The Pyramid of Power

By Tony Kaye

Dame Petunia Bladderwort and her remarkable friends, Cyril the modelling gnome, Trent Ranchandler, her trusty chauffeur handyman, are all summoned by the Keeper to help him find the Great Book of Han-Fei.A book that contains all the knowledge and realities of both the seen and unseen universes. The Great Book has been stolen and in the wrong hands could unleash horrors that you only experience in your worst nightmares. With the help of One Beer a wizard 2nd class who hates magic, and the General of the unseen army. The group of adventures set off on their latest adventure and are drawn into the Pyramid of Power, the home of a supernatural apparition, Death. They battle monsters and experience the shock and awe of One Beers attempts at Magic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781326436247

Book preview

The Pyramid of Power

The Pyramid Of Power.

A Journey into the Unseen Universe

By Tony Kaye

© 2015 Tony Kaye Author. All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-1-326-43624-7

Chapter 1

The Desert

Now that’s not sociable. Downright rude in fact. Thought the lizard

as the dust and sand began to settle. He was sitting on the only

rocks for miles around an ones that afforded him a comfortable place to rest during the heat of the day. They allowed him to indulge in a few moments of inactivity in his busy life. He was

catching a few rays of the early morning sun, before the main assault force of the desert noon day temperature turned his warm comfortable rock into a blast furnace of searing desert heat. The early morning rays were now happily warming the rock on which he was settled. He sat there observing the receding line of men who had unceremoniously kicked sand in his face, as they merged into the distance leaving behind them a line of footprints in the hot desert sand, the only proof of their presence in the desert.

No not sociable at all he thought. The Salamander was not happy with His brief encounter with human beings," Deserts are not for

marching in, he reasoned, deserts are for …well... deserting in,

they should all be going the other way, making a reverse advance,

as deserters are supposed to do. It isn’t right, not normal coming

here disturbing a Salamanders’ siesta, typical army taking liberty’s

with us locals". These thoughts slowly slipped to the back of his

mind as the warm sun did its job, as he started to doze in the heat of the day.

He was rudely awoken from his snooze by the sound of wheezing

muttering, and cursing mainly cursing. As slow shuffling footsteps upon the hot sand, heralded the arrival of one who was labouring with the all troubles of the world on his shoulders. As this apparition drew closer to the salamander. From his point of view, the lizard could make out an undefined blob trudging arduously out of the sun. It appeared to be following the same path as the previous occupants of large boots, the ones that disturbed his rest. and kicked sand in his face.

The lizard climbed down off the rock, fearing a repetition of his

previous encounter. There is after all only so much a salamander

can put up with when his morning knap is rudely interrupted. Of all

the desserts’ in all the world, why did they have to come into mine?

He asked himself as he scuttled under the rock.

As it drew closer and the lizard’s keen eyesight was adjusting to

the harsh glare of the sun. The blob had now become a shape,

that is it had acquired a defined outline. The shape appeared to be moving closer and in doing so it took on the appearance of a man, abet a dishevelled man, but never the less a man.

The salamander could make out the features of a old person of indeterminable age, dressed in a lose fitting black robe that was adorned with what appeared to him to be mystic symbols embroidered upon it.This apparition was wearing what was once, many years ago, a smart large pointed hat ,that was also adorned with mystic symbols, The hat had lost its original shape and was now bent in the middle looking as though it had survived an accident with a herd of elephants, it flopped over the wearer like a limp handkerchief.

Definitely warn and lived in decided the salamander, a thought that could also easily apply to the hat as well. The hat which at some point in its life was the symbol of skill and professional status, now appeared to be a size too big for the owner, it flopped down over his eyes restricting his vision, so much so that he had to kept pushing it back onto his head in order to see where he was going, while at the same time he muttering curses to himself.

His shoes were not the standard desert boots that you would associate with the terrain in which he was travelling, but a pair of the soft felt pointed type that you would find at a fancy dress party.  Beneath this display of sartorial incompetence was a wizard out of his time and space, and totally confused in a new dimension.

An old man of indeterminable age. reasoned the salamander, he won’t see eighty again, even if he saw it approaching the first time around. He thought to himself.

Salamander’s are very observant creatures, it comes from sitting in the sun all day studying the universe and the philosophy of static inactivity by observing the world around them, and then putting it into the context of their worldly experiences. But his worldly experience’s and knowledge could never have prepared him for what he had seen or was about to witness.

The figure approached the lizards’ warm rock, it appeared to be carrying a large book, bound in spider skin that formed a waterproof cover, this was secured with leather straps and two large brass hinges secured by two very ornate padlocks to keep it securely closed. The salamander contemplated to himself, with so much security it must either be to keep any inquisitive person from opening the book. Or it was to keep its contents from escaping. Either way it told the world, that this book was bad news.

The figure reached the rock, not seeing the Salamander, he sat himself down, he was totally absorbed with his own dilemmas as he muttered to himself Why me and then added He said the army would help if I ever needed them, Where are the military when you want them ?. Bloody miles away disappearing over the horizon in a cloud of dust, that’s where. And a lot of use they are there. He complained out loud, not to anybody in particular, but just to vent his annoyance at the situation which he now found himself in. They say an army marches on its stomach, but this one defiantly marched on its size twelve feet. Creating a small dust cloud as it made its way unceremoniously across the desert. This fact alone made it very easy for anybody watching, to be able to track its progress.

The figure following them was attempting to work out just why he was following them, when after all it was they who started out following him. Somewhere along the way their roles were reversed and pursuer became the pursued. This situation bothered him,        This is definitely not right he reasoned aloud, adjusting his weight on the rock, which caused the salamander to scuttle away to find an unpopulated area of desert to continue his endeavour of industrious inactivity. Lizards are very productive when it comes to inactivity, and the salamander believed in sitting down for what he was standing up for, when it came to work.

Not right at all complained the figure, everything has its place in

the universe, and they, should be behind me he reasoned.

Expanding his line of thought he continued, "the earth turns on its

axis so everything revolves, therefore if everything revolves, then,

if I wait here they will, at some point come past me on the next

revolution. Logical is it not?. This last question was spoken out loud to nobody in particular, he added, I think I will  just stay sat here in the shade of this  large rock and wait for them to come past again. There is no point in chasing shadows. He figured, adding yet another item to his mental list of one thousand things to-do, which in time, are promptly forgotten and the list is reduced to one hundred things to do, as something else replaces the original thought, as it fights for space in his over crowed mind.

Chapter 2

Dame Petunia Bladderwort

Dame Petunia Bladderwort was relaxing in a deck chair in her

new garden. It overlooked the bay containing the petrified earthly

remains of the celestial dragon,Chmira.Who after their last

adventure, and with her help, and that of Cyril the Gnome along with Trent Ranchandler, her handyman/chauffeur, had been returned to its rightful place in the firmament, leaving only a rock outline as physical proof of its existence on the beach, something for everyone to admire. Trent Ranchandler, approached her  I have brought you a cup of tea Petunia he said as he laid a cup and saucer on to her garden table, breaking into her thoughts like a shattered crystal glass.Oh thank you Trent she replied. Dame Petunias second love in life was copious cups of tea at regular intervals. On the other hand her first love was growing prize winning fuchsia’s. She took great pride in showing her blooms at the local flower show, where she inevitably won the best in show award.

It’s so peaceful here she remarked to Trent, while motioning him to join her. Yes replied Trent, you made a wise decision when you chose to move away from Lower Mugglie and that awful building site next door to your old house. Much better to let that supermarket have the area for their ruddy car park. True, but I do miss the old place she replied reflecting upon her old abode and the continuous rumble from the traffic that  travelled to and from the building site next door, churning up the mud that was left after each rain storm. The move was not without problems, items were damaged, and broken in her haste to leave her little cottage. She still could not find half of the things she had packed away.

The portrait of the Dowager Duchess lobelia Bladderwort, was one such item. It was a family heirloom that suffered from a warped frame, that gave the viewer the impression that the good lady in the fly blown picture was sneering at you. Her hard steely eyes, to the cynical would appear to bore right through you like a knife through butter. It was a cold look that could outstare a glass eyed sailor.Ah yes the picture intoned Trent thoughtfully. I have put it in the potting shed as a temporary measure, until you get everything sorted in your new home. he said, as if he had been reading her thorghts. He hated that picture and had every intention of making temporary into permanent at the first available opportunity. Putting it in the shed, he reasoned would keep the pests off Petunia’s seedlings. One looks from the Dowager Duchess Would turn any insect unfortunate enough to think it was getting a free meal into stone. The picture he thought was like that of medusa, it should only be viewed by looking at it in a mirror and only then with the utmost caution, wearing dark glasses in a darkened room.

As he sat down beside her, a cool breeze sprung up and took

some of the heat out of the day. It was one of those diamond bright

days that, when they come along seem to have an apology

attached to them saying "Sorry in late, I was due here last week

but got delayed by a low pressure area over the Azores. But hay

I’m here now so let’s all enjoy ourselves. By the way the beach

was filling up with sun bathers and children building sandcastles, everybody had decided to accept the invitation.

Chapter 3

Cyril’s Potting Shed

Cyril the model gnome, to give him his full title, was the

original model that all garden gnomes were based on and so

fancied himself as a international, if not intergalactic model, ever

since he had his picture on the cover of Gardens and Gnomes

magazine. He was drowsy, having just awakening from

his slumbers. He normally slept on the third shelf on the left in

Dame Petunias potting shed, this arrangement he shared with

seed trays, flower pots, along with various garden implements, in addition to the recent detraction, that of the gruesome picture of the Dowager Duchess Lobelia Bladderwort.

He was not in the best of moods, mind you gnomes are not known for their sense of humour especially as he had been kept up most

of the night by a group of slugs in an adjoining flowerpot having a

noisy party fuelled in most part by the bait beer that Dame Petunia

had provided, in a misguided attempt to drown them. Instead they

drank the beer and invited their friends around to the party. When

Cyril want around to complain, he was meet with the response

Bugger off Which he interpreted as a request to go fourth and

vacate the immediate area. But it was still Bugger Off, an

invitation slightly more emphatic than go away. Cyril was now scheming to get his own back on the slugs, who he regarded as homeless snails. He would make it his life’s mission to see that they never came anywhere close to the new batch of seedlings that Dame Petunia had planted, and that were just sprouting on the shelf below him in the new potting shed.

Chapter 4

The Wizard

Half way across the world, well the world as defined by the

atlas, and as known as geography. The sun had long ago descended and the purple cloak of night was wrapping itself around the desert. The solitary figure of a seated man covered in a large cloak and wearing a bent pointed hat, sat by a fire that had been burning since sundown, he was studying the fire as it collapsed in a shower of sparks, a few embers struggled to glow in a brave attempt to ward off the cold dessert night.

The figure was clutching a large spider skin covered book and waiting for the earth to revolve,