Call To Cairo: The Franz Fichte Tales, #2

By H.H. Marcus

Franz Fichte is a world traveler and adventurer extraordinaire. The Franz Fichte Tales continue in Book 2, when he returns home he is called by his colleague, Gaston who has taken upon a new life of adventure since their last encounter. Gaston has been involved in acquiring ancient urns in Egypt when he calls his good friend Franz to help him out in Cairo. Before his departure Franz receives a foreboding message and ends up entangled in a web of deception while navigating the streets of Cairo. He is lured back to the dreamscape which is an extramundane world between our own where nightmarish creatures exist. A supernatural tale of betrayal, friendship and ancient curses. Can Franz Fichte survive his Call To Cairo?

• Language: English
• Publisher: 84 North Publishing
• Release date: Oct 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201214012

Book preview

Call To Cairo

BY H.H. MARCUS

Published by 84 North Publishing.com

Chapter 1 – Answering The Call

I awoke from another nightmare that final night in New London but it was not enough to keep me there longer. I had closed the bridge and it was time to move on. So I spent many months at home, just gallivanting and doing what I love. Somehow it was always easier to breathe at home.

When I am not adventuring I spend a lot of time painting.

It is such an odd feeling for me to be able to draw, even when I do nothing more than sketch the walls or furniture in my room. I have not drawn any kind of picture in about twenty years. I can remember everything but my abilities there have decreased in the face of constant adventure.

Things were going easy at home until one afternoon I got a phone call from my former colleague, Gaston. He had been finding his new fortune to be helpful in becoming an explorer himself. He had spent many weeks in Egypt last I heard.

I answered the phone, Hello? This is Franz Fichte.

Good evening, Gaston said, then he asked me a question, Have you ever been to Cairo?

Of course, I replied, staring out my window.

Gaston began his story, it was only slightly embellished since Gaston was a facts first kind of person, I met a fellow at a pub in New London, named Ahmad Nazari. We had a few drinks together and I got him talking about his travels. He was in Egypt recently, investigating some local legends. He mentioned a place where enchanted urns were found buried beneath the desert sands.

He paused for dramatic effect, but before he could continue I interjected, Did you say urns?

Yes, he answered.

Tell me more, I requested.

Gaston continued, Ahmad told me that if one was brave enough to dig down deep enough, the urns would open up revealing several sets of arms which when uncovered looked very similar to those of ancient Egyptian warriors depicted on temple walls.

Gaston paused again, waiting to hear my reaction, It seems this legend has been around for quite some time now, so I thought I should bring it to your attention.

My mind began to wander, imagining what kind of curse was placed on the urns, not to mention the depth of the dig.

What kind of legends surround these ancient weapons? I asked.

Gaston answered, Some say they are actual weapons used by priests during the building of the pyramids, others believe they might have belonged to Pharaoh's soldiers or perhaps even the Gods themselves. Regardless, these urns have always been a point of contention with the locals but I think Ahmad can smooth it over, ahem, politically.

I was intrigued and wanted to know more. So Gaston explained how he had tried to contact Ahmed earlier that day, but no one answered his call. He also said there were rumors circulating about an unknown archaeological site in the area where the urns were said to be located.

He didn't elaborate much on the rumors or the dangers at the time. He also forgot to mention Fernand Bellegarde's involvement. We had worked with Bellegarde in the past but I did not trust the Frenchman as much as I did Gaston.

I finished up on the phone and went to bed. Having vague recollections of our last encounter.  I felt the next morning that I needed to go see Gaston, and soon.

In an attempt to change my mind about leaving home, I decided it would be best to do something normal like going to work. This was a big mistake, because once in the office I got into the habit of doing things normally only after I had done them before. It became harder and harder to stay away from my desk until one day I just gave it up. A while later I found myself staring at a blank page of paper wondering what to draw. That night I dreamt of Gaston's phone call.

I am sure you can imagine the rest of my story from here. That day I had started to make preparations for my journey. That night I sat at the corner table in my favorite pub across town. Looking at the dark wood grain with a candle lighting it was almost hypnotic for me to look at it.

When my eyes wandered from the wall behind me there was a tap on my shoulder.

I turned around and saw a man standing there. He wore a long cloak with a hood pulled up around his head. He stared at me curiously.

When he spoke his voice was quiet and a little hoarse. Are you Franz Fichte? he asked.

Yes, I answered.

Your friend is looking for you, the stranger said, pointing at the empty chair at the end of the bar where I had been sitting moments before.

How do you know that? I questioned.

I was told you were planning to leave, he replied.

And who are you? I asked.

The stranger stood still, his cloaked figure facing me without moving. I could