October 1, 1870 – 4:37 AM
Once more, I am stupefied and at a loss for words. What I and several others witnessed this evening is simply... impossible. Un-real. Not of this world. My attempt to accurately portray these events may prove to be fatal, but even the most gifted writers could not find the right words for what happened. Still, I will do my best.
I met Stripe precisely at mid-night, as instructed, on the corner of New Jersey and M Street. Like thieves, we hid beneath the canopies of the trees, concealing ourselves in their shadows.
Finally, Stripe exposed the nature of our bizarre conference. "A conspiracy is happening right beneath our noses," he firmly stated.
"Conspiracy?" I asked.
"Of the highest order." We continued walking down New Jersey, all the while Stripe kept himself rigid and vigilant. "In May, following the war, I was commissioned aboard a tribunal to prosecute Captain Henry Wirz for the crimes he committed at Sumter. I never told you about it. Before his hanging, he requested a pen and paper for a confessional. I found his admission in the War Department... and it disturbed me."
"Why were you at the War Department?"
"Wirz confessed that in the fall of 1862, he associated himself with an individual by the name of Ivo K. In the spring of 1864, these two men conspired alongside an unspecified third party to manufacture something called Swat. Wirz admitted that this third party individual would fetch Union and Confederate men for Ivo K. to experiment on."
"Experiments? What sorts of experiments?"
"The details are regrettably vague, but in his own words, Wirz described them as... 'the processes that needed to be performed so that the super-weapon can survive."
A sharp tremor rattled my body. "A super-weapon?"
"Immediately after Appomattox, an expedition to locate and recover the weapon was hastily dispatched but proved fruitless. Aside from Wirz's testimony, there was no evidence to suggest a super-weapon ever existed. However, the confessional revealed stranger information. An alias was mentioned: Razor-Claw. Wirz explained that whoever hid behind this grotesque handle possesses significant merchandise that corroborates the weapon's authenticity."
"Merchandise? Thomas, I am afraid I do not see the association between this fantastic—"
"To-day, at the summit, Julian and I were made privy to a new procedure that will dictate the direction of the project's future. They want to weaponize the diamond." His words felt heavy and menacing.
"My god..." I whispered.
"This new project has a name: Special Weapons and Tactics... otherwise abbreviated as SWAT." My hands shook. "Solaris has indeed been breached," Stripe gravely affirmed.
There was a sudden change in the wind. We saw a strange, pale glow somewhere off in the western sky, blotting the firmament in a dreadful uninviting curtain. From the corner of my eyes, I noticed Wernicke running for us in bewildered fear.
"An intruder!" he said, catching his breath. "An intruder has infiltrated the laboratory!"
"In the chamber?" Stripe asked.
"No, the arsenal!"
Without a moment's hesitation, we all darted for the laboratory. I was about to open the doors to the warehouse, but a hand swung out, and abruptly pushed them shut. It startled me back. Standing guard were members of Stripe's elite company—Privates Long and L'Escale.
"Dogge is inside," Long said. "We await your orders." He spoke to Stripe.
"Remain at your stations," Stripe ordered.
He escorted us into the laboratory. We approached the arsenal, and saw Dogge crouching beside the door, pistol drawn and ready to fire. He quickly motioned for all of us to kneel, which we did. I arose carefully and quietly to peer into the arsenal window, and then I saw it... this enormous cloaked figure hanging over the diamond. Its identity repressed by shadow. It reached out, and squeezed the diamond, muttering a foul incantation. My lungs clenched. Then those ethereal voices erupted; I nearly toppled over, but I held firm and steady. They were more intolerable than before. Something was about to happen.
The figure yelled, "Chaos imperium!"
I swear upon all the graves of my relatives that for a fraction of a second, the figure vanished from sight, but returned unmolested.
"Chaos imperium!" it bellowed again.
An explosion of purple fire—the windows shattered, and we were thrown back. I stumbled to my feet, ran back to the window, and saw the room empty. The figure was gone, leaving behind a charred interior, and a small crater where he once stood. And the diamond remained.
"The diamond's authority can influence space as well," I grimly attested. "Our intruder somehow harnessed this ability, and I fear they are unstoppable."
"We must cease the project," Stripe said.
"Was there nothing you could identify on the intruder?" Dogge asked me.
"He had a big mustache."
Stripe stumbled over his words. "It... it could not be... Julian, could it?"
"No," I said. "This figure, I believe, has a steel arm."
"Razor-Claw," Stripe quietly said to himself. "The project and the public are in danger!"
"Yes, but we should not terminate the project so suddenly. We must catch him in the act of sabotage if we are to bring him to justice. This requires the project's continuation. If we inform the authorities or the public now, there would be no doubt of civil upheaval."
"My god, sir! Are you mad?" Dogge barked.
"Stare darkness into the eyes as though it were an equal," Stripe nodded.
"What we have seen here opposes all laws of space and physics. Our dealings are not with the mortal or the natural, but with the supernatural and the extra-terrestrial. We have a responsibility to uphold a policy of denial and secrecy... for now." I turned to Wernicke. "Inform Julian on the matter. We must allow the intruder to believe he is succeeding in his scheme."
Before he left, Dogge cornered me. He made known his strength and gruff tenor, but only sought a banal question. "What was it that the intruder muttered before he vanished?"
"Chaos imperium," I said. "It roughly means 'chaos control.'"
7:10 pm
The journey from my tenement to the laboratory felt elapsed. I cannot remember how I came to work this morning. The night bore heavy on my mind, it felt cluttered with treacherous thoughts and poisonous assumptions. Perhaps we are too eager to venture forward, I thought. Out there, among the cold dead landscape of space from which the diamond derived, darkness prevails. In all our feeble attempts to preserve our lineage or amass kingdoms, we have unwillingly aligned ourselves with this darkness and unknowingly unleashed its wickedness. These notions consumed my thoughts, but I regained some consciousness when I sat at my desk. I heard an echo call out to me. 'Dr. Morgan! Dr. Morgan!' it pestered. I looked up from my desk and saw that Collin had been coyly attempting to reach me.
"Are we to meet General Stripe at Fort Lincoln or here?" he asked.
"We are to meet him at Fort Lincoln, I suppose." I had forgotten about the sword, and the reply came involuntarily. "Colin, I say this again: what you see or hear from this inquiry must never be related to anyone apart from myself and General Stripe. Is that understood?"
"It is."
"Then send for a cab please."
I sprung to my feet, grabbed my bag of papers, and pulled the revolver from my desk drawer. It belonged to Jules, and it had not been fired since Yellow Tavern. One bullet remained in the chamber; one final shot. I tucked it between my belt and waist.
On the warehouse floor, Dogge and his men cleaned up the mess from the explosion. Miraculously, nothing was harmed. All the while, in my passage to the front doors, Dogge glared at me with narrow eyes and a vexed expression. Then I bumped into von Schlemmer, who was holding a cello case.
"Vandals, it seems," he said. "Scoundrels from Fort Lesley, I presume."
"What is in the case?" I asked.
"The sword, doctor. We cannot have you dashing about with a sword in broad daylight."
"Charles," Julian boomed out. "I would like to speak with you in private."
von Schlemmer left us alone and passed the cello case to Colin. Julian ushered me away to a dark corner of the warehouse floor.
"The gold rings—whatever they are—appear to be indestructible yet malleable. They are composed of the same metal as the sword." His voice dropped. "Nicholas informed me of last night. Charles, old friend, please be careful. We do not want anyone to come in harm's way."
"I will, my friend."
"To-night, on your endeavor, I will accompany you both."
The cab ride to Fort Lincoln was quiet. When we arrived, a squadron of men greeted us, and a brawny official approached. He was a tall fellow with crimped brown hair, piercing eyes, a square chin, and a bushy mustache. He extended his hand to welcome us.
"Brigadier General Armand D'Coolette, senior officer of the Mes Braves battalion," he said in a heavy French enunciation. "Welcome to Fort Lincoln, Dr. Morgan. General Stripe awaits you in the far north barracks."
We found Stripe looking off into the rolling meadow of emerald-green grass just over the barrack fence.
"We devised a faux tale to pacify the project workers. Let us hope it works to our advantage," he said.
While at first, Stripe was not keen on having Colin with us, he gradually warmed up to his aid. Of course, being a man over six feet tall, he warned the poor boy to keep everything he saw to himself. Even so far as to threaten him with life imprisonment and solitary confinement. The boy agreed. He may be somewhat submissive, but I sensed a growing resentment towards the astute general. Soon after, we began our inquiry.
Our initial evaluation remained sound. The sword is a Medieval broadsword, fashioned with a traditional British or Celtic motif. However, the pommel—originally portrayed as bearing the crest of an unknown cipher—displays a portrait of seven diamonds encircling a larger diamond. The pommel's edge is engraved with vines, grapes, and apples.
The portrait on the cross-guard is stranger still. I initially thought the scene depicted a lone warrior engaged in fierce combat with a horned demon, but on closer scrutiny, six more knights can be seen behind the lone warrior. They too are poised for battle. Moreover, the lone warrior—a knight himself—had drawn the very same sword we now possess.
When it came time to handle the weapon, I was hesitant. I veered over to Stripe for assurance.
"Go ahead, Charles," he said.
Stripe was confident things would turn out well. Colin was licking his lips in fervor. He would annotate the event. I took a deep breath and gripped the sword's leather handle. To describe the feeling would be impossible, but I compare it to jumping into a cold stream. My eyes clenched shut; my blood felt like liquid ice. When I opened my eyes, I saw my lifeless body hanging weightlessly in the air. I called out to Stripe and Colin, but they did not acknowledge. Could they even see me? Then Stripe approached my body.
"Who am I speaking to now?" he asked.
My eyes shot open, and a tremendous gale exuded from beneath my feet. My eyes were solid white again, and when I spoke, a bright light poured out of my mouth.
A voice not like my own spoke. "Many have come to the land of Tir-na-nog whilst in eternal slumber, merrily strolling through the fields of Elysium, leaving behind their vacant form without the light in their eyes that marks the attendance of a soul. I come to you from such a place. Something evil approaches and the sword in my hand holds the ability to annihilate it. Uncover the seven emeralds, and reunite the Templar knights so that once more they may summon the Island of Atlas. It is our only hope of survival."
Stripe was overwhelmed. "Them? The Templar knights? What are you talking about?"
"I will return soon, but until such time, find the emeralds. Guard them with your life. Should you seek guidance, confer with Adam, and relate these words precisely: Aetas Enerjak incepit. And Charles... I know you are watching from above... I miss you dearly, brother. How I wish I can share in your adventures. The others cannot hear this, but I implore you... please find my son. He, among others, can save us now. That is your destiny."
The sword dropped from my hands, and I collapsed. When I woke an hour later, I was breathing heavily.
"What happened, sir?" Colin asked.
"You were right. I was possessed." I noticed Stripe sitting beside me. "It is not a diamond, it is an emerald... seven altogether. We must find this Adam fellow." Then I saw the sword. It transformed. "Look there!" I yelled.
A new portrait emerged on the other side of the cross-guard. It was a bat-winged beast with a human body; talon hands, and six horns atop its head.
"The devil himself," Stripe said.
"Look!" Colin yelled, pointing to the fuller. "Markings!"
Indeed. Engraved into the sword's indestructible blade was a line of unfamiliar emblems. Hieroglyphs, I suspect. They are as follows.
- A bowl
- An arm
- A lion
- A vulture
- A hand
- A snake or slug
- A chick
- A lion
- A tuning fork
I shuffled off my bed and straightened up. "The Island of Atlas, known to many as the island of Atlantis. Of course! A few days ago, I remember seeing Plato's Timeaus on Julian's desk. It is the first text to describe the fabled city."
"Then Julian knew all along?" Stripe clarified.
"No, that would be impossible. Maybe the book was given to him. An ally within the project."
"Or an enemy."
"Perhaps," I worried.
"And the Templars?" Colin asked.
"I do not know. Nor can I speak on the so-called Age of Enerjak. We must find this Adam fellow."
"Maybe the answer to everything is encrypted in these markings. If only we can read it."
"It is Egyptian," a small voice uttered.
We all turned around and saw a young boy—no older than the age of fourteen or fifteen—timidly and nervously standing in the doorway.
"I saw these symbols in a book I read," he continued.
"Egyptian... yes, of course!" I shouted. "They are just as the ones Champollion translated!"
"You must be Armand's boy. Antoine," Stripe smiled. "What are you doing here?"
"I saw a bright light, and thought it was a fire."
"You must leave here immediately."
"Wait, Thomas, the boy may be the only one who can understand these markings," I said.
"Are you able to decode this?" the general sternly asked.
"I can try, sir."
Antoine knelt beside the blade and ran his fingers across the engravings. I could see the cogs in his mind turning, studying, and assembling the puzzle piece by piece. He was very methodical, submerging himself in deep concentration.
"The word makes no sense," he finally said. "It is written with Egyptian hieroglyphs, but it is not an Egyptian word."
"What does it say?" Stripe ordered.
"K, A, H, R, A, H, D, F, W, R, C, H. Kah-rahd-fwrch?"
"Caldfwlch," I whispered.
"Maybe north European," the boy suggested.
"How could that be?" Colin asked.
"It is nonsense!" Stripe dismissed.
"No, I do not think it is," I replied. "I think we need to find Adam soon. Julian may be unknowingly participating in this scheme."
Now I must confess that I am duly frightened. Whatever we discovered—whatever we unleashed—extends far into the past and most certainly into our imminent. This grand design predates the creation of the Templar knights; it predates the Egyptian dynasties, classical Greece, and perhaps our earliest civilizations. It may even reach beyond the progeny of our species. Pandora's box has been opened, but not by us.
Per our recommendation, the emerald was entombed in an iron vault to forestall any further intrusion or devastation. Dogge no longer entertained the notion that the intruder instigated the explosion, but instead believed Julian's assertion that the diamond reacted to our atmosphere. The day neared its end. I scribbled down the word Caldfwlch on a piece of paper and handed it to von Schlemmer.
"Would you mind looking into the etymology of this word?" I asked.
"Sure, Charles. What is it?"
"Gibberish, I hope."