Necronomicon: The Wanderings of Alhazred (38 page)

nce the cleft pillar has been located in the valley of stones, it is a matter of small difficulty to find the mound that conceals the well. The stones on top of its mouth are broad and flat, of a weight that can be tipped up with effort by a single man, if he has a strong back, and rolled aside. They overlie each other like the scales of a fish, and in this way cover the opening. Though the glow of the water is not perceptible in daylight above the well, by leaning over its channel with the eyes shaded by the hands, and peering down, it can be discerned in the depths, and is seen to be of a golden color similar to polished brass.

The well is uncommonly deep, so much so that the traveler who has come without a considerable length of twine will find himself at a loss as to how to draw up the shining waters from its depths; a close examination of the interior sides of the well reveals a spiral series of notches cut into the stones to act as a stair, presumably to allow slaves access to its depths for the periodic cleaning of silt and debris. By descending from notch to notch, winding progress can be made from the top to the surface of the water. The traveler will find it necessary to lower his body into the water, since there is no place to stand, and the position of the stairs makes it impossible to release one hand and bend down to cup the water in the palm for drinking.

The depth of water is too great to stand upon the bottom. Floating up to the neck, and clinging to the rough stones at the side of the well, the water upon the skin feels strangely warm and causes a tingling sensation, as though the skin were pricked over its surface by a thousand needles. It is then a simple matter to duck the head and swallow some of the water. Alas! The story related by the anonymous scribe is no more than a fable, at least with respect to the curative powers of the well, for the traveler, upon feeling with his fingers those parts of his body that are maimed or scarred, will discover no change. The water has a bitter taste on the tongue, and becomes more sour and foul the longer it remains in the stomach, so that at last the traveler will be forced to vomit it up, for his body will not suffer it to remain within.

The regret of a seeker who has traveled far in search of this well, hoping to use its waters to erase from his body the mutilations of the torturer’s knife, can scarcely be imagined by those who are whole in limb and without disfigurement. To have hope of healing placed in the heart by the cruel fiction of the unknown scribe, and then to find it torn from the breast by the sour reality of the poisoned waters, is almost as painful as was the initial cutting away of the flesh. The traveler may almost be forgiven for crying out like a savage beast in his rage and frustration, and for cursing the faith of Jerusalem.

Having ventured so far, it would be foolish not to investigate the relic of the Hebrews for anything of value it might contain. Again, the traveler will suffer disappointment, for when he takes a breath and descends to the bottom of the well, he will discover that the glowing radiance emanates from a locked box that is too large for a single man to lift and too strongly made to be broken open. It is sheathed all over in thin gold, with golden rings set in its sides. By these rings it might be possible to raise the box with a length of strong rope and the aid of a donkey or camel, but the traveler will soon learn that he is not alone in the well, as his stirrings will awaken the thing that abides in its depths.

What it is no man can define, for its likeness is not to be found elsewhere upon the earth. In part composed of matter, and in part made up of light, it resembles a great eel with the face of a man, or an angel, yet its long tail is a curling flame. In swift turns and darts it quests upwards from beneath the box when its stability is disturbed, and its eyes burn with terrible purpose. Perhaps it is a thing of the mud and cold that dwelled in the well from earliest times, and perhaps it was transformed by the radiance of the relic, even as the poisonous waters were changed and made to glow. The blade of a knife passes through its body without apparent harm, and when grasped in the hands, its coiling length slides through the fingers, but there is a fatal strength in its shining sides, and the traveler is prudent to leave the well as quickly as haste allows, when he is able to disentangle himself from this strange guardian.

Once out of the water, he will be safe, for the creature does not emerge above the surface. It can be seen still circling beneath with impatient rage. After he climbs from the well, the traveler may wish to amuse himself by taking large stones and dropping them into its depths. It is unlikely that these will cause the creature any injury, as its body is protected by the water, but their strikes upon the surface will surely annoy it. This amusement is far too tiring and unsatisfying to long persist in, but it is some amelioration for the bitter disappointment of the failure of the golden water to heal the disfigurements of the body.

Why this one detail of the scribe’s description is false, when all other things presented in the gloss are true beyond question, must remain a mystery. There is a natural impulse in those who write of marvelous matters to magnify their strangeness and wonder, which may account for the fable of the relic’s healing properties. Any reader of the gloss who has been led to the well in the past has undoubtedly suffered the same disappointment, unless by a peculiar quality of the relic its healing virtue only reveals itself in the body of a man of Hebrew faith; or perhaps only in the body of a man of religious devotion and pure spirit. Certain it is that the water has no healing help for the body of a necromancer and worshipper of Yog-Sothoth.

trange things are to be encountered on the long and hot journey to Damascus, greatest of all cities that is acclaimed by the sages as the center of the world. Its roads are roads of pilgrimage and of destiny. The apostle Paul is asserted in the texts of the Christians to have seen the radiance of God while making his way to the city from Jerusalem. The dangers on the desolate road from the east are great, and lights seen there are apt to have hellish import, for at night on its remote stretches it is haunted by bandits, wolves, and jinn of infernal fire that float upon the air and vanish with mocking laughter. In spite of these threats, life never ceases to flow along the road, even as blood flows in the veins of a living creature, for Damascus is the heart that pumps it.

A traveler of our own race making his way upon this road from the land of the Persians once crossed the path of the lover of his youth, conveyed along a more northerly route in a caravan of numerous retainers and armed guardians. Coming upon it, he marveled at its rich wagons and finely equipped mounted knights, whose ceremonial armor jingled and rang with the music of bells. He discovered that the caravan was his former lover’s bridal escort, for the woman was on her way to be wed to a prince at Constantinople. Her father, the king of Yemen, had recently expired due to a curious accident involving a falling stone, and her brother, newly risen to the throne and still uncertain of his power, had sought to forge an alliance by pledging her hand to an elderly ruler she had never seen in her years of life.

She did not recognize the traveler as the lover of her childhood, for his face was horrifyingly disfigured, and though he might have used a simple glamour of magic to present to her a false visage, he chose to meet her eyes unchanged, and found to his amazement that his heart was unmoved by the haughty glance from her curtained coach as she passed, so completely had the fire of love that had once burned in his heart fallen to ashes. In truth it has been spoken that all wounds are healed with the passage of time, yet not without scars.

He watched the caravan pass from sight and beyond hearing, then followed in its track until dark, and when the camp was asleep, he entered the tent of the sleeping princess and took from her private jewel case a pendant he had given her as a pledge of his love so many years before. It was not a thing of value, but to reclaim it amused him. In its place he put a living scorpion, then softly closed the lid of the box. His power of magic made it an easy matter to enter and leave the armed camp without discovery. Not waiting to learn the outcome of his little jest, he returned to his own road and continued on his way to Damascus.