Merchants From Afar 4m1w42

Murchants From Afar

Hulgar Von Schnueff

Published by Bernard Harold Curgenven, 2021.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

MURCHANTS FROM AFAR

First edition. February 11, 2021.

Copyright © 2021 Hulgar Von Schnueff.

Written by Hulgar Von Schnueff.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 1

May we have this dance? The sudden flight of the former guide, and the wild cries of the pursuers, caused Henwood to remain fixed for a few moments in inactive surprise. Then recollecting the importance of securing the fugitive, he brushed aside the surrounding bush, and proceeded forward to lend a hand in the chase. A hundred yards on, he met up with the returning foresters, who were unsuccessful in their quest. “Find him!” he exclaimed. “Nobody’s safe while he’s at large.” “I heard it rustling through the fallen leaves like a camouflaged adder,” one man answered. “I think I caught a glimpse of the creature, a terrifying sight indeed! I fear it already has our scent in its nostrils.” “Nonsense man! We are four able-bodied hunters versus one wounded creature,” Henwood remarked. “Let’s change position immediately and throw our scent off, lest you would like to marvel upon your own drying scalps.” With great effort, Henwood’s eyes pierced the gloom beneath the overgrown arches in the forest, wondering whether his companions would willingly hand themselves over to the savages, who were certain to attack on their own territory, meaning during the dark of night. Their vision became deluded by bright light, which portrayed the swaying bush as beastly human beings. The fleecy clouds above were already taking on a rosy shade. They kept their tone to a whisper, and they debated on the propriety of measures that probably concerned the welfare of the travelers. But to Henwood, the delay seemed fraught with additional danger, and thus he was hasty. A wise man, who was whispering with a pitch above the others, bellowed from amongst the posse, “Be silent like the woods, and be sure to keep our destination a secret from all civilization.” His impatience was evident though. “We must not delay!” The audience seemed on edge with his earnest manner. He seemed to get

through to them though, filling their minds with fear. The scout helped them unmount their horses, after which he gathered the rest of the party. “What do we do with these villain animals?” the leader mumbled. “We can’t go soft on them now, can we?” His huge hand slithered towards his sheath, where the brass handle was protruding towards the sky. “Too much time wasted, sire!” the rider directly behind him bellowed out. “May I suggest you let them roam the woods? They may even heed an audible warning of immediate danger. Just then there was a movement behind a bush. “The colt!” the scout announced. “It must be stopped!” The leader leaped forward grabbed at the bridle. “This is a faithful beast,” he said, “and we will spare it, since it will bring us no harm.” The scout drew back on the bowstring. He aimed and let go, even before the opposition spoke again. He leaped forward and plunged his blade deep into its flesh, as it dropped to its knees, its ebbing life fading. The travelers stared in disbelief at this cruel act, but they dared not speak. Henwood drew his pistol and looked around eagerly, but he was offered no resistance. The horses were led towards the river, and a boat was unveiled, where it had been concealed by branches and leaves, beneath the river bank. The nose of the wooden vessel bobbed up and down as the posse mounted it. They listened for the whispers of the forest, as the boat began to slice through the ripples. Along the river, tall trees blocked out the starry zenith, and towered over the small boat. Some trees had stepped into the shallow rock-pools over time, and shrubs had grown in the fissures of their roots; any further and they would sink into a deep dell. A few hundred meters downriver, treetops emerged from below. “I knew it!” Henwood exclaimed. “See the clusters of green leaves? They are identical to the fallen leaves, only not as dark.”

“Do you suppose it’s a trap?” McDockel questioned, moving towards the center of the boat, as if expecting a monster to jump out of the water, snatch his arm and drag him down below, all in the blink of an eye! “Do you suppose the beasts have traced our retreat and gone ahead of us?” “Not unless they’ve discovered a secret age to the valley below,” Gerome spoke for the first time since the river journey commenced. They looked up from the swollen eddies and the leaves, only to face a cataract dead ahead. They witnessed the mysterious actions with hidden uneasiness. Despite the strong antipathies, and the stable character of Henwood’s associates, there was still much distrust caused by the recent treachery and the slaughter of the innocent beast. “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another,” Henwood offered them wisdom. “Quoting from proverbs again, are we? To what avail?” the scout mocked. “To what avail?” “Hush, you vile being!” McDockel exclaimed, going for his blade. “Or you will meet the same fate as the horse you slayed.” He was a man of few words, and he never believed in making idle threats. The gravity of Henwood’s manner remained immovable though. It was by the occasional gleams that shot across his swarthy visage, necessary to arouse his ions in order to give full effect to the device he had adopted to frighten his opponents. They all sat down to a meal at the long log table in the cabin. They lifted their tumblers in celebration. They had survived, the only thing they had to celebrate. They washed down their fears with the woodman’s well-laced draught. “You are hot tempered,” the scout sang, swaying to-and-fro on his seat, aiming his remark at McDockel, who dared to stand up to him earlier. “Will you be this brave when you are deserted and lost in the jungle, surrounded by the enemy?” “What purpose does your hostility serve?” McDockel answered abruptly with a question of his own. “An empire that is torn is certainly destined for doom.” He thought for a while and added, “Praise God, for I have seldom had occasion to

meddle with murderous implements. Well...never!” “Then what is it you do by profession, and how do you to propose to contribute towards our quest?” the scout persisted. “I follow my own vocation, which is teaching music,” McDockel itted. “But how is your music relevant in a situation stealth is detrimental to our survival?” the scout asked, frowning at the thought. “It is dark outside and we must sleep,” Henwood interrupted. “We will stir in the pride of the morning, for we have a long trek ahead.” “You mean at the crack of dawn?!” Lindel enquired, leaping to his feet at the far end of the table. “No! No!” cried the drunken scout. “The beast will feast upon the dark, and upon all who dwell onto his hunting ground. Rather, he is referring to first light.” Then he turned back to McDockel, “Do you have any desire at all to excel in this world?” The scout’s eyes rolled in their sockets and he suddenly clutched at his own throat, as some mysterious force lifted him from his seat. McDockel had let out a high pitch, led by his pious inclination and relish for control. The scout’s head twisted from side to side as McDockel altered the pitch and gently swayed his arms as a maestro would lead an orchestra. “Leave him be!” Henwood demanded. “Have you forgotten that he is our only form of guidance through this wilderness?” At this the scout dropped into his seat, gasping for air and as sober as a judge. They all returned to their blankets, leaving the weird sound-master to stoke the dying embers and entertain his spirit world. Early the following morning, the air seemed solemn yet slow. The rushing stream whispered with many voices and the pebbles seemed like roving eyes, eager to mislead the posse. They had all been awoken when their ears devoured a low chord with greedy rapture. However this sound proved deceiving when it was followed by an unearthly outward cry that seemed to shift the river pebbles from their bed. Then there was total silence, until nearby bats emerged from their

rock crevices and took to flight, no doubt displeased with the presence of harmonics. “Disrespectful creatures, hey!” Henwood mocked, staring at the man who was on his knees in some ritualistic act. “What are they?” Linden yelled, displaying fear, typical of all mortal beings, both civilized and barbaric. It was a barbaric sound indeed! “Is it the cry of the beast?” he pressed for reassurance. “Bats!” Henwood exclaimed with abrupt certainty, turning towards the scout, who shrugged his shoulders in-turn. “You have lived in this jungle for the most of a century. Do not deceive us!” “This is no familiar human or beast call,” the scout sighed in defeat. “For scripture’s sake man!” Linden expressed his fear openly. “Are you saying this creature has evolved into a new species, or do you suppose the trees have come to life?” “He speaks the truth,” McDockel uttered. “I sense the abnormal exhilaration in his manner. He is easily humbled when the answer is beyond his comprehension.” “Save your mystic tone,” Linden scorned. “Magic is overrated and your performance is pathetic!” He recovered from his crouched position and huffed a cloud of steam. He turned in disgust and ran towards the mouth of the cave beyond the wooden cabin. “Let him be. He is responsible for his own fate,” the scout said. “That vista ahead is a age through the mountain. The valleys beyond are enriched with magic and sacred treasures, which are guarded by dangerous native beasts, some human and some far from human.” “We will dwell in the shadows and seek shelter in caves,” Henwood grumbled, holding his chin high, whilst turning to McDockel “and we will take refuge when it is time for our newly elected leader to fight magic with magic.” This remark was met with giggles from the direction of the cabin, which soon evolved into fully fledged laughter and applause.

“No,” McDockel uttered with humility and was immediately met with silence. He certainly spoke with authority and was awarded respect from the group, for everyone knew he wasn’t one for small-talk and gossip. “The scout will continue to guide us, until he is no longer useful.” Needless to say, this remark was met with mixed feelings. They packed their possessions and headed for the secret tunnel, with Linden lagging behind the large lady in the rear. The cool and invigorating atmosphere of the waterfall’s spray dancing around pebble-pools, was soon replaced by the pent air of a dark, cold environment. The roaring water was reduced to an echo of trickling water, leaking through rock walls. They were forced to light oil torches upon entry of the tunnel. They were relying on the knowledge of a scout they hardly knew, and one of strange virtues too. He could easily be leading them into a trap. One thing was certain though, it was unfamiliar terrain and should be regarded as hostile, regardless of the intent! Suddenly the familiar unearthly sound echoed around them, and they momentarily stopped in their tracks in an attempt to track the direction of origin. It was to no avail though and panic took control. The possibilities of the unknown were frightening indeed. “Wounded creatures are particularly dangerous when they bleed. And I fear our pursuer may be familiar with this tunnel, probably ing through here on occasion to feed,” McDockel sang out silently. “Or it may be trapped and desperate,” Lindel interrupted. He had squeezed past the obese lady when he heard the unearthly cry. “Here, let the brier feast on the larger morsel, and hopefully its satisfied belly will weigh it’s eyelids down.” Once again the surrounding territory was littered with giggles. They pushed forward, hastening their paste, determined to make it out into the open, where the sense of vision would be a most useful tool in avoiding falling prey to the creatures of the dark. They lifted their boots high as they trod along, avoiding the sound of dragging feet, too afraid to expose their position. A sudden tumult caused them to seek shelter in a narrow chasm. There was a scuffle nearby. It seemed directly ahead of them, however the sounds of their beating hearts were hindering all rational observation. They were so close that the crisp of nightfall was rushing past, yet now they were prohibited from

reaching the promised-land! Their tickers strained at the increasing velocity and the most petrified, being Linden, had a taste of blood seeping into his lungs. As sudden as it had come upon them, the sound of struggle vanished, replaced by a ghostly complexion that sparkled in the light of the leading torch. It was the face of a ranger, and they hadn’t even noticed he had gone. “What’s the meaning of this?” the scout huffed beneath his breath. “Venison! We must eat. It’s almost sunrise and though they are in abundance now, soon the deer will return to their shelters,” the man explained. “You fool!” the scout yelled, blade erect in his hand. “What if this was a trap to lure us out? Why are these animals at peace? Because we are the prey!” He couldn’t deny grumbling within though. It was time to refuel their bodies, so they brought their torches together and formed a circle to cook the meat. Hair sizzled and finally flesh parted with the twist of eager blades.

Chapter 2

It was sunrise when they finally burst through the mouth of the tunnel with disdain, and the scout’s eyes began to flash with ardor. He drew his short-sword from its sheath, and lifted it to slash the creature that appeared before him. Henwood surprised his adversary with a blow to the neck and immediately the blade was released from the scout’s clutch. It rotated as it headed for a clear patch amongst the weeds. “It’s an innocent child, you fool!” Henwood yelled. The scout gasped in pain, with both hands grasping his neck. “There is evil disguise in this magic valley; nothing is what it seems. Do you really suppose here is a human settlement that isn’t hostile towards tresers? Keep up the foolhardy and you will soon become yet another delicacy to these savages. They build homes with fallen skulls and use grey matter in making medicine.” He removed his hands from his neck, revealing a horrific swelling, and retrieved his blade from the gravel. The painted boy-child was long gone! “Perhaps it’s time to take your place in the back of the group, as a captive, and we will call upon you as your so called ‘expertise’ is required,” Linden yelled from the back. “Perhaps it is time for me to take my leave. I am surely needed elsewhere, by a more deserving mob of thugs,” the scout hissed in rage. He replaced the blade in his sheath and waved his hands into the air, with his back turned towards them. “Then so be it!” Linden yelled from the rear. He had an arrow drawn and he had a clear shot at the scout’s rump. “No!” McDockel yelled, spinning around after sensing Linden’s intention. He lifted his hand and cast an invisible anomaly in the direction of the bow. The bow jerked upward, releasing the bow, which in turn whizzed past McDockel’s face. The speeding arrow found a new mark and the poisoned flint pierced the fleshy target. The swollen lump on the scout’s neck became decorated with blood and ink, and he dropped to his knees. A stray arrow, from an unknown destination, struck the man’s temple as he landed on his knees, ing straight

through. The obese woman and her two children yelled at the top of their voices. The loss of yet another scout gave vent to entangled emotions and several piteous exclamations! Linden was expelled from the group and sent off to take his chances with the beasts of the pink valley. “There will be no hostility amongst ourselves, for we are all in this together,” McDockel instructed, finally taking up the reigns. They found a stone path which barely resembled the mark of civilization, with its deceiving bushes and jagged edges. The path was long and winding and mostly shaded by tall cedar trees. It led them on a two day journey to the foot of a mountain, where it simply disappeared beneath the rocky base. It was a remarkable find indeed, and most confusing, to say the least. Upon arrival, there was silence in the frontline, with the remaining three leaders lending their ears to any hint of movement from within the rock crevices. There had to be a way up or through this obstacle, towards their final destination, assuming they were on the right path after all! It would seem they were trapped, and scaling the slippery rock surface was not an option. There was dense bush to either side, and at first chopped away, hoping to discover a concealed pit or doorway. But instead, they were hindered by complaints from the survivors, all six of them, who were only concerned with their digestive glands. Even the fat lady was looking thinned and weathered. “We desperately need sustenance,” she snorted, before emptying her bag on the ground. Her throat was dry and so she coughed dryly in anticipation. They were almost fresh out of venison and vegetables, but finding the savages who cultivated the land was not an option. Two days of camping beneath the stars went by, and the foresters had managed to push the hostile bush back on either side of the path, creating a clearing the size of a large shed, for the construction of their shelter, which would eventually be composed of logs and mud. In fact several nearby trees were already being hacked and sawed, and the tallest of them would be used for a long ladder that would assist them in reaching a ledge halfway up the mountain. The idea was to seek a secret tunnel beyond the platform, one that would lead them into the mountain.

Should there be no tunnel beyond the ledge, the ladder would be hoisted up and used to reach further up the mountain, and should they need to make a hasty retreat from the rock face, they would find safe refuge in the log fort at the foot of the mountain.

Chapter 3

The log ladder was finally built. It stood fifty feet high and five foot wide and poles were made from tree trunks, which were cross-woven with hardened branches at intervals. It was a majestic creation indeed. Two weeks had gone by since the first tree was cut down, and the log cabin already had a roof. In this time they had survived off the fruit of the valley, often hunting small prey which represented rabbits, but there was no name in their vocabulary for this animal. The steps of the ladder were ed to one another with diamond braces already mentioned, and they were secured with ropes, fitting with perfection like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It was time to, so they took what they needed and strapped their possessions to their backs, and began the steep climb in pairs, strapped to one another for safety. “Heaven forbid that we should die on this mountain, and the birds will prey on our flesh,” Henwood mumbled after the first step. “But mankind has sold its rights to immortality, when they first began to take the lives of their own. We bartered with the blood, in acceptance of the blade. Would our soles be any less tormented on solid ground or on the bed of the ocean?” McDockel answered with a question, however rhetorical! His words weren’t comforting at all, and silence fell upon the pair as they ascended along the wall. The ladder was ed against the side of the cabin, on one side, and on the other side it was held in place by three men with ground-spikes and ropes. The climbing pairs were dispatched two-hundred counts apart, to keep them from clashing and to distribute the weight evenly. The wind was tugging at the climbers, and grew stronger with height. The howling wind was treacherous at the highest tip of the ladder, by the time the leading pair of climbers reached the ledge of a level plain. From below it appeared as a small balcony, but from close-up the ledge revealed a hidden world of splendor. It seemed they had invaded a ghostly territory; McDockel and Henwood were staring at an enormous rock frame, possibly an ancient temple carved by natives of the mountain. It was unlike anything they had ever seen,

with its opaque appearance; the dome roof rested on huge pillars, which in-turn were ed by an inner wall with giant windows. There were no doors securing the arches, so they were reluctant to inspect the interior of the structure, once they had safely secured the top of the ladder to a nearby boulder. By the time Henwood and McDockel had made their way through the archway into the splendor of golden light, the following pair of climbers were pulling themselves onto the rock plain. The opaqueness of the interior seemed to be enjoying a concentration of sunlight. Somehow the invisible beams were trapped within the structure and turned into gold. It truly was a magnificent sight, so much that the light at the center of the room absolutely blinding, and they couldn’t look directly into the source. Instead they squinted their eyes and walked along the interior of the wall, only to discover that it actually spiraled deeper into the mountain, sinking into the abyss. Henwood stayed behind to mark the spot, while McDockel went back to gather the crowd, and it was less than two hours before they were all caught up and awaiting further instruction. They continued on their descent after a briefing, and they were astonished at the well-lit ageway. There was no staircase and no loose pebbles to disturb. Once again there was silence as they went on their way, treading carelessly, until the ground beneath them levelled-out and sank beneath...a pool of water! The water was smooth, up to the point of experiencing a disturbance from the invading travelers. McDockel would have objected, but thirst fueled the group’s ambition and they threw themselves into the pool, and swam about joyfully. Henwood scooped-up a handful of water and put it to his mouth, before finally speaking, “Saltless water and crisp like mountain air.” He gulped down another scoop, before continuing.” Beware this is a trap. The monster may be from the lake, sent to lure us here and feed his kindle.” “There is too much light for the depth of a dungeon, and too much water for a rock-pool; this could be a lake leading out to the ocean, “McDockel answered. “But what is that?” he pointed. His observation was contagious, and soon every member of the group turned to stare into the distance. A hundred yards from the rocky shore was a boat, embedded in a bank of mud. It glowed with the golden fleece of a lion.

“Can you swim?” Henwood enquired. “Good grief!” McDockel exclaimed. “If we were meant to swim, we would have gills like the great megalodon. “Then I will walk until the water-level reaches my chin, and float the remainder of the distance. I will signal you when I reach the deck, and you will know that the lake is spared from your sea-monster. He wasted no time slicing his way through the water. He submerged ever so slowly, and eventually he was beyond the point of casting a visible wake. The crowd looked on in anticipation, ready to flea at the first sign of hostility from below. Henwood disappeared beneath the surface only momentarily, before his head reappeared. Then it went about bobbing with every stroke; he was a trained swimmer after all, and somehow he managed to keep afloat under the weight of his weapons and light armor. He vanished from sight once he reached the mud island, but reappeared against the golden silhouette of the mast soon afterwards. His dark silhouette was complemented by the golden background, which signified first light, a new beginning! They all reached the safety of the ship and marveled at the splendor, both above and below deck. Where was the crew? There was none, but a youthful lady in blue, and boyish too. Was she the one who betrayed the Catholic faith, banished from clergy for her treachery and the scandal it caused throughout the western world! Soon the hull began to sway with the incoming tide. The beach was pushed back and the lake became wide. The mud dissolved and the wood began to drift. The boyish captain took the stern and her new crew was anxious to learn. The vessel steered towards the light, but this was no end to their plight. The swells toyed with the stern, dancing around their host. Captain Elsebe Pradensia told of her venture and the loss of her crew. She spoke with wisdom and sorrow. She and her crew of six had been sent to rescue the royal scouts and their companions, on the direct orders from Nepolian’s court, in alliance with the Spanish secret service. They faced the worst storms imaginable and were lost at sea. The ship came too close to the coast of the war stricken Africa, and the crew bailed in fear of their lives. She was the sole survivor, and determined to fulfill

her obligation to country and emperor. “Mepolian is not of Royal lineage,” Henwood argued. “He has thrown the world into revolt, and we are sure to be beheaded. We must seek refuge at the nearest port and we must not be captured.” “We will sink the ship off the coast of Greece. Here!” a familiar voice whispered from the plotting room, hardly audible above the sound of creaking wood. “Hush now for the captain is loyal to the guard. She must suspect none.” They peeped in from the age. “Linden!” McDockel exclaimed in surprise. “You murderous creature. What is your game?” “You are the victim of entrapment, but I am sworn to hold my tongue. You only need to know that I was sent to sabotage the mission,” Linden explained. “By whose authority do you act? Are you with the ship?” McDockel spoke. “Sir Henwood, you are of royal dynasty. Your bloodline descends from Prussia. is only the beginning. Nepolian plans to rule the world and deploy governors to replace every dynasty. I am party to a secret organization, which you may not know of.” Linden briefed them. “Now come in and study the map. Make haste; you must return to your duties before the girl in blue returns. I will continue to stowaway, but we will gather in two weeks from this day. Thus the day came when the ship was steered onto the rocks off the shore of Greece, and the hull was ruptured. The ship was torn apart and the waves played. Before she sank, the girl in blue suffered at the hands of her own blade. The crew was tossed around whilst swimming to shore, and three were met with fatality. They watched the golden mast sink, swallowed by the storm. Soon the tide changed and there was no trace of the wreck. Beyond the beach was a wall of dwellings, pink with first light. They were found and rescued by a merchant known as Hulgar from Prussia. They were reunited with civilization and fed and clothed once more. Then they waited in anticipation, until the time was ripe for the truth to be revealed unto them. .

Chapter 4

“Dark days will fall upon the Earth, when mankind will rely on an automated source of power to cook food, and then a worshipped network of machines will control minds. Employment will be scarce and war will alter the world. Mortal man will become too lazy to walk, and wheels will replace limbs,” Hulgar foretold, with tears pulsating from pearled eyes. “They think a blind woman does not see, but their ignorance becomes them. Someday I will be reincarnated as proof of this vision, to watch my dynasty perish, yet I cannot tell if and when you will return.” These were the final words she uttered on her deathbed. ∞ Hulgar’s Return: I clearly flummox these hangdogs with my splendor, but I refuse to offer a hint of remorse, as I watch one flyleaf after another being ripped from my diary, making no effort to foment their folly, and overlooking the fylfot dangling above their heads, in fear that they may completely dismantle my heirloom. All ungrateful hypocrites in this room! Curse these histrionic peasants, for they are nothing but heinous fools! Their dynasties are a joke and they are not fit to be called Herrenvolk! The futurologist in the back of my mind assures me that they will all be shamed on the day of recollection, when Herr Schnueff’s spirit returns to complete the disinfection. From the battlefield can be heard the cries, a new haunting soul each time another dies, betrayed by sword and bayonet, toxin and political lies. Last night I stepped into the twilight and beneath my foot I rolled a frog, and I gasped as if breathing in the toxic smog. At first light I found its lifeless limbs, and immediately my remorseful-self wept, for the blood on my hands is not yet dry, and in my lungs lingers the scent of death.

A pointless life was awarded me, and I fear that soon I too will take my final breath! ∞ Testimony of the Poet: I spent a long time convincing myself that I was a failure. My innovations failed to reach people. My written words weren’t accepted by society. I blamed myself and society. A voice in the back of my mind would repetitively announce, “I am a failure, I am a failure...” Often the conversation would progress to, “I despise myself,” since everything I tried, simply failed! I often wondered why God allowed this form of self-torture. I was shown people who suffered far worse than me and told that no person is without problems, yet I chose to continue in my self-pity. This continued until I was led to a meeting with a pastor in a missionary. I walked out without discussing how I felt, but I wondered whether I was meant to reach out. That night I realized, through my insomnia, that we are all failures without the presence of God, and then I ed that it is written somewhere in the bible...

Chapter 5

80 years later: Waterslide Beat was sold out in three weeks, and the first tenants, she and Farlowen, moved in some 10 months later. As she slowly drove down the hillside roadway, she looked at her home, built on the prime position of the estate. The clubhouse was a hive of activity on this particular afternoon, with people moving in and out of the parking area, unloading the floral displays with flare for tonight’s special event. Their home was not large enough to host the anniversary dinner for Farlowen and her, so the clubhouse was the logical venue. It was hard to believe that they had been married for 20 years, years filled with vicissitudes. Farlowen had an eye for women, and she had spent many an evening tossing in bed while he was carousing with the latest mistress, or mistresses. Even the plethora of diamonds, in all shapes and sizes, had never dulled the hurt and pain dismay. Shelan shook herself back to the present, and pressed the remote for the garage door. She noticed that the Silver Shadow was already parked, which meant that her son Parsons had managed to leave the office early and make it home in time for the party. He was aged 22. Farlowen had deliberately employed him. “Bugger this! My son and I will show him that no matter what happens, we will survive!” The garage door closed silently behind her, and Hulgar, her 18-year-old daughter, stormed into the garage. “Mom, the clubhouse is absolutely beautiful.” “Oh damn, I’ve done it again! Hulgar, come here my darling and allow mommy to give you a kiss, and then help me unload the groceries; I have spent too much of your father’s money today! The big parcel is yours, a dress for tonight. With matching shoes and hair accessories in the smaller green one.”

Hulgar was soon fitted the dress to her perfect figure. “Mommy, it is stunning! I love it; you have such a good eye!” Shelan smiled as she turned toward the patio, murmuring under her breath, “My darling daughter, you have not mastered elegance yet.” He walked into the lounge where she was unloading the parcels onto the dresser. “Mom, let me help you. Are the shops clearing all their stock to make way for over? You’ve bought far too much.” “I don’t suppose the old man’s here yet?” Shelan asked. “No, he just called to say that there is a problem at the new development. I have been to the clubhouse and the decor looks great!” “My baby, what would I do without you? I am worried that the guests will not stick to the dress code.”

Chapter 6

Shelan looked at herself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom. At 47, she honestly looked fantastic! Her long black hair was still thick and regular visits to her personal hairdresser kept the grey far away. Her body was still that of a younger woman, tested monthly by her fitting into the wedding dress from decades ago. She stepped into the shower and turned the jets full. When she stepped out, Farlowen was standing in the bathroom, a bath sheet wrapped around him. “Farlowen, I have to make myself desirable for the other men who will be here tonight.” “Shelan, no man will ever have the pleasure of taking you away from me. “Farlowly, my dear, I don’t give a damn for material accruements that testify to an imperfect life. This house is envied by many, but they do not have to live under its unhappy roof!” ∞ It was finally over. The party had been hugely successful, and Shelan had been the belle of the ball, befitting her role in the estate. Farlowen had behaved, even managing to pay her attention, and his speech had been flattering and rather touching. Some of the guests had teary eyes at the end, and she had wiped away theatrically too. His gift to her, over and above the car, was a magnificent platinum ring, set with ruby and tanzanite. The guests were ecstatic when he presented it. Her gift to him was a new car to complement his other mode of transport, a Porsche. At 5o Farlowen believed in the magnetic effect of fast vehicles. She walked with Parsons from the clubhouse, holding his arm protectively. “Mom, Dad really did try tonight. The ring must have cost a fortune, and the

dress you bought probably cost as much too!” She laughed. “My son, this is a payoff for the new mistress, that slutty new PA with her smile and stilettoes! They reached the front door of the house. “Darling, wait here for your father and Hulgar. I just want to check on the guesthouse, god forbid that Granny and Grandfather Wright find something out of place!” He smiled ruefully and nodded his head. “We’ll see you inside!” She had just walked down the steps leading from the pool to the lower wooden deck, when a figure appeared from behind the hedge. “Who are you, and how did you get onto the estate?” The figure turned to face her, and she saw a young man, of about 30, dressed in a black. He had dirty blonde hair, and a blonde beard covered most of his face. “Greetings Mommy!”

Chapter 7

Shelan walked toward the guest cottage. She had to be careful; Parsons and Hulgar were still in the conservatory, eating breakfast before they set off, Parsons to the office, and Hulgar to University, where she studied as a dietician. Shelan banished the disparaging thought from her mind as she knocked gently on the door. “Open up quickly, there are eyes all over!” A sleepy head appeared. “Mommy, are you bringing me breakfast in bed?” “Look, I only allowed you to stay here because I could not get you away from the house last night. I don’t know why you are here, but after you have showered, you must leave. I have some money for you too; just go somewhere else.” The man allowed the sheet to drop from his body. He wore black jocks and his body was in perfect shape. Blue eyes stared straight at her. “I am here to meet your family. I plan to stay!”

Chapter 8

Wesley first noticed her the moment he stepped into the congregation. It was not too crowded, and she was hard to ignore, with a great body, shown off to perfection in a white halter-neck top that ended above her navel, a short black skirt, legs that were encased in black stockings and black stilettoes. ∞ Vendal’s birth: Shela lay back on the hospital bed, weeping as Sister Sanita Damitri presented the small bundle to her. “This is your son. He is a fine young lad, and you can hold him until the adoption agency people get here. You are allowed to name him.” The nun was petite, energetic woman, who had taken to Shela from the minute her parents left her at the convent, the day after she had finished writing her final Matric exam. Wesley Drikkelsow had been forced to resign. Her parents had made it clear that after the birth, Shela would be sent to live with her aunt Ruby. “Sister, today is my birthday. I want to name him Vendal, and he can take my surname. Now, please hide him from me.”

Chapter 9

Three years later: Shelan lifted her head off the pillow. Aunt Ruby must have done it while she was asleep. She reached for the flannel gown and tiptoed to the bathroom; it was still dark and very cold. From the downstairs kitchen, she could hear sounds of breakfast being prepared; it was going to be served to her in bed, as Ruby did on all special occasions. Happy birthday! Her diction had begun to emulate the women of upper class strata. The phone call home was a waste of time; her parents wished her with no emotion, and her younger brother, Evan, summed it up succinctly. “Why must I even congratulate her when I don’t know her?” ∞ The phone rang and Ruby answered, “Ruby speaking.” “That was Edward; he has invited us to Marble House tomorrow, to a belated luncheon. He may propose to you yet!” “Ruby! He is my benefactor, he’s too old for me.” That night Ruby cheered her up by reading from grandma Hulgar’s diary: ∞ Apparently the great Berlin finally fell in 1945 and few Germans managed to escape through tunnels that were constructed after world-war-1. Amongst these civilians were a small group of Nazis and Gustapo who were left behind to safeguard Hitler’s headquarters.

The survivors spread out throughout Europe and the Americas, where they gained new identities. Great hardships followed however, and soon it was discovered that Hulgar was the last of the Gustapo. She was rescued by a Latin American war veteran who took her as his concubine. She learned to speak Spanish and English fluently, but sadly he was brutally murdered before they got to the altar. She had been the target of the attack, it would seem! She then managed to get age on a Spanish ship and fled to the continent of Africa, where she lived out her days.

Chapter 10

Edward was waiting in the study, and held Shelan tight. “My dear girl, I trust you had a wonderful day shopping yesterday? Allow me to give you something small, as a token of my love.” He pulled on the tasselled bell-pull, and a butler appeared, bearing an envelope. “Uncle Edward, I cannot possibly accept this! What will your family say?” “Shelan, my brother is a drunk, and my nephew, Farlowen is in another town, heading up the business which I started before coming here. The papers announced her his ward; the name changes from Shela Von Schnueff to Shelan Jarden, and finally the titles to three of his properties. ∞ Through the window, a tall brown-haired chauffeur was leaning against the car, waving to Edward. The beating of her heart told Shelan that she had met the man who would restore her faith in men. ∞ Wright Development and Architects welcomed her into the fold, and she was soon engrossed in helping with projects. Shelan and Farlowen were not staying together though; she insisted on a ‘proper’ courting, and moved into the home that Edward had given her.

Chapter 11

Shelan forced herself out of her reverie and listened to the young man who stood in front of her, holding the money she had given him in his hands. “What is this, hush money? I am not going anywhere until we have had a long chat. I have been through hell, from the day you pushed me out of your womb. You pushed me out and then turned me over to an adoption agency. Did you ever think about me?” “Leave, before I have you thrown out!” “I think not!” “Look here, young man. You expect me to just accept that you are my son! You could be anyone.” “I am your son, Shelan, and I am staying here until we have resolved this! ∞ Parsons and Hulgar were finishing up their breakfast. “Mother, we thought you had forgotten ,” they said simultaneously. Her smile was beatific, as she reached for the coffee the maid had just served. “Thank you Selena. Has Chef prepared breakfast for the old folk? I want to take it to them.” ∞ Madusa and Farlow Wright were both freshly showered and welcomed her with a kiss as she wheeled in the trolley. The small party of three spoke briefly and then she managed to send the folks off on a venture. ∞

Shelan pushed the trolley through the kitchen’s sliding doors and made her way to the guest cottage, with the leftovers. Vendal was seated in the lounge, dressed in all black. “I trust those are clean clothes, and not what you had on last night?” He laughed derisively as he reached for the plates of food. “I am hungry!” “I have sent the family away until Sunday, by which time we must have this situation sorted out. I can help you with money, new clothes, and maybe even a job somewhere else.” “I am here to stay, to claim my rightful place in the Wright dynasty!”

Chapter 12

The wedding day started overcast and windy. Ruby was her maid of honour, and walked behind the bridesmaid with a huge smile, and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Farlowen wept unashamedly as he watched her approaching to the strains of the Wedding March played by a string quartet. “My god, you are absolutely beautiful! I will always cherish this moment, my darling.” ∞ The trouble started after Parsons was born, and Shelan began to doubt the veracity of sudden late night meetings, business trips etc. Yehall Maat had started working for the company three years before, and Shelan recognised that he was in love with her from the very beginning of their working relationship. She called him to the house one Thursday morning when Farlowen was on another of his business trips. “Yehall, I am not stupid or blind! Farlowen is screwing that floozy in the department.” The floozy left soon after, with Farlowen’s child in her womb. ∞ Her musing ended with a loud burp from Vendal. “You are an excellent chef too.” His wicked smile spoke volumes about his sarcasm. “Vendal, who are you exactly? You arrive at a secure estate, claiming to be my son, with a whole bag of badness and hatred to boot! Why should I believe a word from your mouth?” Vendal stood up and poured coffee for both of them. “Here mommy dearest,

maybe this will help you to understand who I am.” ∞ After they had both composed themselves, Vendal excused himself to use the bathroom and Shelan took the opportunity to search through the bedroom. “I have missed you Vendal; welcome into the family!” ∞ “Yehall, I have another task for you this morning. I need everything you can find on two people, Vendal, and Wesley Drikkelsow.”

Chapter 13

The first thing she taught her prodigal son was how to dismantle and reassemble a PC, and then she moved on to more involved methods of computer training. Within two months he was an expert at hacking, writing programs and deg web sites, running a server, and blogging. Her business flourished when he began to design and create sites for local businesses. His first solo mission was to find his parents, and after three days he had a history of both Shela and Wesley. Wesley had raped another young student a year after Shela, and was finally arrested and sentenced. Vendal was waiting at the prison gates when Wesley was released on ‘good behaviour’, and he walked to the old leather–faced man who stood on the pavement, looking left and right before deciding in which direction to walk. “Wesley Drikkelsow? I am Vendal, the son borne of you.” Wesley was uncertain and looked at Vendal through rheumy eyes. Vendal was shocked; it was his own face, his eyes, his dimples, but so old and tired. “Oh lord, never let me be like this, please!” he pleaded as he raised his shirt, enough to allow Wesley to see the revolver tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “I am here to talk, nothing more! You need somewhere to stay.”

Chapter 14

Vendal was seated before the computer in the study, just off the lounge area in his bedroom. “More dirt on Farlowen Wright! What a pompous fool. You are just a man who is inherently as bad as Wesley, saved only by money!” ∞ Vendal had just boiled the kettle when he heard the elevator stop outside the hall. He knew it had to be Shelan, but was surprised to see another man standing with her. Tall, well built, rugged, obviously fit, and smiling like a Cheshire cat. “Vendal darling, I want you to meet Yehall Maat, head of security, and a very good friend of mine. He knows about you, so we can talk openly... Yehall, meet my lost son, Vendal.” His handshake was firm, and Vendal recognised the looks ing between them. “Yehall, it is good to meet you. Mom, this is a nice surprise, are the other two due home anytime soon?” “The airport is closed down due to bad weather, and I have instructed the pilot to rather stay overnight than attempt heroics! I would really like a coffee; shall I make it while you two get better acquainted?” Her obvious innuendo was not missed by either man, and Vendal suggested they move onto the patio. “Yehall, I gather that you and my mother are more than just ‘good friends’! I can see the look of love in her eyes, and the clearly visible aura of satisfaction she is emanating!” ∞ Shelan awoke to the sound of her cell phone ringing, and immediately thought

the worst, until she ed telling Parsons to phone her once they were at the airport. “Mom, all is well here. The weather is perfect, and we are due to lift off in about 30 minute’s time. The wind direction means we will take off and fly over the sea before turning inland...so we will have some good views as we ascend. We’ll be home for breakfast!” “I am very pleased my darling, I have missed you two this weekend. Tell Gareth to fly the most direct route, I love you.” Yehall kissed her deeply, and then whispered in her ear, “I love, Lady Wright!” She hit him playfully on his chest. “Is it not a tad early to be declaring your undying love to me? You have only known me for a few days!” “Shelan, you have been on my mind from the day I came to Wright Development.” He finished dressing and she saw him off at the front door. She knew that further sleep would evade her, so she moved into the kitchen, where she prepared her breakfast. By this time Vendal was awake too, and decided to do some laps before he showered and made himself breakfast. ∞ Shelan looked at herself in the mirror, before she left the dressing room. Her hair was pitch-black and lustrous as usual, with no sign of greying anywhere.

Chapter 15

Simon was revitalised, freshly shaved and a glowing oiled skin, when he ed Candice at the dining room table Candice was patient, waiting for him to feel comfortable “Candice, I think I have found my missing cousin! On Monday morning when I got to my car, a file was on the bonnet, sealed in a plastic Ziploc bag.” He produced the file from his briefcase and Candice perused the photos. “This is all you have, a few photos of a wealthy socialite? No explanations?” “Believe me, it’s all I need! I could use a bonus right now, and here it is, served on a silver platter.” “Her name is Shelan? Sounds like a bloody superhero! Forget her anyway; I’ve called you here with important information.” “What can possibly be more important than a life of luxury that awaits me?” “Try a life of fear, my dear Simon!” “I don’t follow!” Simon said. “Your cousin has been released from prison. He knows you framed him.” “Wesley!” “Exactly! It gets worse; you have a bastard son with the same intention as you.” “Wesley!” Simon repeated, staring past Candice. At this point Candice turned around to see the old man behind her. Wesley was the worse for wear and he stared directly at his brother, without budging, until he finally collapsed to the marble floor, cracking his skull. There was little blood from the wound though, since his heart had already stopped.

“What the!” Candice exclaimed as she tried to catch the body. She checked his pulse as he lay frozen on the cold floor. He was dead, due to a heart attack it would seem. “Oh the irony of it all,” she said, giving little thought to Simon’s feelings. “I mean the man survives the torment of decades in prison, only to die before he gets to enjoy his freedom.” “No! My cousin! I’m so sorry,” Simon screamed, jumping to his feet, tears running down his cheeks. “It should have been me in prison, and it should be me lying dead on the cold floor. I can’t bear the remorse. Lord, if only we could change places!” “Yes, if only you could change places. How could you do this to me?” the voice bellowed in anger from within the blinding light of the open doorway, behind the dead man. “You killed him,” the voice added an accusation. “What? No, you don’t understand! He’s my cousin,” Simon explained in desperation, holding his hand before his eyes, in an attempt to block out the blinding light. It really was a feeble attempt though. “Who are you? Show yourself. Are you with him?” Simon finally closed his burning eyes, as Candice fainted before him, clearing a age for more light beams. “Vendal Von Schnueff. You knew my mother, didn’t you?” Simon choked on saliva in his throat. His face turned blue as he fought to regain his breath, but he just couldn’t clear his lungs. Vendal leaped forward and punched Simon in the sola-plexis, until a stream of spit shot out from his open mouth. Simon bowled over with his head in the plate of soup before him. Vendal then plucked him to his feet and wrapped strong arms around his ribcage. The arms tensioned sending a sharp pain through Simon’s upper body, forcing him to gasp for air. He began to breathe deeply and gradually settled to an upright position. Simon looked up, only to be blinded once again by the bright sunlight streaming in from the open doorway. This time however, there was no figure in the doorway. He hadn’t even had the opportunity to study the being who had attacked him. The man had disappeared like a phantom, leaving only a name, a name that sent a chill through his aching bones.

Simon looked down and nudged the girl with his boot. She stirred and groaned, and then she sat up. He helped her to her feet and then back into her seat. Around them, people who were chatting away earlier, now stood back with all eyes on the dead man. Simon was certain that he hadn’t imagined the entire ordeal, but he was too afraid to ask whether anyone else had seen the phantom who was supposedly his nephew. He wondered how much they had heard and seen. Did he actually incriminate himself before an audience! He looked down at the file before him on the table. It seemed undisturbed, which was a clear indication of his imagination running wild again, until he noticed it was empty. The pictures of his victim were missing. “I’m sorry cos,” he whispered. “I must find you. I think we have a bastard son with a vendetta.”

Chapter 16

Vendal was finally part of the cosy upper class family. He blended in well, being a fast learner. Finally, a real brother and sister, the thing he longed for the most during his years of being tossed between foster homes. His mother seemed to accept him for who he was, a dream come true! “Hey bro, I understand where your name derived from, but you sis, I’m curious about your name,” Vendal mumbled on after a tall glass of red wine. “Mom!” his sister huffed, her hands on her hips, as if annoyed. Shelan sighed as all three her children began to giggle. “Alright, it’s time for the truth.” She sipped on her Irish coffee, gathering the courage to follow through with opening a new can of worms. Vendal reached across the table and took his mother’s hand in his. “First there’s something I need to say. He will never bother anyone again.” “Who are you talking about?” Hulgar asked. “Your dad or mine?” She sneered; she was being sarcastic. “He means his father,” Shelan replied on his behalf. Then she looked up at her firstborn. “My informant tells me it was a heart attack, but the question remains, did you cause it?” “I’m shocked that you should feel this way. I spent years getting over my hatred for him. In fact, I think I actually grew to love him. He died before my eyes.” “I’m sorry, son,” she said with tears in her eyes, squeezing his hand. “I have a confession to make,” Vendal itted. “I paid for his apartment in town and found him the job. “You did well, even though it was under false pretenses. The money I mean...” She shook her head before continuing. “I too have a confession to make. My informant was present when his heart stopped. She never saw much after she

fainted, but she recognized your voice.” “She is a gold digger, mommy. She was about to sell you out to my real father,” Vendal lowered his head as he spoke. “What do you mean?” Hulgar enquired. “This story is becoming interesting.” “I overheard her speaking to Wesley’s cousin, Simon. It was Simon who hurt you and set Wesley up, and Candice was in cahoots with him.” Vendel nodded his head and watched his mother’s face for a reaction, but she was suddenly as cold as ice. She froze and he added, “Wesley was not my father after all. He was an innocent man with a vendetta.” “No, it can’t be! I ruined an innocent man’s life. Please tell me this is all a silly prank,” Shelan cried our under her breath. Her daughter and younger son were equally as shocked at the news. Hulgar stood up abruptly and left the table, without excusing herself. She waved at Parsons, who rolled his eyes in boredom. “Mom, I did a background check on them. They are of German descent and they belong to a group sworn to avenge traitors from the second world war,” he explained, looking confused by his own demise. “Does any of this make any sense at all?” “Actually it’s a clear as daylight. I found my grandmother Hulgar’s diary amongst my dad’s belongings. She was amongst the last of the Gustapo to leave Berlin towards the end of the war. She escaped and would therefore be considered a traitor to the Nazi regime.” Shelan stood up and wobbled over to the kitchen counter, with the intention of preparing a fresh flask of tea. “I’m here to stay, mommy, and I won’t let your cousin and his mobsters ruin your life,” Vendal called after her. “There’s more you need to know,” she answered. “My grandmother’s father was a merchant and artist from Greece. He and his wife rescued a crew from a merchant ship that ran ashore during a severe storm. They were handsomely rewarded for their heroics, since one of the crew was a nobleman. Legend has it that they managed to salvage the wrecked ship, which was made of gold. My grandmother used her power as a Gustapo to track down the dismantled gold treasure. She was in the process of writing a book on the ship and its crew, based on the information given to her by her parents. It seems the

book was never completed and thus she never revealed the whereabouts of the hidden treasure.” “Perhaps this Simon knows more than we think! Or perhaps this Candice knows more than she should, and Simon is using her to get to your inheritance,” Vendal said, thoughtfully. ∞ “Mother!” Hulgar exclaimed over lunch. “I have spent the entire morning reading through your grandmother’s unfinished novel. “You seem intrigued, or puzzled to say the least,” Shelan answered, raising an eyebrow. “Actually there is something rather odd here.” She removed the musty handwritten pocket book from her coat pocket, and opened to a predetermined page. The marker dropped to the floor. “It’s about the captain who rescued the archaeologists. “Well...spit it our girl!” Shelan coughed. “Her name was Elsebe Pradensia. You don’t get it, do you?” Hulgar stared at her mother in anticipation. She shook her head and continued. Your friend Candice once told me that her maiden name was Pradensia.” “There are just too many coincidences lately,” she whispered. “The conniving worm!” Shelan huffed, slamming her fists on the table. Her kids were amused by her reaction and giggled amongst themselves. They finished the day off quietly. The sweet little family reunion was a welcome change from the splendor of huge parties. They ate their supper from a buffet, embracing the newly found silence. They paid little attention to one another as their minds were leant out to merchants from afar. What did destiny hold in store for them? Vendal was too embarrassed to reveal his secret. Nobody was to know that Candice was his cousin from a former foster family. They would immediately suspect that he was in on a plot to steal his mother’s dynasty, which was not the case! He would have to deal with the matter in secret.

∞ “Yehall, I seem to be over my head with this one. Can I confide in you? I’m afraid I have news that may prove too stressful for my mother right now,” Vendal whispered to Yehall, once everyone else had left the table, each to their particular chores. ©author Hulgar Von Schnueff https://artist.com/bernard-curgenven-2681/