any need for it.
Slowly I walked down the long room, soaking up every detail that went past. Everything was visible now. Most of the floor was covered with ornate rugs woven of the finest wool, while large bowls overflowing with rotten food, weapons, and priceless jewelry lay ceremoniously placed row after row in every available space along the walls, safely away from the flaming grooves.
However there was something strange. Just like the building structure of the room, the wealth of this place was a mix of both Native and European objects.
Flintlock pistols, swords, rifles, pieces of decorative armour, and many small trinkets made out of gold and silver, all sat alongside hyde-adorned spears, ornate ceremonial knives, and masterfully created hunting bows which all looked as though they had been made by a variety of different tribes.
With these details in mind, I began to develop a familiar feeling associated with this kind of set up.
As wealthy as this trove of differing objects was, I knew it wasn't just some lost treasure horde. It was clear that these things were precious offerings; gifts made by both the Natives and the European settlers to something or possibly someone that both groups held in deep respect.
In the back of my mind I knew that if the latter was the case, then there was one important thing missing here.
Looking up ahead toward the very back of the room, I immediately saw what I was looking for.
A large stone slab sat squarely on a raised platform. On top of it was a bundle of brown cloth wrapped tightly around something.
Quickly I made my way over, my heart pounding with every step.
The sound of my sneakers echoed off the polished walls as I stepped up onto the platform, coming to a stand next to the slab. The bundle of cloth became more clearly defined as I stood over it.
Before me were the ancient remains of a person that had somehow been able to bring the Aboriginals and the Europeans together into a period of genuine co-existence, one that had allowed them to build this tomb together.
Although the body underneath this thin layer of cloth was now nothing more than a desiccated skeleton, from my experience and military training I could tell from the size of the hip bones and the shoulders that I was looking at the form of a woman.
Bending over, I examined her more closely.
A thin strap of leather came around her neck overtop of the cloth, connecting to a round, stone medallion that rested on her chest. As I looked upon it, I wasn't too surprised to find an engraving of the Fleur de Lis in its center.
"So why would both the French and the Natives honour you?"
(Yes, I was still talking to dead people, sue me)
Gently placing my fingers underneath the medallion, I slowly flipped it over in my palm, finding a hidden inscription engraved onto the back. Although it was written in French I'd already been trained to be bi-lingual when I had first joined the army, making it easier to read what was left behind.
(This next part is a translation)
'Here lies Calia, The Stranger. An ally to both the men of France and the peoples of the New World.
My dearest friend, you will be missed.'
Samuel de Champlain. December 24, 1635.
"That was the day before Champlain died!" I whispered in shock. Slowly flipping the medallion back over, I gently placed it back where I had taken it. Taking a step back, I fished out Alexandre Henri's pistol from my pocket. Gazing at his imprinted name for a moment, I couldn't help but give a small sneer as a realization came upon me.
"You were a grave-robber, trespassing on sacred ground. That's why they killed you." I said to myself in disgust as I put away the flintlock. Looking back at Calia's wrappings, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of respect.
"I'm not like what he was..."
Reaching over, I laid my hand on top of the medallion for a silent moment before turning away.
"...rest in peace Calia."
I stepped down from the platform, and slowly started walking back to the hole in the wall that led to the tunnel. It was going to be a long climb once I got back to the cavern.
(Hey! I know what you're thinking, but it felt right just to leave everything the way it was)
However, I had only taken two steps from the platform when I heard something shift, and a loud jingle like that of a coin hitting the ground sounded out behind me.
Stiffening for a moment I slowly turned around. Some of Calia's wrappings had mysteriously come un-done, and a long skeletal hand was hanging out from her left side.
I slowly stepped back onto the platform, and quickly noticed what had made that sound.
A silver ring lay just underneath the deathly hand, shining orange as it reflected the blaze of the nearby flames.
Stooping down, I gently picked it up and held it between my thumb and forefinger. Turning it around I found a small black circle burned into the band, similar to the one that had been painted on the clay wall I'd broken through.
Suddenly in that moment, a deep menacing groan like the sound of an awakened predator echoed out from back within the cavern!
My reflexes kicked in the second it started, forcing me to spin around with my hand on the nearest weapon, in this case Alexandre's pistol. The groan rang out again, this time louder. Slowly I drew the pistol from my pocket, my eyes alert and glaring at the tunnel opening. Though the pistol was ruined beyond belief from centuries of moisture damage, its brass and metal handle-grip was still strong enough to serve as an effective club.
Just then a strong gust of wind blew through the tunnel, sweeping away everything in its path as it tore into the tomb.
Instinctively I dropped to one knee and threw an arm in front of my face to shield it from any loose flying debris. The blast continued to rage, blowing in erratic currents of wind that scattered many of the ancient relics about me until all of the burning pedestals were snuffed out, and everything was plunged back into shadowy darkness once more.
"Well. That blows…" I stated in odd surprise after it was all over, standing up with a blankly cocked eyebrow.
(Yes that pun was intentional…)
But something stopped me short.
There was a faint pale light still illuminating the tomb. Looking down to my hand, I was shocked to see that the ring was the source, aglow with a shimmering silver radiance.
Mesmerized by this ethereal, almost otherworldly sight, I was compelled to try the ring on.
Carefully slipping it onto the ring finger of my right hand, I turned the metal band around until the black circle engraved into its surface was facing up at me.
Then in that single instant the light winked out, sending me into pitch black once again.
"What the AHH!" I started in annoyance when suddenly a searing pain exploded from within my finger, quickly racing throughout the rest of my body. I grabbed the ring with my other hand and tried to tear it off.
But to my sheer horror, it wouldn't move!
Sizzling electrical currents began to flow from the band down through my arm; causing wisps of smoke to begin rising through the seams in my jacket sleeve. My veins felt like they were on fire, my thumping heart making the burning sensation shoot through my circulatory system over and over with each of its rapid beats. I collapsed to my knees, grunting and wheezing in agony, the pain making my vision turn red while I continued hopelessly wrenching at the ring.
Suddenly it seemed as if the very fabric of the air rippled apart and an enormous swirling portal split open before me, casting a blinding silver blaze into my eyes!
(And yes it looked like the ones from Portal)
Deafening distorted screeching sounds came from all around me as a powerful wind began getting sucked into the terrifying opening. Like the currents of an ocean whirlpool, the wind became stronger and stronger until it was powerful enough to begin pushing me forward against my will, inching me closer across the floor.
Despite my best efforts to struggle and tear myself away, the force behind it was too much. After a last attempt at throwing myself to the floor and clawing my way back towards Calia's altar, I gave out a desperate scream as I was abruptly yanked backwards into the void, my last sight being of the Stranger's mummified remains flapping against the wind blowing around her tomb.
To my frantic mind at the time, the force of the elements moving against the ancient limbs made her exposed skeletal hand appear as though she was merrily waving goodbye to me just before my world went black for the second time today!
I'm going to end it here for now.
Sooo? What do you guys think? Let me know in a review and I'll try to make some changes if I can. Oh and for any big history buffs that might read this, I actually tried to keep this as historically accurate as possible. The French actually were in the Thunder Bay area in 1680, and as far as I know Samuel de Champlain did die on Dec 25, 1635. Whether he actually made it as deep into Canada as Thunder Bay I have no idea, I just made that part up to move along the story. So rate and review and give me any ideas for things you might want in later chapters.