In the beginning....
The Crypt:
The dimly lit room, cast moving shadows. On the six bent heads, as they lifted, shook or bobbed in acquiescence to muffled tension. The stillness, might have been termed deafening. Except for the almost audible flickering notes, of four crooked candles. Conspicuously mounted, on a stand by the entrance. The thick and blackened brick walls, served both as a secret enclave and a sound proof escape. A lone carved portrait adorned the wall, facing the only door to the secret chamber. The portrait was that of a giant fly.
There were seven stools, circling or surrounding a round slab of concrete. A table stone supported by pointed edges, that were hewn from large rocks. Only six of those stools could be occupied in the Crypt, at any given time. The arrival of the seventh entity, would announce the perfect destruction of the assembly. No member would expect that entrant, neither would they enable the dreaded and doomed ingress. That was the foremost creed of allegiance, for this governing body. But at this moment, The Monitors were in session....
The Monitors (Let the circus play): "Is it not a little too much going on at the same time?" Heinus asked, as he seemingly and mindlessly tapped on the mirror's surface. He was talking to Xitus, while Bivus the second monitor (whenever Heinus was away). Looked on and nodded his agreement. "Well.....," started Xitus in a matter-of-fact tone. "As you well know, we are really not in control. But if HE must allow one exposure, then we must open as many 'cans of worms' as possible." "Hmm..... I do see your point." Heinus was speaking and looking up now. "After all we thrive better in an atmosphere of confusion. And besides, we have our prototype in the gene-pool already."
This he said, while baring rows of pearly spikes. Pins that served as teeth, when he was in the coven. "Prototypes procreated by us, ever ready consciously or unconsciously." The three beings smirked, in unison and in agreement.
A few hours later, the three monitors having been joined by the other three. Watched the huge mirror surface, as images darted about randomly. Suddenly, one particular scene eclipsed the rest and projected itself forward. As it spread out with vivid definition, the other scenes flickered momentarily. Shrinking and swirling, like waves without a shore. The six pairs of eyes, now trained their focus on the emboldened and demanding episode. It was simply a pair of shaky hands, holding a club stained with innocent blood.
The right place at the right time: "I think we should just take the precious stones and leave right now. We would be very rich and not have to hunt again." The first hunter was half pleading and half making a suggestion. "We have done all we could for him. It is now two days and there is still no sign of him waking up." This he concluded as he slumped tired and vexed on a piece of stone slab, partially buried in the soil. "That is no reason to rob him. He is not dead and even if he were dead, how noble is that cause huh?" Replied the second hunter, as he watched the still but breathing man propped up against a large tree trunk.
"I really wish there was something else, we could do," he sighed regretfully. "There has to be a reason we found him, after all this while that he has been buried here." He continued speaking, still thoughtful. "That is my point exactly." Retorted the first hunter. "Maybe we should have just left him buried! I am going home now. And I will be taking the rotted game-meat, with me also." He finished, with a disappointed shake of his head. Suddenly, they both turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Movement that crunched heavily, on dried leaves. Each hunter, had also instantly and simultaneously, lifted their guns.
"I come in peace!" Proclaimed the healer, as he pushed protruding branches aside to show his face. Then he lifted his hands up in the air. The two hunters looked at each other and then at the very large man, that was now standing about ten feet away from them. Then they lowered their guns. Just then, the unconscious man grunted slightly. The three men turned immediately, to look at him. But only two of them, registered shock at the long anticipated reaction.
"Has your friend taken ill?" Bronid asked, looking at the man sitting on the ground. "He is not our friend," supplied the first hunter irritably. "We found him buried in the ground two days ago and we cannot seem to be able to help him." He stood with his hands folded across his chest, confirming the finality of his statement and the situation. "We think he may have been buried for years," the second hunter informed Bronid, with a shake of his head. Meanwhile, the young healer, was already kneeling besides the subject of discussion and dispute as he observed him.
A few minutes later, Bronid strengthened himself and stood up. "Can you help me bring him to my home?" He asked looking from one man to the other. "Oh good!" Said the first hunter. "You want him and his precious stones too!" "What?" Bronid looked surprised and on the verge of provocation. But he controlled himself and replied instead; "Oh no, I am a healer and I think I can help him."
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