The Elder Unearthed: Tales of NasNoroth and the Cult of the Elder

By Michael W. Garza

A dark collection of macabre tales

The Cult of the Elder yearns to bring the dark gods through the endless void to wreak havoc on the nonbelievers of this world. You will witness the wicked things that lay claim to those who call on NasNoroth and its Elder kin.

The Cult of the Elder continues a tireless search to find a way to bring forth the dark Elder gods from beyond the void. The sinister rituals of the cult can have devastating effects on the weak-minded and unprepared. Take a glimpse beyond the void.

Leap into the shadowy world of the Cult of the Elder within the pages of two new series:

Vision of the Elder
This YA Paranormal Series follows the trail of those children forced to bear witness to the sacred rites of the Cult of the Elder. Their eyes are opened to the darkness beyond the void, and their lives are forever changed.

Book I: NeverHaven
Book II: Children of the Mark
Book III: The Crimson Door (Forthcoming)

Rise of the Elder
This Horror Survival Series documents the last days of those mortals foolish enough to pry into the affairs of the Cult of the Elder. The dark secrets are tempting, but few live to tell of the horrendous wonders beyond the void.

Book I: Drums in the Abyss
Book II: The Grief That Lingers (Forthcoming)
Book III: A Temple on the Witch-mound (Forthcoming)

Investigative Role Playing in a Modern World of Gothic Horror:
Children of the Mark: The Role Playing Game

• Language: English
• Publisher: neverhavenpress
• Release date: Jan 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9780615987378

Michael W. Garza

Michael W. Garza often finds himself wondering where his inspiration will come from next and in what form his imagination will bring it to life. The outcomes regularly surprise him and it’s always his ambition to amaze those curious enough to follow him and take in those results. He hopes everyone will find something that frightens, surprises, or simply astonishes them.

Book preview

The Elder Unearthed

Tales of NasNoroth and the Cult of the Elder

By

Michael W. Garza

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including

photocopying, recording or by any information and retrieval

system, without the written permission of the author, except

where permitted by law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and

incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or

are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,

locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-0-615-98737-8

Copyright © 2014 by Michael W. Garza

All rights reserved.

Proofread by Karen Robinson of

INDIE Books Gone Wild.

Also by Michael Garza

The Decaying World Saga

The Hand That Feeds

The Last Infection

Tribes of Decay

Season of Decay

Cult of the Elder Mythos

The Elder Unearthed

(A collection of tales)

Vision of the Elder

NeverHaven

Children of the Mark

Rise of the Elder

Drums in the Abyss

The Shadow Gate Chronicles

The Last Shadow Gate

A Veil of Shadows

Table of Contents

The Elder Unearthed

The Harvester

Teeth of the World

The Burning of Legel Manor

The Calling

Crimson Rising

A Rose by Any Other Name

The Long Forgotten

The Grief That Lingers

Drums in the Void

A Step through Darkness

The Hunger

The Elder Unearthed

It was a warm Connecticut summer in 1926 when I first came across the book. I was in the throes of my early thirties, and I cared little for anything besides social functions and the occasional company of a young woman. My home on the New Haven waterfront was the scene of much debauchery. My father died in June, and I spent most of my time drinking away his memory and spending a rather large inheritance.

I put off looking through my father’s personal effects until late September. The family’s old brick house was dreary by comparison to the rest of the row. The house proved too much for me, and I was forced to leave with little more than my father’s more prominent papers and some personal childhood items of my own. I would have the rest of it delivered to my home and stored away in the cellar. My father had been a well-known archaeologist. His frequent studies away from home had marred our relationship beyond repair. In my mind, he’d died a long time ago. I thought no more about his passing or the effects hidden in the darkness beneath my home.

In the spring of 1928, a disastrous fire swept across the commons and took most of the waterfront with it. I was lucky that my home was only moderately damaged, but enough that I had to find quarters for a few months as repairs were being made. As a result of the fire, I conducted an inventory of my things, which ended in the cellar among my father’s belongings.

I found myself peering through the dark corners of the cellar as if I’d broken into the property and feared apprehension. The fright was ridiculous of course, but I had it set in my mind to never bother my father’s belongings again. I found the book in a small trunk, stuffed in the corner of the cellar. Bound in a heavy leather cover and thick iron hasps, there was an eeriness to it I could not account for.

The book was unusually cold to the touch, and I considered putting it away almost at once. The mere sight of the vile tome brought back the tale of my father and how it came in to his possession. My father’s line of work would often put him in contact with men of ill repute. Such men gather in the far corners of the world where civilized law is a privilege and not a right. One man who fit this description, whom I have met on two occasions, was Jonathan Duebar. He called himself an antique collector and an adventurer of sorts. There were a great many others who called him a thief and a liar.

Mr. Duebar specialized in collections of the darker nature. He found the trafficking of such items to be far more profitable than the occasional rare heirloom. Unfortunately that was a particular interest of my father’s, although he did his best to hide the fact from his scholarly peers. I knew little more about Mr. Duebar; however, it was my father’s last encounter with the man that has stayed with me.

Mr. Duebar had sent word to my father of some exceptional importance asking him to join him and a fellow by the name of Sam Morris. They’d stumbled across a rare book and in using its contents made a significant discovery. They made reference to some unnamed cult in a village on the outskirts of Istanbul. My father could not resist the allure of the correspondence although he never shared the specifics with me.

At great cost, he acquired passage on an eastern steamer. I knew upon his return that the trip had been both difficult and a disappointment. He would only say Mr. Duebar never showed at their agreed meeting point and his lodging was vacant. My father inquired with the local law enforcement and discovered Mr. Duebar’s body had been found in a small town east of Istanbul called Kocullu. He had gouged out his own eyes and bled to death on an old path outside the village. Sam Morris was found several days later; he’d slashed his throat with a broken piece of glass. My father did not speak of the days in between, only that neither Mr. Duebar nor Sam had any known next of kin. The Ministry of Security gave the men’s belongings to my father, and the book was among those personal items.

Crouched in the corner of the cellar, I laid the book on the ground and forced myself to open it. The smell of its interior pages reeked of a rotted tomb. Much of the writing was little more than maddening nonsense to me, but it was my first encounter with the name NasNoroth. This was a chief name among the dark things written there, much of which I did not understand. Of all the things I saw, it was a depiction of something that struck me with a chilling blow.

Difficult to explain in words, the thing was drawn in a black coal. Long, lanky legs extended from a bulbous head, a gaping mouth at its center. I saw nothing I would call an eye, but it had horns protruding from the top of its head. To view the thing was somewhat revolting; I found myself wanting to look away. I closed the book and sat alone in the cellar for a long time. I felt my father’s curiosity burning in my gut. In truth, the fire had caused me to consider an early holiday until the repairs on my home were complete. In a sudden moment of inspiration, my mind was made; I would go to Kocullu.

♦

The passage to Turkey cost me far more than I’d expected, but the macabre sense of curiosity had grown within me tenfold. I must admit my fascination with the book and its foul contents consumed me. I spent the better part of the journey across the Atlantic hidden within my quarters. My second rate scholarly skill garnered only a vague understanding of sacred places called witch-mounds and something known as the Elder. I understood this NasNoroth to be in this grouping. My new fascination caused a cautious stir amongst the crew of my passage ship. In the end, my money bought me additional privacy at the assurance of the ship’s captain. I arrived in Istanbul deprived of sleep although otherwise unaccosted.

I spent the first day in the city arranging transportation. The excitement for my new surroundings was somewhat stifled by thoughts of the book. The image of the drawing haunted me. I closed my eyes, and its hands reached out for me. This growing darkness shrouded my steps as if subconsciously I knew something far more wicked than I could imagine awaited me. There was desperation to my actions, like my destiny was predetermined and I could do little to sway from the path.

I booked passage on a horse-drawn carriage that very night and arrived, exhausted, in the town of Kocullu the following morning. Quaint and rustic, the village appeared pulled from a page of history. There

Reviews for The Elder Unearthed

[lesindy · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A good collection of short stories in the Mythos tradition. I like these stories because they are realistically bleak. I can't stand fluffy "good guys win" stuff all the time.

I would ask the author revise the ebook and fix the numerous typos and spelling errors however.