The Chronicle of Belthaeous
by John W. Steele
Chapter 9: Nacroanus Attacks
Dr. Nacroanus glared defiantly at this strange wizard. I’d never seen Adrian so visibly agitated. Something about this simple priest annoyed him. His forehead wrinkled, and his lips drew tight on his teeth.
In a rare display of bravado, he raised a clenched fist. A dribble of spit trailed his words when he spoke. “So it’s you... Jerus, the Zarathustra of the Goyim. You exist after all. Belthaeous wrote highly of you.”
With a flash of his hand, Adrian pulled a nine-mm Glock from beneath his parka and pointed the barrel at the old man’s skull.“What could the angel have seen in a celestial lickspittle like you? History is littered with the corpses of men of your ilk, too stupid to bend the knee and kiss the ring.”
He clicked the safety, his hand steady as steel. “We’ve come for the Avatar. It belongs to us. Now step aside, or I’ll splatter your brains all over the floor.”
The Guardian remained unperturbed, his eyes shining, his face drab and expressionless. He raised his staff and pointed its burled knob at the doctor. He lifted his eyes and stared into the vast expanse. “The Ancients said you would come... from the west, men of power and greed; brainsick disciples of Mammon with the magic to twist reason and distort wisdom.”
The shaman’s eyes rolled into his skull, and he raised his staff to the heavens. “For it is as written in the Scrolls of Belthaeous,
And they shall claim
That crows are white,
That up is down
And day is night!
“But your designs cannot prevail here, demon. In this space, your will is impotent. You will not enter this sacred temple and attack the Light with hypnotic sermons, mind control propaganda or legions of robots. The Guardian cannot be killed, for he is already dead. His will is greater than the gifts of Mammon, his heart immune to the trappings of your terminal madness.”
The wizard’s eyes burned, and the window in his skull flashed with a hand of lightning.
I sensed the Guardian could rip us to shreds if he wanted to. A frontal assault might not be the best way to deal with Jerus. I feared that Dr. Nacroanus underestimated the power of this unpretentious warrior, and his arrogance could prove to be fatal for us all. I wanted to buy some time. I decided to play along and hoped I could outwit this primal man of knowledge.
I bowed. “We mean no disrespect, Jerus.” I pointed toward the Sherpas. “We’ve journeyed here by invitation of the Karmapa Lama himself. We’re scientists on a mission of peace.”
Jerus slammed his staff on the floor and cried,
“Stuff and nonsense
Abound on the third.
They scribble down lies
And call them the word.”
I cleared my throat. “Yes... this certainly is a magnificent expanse, Jerus. Where we are and what do you call this place?
The wizard kicked a mound of sand on our boots and spoke in a somber tone. “You stand at the threshold of Agartha. I am the gatekeeper here. No one penetrates deeper in hollow earth without my permission.”
The silence grew awkward and my anxiety prompted me to speak. “Why is the sun shaped like a cube?”
The Guardian studied us with a puckered eye like we were freaks in a sideshow. He spit a brown gob of mucus on the floor and the rich scent of tobacco filled the air.
Jerus pointed his staff at the sun and proclaimed, “Nothing in the realm of matter is as it is perceived to be. All stars are cubes, all suns are cubes; mind-created snares abound in Mammon cosmos. The cubes spin faster and faster until magic reveals them as spheres.”
The depth of his conviction rattled me. He had to be insane, and yet, for reasons, I could not understand, I wanted to know more.
“That’s preposterous, Jerus! What purpose would an illusion of that nature serve?”
The Guardian raised his arms and danced in a circle like a dervish. His robe ballooned at the seams, and his lips contorted in wild churlish sneer. He strutted and twirled, gyrating like a maniac in a state of hysteria.
The idiot’s revolutions grew faster until his image blurred, so unnatural were his movements I grew tense. A powerful wind flowed from his robe and forced us to step back. Then he stopped on a dime, his face a mask like stone.
“Light light
Hidden by night.
Heavens defiled,
Eyes without sight!
“The glimmering cubes beguile the True-Light beings at the borders of the pleroma. When they seek to investigate they are trapped in the six-fold hard angles of the square. Once imprisoned the Light particles are harvested and entombed in bodies of clay.
“They are reborn on earth as slaves, chattel, and cannon fodder. A Light-Being trapped remains fettered to the wheel of birth and death for eternity. It’s energy exploited by the Demiurgos of the celestial hierarchy.”
There it was, the secret revealed.
“So what are you saying, Jerus? Are you implying that there is life after death?”
The sorcerer raised his staff and it hovered in midair like a gas filled balloon. He caressed the staff with his hands as though he were comforting a beloved pet.
“They come they go
They reap they sow
And long for peace
They’ll never know.”
The Guardian laughed until I thought he was going to choke. Then he opened his arms and proclaimed. “Everything changes in the world of men except evil which remains forever the same. Numberless empires have come and gone, and all that endures is the wheel of becoming which remains forever changeless.”
He looked at me coolly and then smiled. “The illusion of Karma does not exist for the elite rulers on your earth. The Lords of Karma choose who will rise and who will fall. Anyone created of the Divine Light of conscience can never completely repay their contrived debt and thus remain indentured forever in the lower realms of the virtual reality.”
Adrian sneered. “As it should be. Men of breeding and bloodline were created to govern this material world. The kings of the earth are reborn in positions of power and luxury to rule as gods over the disposable creatures of this creation. The world belongs to us. That is how it has always been, and that is how it shall always be!”
“No longer!” Jerus cried. “The Aeons of Light will soon liberate the theomorphic consciousness from this hell. They will tread asunder Mammon and his legion of warmongers, pederasts, liars, and hypocrites.
“You cannot serve the Light and Mammon too. Those who have surrendered their Light for temporary filth will reside with Mammon in his creation, cut off from the Cosmic Mind and cast into oblivion.
“The rumors surrounding Belthaeous are lies spread by the Archons and demons who serve the god of the blind. The Avatar came here to reveal the truth about this counterfeit dimension and for this he was bound in chains and tortured by the fifth-density demon known as Xenotula. When they discovered they could not kill him they entombed him in this place until the eye of Mammon is returned to the Council of Five.”
Adrian’s eyes grew wide and a blue vein inflated in his neck. “Infidel! Enough talking, fool! We’ve come for Belthaeous, and, by the power of Memnoch, we won’t leave without him!”
The doctor griped the pistol with both hands and pointed it at the Shaman. Shots rang out, and he emptied the clip into the old man’s body.
Smoke poured from the barrel, and Jerus dropped to his knees. The crystal on his forehead shattered and tumbled to the floor, like shards of a broken mirror. The Guardian’s hood fell over his face. His staff dropped from his hand and landed on the floor with a thud. Blood oozed from his chest, and he crumpled to the ground.
Nacroanus slammed another clip in the receiver and stepped forward. He raised his hand and blessed himself. “By the power of Darkness I return this heretic to the Astral.” He drew a bead on the Guardian’s skull and pumped three rounds into the back of his head.
Copyright © 2014 by John W. Steele
