The Talisman: The Talisman Trilogy: Book One

By Keith Grubaugh

I knew nothing about talismans.
Heck, I knew nothing about magic in general, let alone anything about monsters or aliens or an ancient civilization that still exists today to protect us all.

I thought I was normal. I knew nothing, nothing except that I was just an average teenage kid trying my best to make it through school. Homework, bullies, teachers who were out to get me: those were the problems I was dealing with. I thought I was normal...
I should have known better.

Now that my grandfather is gone, it is my turn to answer the calling. To deal with the secret world of monsters and Alcovians. Of talismans and magic.
Of death.

My family legacy. My inheritance.
Oh, how I wish I was normal.
At least bullies don’t try to dip you in buffalo sauce and eat you for dinner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Jul 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781489722706

Keith Grubaugh

The Talisman is the first book in a fun new series about magic, monsters, and the secret world of Alcovians. But who are they? The Alcovians are an ancient civilization who have lived in hiding for thousands of years, but only now are their secrets being revealed. Much more is to follow, so stay tuned as Keith Grubaugh shows us more about their exciting, fantastic world.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

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T his story begins a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far… well, actually a relatively close galaxy.

The planet’s name was Delatros, and it was home to creatures big enough to belly flop your house. Fun fact: they were also kind of ugly. (See the picture)

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. These guys are on an entirely different planet, so why should we care about them? Why do giant creatures (called torums) from another planet matter to me, on Earth, today?

Because they didn’t stay on that planet.

We don’t know all the facts, but the short version is that Delatros had this big war where a large group of these torums—called the Valgorns—decided to rebel and take over their planet.

Only… the Valgorns lost. (Whoops!) And as punishment, they were exiled.

That might have been fine if they hadn’t come to Earth to bother us.

And instead of playing it cool and making the most of their new home, they laid waste to our planet and killed many of us.

Thousands of us.

The Valgorns started a whole new war, but with us this time. And yeah, we were at a vast disadvantage, but after twenty years, we won.

Barely.

If you haven’t heard of the ancient Alcovians, there’s a reason for it. They were the only civilization that stood up against the Valgorns to fight, and because of that, they almost all were killed. But luckily, the Alcovians had developed magic, so they were able to win. Well, sort of.

The Alcovians defeated all but seven of the Valgorns who couldn’t die because they were basically immortal. In light of that, they locked the remaining Valgorns in separate prisons that were concealed from the rest of the world—far away from prying eyes.

However, it is important to note that right before the leader of the Valgorns was locked up, he declared that he would one day escape the prison and reduce the Earth to rubble.

Cheery fella.

Now, because most of the Alcovians were gone, the rest decided to make it their duty to secure the prisons and prevent the Valgorns from escaping to destroy the world once again.

Each generation has held its own—until recently.

*     *     *

My name is Nathan Taylor.

Up until a week ago, the biggest concern in my life used to be whether or not I was going to pass the eighth-grade science exam. Now I worry about getting eaten by monsters on a regular basis.

Life used to be more simple. I would go to school, face the sociopaths the school called teachers, put up with the low-life bullies, and even manage through the daily pound of homework.

It might not seem like it, but these things are nothing to what I’ve had to face recently. Imagine a ten-ton mammoth but with metallic skin and fiery breath. Yeah, I’d rather have a science lab due.

Anyway, it wasn’t the two English essays, Spanish presentation, or Math project that had me worried on the last day before Spring Break. It was Tom Phillips, my grandfather.

Earlier that morning, my mom got a call from Sunshine Village—or the ‘old folks home’ as my dad puts it—that lies right outside of Malibu. They told her that Grandfather wasn’t doing too well, which was code for, he’s going to die soon, so she better go see him as soon as possible.

*     *     *

When my mom picked me up from school that Friday, I should have known that something was wrong.

Wow, mom, you’re on time, I said, tossing my backpack in the trunk.

She didn’t give me a snappy comeback, so I gently shut the trunk before hesitantly opening the backdoor. Um… do I have the right car?

My mom nodded without looking at me as my dad turned around from the passenger seat. Hey, son.

Wait, Dad? I couldn’t believe it. Wha—what are you doing here? Is everything alright?

No. He sighed. It’s not.

He didn’t elaborate, so my mom explained everything to me on the drive there. And because we were going all the way from our neighborhood (which was in Sherman Oaks), she had plenty of time to tell me how Grandfather was doing.

Evidently, not too well.

The nurses had recently moved him to a room that was at the front of the building so that it was easier to take care of him.

For… I don’t know… many years, he had lived in a section of Sunshine Village called the Leisure Estate. There, he was well enough to talk to friends and have fun at the recreational facility—you know, playing ping-pong and such.

But not anymore. His Alzheimer’s was too far along. He was confined to his room.

Once we walked inside, the nurse led us through the brightly lit lobby area, past all the leather sofas and recliners, and down the hallway on the left side. She showed us to the second door. Tom Phillips is in this room. Before we could say thanks, she turned around and hurried back to the lobby. It’s like she was afraid of being too close.

My mom continued to the door, but before I could follow, my dad put his hand on my shoulder.

Whenever he did that, it made me feel like a dog who’d done something stupid. Was something wrong? My dad’s usual friendly face was now stern, showing no emotion. It worried me.

I was a head shorter than him, so he leaned down to whisper, Remember, Nathan. Your grandfather’s memory is failing him. He might not know who we are or what is going on. He may be delirious for all we know. So if he says anything weird, don’t try to correct him or explain what’s going on.

Confused, I furrowed my brow. I thought that mom said he was alright.

We were called here for a reason. Just remember that, okay? He turned to walk inside, but stopped, looking down at the floor. After a second, he nodded to himself and pat my arm. Actually, son, could you—

I perked up, wondering what he wanted me to help him with. Whatever it was, I’d be glad to do it.

His face stiffened. To tell you the truth, Nathan, I’d think it’d be best if you didn’t say anything at all.

A little disheartened, I followed him inside.

Mom was already in one of the two chairs around the bed when we entered the room. Dad took a seat, and I stood by the door, wishing I was anywhere else. I studied the design in the carpet.

How is he doing? my dad asked.

Grandfather said nothing, nor did he make eye contact with anyone. His mouth was shut tight as if he were in concentration, and his gruff, leathery face revealed no emotion.

My mom squeezed his hand lightly. We’re all here, Dad. She gave a weak smile. Go ahead and tell us what’s wrong.

I looked up in anticipation… but soon realized I didn’t want to witness their sad faces. In an effort to avoid their gaze, I scanned the room. It was small, with white walls, a dresser, and a desk; pretty normal… I think.

Maybe it was because I was so desperate to keep my mind on something else, but I skimmed the room again, trying to figure out why it felt so off.

But once it hit me, it seemed obvious. There was absolutely no medical equipment in the room, not even an IV in his arm. He just lay there under the covers, looking like his next breath would be his last.

It didn’t make any sense. If he was well enough not to need medical supplies, then why were we here?

Or was it too late for medical supplies?

Grandfather finally spoke, I asked the nurses to call you, his voice was rough; he swallowed and kept going, because I am going to die soon.

My mom immediately hugged him, her tears watering the sheet; my dad, however, stood up. He gave me a look that meant we should leave my mom alone with him. I followed him out the door.

*     *     *

We waited on a small bench in the hallway so that the two of them could have some privacy.

I resisted taking out my phone to pass the time; instead, I stared off into space, the same as my dad.

He was sitting next to me, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, rigidly still. Every once in a while I opened my mouth to say something, hoping to start conversation, but I always changed my mind. There was nothing to say.

The door opened, and we both looked up to see my mom stepping out of the room, her hand still on the doorknob. Though her face was red and her eyes were watery, she didn’t simply look sad; there was something else, like worry.

She peered over her shoulder for a second before shutting the door all the way. Stepping toward us, she said in a quiet voice, He wants to speak with you.

My dad frowned. He never liked me. Why does he—

No, she shook her head, He wants to speak with Nathan.

With Nathan? I thought, now confused. But that’s… that didn’t make any sense. But that’s me.

I looked up at her. He does?

My mom nodded.

Why?

He didn’t say.

Okay, that was a little weird. It’s not like he had never spoken to me before, but in private?

I planted my feet to stand, but my dad held my arm and whispered to me, Remember what I told you. Don’t correct him if he says anything strange. And he’s dying, so don’t be rude… or look sad.

He let go of my arm, and I hesitantly stood up. As I walked past my mom, she put her hand on my shoulder to get my attention. Hey, Nathan?

I turned to face her. Her red cheeks were raised like she was hesitant; and concerned. If you want, she squeezed my shoulder warmly, I can go in there with you. If, um, you need me, or you’re not up to it.

Not up to it? I bit back a retort and gave her a light smile. Mom, I’m fine. I can take care of it by myself.

She didn’t look like she was too sure, but after a deep breath she nodded and sat down next to dad.

Taking a second to muster up the courage, I went to his room and opened the door.

Grandfather was sitting up in bed, waiting for me. As soon as I entered, he said, Hello, Nathan.

Nodding, I said, Hi… and swallowed. I was trying to say, ‘Hi, Grandfather,’ but the rest of it got stuck in my throat.

We stared at each other.

For a second, I stood by the door, afraid to sit down… but then I realized that it might have come off as rude. Timidly, I stepped to the chair that was closest to the door and took a seat. So, I went on, nervously rubbing my thighs, What did you want to talk to me about?

He avoided my gaze for a second, his right hand under the sheet. It looked like he was fiddling with something on the far side of the bed, by his right leg.

Finally, he looked up at me. Nathan, I have something very important to say to you.

I nodded, but I didn’t know what I was nodding for. None of this was making sense.

For what felt like a century, I waited for him to speak. He said nothing. He just stared into my eyes like he was looking into my soul—or trying to figure something out. Actually, it kind of gave me the creeps. I squirmed in my chair and looked away from him.

Finally, he looked down, shaking his head. I knew this day would come.

I didn’t know what to say to that. I almost said, ‘Well, everybody has to die eventually,’ but that wouldn’t have helped the situation.

He went on, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I have no choice. Then he looked into my eyes. I bestow you my legacy.

In that instant, I could have sworn that a bolt of lightning had run through me—every cell in my body felt like it had been flipped on like a light switch.

But the sensation didn’t last long. It faded away, leaving me feeling cold. What the heck just happened? And what’s a legacy?

Perhaps he was actually farther along the stages of Alzheimer’s than I thought. Maybe dad was right. Your legacy? I asked. "You don’t mean like your will or something, because I don’t think—"

He said, Doth Res’licon osh med ep mint.

I slowly stood up, my shaking legs barely holding me. Would you like for me to get you a nurse?

Lif kar. Or’jumok lee yin.

My grandfather had officially freaked me out. I didn’t even give it a thought—my heart thundering in my chest, I rushed out of the room.

Dad looked up at me. What did he want?

He—uh. I almost couldn’t speak. Maybe. I looked over my shoulder at the closed door before turning back to them. Maybe you should go in there.

Dad looked at me, confused, then faced my mom, who looked stunned. Together, they jumped out of their seats and raced into the room, almost knocking me over as they brushed past.

I had only waited on the bench for about five seconds when my dad ran back out. What happened?

Shaking my head slightly, I just raised my shoulders. My dad left to go get a nurse.

*     *     *

We were told that he had just fallen asleep, but regardless of what happened, he passed away the next day. I guess he was right when he said that he was going to die soon.

Since he didn’t know a lot of people who lived out of town, his funeral was held on the following Tuesday.

Now, normally I wouldn’t bother going into minute detail about something as depressing as a funeral, but it’s actually pretty important.

But before I get to that rather nasty tidbit, I have to explain how the nightmare began.

Wait, sorry. That was over-dramatic. It was a lovely day at the chapel

Until…

Okay, so my family got there about ten minutes before the service started, and I immediately noticed that this was going to be a pretty small funeral.

Of the seven or eight cars there, I recognized only two. One of them was an old Lincoln that belonged to my great aunt Celia—who was my grandfather’s sister—and the other was a navy blue Jeep that belonged to Rodney, my uncle.

Seeing it made me happy. Not because Rodney was my favorite uncle or because his wife Terry was my favorite aunt, but because their son Michael was by far my favorite cousin. Even though he was three years older than me, he was a lot more fun to hang out with than my other cousins who were loud, young, rude, and obnoxious.

Michael, on the other hand, was a good sport; he was also the only chance I had of having fun, or—at the very least—not dying of boredom. If I got the chance, I would try to look for him.

Just to let you know, the sanctuary is the big, main room in the center of the church, and there are hallways around it on three sides like a U. There are two double-door entrances on opposite sides of the church, on the right and left side of the U, and there were three entrances to the sanctuary: one at the right, left, and rear.

Walking across the parking lot, my family soon reached the front entrance, which was on the left side of the church.

In front of us were these eight-foot tall church doors (large, thick, mahogany, think old-time-y) that had been propped open nice and wide like Jesus was going to give everyone a big hug. As soon as we walked in, Celia came out of nowhere and tackled my mom in a not-so-big hug. Laura. I’m so glad you’re here.

As usual, she ignored my dad and me completely. I looked past the two of them to the left entrance of the sanctuary. The doors were shut, and set in front of them was this big blowup portrait of my grandfather, ‘Tom Phillips’ with a Life Summary placard next to it.

He had lived 78 years. Longer than the average person. At least that was a positive note.

My mom finally managed to pull away from her. Hey, Aunt Celia. She patted her shoulder before stepping away. How are you?

Behind Celia’s thick glasses, she half-smiled. Oh, I managed not to die of grief when my husband died; I think I’ll manage through this. But how are you holding up? Losing a father… She stopped and looked at the ground. Anyway, it’s nice to see you. How’s it going at work?

My dad grabbed my arm and whispered to me, Go ahead and sit down or visit with family, but don’t get into any trouble.

Sure, I said as he crossed the room to the bathrooms on the left. Really? I thought. How much trouble could I get into at a funeral?

Mainly so I didn’t have to pretend to be interested in their conversation, I left my mom and Celia alone. The entrance in front of me (the left side of the U), was obviously a no-go, so instead, I exited through the doorway on my right and tried my best to remember where to go.

The place was polished wood everywhere you looked with vases and landscaped paintings along the walls. There were even some potted trees here and there on either side of each door like guards.

Luckily, it was a short walk around the corner and over to the rear entrance of the sanctuary.

There were a few older folks already sitting in the pews who must have been friends of my grandfather. But one of them, this bald guy with a mustache and dark eye-glasses, was standing in the back and talking to my uncle Rodney.

I know how you feel, but now isn’t the time to discuss this.

Rodney, who was one briefcase away from looking like a TV lawyer, rolled his eyes. Come on, George, he’s dead. Now is the perfect time to discuss it.

But— then George stopped, spotting me standing a few feet from them. He looked startled, but once he squinted to get a better look, he breathed out a sigh of relief. It’s just Nathan. He laughed. Hey, dude. What’s up?

The man was in his seventies and trying to sound hip. Annoying.

Um, I was just wondering… I glanced at Rodney, who wasn’t looking at me but at the ground, … about Michael.

Rodney shook his head and walked off toward the casket by the altar.

I’m glad it’s just you. George stared off into space, shaking his head. Those younger kids—your cousins. They ran through here just a few minutes ago. Rowdy bunch of— he glanced my way, then grinned. Well anyway. With you, it’ll stay dull.

Dull? I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up his hand. Sorry, not dull. I mean… he wavered, Less irritating. You never do anything.

He doesn’t think I do anything? I’m not sure why, but the idea that George didn’t think much of me put me on edge.

I was done talking to him. Peering past the man,