The Zartarbia Tales

The tavern was lit only by twilight and numerous oil lamps. Shadows and light flickered as a vicious draught blew under the door. A November storm was raging outside, freezing rain slashing through the night.

Professor Charles Mortensen sat quietly by himself in a corner, watching a streak of lightening momentarily brighten the inky sky. He pondered the contents of the letter that was tucked in his top pocket. A letter from a stranger that had seemingly come from nowhere. His curiosity was aroused as naturally it might be. Once again he took out the letter, reading the spidery handwriting that was scrawled across the page...

For the attention of Professor Mortensen

He pulled out his gold fob watch, flipping back the lid to check the time. He had already been waiting for almost an hour. The professor scowled in annoyance, thinking that one of his students must be playing a hoax on him. The room was packed and smoky, men sucking on long stemmed pipes talking of the day's events. Suddenly a gust of wind slammed the door open and a newcomer entered, drenched from the downpour. Heads turned momentarily, taking in the wizened figure as he lifted back his hood. He was an old man, his skin the texture of crumpled parchment. With him he carried lots of scruffy looking bags, which bulged with unseen objects. Nobody took much notice, returning to their conversations and games of cards. Only Mortensen continued to study the man. The stranger looked around the room, wiping the back of his hand across his face before hobbling over to Mortensen's table.

"May I join you?" the man asked, speaking with a foreign accent, sitting down anyway. Mortensen didn't reply, just took another gulp of his wine.

"What a night! I've been travelling for hours in this weather! I'm sorry to have kept you waiting Professor but the camels were most perturbed by all this rain. Naturally they are used to warmer climates. A glass of ale and another for my friend", the stranger shouted amiably at the bartender.

At closer range the man could have been between sixty and one hundred years. His face telling a hundred stories, his eyes however were as bright and alert as a child's.

"Yes, yes. camels! You see they hate flying through thunder. It quite unsettles them; in fact it doesn't do much for my nerves either! Anyway let's get to the point, obviously you received my letter or you would not be sitting here now."

"What is your name, Sir? What is that you want from me?" demanded Professor Mortensen.

The old man smiled, his mouth full of decaying teeth, his breath like sulphur. The professor leant away from him, his hand covering his nose.

"My name is of no consequence. I am a merchant of sorts, a traveller who collects objects, rumours, things that a man can only dream of."

The bartender returned with a tray of drinks, placing a tankard and a goblet down on their table.

"I am a peddler who has journeyed this world to find another, and do you know what?" The old man lowered his voice to a whisper, "I have. Of all the things I have collected, there is nothing that compares to this, and believe me when I say I am in possession of many wondrous items: ladies' gowns made of butterflies that take off in the slightest breeze, giraffes the size of thimbles, a teapot that contains seven seas, relics of ancient worlds. but I am digressing. the fact is I have discovered a gateway to a world so pure and untouched."

"Another world?" interrupted the professor irritably, that's impossible. What nonsense is this?"

"No, not nonsense", said the merchant earnestly, "Now listen please, I do not have much time. You are a man with an undisputed reputation in your field, why the articles published on your archaeological findings in Rome were quite fascinating! Professor, you are a man who understands how the past relates to the present, controls our very futures. Imagine a world, as yet untouched by evil, a paradise if you will, innocent of the complex emotions we humans possess."

"Your expertise of course. I have found the gateway to Zartarbia but I didn't say I could unlock it."

"It is written in ancient scriptures and scrolls. I do not have the necessary knowledge of such obsolete languages nor the strength to undertake such an important role. I am an old man now, a simple man. and . well, I should warn you, there are others."

"There are dark forces at work, men that would turn this new world into an Armageddon if you will, those that would seek to corrupt it for their own sinister gain.."

"Sir, I am afraid I have never heard such madness. I deal with facts not fiction. I have no interest in children's stories! I must go now, I bid you goodnight!"

"No! You can't" said the stranger looking surprised, as the professor began to push back his chair. "You mustn't, I've travelled all this way to speak to you", he said grabbing Mortensen's sleeve.

"Please, just a moment more of your time. I have something for you, proof that what I say is true." Now the old man spoke with some urgency.

Before he could say anything else, the door had burst open again, revealing a group of men, their faces obscured beneath the shadows of their hats.

The old man did not look round, but slowly raised his hood over his head, his persona changing immediately. He stood up, dropping a package into Mortensen's pocket without the professor realising. The men walked purposefully over to where the old man stood, one of them placing a hand on his shoulder, "Your time has come old man. You must leave with us immediately."

"Move now!" the leader of the group shouted, grabbing the merchant by the scruff of his neck.

Professor Mortensen felt obliged to step in, "Now wait a moment. what has this man done?"

"Don't involve yourself in matters that do not concern you", replied the leader.

All of a sudden the old man spun round, punching the other man with considerable speed. He leapt, almost flying over the rest of the group and was out of the door within the blink of an eye.

"After him", shouted the leader, as they ran in pursuit, "Don't let him get away!"

I was not until Professor Charles Mortensen had returned home and was about to remove his coat that he realised there was something in his pocket. Carefully he unwrapped the parcel, untying the string and opening out the brown paper. There lay a spectacular locket and several pages of parchments inscribed with symbols and signs that he did not recognise. He took an eyepiece from a drawer to study the necklace more closely. The jewels were the most exquisite that he had ever seen. Set in the actual locket itself was a brilliant sapphire and ruby that looked as if it was made of flames. The back of the locket was intricately engraved with similar markings to those on the sheets of parchment. Hanging from the chain were seven other jewels each a different colour. Each gem seemed to have a life of its own, glowing like temptation in the palm of his hand. He tried to open the locket but the catch on it would not budge. And so he began to try and decipher the inscriptions unaware of the dangers that awaited him.

To find out more...buy the book!!!