The Protestants offered their help in the name of the Lord Jesus, and Pietro had with him a couple of Catholic priests from France and Spain, whom presence was much needed.
The crew worked with the natives who had lived in that area for thousands of years. The old chief and Clark were studying the map, while the others were sitting around the fire watching the mountains.
The aboriginals were praying in their language, mixing with it some old Latin prayers learned from previous European explorers. The shaman was chanting and dancing with the sacred spiritual guide around the fire, sending up smoke signals. Clark did not show any curiosity about the native’s prayers and rituals, while the soldiers were fearfully concerned in hearing those spiritual choruses…eyeing obscure animal-human totems mingled with wooden Christian crosses. One of the guards noticed a few dancing warriors with a strange cross tattooed on their abdomens, a cross with four equal sides; it was a Templar Cross of the 1300, banned by the church for heresy.
A soldier commented, “Vancouver established a good relationship with those tribes, but I don’t trust them! To me they are dangerous. I mean, the way they perform those rituals. It is frightening, don’t you think?” His face was covered by wrinkles, red-colored because of the bonfire’s reflection. A second soldier replied, “I agree with you, I do not trust those people either—or the clerics, they are deceivers.”
Ravello told the English colonists that it was a coincidence. The aboriginals could have copied the Templar symbol from mercenaries working on the ships. The bonfire was turning a deep red color, and the sunset was over, with the last light obscuring the valley. It was March 12, and in eight days the expedition would have moved up the hills.
A week later, ten settlers and six natives guided by Clark commenced hiking up the trails…the chief and the shaman behind them. It was dawn and nobody was talking. The scout brought the members to a pathway that created two ways going in the same direction, toward the west. They decided to split in two mixed groups.
Clark ordered: “One group will proceed with me, while the other with the lieutenant. We should meet almost at the end of the trail, where the two paths are reunited.” The captain gave to his young officer, James Williams, a copy of the original map, allocating subsequently the clerics in both groups. Cardinal Ravello proceeded with Clark, who approached the chief and stared at his face, saying, “I wish you good luck. May the spirit of the mountains protect you and your people.”
March 20 was a sunny day, the beginning of spring, and Sir Clark briefed the crews before advancing into the woods. They were looking for a little lake, hidden somewhere between the trees; it was situated just before the last peak of the so-called Black Mountain (named by the natives).
The Mystic dusk was falling on the valley, and the sun was hiding from the ocean. A mix of rays were crashing into each other between the trees, running and rushing in an exhausted way, while everybody felt lost in a sort of claustrophobic sensation.
Clark questioning: “Eminence! Why do the Catholics fear a tiny lake so much? I do not comprehend what kind of evil could be concealed in it.” Ravello replied, “Christ was born in a tiny haystack, placed in a forgotten little village. He was the son of God, the Savior of the world. The deceiver of humankind chose the same way, hiding in a tiny lagoon far away from the eyes of the Holy See. Only the grace of the Lord revealed to us its obscure dwelling, following a star, the North Star!” Ravello elucidated while crossing his chest, and blessing the officer said: “This is our last chance, Captain! Our lives, the future of the world, depend on it. God must prevail!”
The officer was overwhelmed by the cleric’s powerful speech, staring at his long skinny face. The cardinal was a tall slim man, presenting two sunken dark eyes divided by a little nose. His cheekbones surfaced showily, moving with a sliding look, while his voice was rusty and redundant.
The first group maintained a sluggish pace because of the presence of numerous clerics, while the second was briskly advancing thanks to the aboriginal people. Twilight was regarded with fear by the locals, while the settlers saw a chance to rest and camp.
The light of spring was diminishing!
CHAPTER I
Dark Mirror
PART II
Clark felt a strange feeling, his head stooped down, observing the sky covered with clouds between the trees. The hindmost sunlight was warming the air when the officer realized he was discerning that magic horror view from a mirror, a lake mirror, a bloody mirror of death. Screams, shouts…voices of past spirits were heard all over the moun- tains, while a wooden stick entered the Captain’s stomach, coming out of his backbone, lifting the body up in a macabre agonizing balance. Clark’s hands were desperately slipping on the bloody pole, while his voice was a spitting red, suffocated desolation. The creature’s convulsions made the corpse collapse, reaching half of the long piece of wood. His eyeballs could see two dark black eyes scanning him as he was dying.
Priests and the Cardinals grabbed their huge crosses and said in a loud voice, “Vade Retro Satana” (Go back, Satan). Cardinal Ravello was reciting his powerful exorcism, claiming his right in the name of Christ to expel the beast.
All personnel were trapped in an unnaturally obscure, enchanted spell, hearing around them a chorus of guttural reversed rasping voices. The rutted eerie tongues motioned closer and closer, confusing their lost minds and souls. The first group was surrounded, while the second close to the lake heard the screams.
“We have to be prepared for whatever is out there, let the locals advance first, they know better than us this place,” ordered James Williams.
One of the clerics was trembling with fear, falling into a panicking paranoia: “No, Officer! We should retreat right now! Do you hear those screams? The roots of evil are out there, there is nothing we can do, too late for us!”
Williams restrained the priest. “Father, please! You are a man of God…how can you relinquish from your duties? They need our help, God’s help.”
The cleric stepped back from Williams, while a few natives seized him. “You people do not understand! We are facing the ancestral evil of eternal creation, Lucifer himself! Listen to me, please, hear those exhales and sounds? I tell you now…”
A soldier froze in mid-conversation: “Shush, you all! Listen! The priest is right, those sounds are creepy.”
Lieutenant Williams restored order, boosting his authority, “I am in charge here! Those sounds could be wild animals, we do not know for sure. Regroup now! Ready to advance fully armed!”
It was March 20 (Easter time) and Pietro’s cross was clasped by a strong obscure spiral-curled hand that repeatedly stroked the priest’s eyes till it smashed inside.
The remaining clerics were drowned soon after, one by one. Trees witnessed people hanged with roots and slaughtered before they choked to death, while others were tossed from the cliff and impaled upon the numerous surrounding pine trees. It was a disgusting, atrocious scene. Few aboriginal warriors escaped, showing on their bellies a Templar cross. They were the only survivors of the hiking mission, now crashing on James Williams.
“What are you doing here, where is Captain Clark? What about the clericals?” The shaman out of breath exclaimed in terror: “The woods revived the evil spirit of the forest assaulted us. They are all dead, dead! No one survived.”
The horrified priest replied, “I told you, fool! We must leave now, before it is too late. There’s nothing we can do anymore…the seal is unlatched forever.” Williams advanced toward the man in a threatening mode, thrusting people aside and making his way. “What seal! What are you talking about?” Questioned the officer while grabbing the man