Area 51: Nosferatu-8 by Robert Doherty Page B
Authors: Robert Doherty
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Historical, Fantasy, Action & Adventure, Area 51 (Nev.)
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wiped the dust from the glowing control panel.
"We must hurry," Kajihi whispered.
Much as he desired to open the tube and see his love, Nosferatu knew the Watcher was right. Plus, dawn was not far off. He gestured and the two Bedouins grabbed
89
hold of the ends. They lifted the tube off the platform. Kajihi was back in the corridor, leading the way out. Nosferatu brought up the rear, his eyes on the tube.
They exited the Great Pyramid just as the first reddish hint of dawn was showing in the east. Nosferatu lent a hand getting the tube down the giant blocks of the pyramid to the surface of the plateau. They scurried along in the concealment of the stone causeway until they reached the large pile of stone blocks where the other four Bedouins waited.
Nosferatu had them lash the tube to the two spare camels, protecting the end still on the ground with a piece of heavy cloth. He turned to Kajihi, anxious to be into the desert before the sun cleared the horizon. "Go back to your Watching."
KNOSSOS, CRETE: 1450 B.C.
Seven girls and seven boys. Virgins all.
The ship from Athens delivered the yearly tribute to the long stone dock that extended from the port city of Iraklion into the harbor. Soldiers flanked the chained youths and escorted them along the dock to the waiting wagons. They were loaded on board and the small convoy made its way through the town, flickering torches in the lead soldiers' hands lighting the way. Even though it was early evening, not a person was about and store windows were shuttered. No one wanted to gaze upon the doomed youths, for it was said the very sight of them brought ill fortune.
The wagons rolled into the hills, approaching the capital palace of Knossos.
It was a sign of the king's power that the palace was not surrounded by defensive walls. The
90
Minoan Navy ruled the waves for many miles about Crete and any enemy would have to get through that powerful force before it could even approach the island.
On top of the tallest tower in the palace, a dark figure stood, gazing down at the slowly approaching lights. To all he ruled, he was known as King Minos, who held sway over Crete, and many of the surrounding Cycladic Islands. There were those who said he was the son of Zeus and the Princess Europa. There were none alive on the island who remembered when he had taken power, and the whispers passed down said he had been in the palace for over 350 years. Some said even longer. Thus the rumors of a God as his father.
Of course, it was true to an extent.
Vampyr pulled back the hood covering his head and looked up at the stars. He felt the lust for blood rising as the caravan carrying the tribute from Athens came closer. He had learned to be careful over the years, to hide his feeding from people. He took only one victim a month, in the secrecy of the Labyrinth he had had built underneath the palace, away from the prying eyes of others. The extra two he took on special occasions—one was the anniversary of Lilith's death. The other was the anniversary of the date he had become king of Crete over 350 years earlier.
He had come there over five hundred years ago. After leaving Egypt with his tube and Aspasia's Shadow's admonition, he had traveled about the edge of the Mediterranean for two hundred years. He'd even gone inland, traveling into the Black Sea and northward into Russia, spending many years exploring. He'd seen much and learned much, but his hatred had not abated in the slightest.
Finally, growing weary, he'd taken Aspasia's Shadow's advice and hidden his tube in a cave along the coast of
91
Greece and climbed inside, going into the deep sleep. He'd awoken five hundred years earlier. He'd traveled back to Egypt, where he learned that the Airlia had disappeared and that Shadows had ruled. Then even the Shadows had given way to men. He made plans to enter the Roads of Rostau and search out the four surviving Airlia to slay them—if that was indeed where they slept—but
"We must hurry," Kajihi whispered.
Much as he desired to open the tube and see his love, Nosferatu knew the Watcher was right. Plus, dawn was not far off. He gestured and the two Bedouins grabbed
89
hold of the ends. They lifted the tube off the platform. Kajihi was back in the corridor, leading the way out. Nosferatu brought up the rear, his eyes on the tube.
They exited the Great Pyramid just as the first reddish hint of dawn was showing in the east. Nosferatu lent a hand getting the tube down the giant blocks of the pyramid to the surface of the plateau. They scurried along in the concealment of the stone causeway until they reached the large pile of stone blocks where the other four Bedouins waited.
Nosferatu had them lash the tube to the two spare camels, protecting the end still on the ground with a piece of heavy cloth. He turned to Kajihi, anxious to be into the desert before the sun cleared the horizon. "Go back to your Watching."
KNOSSOS, CRETE: 1450 B.C.
Seven girls and seven boys. Virgins all.
The ship from Athens delivered the yearly tribute to the long stone dock that extended from the port city of Iraklion into the harbor. Soldiers flanked the chained youths and escorted them along the dock to the waiting wagons. They were loaded on board and the small convoy made its way through the town, flickering torches in the lead soldiers' hands lighting the way. Even though it was early evening, not a person was about and store windows were shuttered. No one wanted to gaze upon the doomed youths, for it was said the very sight of them brought ill fortune.
The wagons rolled into the hills, approaching the capital palace of Knossos.
It was a sign of the king's power that the palace was not surrounded by defensive walls. The
90
Minoan Navy ruled the waves for many miles about Crete and any enemy would have to get through that powerful force before it could even approach the island.
On top of the tallest tower in the palace, a dark figure stood, gazing down at the slowly approaching lights. To all he ruled, he was known as King Minos, who held sway over Crete, and many of the surrounding Cycladic Islands. There were those who said he was the son of Zeus and the Princess Europa. There were none alive on the island who remembered when he had taken power, and the whispers passed down said he had been in the palace for over 350 years. Some said even longer. Thus the rumors of a God as his father.
Of course, it was true to an extent.
Vampyr pulled back the hood covering his head and looked up at the stars. He felt the lust for blood rising as the caravan carrying the tribute from Athens came closer. He had learned to be careful over the years, to hide his feeding from people. He took only one victim a month, in the secrecy of the Labyrinth he had had built underneath the palace, away from the prying eyes of others. The extra two he took on special occasions—one was the anniversary of Lilith's death. The other was the anniversary of the date he had become king of Crete over 350 years earlier.
He had come there over five hundred years ago. After leaving Egypt with his tube and Aspasia's Shadow's admonition, he had traveled about the edge of the Mediterranean for two hundred years. He'd even gone inland, traveling into the Black Sea and northward into Russia, spending many years exploring. He'd seen much and learned much, but his hatred had not abated in the slightest.
Finally, growing weary, he'd taken Aspasia's Shadow's advice and hidden his tube in a cave along the coast of
91
Greece and climbed inside, going into the deep sleep. He'd awoken five hundred years earlier. He'd traveled back to Egypt, where he learned that the Airlia had disappeared and that Shadows had ruled. Then even the Shadows had given way to men. He made plans to enter the Roads of Rostau and search out the four surviving Airlia to slay them—if that was indeed where they slept—but
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