The Wizard's Journal: Blood Moon - Book 1

By T. J. Hunter

After discovering an artifact in Egypt, Johnathan travels to the Gate of the gods in Peru and begins a journey that has waited 25,000 years. It is here, at a remote site in the Peruvian mountains, where Jonathan Willington ceases to exist and Azul the most powerful wizard ever is reborn. What was once a simple life is no more as the former archeologist realizes his true identity and embraces destiny. At the top of Azul’s monster list is an ancient shape shifting god. Now, in our modern day world, Azul discovers that prominent business professionals and politicians still serve the shapeshifter and are leaving a blood trail of misery and death. Humans are no longer the dominant species as they are hunted for food and sport. Even so, mankind is not alone in the fight against darkness and there is hope as the great wizard rises once again in their time of need.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fantasy Realm Press
• Release date: Jul 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311531889

Book preview

The Wizard’s Journal

Blood Moon

by

T. J. Hunter

Copyrighted 2014 Fantasy Realm Press

Smashwords eBook Edition

www.fantasyrealmpress.com

ISBN Paperback: 978-0-615-94898-0

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, including electronic or mechanical means or storage or retrieval systems, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, unless obtaining written permission from the publisher.

This novel is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are solely the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, establishments, events, or places is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over the author’s work and does not assume any responsibility, including web-sites, other publications, or similar content.

A note from the author:

Thank you for downloading The Wizard Journal – Blood Moon.

Since being a kid, I have always enjoyed stories about the classic monsters that made me spill my popcorn in movie theaters. Who could resist Bela Lugosi as Count Dracula, Lon Chaney, Jr. as the Wolf Man, or Boris Karloff as Frankenstein. In honoring these classic greats, I wrote a novel series that reflects our modern time and society for a new generation of monster fans.

I hope you enjoy Blood Moon available on paperback and eBook at quality book retailers.

Best wishes,

Thadicus J. Hunter

https://www.facebook.com/thadicus.hunter

https://twitter.com/ThadicusHunter

The Wizard Journal series currently scheduled for publication – Copyrighted 2014 all rights reserved:

Blood Moon (book 1) – first printing and eBook scheduled July 15, 2014

ISBN eBook: 978-1-311-53188-9

ISBN Paperback: 978-0-615-94898-0

Vampiric Curse (book 2) – first paperback printing and eBook scheduled for September 30, 2014

Witches Brew (book 3) – first paperback printing and eBook scheduled for January 30, 2015

Darkzon Endgame (book 4) – first paperback printing and eBook scheduled for June 30, 2015

Chapter 1

Professor Willington, how long do you plan on staying at the university this evening? I’ll be leaving the building soon and don’t want to lock you in accidentally.

Hello Tom. It looks like I’m going to be here for a while longer.

I thought you’d say that professor, he said and paused for a moment knowing full well that the professor sometimes got locked inside. You didn’t forget your keys again did you?

Nope, got them right here, I answered while feeling my jacket pocket to be sure I actually did.

I glanced at my watch noting it was already 9:20 PM. It was likely I was the last workaholic or diehard in the building, except for Tom who was completing his security shift.

Very well professor, Tom said and then he smiled at Sally. You have yourself a good night too, and make sure the professor gets some dinner.

A tail wagged and thumped against my desk. Sally is my faithful assistant who happens to also be a Golden Retriever that thinks she’s human. Sometimes I think she is as well, or at least darn near smart as one.

I suppose everyone thinks their dog is the greatest thing since sliced bread. I once described Sally to my students as the perfect partner who always listens and never argues, which are two prerequisite traits for any serious laboratory intern. This endorsement always drew laughs from students, despite it being very true.

I returned to studying my current puzzle of the day. Well, more like ten months to be exact. Puzzle is a comfort word I use when having no idea about what I’m studying. In this case, my puzzle is an artifact having unusual etchings from what appears to have originated across several ancient cultures.

I narrowed my eyes while turning the cylinder shaped object side to side. Some of the etchings on its surface were almost worn off, but it was still in great shape for being at least 2,000 years old.

Damn it Sally, when will this ever make sense?

Sally looked up and began thumping her tail against my desk again, probably thinking a snack was coming her way. I reached down and scratched her behind her ear while continuing to stare at the object. It looks like a toy rocket without fins, was light as a feather, and measured 12-inches long with a one inch radius. The entire surface was smooth showing no indication of what tools might have been used to make it or the etchings.

My graduate student, Jackie Swanson, actually discovered the artifact last summer while assisting me at an archeological dig near St. Peter’s Monastery in Egypt. Jackie had all the qualities of a top graduate intern: enthusiasm, intelligence, hard worker, and as a bonus, great looks. Thinking about her caused my mind to drift back to when she first saw the artifact sticking out the desert sand.

Professor Willington, I think I’ve found something, Jackie said excitedly, as if finding a gold mine or something even more valuable.

At the time, I was brushing sand off small pieces of pottery about twenty feet away. I looked up and saw Jackie pointing her finger toward a small mound of sand. As I approached to examine what she was so excited about, I made the mistake of looking into her eyes while the wind blew her long blonde hair gently across her face, which was all it took for me to lose focus – not my fault, not really. Jackie’s eyes are nothing short of amazing and would challenge any emerald for perfection. A man would have to be dead not to take notice.

There professor, right there, she said, franticly pointing to something in the sand.

After a moment, I refocused my attention and saw what she was so excited about.

What is that? I asked, thinking it looked like a stone rod sticking out of the sand.

I bent down to pick up the object and felt a slight electrical field. The hairs on my hand rose up and a tingly sensation run up my fingers.

What the heck was that?

Jackie looked at me confused and her smile faded.

What is it professor?

I’m not sure. It felt like static electricity, like when you drag your feet against carpet and get a slight shock.

Perhaps it was just my imagination or from being in the sun all day. It wouldn’t be the first time someone imagined things in the desert. Being in the hot Egyptian sun all day can make anyone a little loopy.

How is that possible out here? Are you sure you felt something professor?

Not really, I answered while bending down again to take a closer look.

I moved my hand slowly toward the object and this time didn’t feel anything. I lifted it out of the sand and Jackie stepped forward for a closer look. We were both curious and a little confused – actually, a lot confused.

What do you think it is professor? Is it important? This is so cool. Please tell me the find will qualify for my graduate project.

I think it just might Jackie.

This is so cool, she said, jumping into the air and clapping her hands together.

I lost my concentration again. There was nothing odd about my attraction to Jackie. She’s 23 and I’m 32, which is not a terribly big age difference. On the other hand, she was my intern and a graduate student at one of the most prestigious universities in the United States, and that alone was enough to put away any serious thought of romance. Losing my tenure from being caught in a romantic scandal with an intern was about as close to taking a cold shower as it gets.

The sun was setting now, so we drove back to our base camp conveniently located just 20 minutes away. The excitement from possibly discovering something of archeological importance kept smiles on our faces and the adrenalin flowing in our bodies made us a little giddy. The plan now is to freshen up, eat some dinner, and get a good night sleep.

Culinary experiences in the desert are not like sitting down at a five star restaurant. If lucky, someone would have packed something tasty, like smoked sausages, but that was not the case this evening. For tonight, our culinary delight was hot dogs and beans mixed with occasional grains of sand that the desert breeze graciously provided. No complaints mind you. After a long day in the hot sun, it was easy to image we were eating New York prime steak.

Having satisfied our nutritional needs, we retired to our individual tents for a good night sleep. As usual, morning came much faster than expected and the desert sun left little desire to remain inside a tent that was rapidly increasing in temperature. The smell of breakfast cooking, however, provided additional encouragement for me to drag my butt outside to see Jackie turning eggs in the frying pan. Like I said, she’s a great intern.

After a good breakfast, we drove to the Cairo University to make good use of the best archeology equipment in the world. If the object we found was important, we’d find out there.

Jackie and I were becoming increasingly anxious during the several hour drive, mostly because we were not sure if local authorities would welcome us. To our pleasant surprise, Egypt’s Department of Antiquities granted us full access to the university’s archeological lab. Evidently, my credentials were provided to the officials by Harvard University before I even entered the country.

Normally it’s not easy cutting through Egypt’s red tape because so many thieves have stolen their national treasures throughout history. The Egyptians took no chances now, and I didn’t blame them. In fact, I fully support their cautious paranoia to keep national treasures in museums for everyone to admire. Too many antiquities have been tucked away in private collections or stolen by greedy thieves. In archeology, such transgressions are unforgivable.

My initial test indicated the object was indeed an authentic antiquity. Strangely, the pentacle etching on the artifact was only visible under x-ray light, as though designed to be hidden from sight. Equally strange was the middle section carbon dated 931 to 973 B.C. during King Solomon’s rule in Israel while the two ends dated back 25,000 years ago. Neither end of the artifact had any visible seams, suggesting that advanced technology must have joined them together. Having two different carbon dates on a single stone was more than odd, it was archeologically impossible. I have never seen anything like it before, not even in the many volumes of archeological research stored in Harvard’s libraries.

How could a single stone have two completely different carbon dates?

Various etchings were also on the top and bottom of the artifact representing Hebrew letters and numbers. I recognized a few of the etchings scattered across various ancient symbols, but most I’ve never seen.

Different carbon dates, separate sections attached with no seams, Hebrew letters and numbers, and all this sticking out of sand in the middle of an Egyptian desert. None of this makes any sense.

I didn’t find any evidence linking the artifact to Egyptian origin, and neither did the Egyptian Department of Antiquities, which meant the country couldn’t place a national claim on it. Even so, they agreed only to loan it to Harvard for further study. A week later I returned to Harvard with the artifact to solve its mystery.

My mind drifted back to the present day and I heard my stomach making all sorts of hungry noises.

Well, that’s enough for today. Come on Sally, let’s go home for dinner.

Sally jumped to her feet and ran to the door. I paused for a moment scratching my head thinking the artifact might remain an unsolvable mystery indefinitely. Sally woofed to get my attention and we finally left the lab to go home.

After having a good dinner made from the best microwavable entrees available, Sally and I hit the sack. Sally always slept on the bed next to me no matter how many times I put her on the floor. When the lights went out, thump, Sally was back in my bed pushing against me for warmth.

Alright Sally, settle down now. Tomorrow’s a new day, and it’s going to come sooner than we might want.

Harvard professors usually begin their days early in order to prepare for classes, however, today was different. I decided to present my puzzle to a graduate antiquities class and see what the brightest minds in the country might come up with. It was not uncommon for professors to challenge students on research work, so I began class by displaying pictures of my findings.

Several students quickly recognized a few artifact symbols as reference to the Great Pentacle from King Solomon’s Key, but said nothing. They all just curiously stared at the pictures showing Hebrew numbers etched on the stone’s ends with conflicting carbon dates.

Professor, how can there be two different carbon dates on the same stone? a student asked.

Good question. If what we see is real, it would seem that more than one set of hands worked on this antiquity, and did so separated by thousands of years. Somehow this stone was left undiscovered until found at a dig thought to have revealed its secrets long ago. I’ve been studying it for nearly a year now and am no closer to unlocking its mystery than I was on day one.

None of my students had any idea what all this meant. They were dumbfounded – just like me – which I expected would be the case, but a fresh perspective never hurt anyone conducting research. At the end of class, one student stayed behind at her seat unnoticed as I packed up my notes and pictures.

My grandmother has things with markings like those in your pictures, the student said.

Oh, hello, I didn’t see you there, I said. I thought all the students left. What’s your name?

My name is Carmela.

She was a petite girl with long dark hair and eyes, and she dressed as one would expect a young college student to look like: university sweatshirt, blue jeans with a hole on one knee, Smartphone stuck in her pocket, and leather sandals.

I don’t recall seeing you in class before Carmela. Are you a new student?

Yes, today was my first class.

"Where are you from?

I was raised in the United States, but my family moved here from Peru about 25 years ago.

Well, welcome to class Carmela. You said you have seen something like this before?

Yes, professor, my grandmother collected things having similar markings like what you showed us today. They are children puzzles in Peru.

Really,? How do you solve these puzzles?

Sometimes you can use mirrors and slowly move them at angles to see what the markings mean.

Huh, I never heard of Peruvian puzzles with these kind of markings.

It is an old custom passed down from families to entertain children, she explained. My grandmother told me our ancestors would etch things on objects that showed where a hidden treasure was located. Only mirrors could reveal where the treasure was hidden. She would hide presents and have me figure out how to find them, but I had to first learn how to use small pieces of mirrors to read her clues.

Carmela put her backpack over her shoulder and headed out of the classroom.

See you tomorrow professor.

Yes, see you tomorrow Carmela.

After getting the class materials together, I headed down the hallway to my lab without giving much thought to what Carmela had told me. A child’s game? Nothing is ever that simple. I dismissed the idea as a local custom.

I opened the door to my lab where Sally was waiting to great me with her tail wagging. No matter how my day went, good or bad, Sally was always in a great mood and cheered me up.

Well, where should we begin Sally? I asked, and she titled her head as if about to answer.

We walked over to my desk and she sat at her usual spot and I scratched my head while staring at the artifact. Sally always watched me with interest while I worked. Sometimes I thought she was taking mental notes and understood more than me. Like I said, she’s an excellent lab assistant, not to mention great company.

I started my evening as I have these past ten months by holding the artifact in my hand, as though the ritual might cause my mind to suddenly be enlightened. Einstein defined insanity as ‘doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results‘. Yea, that pretty much describes my state of mind.

What in the world are you? I asked the artifact, thinking that somehow talking to an inanimate object might cause a cerebral revelation. I guess we’ll have to wait for an answer because I’m hungry. How about you Sally, want to go get some dinner?

Sally, who very well knows the meaning of the word dinner, or any other variation of food words, woofed in agreement.

Okay, give me a few minutes for a quick shave and change of clothes, then we’ll find a greasy spoon restaurant that allows dogs.

I guess I was preoccupied about my lack of research progress when I accidentally knocked over a small shaving mirror onto the floor.

Damn it, I said, causing Sally to investigate what was going on. No big deal Sally, I was almost done anyway.

After wiping my face clean of shaving cream, I started to pick up the broken pieces of glass from the floor and recalled what Carmela had told me earlier in class.

Could it really be that simple?

I took a larger piece of the broken mirror and carefully aligned it to one side of the etching. Nope, nothing made any intelligible sense. I repeated the procedure, but this time took digital pictures of the images and uploaded them to my desk computer. Using a decipher program, the images on the computer screen began to look like something as they were turned in various directions and angles … but what? The program continued to decipher the images while Sally tilted her head side to side listening to the computer make clicking and chirping sounds.

Okay Sally, let’s go get something to eat.

I took a another look at the artifact and resigned myself to accepting that no progress would be made tonight.

Sally jumped to her feet and followed me out of the lab. As the door was being locked, the computer program ended and announced in an automated voice, Program translation completed.

That’s odd. Usually decipher programs take days, and this time, it took only a few minutes without even fouling up or crashing.

Sally and I reentered my lab and I saw six numbers with words ‘Location Gate’ flashing on the computer screen.

Location gate … must be a program glitch after all, but the six numbers looked familiar and reminded me of map coordinates.

Skeptically, I pulled a world atlas from the book case and looked up what I thought might be a longitude and latitude displayed on my monitor. To my surprise, the location was at Puerta de Hayu Marca, a mountain region 35 kilometers from the Peruvian city of Puno.

Wait a minute, I know this place. It’s the City of the gods.

Puerta de Hayu Marca, also known as the City or Gate of the gods, was exactly dead center on at the map coordinates my computer translated. I looked back at the computer screen and read the words again.

Location gate … maybe it means Gate of the gods, I mumbled.

I got online to video conference with my old friend Manco who is a respected Peruvian archeologist. He must have been nearby his computer because he answered quickly.

"Willington, how are you my old friend?

"You know me Manco, I get by. How have you been?

Well as can be expected and more.

Manco, tell me about your work at Puerta de Hayu Marca.

Why do you want to know about that place? There is nothing there but what everyone already knows. I have been to the Gate of the gods dozens of times. It is boring research these days old friend.

Manco, you saw the doorway?

Doorway … perhaps, or just some ancient vertical sacrifice slab supporting an arch … who knows for sure.

"In the center there is a hole, correct?

Yes Willington, but it is very worn and has no important meaning.

Tell me Manco, do you recall the radius of the hole?

Let me see, I have it in my notes someplace.

Manco was not the most organized researcher. He had paper piled up on his desk and maps with too many Post-its to count stuck on the wall behind him. Manco may be disorganized, but he is also the most respected archeologist in South America, and an expert in ancient western civilizations.

Manco pulled a piece of paper pinned to a corkboard behind his seat and placed it near his webcam.

Ah, here it is. It measures exactly 12 inches deep with a radius of one inch.

The measurements are exactly the same as the artifact. It can’t be mere coincidence – there must be a connection.

I felt a surge of excitement that archeologists always get when a new discovery is about to be made.

Manco, how soon could you meet me at Puerta de Hayu Marca?

"How soon can you come to Puno?

As fast as the next available flight can take me.

Classes at the university still had a couple of weeks before summer break, but I was able to make arrangements for a colleague to cover my early departure. I gathered my traveling clothes and put everything inside a backpack along with the stone artifact. Without hast, I caught the first plane to Puno Peru to meet my old friend.

Chapter 2

The long flight to Puno Peru gave me plenty of time to think about when Manco and I were undergraduate students. Manco attended the university on a full scholarship while I delivered pizza at night and worked at various university jobs to help fund my education. He was the pragmatist and I the dreamer. I guess this is why I choose archeology so that I could live out my dreams by traveling to the many wonders of the world.

Manco returned to Peru after graduating and became an expert in Central and South American history while I accepted an associate professorship position. We were best friends in our college days, and still can count on each other despite living far apart.

As the plane rolled to a stop on the tarmac, I saw Manco. He was wearing a light colored suit and fedora trimmed with black ribbon. Good old Manco. He looked good, much like he did that last time I saw him ten years ago. You know how some people always make you feel good to be around? Well, that’s the kind of person Manco is, and no matter who you were, or what station in life you had, he always made you feel important.

When I disembarked from the plane, Manco began waving his fedora above his head, as if I might miss him. I found this amusing since he was easy to spot from the waiting crowd totaling all of four people.

Greetings dear friend, welcome to my country, he said with his arms stretched high above his head.

Hello Manco. It’s great to see you again, I said, then we embraced each other as good friends do.

A few feet away stood a woman with children and Manco turned to them and smiled.

Willington, this is Wanita, my wife, and these are my children. And this Wanita is my dearest friend Jonathan Willington.

Wife and children? When did all this happen?

You have not visited for some time Willington, and as you can see, much has changed, he said, then let out a big laugh while wrapping his arm around my shoulder. Come, tonight you will feast on the finest Peruvian delicacies and be a quest at my home. After a full belly, good conversation, some tequila, and a restful sleep, we will go to the Gate of the gods. For what reason you want to go there, I can’t imagine, but it is your wish, so we will go.

Manco led me to his Jeep where his wife and children had already piled into the back so I could sit in front.

Just you wait Manco. I think I am onto something really big.

Big you say … good for you … maybe good for me too.

It was a short ride to Manco’s house from Puno and the scenery looked much the same as it did when I last visited. The dirt road was pocked with holes and cactus were blooming vivid colors of red, yellow, and white. Ahead I could see grassy hills and every now and then some local wildlife. I had forgotten the natural beauty of this country. Manco was right. Ten years was too long of an absence from such a beautiful place, and certainly too long for us to have a reunion.

We arrived at Manco’s house quicker than I expected. Upon entering, I stood quietly and looked around at what was a very clean and domestic interior. My surprise must have been easy to notice because Manco smiled and slapped me on the back.

Ha, not the same place you remembered from your last visit, hey Willington?

Things do look quite different now, I said, looking at native weavings, carved dolls and animals, and handmade wooden furniture neatly placed as his home decor, not to mention a lack of empty tequila bottles that use to litter his floor.

Family life suits you well Manco, and the touch of a beautiful woman has turned your hole in the wall into a real home.

Manco laughed and Wanita smiled showing she was happy to hear my compliment and seeing her husband so proud of his home.

I suppose it seems a bit alien to you my friend, being a lab rat at a Harvard. What can I say? Being married and having children can change even the most stubborn of us, he said, then cuffed his hand near his mouth and muttered, to tell you the truth Willington, I do miss my tools and antiquities that once adorned this humble place.

I nodded in agreement, then we laughed and slapped each other backs like we use to do after completing research projects at Harvard.

It’s good to see you again Manco. Really good.

Yes, just like old times Willington, he said and opened a door. Here is your room my friend. Put your things over there next to the bed and Wanita will prepare a nice hot bath for you. Soon, dinner will be ready, and after dinner, we drink tequila, tell stories, and when our eyes are too heavy to keep open, we shall sleep. At sunrise, may it not come too quickly, we shall go to the Gates of the gods.

Manco let out another loud laugh as he closed my bedroom door and began chasing his kids pretending to be a bear. The children were laughing and shouting, No bear can catch us. We are too fast. For a moment, I felt a little old having no family, except for Sally, who I suppose is my family.

I actually have no memory of my biological parents and only vague memories of being raised in foster homes. I was told my parents died in an automobile crash when I was 12, which caused a form of amnesia. My childhood became less relevant once I became a student at Harvard. Burying my head in books all day and delivering pizza at night didn’t leave much time for thinking about my past.

Señor Willington, your bath is ready, Wanita said. Come now while it is still hot. Dinner will be ready soon Señor.

Please, call me Jonathan, and thank you Wanita for being so hospitable.

You are most welcome Señor Willington … I mean Jonathan.

The bathtub in the center of room was larger than I expected and made out of copper sheets banged together in artistic fashion. Its edges were adorned with cactus, suns, moons, birds and various other things one would find in a desert wilderness. There was no plumbing, except for a single pipe exiting from the bottom of the tub to a small metal grate in the floor.

The bathwater was hot, but not so hot for me to step in, albeit I had to do so slowly. I got myself into a comfortable position and closed my eyes while listening to music playing in the living room. The smell of fine home cooking kept me from falling asleep, but just barely.

Willington, did you drown in that tub? Manco asked. It is time to eat dinner my friend and taste the delicacies of my country.

I was already drying myself off when Manco told me dinner was ready. Perhaps I overstayed my time enjoying a hot bath, but I felt so refreshed that there was little room for feeling guilty.

Be right there, I said.

When I came out from the bath, everyone was sitting quietly at the dinner table waiting for me to join. I sat in the empty seat next to Manco and gazed at a feast of vegetables and meats that nearly made me drool with anticipation. Manco made a couple of grunts like he was clearing his throat. I looked at him and saw he was holding out his hand to me as was Juan, his eldest son sitting at my other side. Everyone was holding hands, except me.

We will thank God for our many blessings, Manco said, wiggling his fingers at me as a gesture to hold hands.

I placed joined hands with Manco and his son while Manco thanked God for a wonderful life, family, food, and the company of an old friend. Once the prayer was done, food began being passed around the table in an amazing orderly fashion, especially given such young hungry children. The food was incredibly delicious and I ate enough for three full grown men. It was the best food I’ve had for a very long time.

After dinner, Wanita got the older children settled down in their bedrooms and put the youngest in bed to sleep. Manco and I sat at a table next to a warm crackling fire and drank tequila and smoked cigars.

Life is good, hey old friend? Manco asked.

Sitting here in your home, I’d have to agree with you Manco. I doubt it could get any better than this.

After a few minutes of staring into the fire and making smoke rings from our cigars, Manco looked at me with a familiar and curious archeology demeanor. He had held back his curiosity since my arrival, which surprised me given what he already knew about the nature of my visit. It was time to get down to business.

Tell me all about this stone of yours and what you expect to find at the Gates of the gods.

Manco, you won’t believe it. The artifact has two different carbon dates.

Two different carbon dates you say. How is that possible on a single stone?

That’s just it Manco, it shouldn’t be possible I said, then took the artifact out of my backpack to show him.

Look, it’s as though there were three stones made into one. There are no lines or indication of breaks anywhere. It’s solid, has no magnetic characteristics, and weighs almost nothing. Here, let me show you, I said, placing the artifact onto Manco’s palm and moving it slowly to the left, then to the right. See Manco, there is no feeling of weight displacement when the stone is moved. Have you ever seen anything like this before?

Manco didn’t need to reply because the expression on his face said it all. He moved the stone side to side and extended it out horizontally.

Remarkable … never in my life have I seen such a thing, he said and narrowed his eyes to inspect the artifact more closely. Some of these etchings are Mayan.

Yes, but these other etchings are something I have not seen before. It does not appear to be from any language on record, and look, there’s more Manco.

I took the x-ray pictures out of my backpack and handed them to Manco.

Look here, a pentagram with strange etches along the sides and ends, I said, pointing to a drawing, then to numbers on the ends.

I explained how the numbers appeared to be a map location for the Gate of the gods. Manco’s eyes shifted back and forth from the artifact to the picture.

Remarkable. Simply remarkable, he said, narrowing his eyes as though not believing what he was seeing.

What puzzles me Manco is that I doubt any modern day technology could have made this stone, never mind thousands of years ago, and why was it discovered now sticking out of the sand in an Egyptian desert? It should have been buried deep in the desert after all these years. It just doesn’t make any sense.

Willington, do you really believe this stone has something to do with the Gates of the gods?

I think it might be a code of some sort. Perhaps as the legends say, the gate is a portal to another dimension or world not of this Earth.

Manco looked at me very seriously for a moment and then laughed.

Good, then you go to the gate first and I’ll wait here.

We laughed some more and then reminded ourselves how important the artifact might be if evidence could be found linking it to the Gate of the gods. Tomorrow the artifact will be placed into the gate’s hole and hopefully bring us one step closer to solving the mystery.

Manco looked tense. Who will place the stone into the gate?

I grinned. Don’t worry Manco, I’ll do it.

Okay, if you insist my friend, he said and then relaxed while lighting up another cigar.

After Manco’s children were all tucked away in their beds, Wanita came out and joined us