‘Museum of Myth and Legend: Where Fantasy and Reality Meet’

Chris frowned. Why didn’t he remember driving here? What the hell would have possessed him to come in the first place?

“Just one ticket, sir?“ the girl repeated.

Maybe he’d been in some sort of accident and needed medical help? The thought conjured a smirk on Chris’ rugged face. Either that or it had been one hell of an evening at the saloon the night before. The boys were likely worried. He needed to find a phone.

“Sir?”

Larabee was about to tell the teenager he wasn’t interested, but people had lined up behind him making escape impossible, so he fished money out of his pocket, accepted a ticket and moved out of the way. Around him children leaped with excitement, their high-pitched voices reverberating though his head. A teacher smiled apologetically as she ushered the students into a group.

“Quickly, the presentation is about to start,” she urged.

As Chris shoved the ticket into his trousers, he watched the woman lead the students into a corridor labeled the ‘Tunnel Away from Reality’.

Larabee stared around the room, massaging his throbbing temples. He couldn't remember having a headache like this. His very soul ached.

Chris searched for somewhere to buy aspirin. As far as he could tell, he was in an old hotel that had been transformed into a museum. Glass cases displayed all manner of things and on the walls hung shields, swords and paintings of mythical creatures.

“Sir, if you will just move this way, the presentation is starting,” an usher dressed as Hercules requested.

“I’m looking for a phone.“

“There’s a public phone down that corridor,“ Hercules informed him, pointing after the disappearing children.

Still confused, and hoping that everything would begin to make sense shortly, Chris wandered down the hall after the school group. The passage was narrow and lit by artificial flickering torches, which looked about as real as the silly clay dragons lining the way. The wooden walls had been covered with painted sponge rubber to give the unsuccessful effect of stone.

When Chris reached the end of the corridor, it split into three. He cursed softly. “So which way to the phone?”

Following the sound of voices, Chris moved left. The corridor sloped downward. For almost two full minutes he descended, then the hall leveled out and Chris found himself in a wide room lined with statues of goblins and gargoyles, but no people and no phone.

Chris frowned. The walls here weren't sponge rubber, he noted by the dank chill in the room. He walked into the centre and searched for the group that had gone ahead of him. Detecting youthful shrieks of delight, Chris strode toward a door to his left. Above it was a sign engraved in stone.

Chris snorted. This great warrior was lost. Larabee placed his hand on the door knob and paused to study the intricate carving. His fingertips tingled. There was something strangely familiar about the patterns.

“It’s starting!” someone on the other side called.

Chris pulled the heavy wooden door open and stepped inside. Immediately, it closed behind him -- seven doors slammed shut around the heptagonal shaped room.

There was almost no light. As his eyes adjusted to the murkiness, Chris was able to make out several steps directly in front of him. They led to the raised floor of the room. Apart from a man draped in shadows standing off centre, the room appeared empty. Larabee’s brow furrowed. Where had the children gone and where the hell was the phone?

“Welcome, gentlemen. I cannot begin to tell you how long I have awaited your arrival.” The speaker’s voice echoed, bouncing off the walls and resounding for several seconds. This did nothing for the ache in Chris' skull, which intensified until he felt disoriented.

Larabee flicked his eyes around the space, straining to make out his surroundings. He realized that there were people standing just inside other doors at the base of the raised floor.

“Allow me to tell you a brief story,” the presenter requested. He turned slowly toward Chris, his wizard-like robes fluttering in the still room. “Thousands of years ago, a great and powerful chieftain named Falanargo sold his soul to become invincible. Dubbed the ‘Prince of Darkness’, his wave of terror spread. Seven warriors, with little in common, joined forces and defeated the immortal using the mysterious, jeweled Celmeans – a gift from the exiled sorceress, Inesoreta. Falanargo was banished to Limbo, but only for 7000 years. To ensure the Celmean’s power could never be summoned and misused, the seven gems that provided its vast power were removed by the warriors for safekeeping. The men separated and hid the gems as far from each other as possible and then they and the Celmeans disappeared into the seams of time.

Without warning the torches mounted around the room spontaneously burst into small flickering flames, though they provided little light. However, Chris noted immediately that these weren't artificial. There was something eerie and altogether too real about this room for Larabee’s liking.

The man on the raised floor smiled and pulled back his hood to reveal an old and kindly face. “I am Del Libro Custode, the curator of the Museum. The story I have told you is not one of our legends or myths. It is a historical account of an actual event that took place. Sometimes reality is stranger than fiction, wouldn’t you agree?”

Chris was compelled up the stairs. As he stepped onto the flat area above, so did six others. Larabee’s mind began to fog and once again he found himself slipping into the limbo-like state that sent him driving here without knowledge or purpose. The strange quality of the curator’s voice and the heavy unearthly aura of the room were drawing him in -- no, drawing him back.

“Each of you have come for the same reason, summoned by the Book of Fate which has been hidden for 7000 years. Seven warriors chosen by fate to face the Prince of Darkness.” The words echoed out.

Suddenly, an amused chuckled shattered the dreamlike ambience, snapping Chris and the other men back from the brink of the unknown. “You, know, you really are good. This place is great. Would have scared the shit out of me when I was a kid.”

“Buck?” Chris asked, recognizing the other’s voice.

“Chris? Chris, that you over there?” Buck walked across the floor and peered through the darkness at Larabee’s face.

"Buck?" J.D. called.

"Kid, you're here too?"

"Sounds like we are all here," Josiah mused.

“I would like to know who is responsible for this,” Ezra complained.

“Gentlemen,” the curator interrupted, “there will be time for reunions later.”

Buck raised his right eyebrow. “Look, I want to thank you for a great show. But to tell you the truth, I can’t remember why I came, and I reckon I’ll be leaving now. Come on, boys. How about we grab some lunch and an aspirin -- I've a terrible headache -- and we can...”

“None of you can remember why you came. I have already explained, each of you were summoned by fate so you can embark on a quest to save our world.”

“Man, you really are something, but you can stop the act now. Just point us in the direction of the canteen and we‘ll get out of your way,” Buck suggested. He was famished and his head ached with a passion. Like Chris and his other companions, he felt dreadfully disoriented and longed simply to get out of there.

“It is clear that I need to elaborate on the story so that you understand. So that you remember.”

Buck glanced at Chris and rolled his eyes in amusement. “About the only thing I can remember is that the New Year‘s party last night was...”

“Let the man talk,” Vin ordered in a hushed, but firm tone. Chris glanced in the direction of his second-in-command, glimpsing his outline in the patchy darkness.

Custode nodded his thanks. “As I have already told you, history isn’t as we have been led to believe. Realism is a story used to convince the masses that they're safe. There isn’t always a scientific explanation for everything. Reality is greatly over-rated for it and fantasy are not at opposing ends of the spectrum, but run perpendicular to each other, meeting at a single point. Very few ever come across this point, but it happens and that is what occurred 7000 years ago when a war chieftain went to the King of Darkness and made a dreadful deal. He sold his soul for the chance of immortality so that he could conquer all before him. The King of Darkness accepted the terms and made Falanargo invincible. His army of mortals transformed into half man-half beast warriors plucked from the mists of unreality. They plundered all they came across. This is not a story. It is history and has been recorded in the Book of Fate.”

An ice-cold chill filled the room and the torches exploded with bright light, illuminating the heptagonal shaped cavern clearly for the first time. On a pillar beside the curator lay a huge book. The tarnished metal cover appeared to draw the light shining down on it.

Josiah walked across and stared down at the volume. “It exists?” he asked incredulously.

Custode smiled at the broad-shouldered man. “Yes, it exists, Sergeant Sanchez. You are familiar with this chronicle?”

Sanchez carefully studied the book. “The Book of Fate is a myth my father told me about when I was a boy. It is supposed to be described in the Book of Azriel, which was removed from the Bible to prevent wide-spread panic by those compiling Scriptures at the Council of Nicaea in the time of Emperor Constantine. But that's just a story. The Book of Azriel doesn't exist. The Book of Fate is..."

"Is...?" the curator prompted.

"It's nothing more than a myth. A fairy tale. It is supposed to chronicle the fight between good and evil -- before the time of Abraham. The fight between God's chosen warriors and the evil one's monsters. To continue your story, no one would stand up to Falanargo and his army of Beastlings until one day in a small village, a group of Beastlings chose to sacrifice a local to the King of Darkness.” Josiah paused to lay his hand on the cover, feeling the texture. “Incredible,” he muttered.

“Please continue,” Custode prompted.

Sanchez faced his now attentive audience. “According to the legend my father told me, the young man begged for his life. He was a healer, and his people needed him more than ever since Falanargo had taken over the territory. Two strangers stepped from the crowd, and outnumbered five to one, they took on the Beastlings and won. It was the first time anyone had ever defeated the immortal beings. God had chosen his warriors.”

“The three men pledged to rid the world of Falanargo, who was, by this time, dubbed the Prince of Darkness,” the curator stated, taking up the story. “Four other men joined them, but the youngest was turned away. His youth and inexperience concerned the group's leader. However, the young warrior was not to be deterred and finally won their acceptance. Together the seven set out on their quest. They spoke to the exiled sorceress, Inesorita, who granted each of them a gemstone which had immortal power. By combining the gemstones in the Celmeans, the warriors could use it as a weapon capable of banishing Falanargo to Limbo for 7000 years. She also gave them the Book of Fate, which they could use as a map to lead them to the Prince of Darkness himself. This they did and in a mighty battle, Falanargo was defeated and he was swallowed into the realm of nowhere. Realizing that the power of the Celmean could be misused, the seven warriors removed the gems separated, and headed for the far reaches of the world to hide them. And so it has been for 6999 years.”

“6999, hey? Only a year to go?” Buck asked.

“In seven weeks, Falanargo's time of banishment ends and he will be freed from his prison so that once again he can spread his terror across worlds -- unless seven warriors willing to face the seven trials can be found. They must do so in order to obtain the gems so that the Celmeans can be used to defeat the Prince of Darkness once again.”

Silence filled the room. “What I am telling you happened and must happen again if our world is to survive.”

Buck glanced at J.D., who had moved to stand next to him. “The old fella really believes all of this. Must be crackers,” he whispered.

“You have been chosen, not by me, but by Fate... or perhaps by God. You must embrace your destiny.”

“Yep, all aboard the train to Loony Land,” Buck muttered.

“Sir, this has been a charming story, and your use of special effects is truly second to none, but like my friend here, I require sustenance. So if you will be so kind as to direct me to the closest establishment selling refreshments, I will take my leave. May I add, Buck, that I suspect that you are behind this party trick and I do not appreciate it.”

“Me? It wasn’t me!”

“I understand your confusion and inability to accept such a bizarre story in light of your indoctrination of science,” the curator soothed. “Just as a man who could walk on water and calm storms did not fit such a narrow world view. Your reaction was written in the prophecy. Allow me to explain what you are feeling so that you might believe I am speaking the truth. All of you have no memory of coming here, only of arriving.”

Chris licked his lips and glanced around at the reactions of his colleagues. They looked as stunned and wary as he felt. Someone had brought them here individually. It had been a well-organized operation, but who was behind it? The Hawks? A foreign government? Their own government?

“All of you feel weary, for you have been in a trance for the past few hours. All of you have been experiencing strange dreams in the past weeks -- something you failed to share.”

The men were now studying one another.

“Have you been having dreams too?” J.D. whispered to Buck.

“In each of you dwells one of the warriors. Together, you must face the seven trials to find the gems so that you will be ready to challenge the Prince of Darkness when he steps back into our world.”

“Why should we believe you?” Nathan asked.

“Because you know it is the truth.”

“Truth” Buck snorted. “You want us to believe that some fella sold his soul and ended up running around the place with an army of monsters who were defeated by seven fellas with seven gems? Sounds like a fairy tale to me.”

“And yet, you know it is the truth, otherwise you wouldn‘t be here,” Custode pointed out.

Chris considered the claim. Every piece of logic he possessed argued against any truth in the statement, but in his soul, he knew Custode's words were genuine. Looking at the faces around the room, he recognised that, while doing battle to understand, they all seemed to know.

“You do not need to be introduced, for fate has seen to it that you know each other well. You have fought together. This was in preparation for your quest.”

Vin flicked his eyes to Chris. I don‘t know if I can believe all of this.

Chris’ eyes widened. In the past, he and Vin had shared a sense of what the other was thinking. This time, Chris clearly heard Vin's voice in his mind. The stunned look on Vin’s face revealed that he was aware of this fact and just as surprised.

“I wasn’t sure if I believed it, but I guess I’m beginning to,” Vin murmured.

“Yeah,” Chris agreed. “Do we get a choice?” he asked the curator. Larabee was the leader of one of the world's top response units. There were few on the planet who could force Chris to do anything, but he sensed this was beyond anything he'd ever experienced.

Custode's face clouded with concern. “I cannot make you accept this quest. I am simply the keeper of the book. But it is your destiny and no man can run from his destiny for long.”

“I reckon I could give it a good go,” Buck muttered.

Ezra glanced at Buck and an amused smile formed on his lips. “You and me both, my friend.”

“Del Libro Custode. That’s Latin for bookkeeper,” Josiah murmured.

“What happens if we agree to do whatever it is you’re asking?” Nathan asked.

“You will embark on the seven trials to find the gems. The journeys will be written in the Book of Fate, which will guide you. However, time is running out. There will be seven warnings of the Prince of Darkness’ awakening. They will take the form of wind, water, earth, snow, fire, drought and darkness. Following the final warning. you will have seven days to reach the place of his imprisonment. It will take seven hours for him to fully regenerate. If you do not defeat him during that period, he will be unstoppable.”

“This is ridiculous,” Buck muttered. “The guy is obviously on something. Tolkein eat your heart out.”

“So the book tells us where to find the gems. What about this Celmeans?” J.D. asked, his voice filled with excitement. Unlike his older partners, who continued to battle years of reason, Dunne was ready to dismiss reason and embark on the adventure of a lifetime based on faith.

“It stands for celestial means,” Josiah explained. “Legend describes a sword with jeweled handle.”

“That is one of the theories,” Custode agreed. “There is no clear description of the Celmeans, however, it has long been believed that it was forged by the greatest sword makers of antiquity.“

“And the hilt is supposed to have seven jewels of amazing clarity in it,“ Josiah explained. “They must be the gems.”

“The gems must be kept separate until you find Falanargo. Only then should they be placed in the Celmeans. Placing the gems into the Celmeans too soon will taint it, perhaps even corrupt it so that it may be used by the Prince of Darkness.”

J.D. was hanging on every word. “So how will we recognise this Celmeans?”

“You will know when the time is right. The prophecy suggests that you will come across it in your travels.”

“And if we don’t?” Ezra demanded. “I am not a great believer in leaving things to chance.”

“It has already been written. Just as it was written that you would come together, so it is written that if you successfully secure the gems, the Celmeans will...”

“If? If we’re successful?” Buck clarified. “I thought all of this was a foregone conclusion because it was written in the infallible book?”

“The journey is written, not the outcome of each quest. Only once one quest has been completed will the next be written,” Custode explained.

“Before we discuss anything further, may I suggest we open the book and find out just what it says. I don't believe we have yet agreed to partake of this ‘quest’,” Ezra pointed out. He shook his head. “I know I will wake from this nightmare eventually.”

Buck walked across to the Book of Fate and attempted to lift the cover, but it refused to budge. “What the... It’s stuck. Hell, all of the pages are glued together.” The other men crowded around.

“Let me look at it,” Josiah suggested. Despite his considerable strength, Josiah couldn’t open the book either. “Hang on, there’s some sort of dial on it.” In the centre of the cover was a metal dial about four inches in diameter. “We need the combination,“ he pointed out to Custode.

“That, I can’t help you with.“

Sanchez frowned and placed his hand over the dial. It clicked once, but the book wouldn’t open, nor could he turn the knob any further.

Nathan blinked and in his mind he saw a scene that had happened long before -- in another time. Jackson stepped up beside Josiah and placed his hand over his friend's. The dial clicked once more.

“Is there a law of physics that explains that or is this just another magician‘s trick?” Buck murmured.

The other men stared at each other.

“The seven warriors alone have the ability to open the book,” the curator explained. “It was sealed after the original quest, only to be unlocked when needed.”

Eagerly, J.D. stepped up and laid his hand on top of Nathan‘s, and dial turned one more click. “It’s working!“ he cried.

One by one, the other men followed suit, until only Chris remained.

“Once we open the book, there’s no turning back,” he whispered. It was the one thing he knew with certainty. Larabee wasn’t sure he was ready to turn his back on all that he believed to be real, to embark on a quest based on legends.

“The book will tell you where your journey is to start,” Custode explained. “After that, it is up to you.”

Larabee could feel the eyes of his men boring into him. He had the final decision.