Fifth Sun - A Storm's Coming... (eBook)

Chapter 1
Shri

That smell …
Ears Ringing …
Confused …
So much blood …
Time slipping away…
My love …
Darkness

The measure of life is its beauty not its length –Plutarch

The rays of the morning sun fell on the sleeping face of Jimmyl. Slowly opening his eyes, his mind awakened to a reality of a throbbing head and the aftertaste of stale beer still lingering in his mouth. Dryness coated the inside, cottonmouth, something he had experienced too many times, he knew what it meant. It pointed directly to his visit last night to the local taverna and his overindulgence in Raki, a spirit from Crete and his favorite beer Alfa.

Slowly stretching in the chair, his bed for a better part of the night, he wondered if he was alone. Was the young woman he shared his bed with for a torrent coupling of lust still there? He couldn’t sense her, but then, his hangover dulled his usual sharp senses. A little relief for his overindulgence occurred when a gentle wind blew in off the Myrtoan, part of the Aegean Sea. Washing over him, it supplied a soothing balm for his pounding head. It helped his hangover but did little for his emotional pain.

The wind nudged him to lift his eyes upward to view the beauty of the Greek sky awash in white fluffy clouds scattered throughout the vivid blue of the heavens. Spoiling its perfection was one dark cloud invading the tranquility of the moment. But then, isn’t that life? It was the wind gods that made him look up knowing that he needed a splash of beauty to replace the darkness of his grief within his soul and to remind him of the love and strife of life that all humans must face.

The wind had spoken to him once many decades ago. It was during a period of supreme happiness. A time he shared with his soulmate, his partner, his wife. His redheaded freckled-faced blue-eyed nymph, Shri, who adventured with him to remote areas of the earth while enduring hardships as well as the bliss of a love shared. They had met when she was thirteen and he was sixteen. When he first set eyes on her the winds of love flew over the waves and gently enveloped him, a remembrance of heart, not of mind. Years later, Shri related to him that she went home and wrote in her diary, “I’ve met the boy I’m going to marry.”

He felt ancient with bitterness and heartache. With tears forming in the corners of his sorrow filled eyes, his thoughts turned to sadness, grief, and extreme anger, he could no longer hold her, hug and kiss her … gaze into her beautiful eyes … feel her loving heart radiating the warmth of her compassion or spend the rest of his life with her. His love for her was the one troubadour’s proclaimed—an eternal love ever vibrating through the ages. She had been murdered … assassinated. He was next … in the bullseye of the same assassins. Nonetheless, he still needed to finish what they began … to reveal the truth, which would change the course of history. There were institutions, wanting to maintain their power and greed, which didn’t want this to happen. Little did they realize; he was the eye of the Storm – the Hurricane … and he was coming for them.

They were both on a quest, seeking power and knowledge concerning the coming end of a Great Age of 26,000 years. Knowledge that would make it a peaceful end and a new beginning of the next Age—the Sixth Sun. His mind flew back a few decades to their first experience of the Otherworld. It was during a journey to Glastonbury, England referred to as England’s Jerusalem. There are many myths and legends connected with the British Isles. These run the gauntlet from the legendary Arthur, his Knights of the Round Table, Merlin and the Holy Grail to being the site of the mythic north land called Hyperborea. This enchanted land also holds many tales of ghostly specters haunting ancient ruins. Jimmyl had discovered that one of the inns in Glastonbury, the George and Pilgrims, had a “haunted” room. Both of them were excited at the thought of staying in a haunted room in England, especially in Glastonbury, the rumored burial place of King Arthur.

Glastonbury was rumored to have been visited by Joseph of Arimathea, the teenage Jesus, and more recently a ghostly monk. However, this was not the only reason that they were going to Glastonbury. It was also the site of the sacred mound called the Tor, and the Chalice Well with its healing waters.

He and Shri both believed that spiritual power was not to be found within the walls of a church but out in nature such as on top of the Tor. As they approached Glastonbury, also known as the Glassy Isle or the Isle of Avalon, they could feel the shift in energy. It was misty and foggy. They could almost feel the veil lifting between the two worlds as if they were entering the gateway to the spirit realms. Little did they realize at the time; how true this was to be.

Checking in at the George and Pilgrims, an ancient coaching inn, they asked about staying in the haunted room. Knowledge of such came from Jimmyl’s research of the area and hotel. The innkeeper was a little taken back by the request and asked if they would first like to see the room. Climbing the creaky and slightly uneven steps to the second floor gave them the feeling of being transported back in time. The en-suite room overlooked High Street and was very quaint, with an armoire, sitting chair and bed. During the day, this would be just another room at the inn. It was still early enough to climb the Tor. Jimmyl would be sacrificing a late afternoon run and Shri would be giving up afternoon tea, but they decided they needed and wanted to experience this faerie hill in the late afternoon, a time when the faeries would be waking up.

At the time, literary knowledge about the Tor was not readily available and there was no public Internet. They were being drawn to the Tor by their souls’ knowledge and the mystical-spiritual writings that they had studied. They were drawn to this mystical hill and enchanted land due to the feelings within their hearts.

The Tor was an enigma to many, but for them, it felt like coming home. They were the only humans in sight with the magic of the faerie mound totally to ourselves. With daylight fading slowly through the mist, it was an enchanted moment. The veil separating the world from the Otherworld was thinning by the second. Little did they realize that they would have a visitor later in the night – one not of this world. The tower on the summit of the Tor was all that remained of the Church of St. Michael. It was dedicated to Mikaël, the Sun Archangel, known to the Celt’s as the Light Giver Lugh or the Sun God Bel. He was depicted on the tower weighing the souls of the dead along with an image of St. Bridget or the Celtic Bride milking her cow.

There were many myths and legends concerning the Tor. One legendary account claims that it is the gateway or passageway to Annwn, the Welsh Otherworld. This marvelous realm exists within ours but stays hidden from our materialistic and greed-filled world. However, at certain times and in certain places, the veil may be lifted, and all may see and experience magic and the world of spirit.

The Tor is one such enchanted place and the transitional times of light and dark, dawn and dusk, are two such times when the veil is threadbare. Being on the Tor was a magical experience for them. With the overcast sky and the fine mist as the background, they could easily feel the mystical power that drew spiritual and religious leaders here as far back as 5000 BCE. After time spent meditating and connecting with the energetic forces, Shri turned to Jimmyl wrapping her arms around him while passionately kissing him and whispering in his ear with her hot breath of lust, “I need your warmth, now.” And with that they hurried down the Tor. Dinner would have to wait.

Jimmyl was mesmerized by the beauty of his wife as she slowly removed her clothing. As he shed his last piece of clothing, they embraced in a loving kiss and became one with each other. As they both laid down with legs and arms intwining, their kisses became more passionate. The only sound in the ancient room was a symphony of loving togetherness. They had both entered into that eternal space of no past, no future. Only the passionate love of a star-filled moment of ecstasy and bliss….

That feels so good, Jimmyl’s fleeting thought that registered in his slowly awakening mind. In that gray area between sleep and waking, he felt a tickling on his left inner thigh. Assuming it was Shri caressing him, he turned his head while opening his eyes. But she was on her side, facing away from him and seemed to be asleep. Ah, just my imagination, he thought. Closing his eyes once again, he began to fall back asleep. And then, the tickling sensation returned once again. More fully awake now, he could tell from Shri’s breathing that she was not asleep and not the source of the pleasure.

Then Jimmyl felt a chill in the air. “Shri,” he whispered. Sitting up she replied, “Something is not ...” Powerless to move, the rest of her words were caught in her throat as both of them at the same time saw the eyes!

Looming out of a darker blackness against the black of their room were two glowing ruby-red coal lights...