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rogerblackwolf · 3 years

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The Fall of the Saharan Empire

Excavation Site 22

Libya, North Africa

-2017-

The sun was unbearable, even in the shadow of the mountain it was barely below a hundred degrees. Even the wind didn’t help as it blew sand and dry wind that made you sweat bullets as soon as you moved. The worst part was that it was only 11am, and it was only getting hotter. Set up around an ancient tomb-like structure, buried under sand and stones from the mountain, was a camp of nearly twenty tents although their occupants were hard at work digging up the ruin. Workers dug deep into the sand, shoveling, and taking sand out by the bucket full, yet there was little progress.

One man was overlooking the dig; he was middle-aged and in great physical shape dressed in desert camouflage pants, boots, a short sleeve shirt, and a tactical chest harness that had a canteen and several magazines for a rifle among other gear. A second man who was taller, but skinnier in build, dressed in tan cargo shorts, a sweat drenched tank top, and he had a sun hat that did squat against the heat. The skinny man took out a canteen, drank several gulps before wiping the sweat from his brow then returned to help shovel sand. The fit man slung his AK-47 over his shoulder before checking on the man.

“Any luck Prof. Winslow?” He asked

“Well Mr. McCormick, I think we can safely assume that this indeed is a Garamantian tomb, you can tell by the simple fact that we are near their ancient capital Garama.” The skinny man responded with a British accent.

“But can you be certain that this is the right one?” McCormick asked.

“Won’t know until we get inside. But the Lidar scans showed a hollow spot in this section. And you know what they say ‘twenty two times the charm.’.” Winslow said, continuing his work.

It was nearly evening by the time Winslow and the team managed to find the entrance, though they were all tired, the prospect of opening the tomb filled everyone with newfound vigor. Once the entrance was unearthed, Winslow was the first inside with McCormick right behind him, both men had flashlights which helped illuminate the corridor. The two men followed the corridor downwards for about thirty feet before entering a more open chamber which had little in terms of artifacts with some pottery and remnants of textiles. They paled in comparison to the true treasure in the tomb. In the center of the few artifacts, partially buried under the sand, was a complete humanoid skeleton, while Prof. Winslow was used to seeing ancient skeletons; he had never seen one so unaged and altogether, almost as if it were placed there this morning.

The two men gingerly stepped around the skeleton, Winslow took out a camera and started taking pictures as he made a circle around the remains ensuring he got every detail. He halted his photography to take out a tape measure, he drew a line in the sand at the top of the skeleton and a second at the feet before measuring the approximate height.

"Fuckin Hell." Winslow exclaimed.

"What?!" McCormick responded with a hand on his AK-47.

"Whoever this person was, they were roughly 6ft 3' tall." Winslow said in astonishment before taking a picture of the measurement.

"I'm guessing that's above average?" McCormick asked, kneeling next to the skeleton.

"Way above average. Most men of the time were lucky to be above 5ft 6'." Winslow said.

"Damn." McCormick said placing his hand next to the skeleton's hand which made his own look a bit shorter. It was then he noticed that the knuckles were fractured, the other bones in the hand had cracks in them as well. He looked over the skeleton noticing multitudes of other injuries like fractures and breaks, the skull especially had its fair share of impacts mostly around the face and jaw. McCormick also noted that the left clavicle as well as ribs 1-4 were crushed inward, the thought of whatever did such damage made him wince. The most gruesome injury was that the sternum was split in half, leaving a gap wide enough to stick his hand through.

This surprised Winslow as he didn't know of any weapon that would cause such a clean break. Once Winslow was done with his pictures he turned to a couple of workers and told them in Arabic;

"Get the brushes, the lights, plastor, and the crates. We are moving the body and the artifacts tonight."

With that the worker nodded before rushing to the others, who quickly went to get the equipment. McCormick looked to Winslow before asking;

“Taking this back to London?”

“I can only do so much here, if I’m to investigate more I’ll need a sterile environment, plus the Order will want to know what we’ve found.” Winslow said.

“I’ll call in the plane.” McCormick says, leaving the chamber. He passes by the workers as they head to the now open chamber.

Several hours passed before the rumbling of aircraft engines broke the nighttime silence, McCormick had seen to having a makeshift landing strip carved up and lit up for the transport. The single C-130J landed easily, kicking up enough sand for a small sandstorm in the process, but at least the skeleton was nearly prepared for transport. All that was left was to wait for the plaster encased bones to set so they could meticulously place them in a sterile container that looked like a steel coffin. Within minutes of the plaster setting, the remains had been placed in their respective containers and sealed; the containers were taken from the chamber to be loaded but as Winslow turned to follow he noticed something. In the sand next to where the remains were previously, he found a crystal just big enough to fit in his palm. He didn’t think much of it at first but remembered that not everything is as cut and dry as they seem, especially in this line of work, he bagged it and, as he caught up to the containers, stopped to add it to the last container before it was loaded aboard by the team. The pilot came to meet with Winslow and McCormick, telling them,

“Weather is holding for now but I’d like to get out of here before that changes. You guys coming?” He asked.

“I better deliver the remains myself, The Director probably would want to hear it from me personally.” Winslow said.

“Yeah right, you just want a free ride back to HQ.” McCormick said with a smirk.

“That is a coincidence entirely, but I won't deny that I miss being in my air conditioned office.” Winslow replied in a bit of a huff.

McCormick simply chuckled before the pilot prepped the plane and Winslow packed up the equipment in his tent. He thanked the workers for their help and wished them well as they likely will be heading back home, and he thanked Mr. McCormick for all his help and security of the camp.

“Oh I’ll be back before you know it. See you back at HQ Professor.” McCormick said, patting him on the back. Winslow took his seat as the ramp closed and the engines spun up, he held on tight to his seat as the plane lunged forward before taking to the air in what felt like seconds. Either way, Prof. Winslow was glad he was heading home.

Back at Headquarters after a day of rest, Prof. Winslow was now able to study the skeleton in greater detail. He determined that the individual was male, most likely in his late forties, although with the normal methods he couldn’t accurately tell. One thing he could tell was that this man got into quite the fight before his ultimate demise. The individual had comminuted fractures to both of his hands, a flail chest fracture in his left 1-4 ribs, a broken left clavicle, multiple fractures to the face and skull, even a couple of teeth were missing, but what really drew his attention was the killing blow. The sternum fracture was conclusive with a stabbing, which he now saw went through the spine, plus given the angle of penetration he further concluded that whoever ended the man was standing over him when the blow was struck.

Winslow took a break as he stood alone in the lab, the others having checked out for the night, just staring at the skeleton. He was a combat medic with the Royal Marines for six years, he could remember every man he treated, everything from blisters to shrapnel wounds and burns. He remembered the first life he was unable to save, and the many others after, Winslow simply couldn’t comprehend how much pain this man was in when he died. How long he suffered before the end came. Winslow let out a deep sigh before returning to work, he took a sample of bone for the mass spectrometer to get an idea of how far back he lived. Winslow knew the machine would likely take all night so he decided to check out. He ensured the skeleton was locked in it’s locker before locking up the lab.

The next morning he greeted the rest of the team as they went about their duties, the first thing he wanted to see was the results of the test, which he decided to read in his office.

“Holy Shite!” Winslow shouted in surprise.

The test results had come back but he ran them again just to be sure only for it to come back the same. He took them to the Director’s office who was surprised by the sudden intrusion.

“Director Ambrose, you have to see this.” Winslow said, extending the file out towards him.

Ambrose was an older man with a slender build, dressed in a dark blue suit and glasses. His face was angular, clean shaven, and always had this serious no nonsense look that made him almost unapproachable. He adjusted his glasses so his dull grey eyes could focus on the paper in front of him, his expression turned from serious to questioning and finally disbelief before he looked at Winslow.

“Nigel…are you absolutely certain?” Ambrose asked.

“Yes George, I ran through the machine twice and it hasn’t changed. This skeleton is over 1 million years old.” Winslow replied in excitement.

"Bloody Hell." Ambrose said under his breath.

There was a moment of silence before Ambrose sat the folder down and spoke once more.

“And what of the crystal you found?”

“My team in Sector 9 theorize it is some sort of memory bank but we're unable to reveal any secrets it may have at this time.” Winslow said.

“I see, well keep me in the loop Nigel. We both have been waiting a long time for answers.” Ambrose said as his face settled back to it’s normal no nonsense look.

“Of course, Director Ambrose.” Winslow responded before taking his leave.

-Two years later, OMC Headquarters, London-

A pair of women walked down the halls passing multiple cells containing objects of great power, while the Order considered them safe to be around, safety above all was still enforced. One of the women, a younger lass dressed in normal office attire with her hair in a bun, stopped for a moment at one cell looking at a sword lodged in a stone.

“Is that-“ she started to ask excitedly, only to be cut off by the second’s more serious tone.

“Yes it is, now come along.” She said, continuing down the hallway.

The younger woman caught up with her mentor as she rounded a corner. The younger woman looked at her mentor who was staring forward in silence. She was also dressed in office attire but no blazer, her hair was long and stopped in the middle of her back. She was a little older than her in terms of age but her experience definitely showed as she was an excellent scientist, though she always had a stern look, she rarely attended social events, and as far as she could tell probably hasn’t smiled in a long time. The younger woman spoke to break the silence;

“For the record, it was an honor being your assistant Dr. Garrett.” She said with her normal pep.

“You're not moving to a new facility Dr. Greene, just to a new office.” Dr. Garrett said.

“I know, I was just saying I’ll miss working with you. Plus you rarely eat in the cafeteria so…” Dr. Greene said but trailed off.

“Dr. Winslow is brilliant in his own right, and Director Ambrose only looks scary, just do your job and you’ll do fine.” Dr. Garrett replied.

“Right.” Dr. Greene said in a little defeated tone. Dr. Garrett looked at her assistant as she lost some of that excitement she had this morning. They finally arrived at Prof. Winslow’s office, which had a sign that read “Be back shortly” so the two women took a seat on the bench beside the door. As they sat, Dr. Garrett glanced at Dr. Greene before sighing.

“I eat lunch in the cafeteria at 2 every day, if you want to join me I would not be opposed to your company.” She said with a rare smirk.

“Thank you Dr. Garrett, I will be there!” Greene squealed in excitement.

“Don’t make me regret it.” Dr. Garrett said.

After a few minutes Prof. Winslow finally returned.

“Oh Morgan, sorry if you had to wait long.” He said in a friendly tone.

“It’s good to see you too, Prof. Winslow.” Dr. Garrett greeted.

“Oh come now, we’ve been colleagues for quite a while, I don’t see any reason to be so formal.” Winslow said.

“Oh alright Nigel, anyway this is my former assistant, Director Ambrose just approved her promotion to being part of your team.” Morgan said, introducing her now former assistant.

“Dr. Elizabeth Greene at your service sir. I hope I learn a lot.” Greene said in slight embarrassment.

“Pleasure to meet you, and you definitely will.” Nigel says, shaking her hand.

Morgan took her leave as Nigel and Elizabeth got introduced, Nigel then had Elizabeth step into his office where they took their seats to chat further.

“So I assume you know what we do here in Sector 9?” Nigel asks

“Yes, you and your team study the ancient remains of magic creatures and artifacts.” Elizabeth replies.

“That is the majority of what we do, yes but for the past ten years we have been pooling our resources to find and study a specific subject. Only two years ago did we find what we were looking for and today we finally have the whole story. Tell me Elizabeth, what do you know about the Garamantes?” Nigel asked, donning a serious look.

“I know they were an ancient tribe in what is now Libya, but I don’t know much about them.” She answered honestly.

Nigel’s face softened before he explained.

“They were much more than an ancient tribe, by the mid-second century AD they were a major regional superpower that established a kingdom that spanned 70,000 sq miles. They built complex underground aqueducts that supported their agricultural economy and population, even building their capital city in the middle of the desert without needing to be near a major water source. The Garamantes were by all means the most advanced civilization of their time. At their height they regularly traded with the Romans and Greeks, even traveled to Rome and Greece to sell their merchandise. Then in the fifth century, they vanished. Most history books or professors will tell you that as the water diminished the Garamantes were annexed or absorbed by the surrounding tribes. However we now have the real story of what really happened.”

Nigel paused to reach into his desk, retrieving a folder, then handed it to Elizabeth. Only then did he continue.

“You can read these in greater detail when you have more time, but I’ll give you the short version. In 2009 we discovered several tablets that spoke of a disaster that struck the Empire. The survivor, who we now know as Aya, spoke of a being that descended from the heavens and wiped out the Empire and all its people in the span of only a few days. Interestingly this being also spared her, her husband was not so lucky.”

“Her husband?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes, according to her writings her husband wasn’t just a normal human, she described him fighting this destructive being in a valiant last stand that ended in his death. Two years ago we found his resting place and studied his remains here in Sector 9, along with a crystal that stored his memories. Thanks to it, we even know his name. And the name of his killer.” Nigel answered before getting up and having her follow him. Nigel escorted her to another room where the other team members were tending to the crystal, which now had a faint glow that pulsed every few seconds. Nigel first introduced Elizabeth to the other members then asked them to prepare a memory projection.

“Memory projection?” Elizabeth asked.

“This crystal, which we dubbed the Soul crystal, was inactive when I discovered it. But thanks to exposure to another magic crystal we have in storage, it came back to life. We were then able to use special filters and lenses to display the memories contained within much like a projector. What you are about to see are the memories, including the last moments, of Aya’s husband, the angel known as Ramiel.” Nigel explained, as a strange device with a number of lenses was set up facing the far wall, which was smoothed out to act as a projector screen. The Soul crystal was then gently removed from it’s protective glass box and placed in the device, it then came to life as the lenses were set and the projection was focused to the far wall.

They first saw a land of green with farmers tending their fields, children at play, and a thriving village. The next scene was a man dressed in light robes, his head devoid of hair, and tall in stature with his wife in front of their home looking at a large city in the distance. They seemed genuinely happy until the next memory appeared showing dark clouds blotting out the sun, followed by rampant balls of fire falling that burned fields, decimated buildings, and sent people running for their lives. The next memories showed the city defenders, a vast army of mounted soldiers, amassed in front of the city walls, their opponent was a relatively short distance away. The opponent had wings coated in ash and embers, armor wreathed in flames as a storm of blackened clouds of smoke and fire followed behind them advancing slowly as they walked towards the citadel.

The leader of the city defenders raised their sword then shouted a command leading the army at full charge, a storm of hooves and spears closed the distance in seconds but it was all for naught. Fireballs shot out from the clouds sending scores of men and horses into fiery heaps, if they weren’t incinerated immediately, across the sandy field. The being then flapped its wings gaining some height before descending like a meteorite onto the army, the survivors were cut down before many of them were able to fight back. Balls of flame then rained upon the city, the people’s cries of desperation and terror filled the streets as their destroyer entered their final refuge. Finally the last memories played, the city was aflame, the cries of the people were silent, their corpses littered the streets, and the one who brought it all upon them stood before the man and his wife, who now had a child in her arms. Their eyes like burning coals looked upon the trio before the man spoke a language they couldn’t understand, one of the researchers rewound the memory then pressed a button that translated the language to English.

“Why? WHY?! Tell me Apollyon! Why have you done this?!” He demanded.

“You forget Ramiel, in the grand scheme of things these insects mean nothing. It’s our job to ensure they know where they stand.” The dark one spoke.

“When did the Council allow for the slaughter of entire civilizations?!” Ramiel exclaimed.

“They only allowed me to destroy one. One limb sacrificed so the tree can flourish. Course there is one condition.” Apollyon answered indifferently.

“And what was that?” Ramiel asked.

“I only leave two survivors. And since there are none left in this “empire”, the choice falls to you Ramiel. Which among you will die?” Apollyon asked, summoning a battle axe and longsword to his hands.

Ramiel turned to his wife and the child she saved from it's dying mother, she stared at him fearfully, her hazel eyes dimmed by the desolation that surrounded them.

He smiled warmly before holding her close, his own tears streamed down his face.

"When I let go...you run. Run as far as possible. And don't look back. Please don't look back." He begged.

She nodded before saying

"I love you."

"Always." Ramiel replied.

He broke from the hug and she did as was asked running down the empty streets towards the gates.

Ramiel turned to Apollyon, his choice made.

"You're a monster Apollyon...it's time you were put down." He challenged as repressed energy surged through his body. Wings sprouted from his back as armor enveloped his body, lightning filling his eyes as his rage boiled, and with an outstretched hand summoned a spear of grand design.

"I damned Atlantis to the depths, buried Pompeii in ashes, and you think you stand a chance against me, The Angel of Destruction? We shall see." Apollyon said unsummoning his weapons, before the two charged each other, their clash sent shockwaves powerful enough to flatten the buildings around them. Their duel took to the skies and though Ramiel was strong, with every blow he landed sounding like thunderclaps, Apollyon was overwhelming. Even unarmed Apollyon drew blood with every punch and kick.

Finally Apollyon grabbed Ramiel by his wings and threw him so hard he went through the palace and out the city wall before rolling to a stop among the ash fields. He barely got to his knees before Apollyon snatched him up by his throat, carrying him above the clouds, so far up the curve of the earth could be seen. He then descended like a falling star, throwing Ramiel into the earth with such force he left a crater several hundred feet wide. Apollyon landed seconds later and summoned his longsword. Ramiel's wings were scorched of nearly all their feathers, his face was bloody and swollen, one eye was barely open as his mouth was oozing blood, his breaths were shallow and gargled, and he had no strength to resist as Apollyon's boot planted itself on his chest.

"Such a disgrace of one of the original Watchers. Ending your miserable existence is an act of mercy." He hissed as he heard the crunch and snap of Ramiel's bones under his boot. Ramiel let out a groan of pain before Apollyon's sword impaled his chest, his breath no longer heard. Apollyon then took his leave, a flash of flame into the eye of the storm dispersed the clouds and the sun shined down on the ruined land. Ramiel's last memory was the sight of his wife before his eye closed for the final time. When the projection ended, a few of the team were in tears or drying their eyes, even Elizabeth felt unsteady before she sat in a seat.

"I think...that will be all for today. Secure the soul crystal...and consider the rest of the day yours. I know what we just saw was terrible, but we must move forward. For there is no reason to dwell on that which we cannot change." Prof. Winslow said, drying his own tears.

#BSRC #Story 10

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