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The Sorcerer's Mask
The Sorcerer's Mask
The Sorcerer's Mask
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The Sorcerer's Mask

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After a visit from Vandrone, the master he first encountered in Egypt, Nathan prepares for his third and final journey with his housekeeper and one of his students. The unexpected arrival of old friends at Gladwick Hall leaves him little choice but to invite them to join him in his quest for the sorcerers mask.

Nathan books passage on the Barracuda, a unique one-man submarine, captained by a crazy German. The voyage looks to be in peril as the small craft battles on, through treacherous weather and heavy seas, to the most dangerous place on earth - the Island of Two Moons.

In hot pursuit, on a ghost ship, are two of his sworn enemies. At the helm is a villainous cutthroat - a demon of revenge who has been summoned from a watery grave.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 29, 2015
ISBN9781504945257
The Sorcerer's Mask
Author

Harriet Wilson

Harriet Wilson was the spiritual inspiration for this book and all future books about Nathan Gladwick's adventures in his journeys to save the world.

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    Book preview

    The Sorcerer's Mask - Harriet Wilson

    The Sorcerer’s Mask

    Based on a story by Charlie Kane

    Harriet Wilson

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    AuthorHouse™ UK

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403 USA

    www.authorhouse.co.uk

    Phone: 0800.197.4150

    © 2015 Harriet Wilson. All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

    Published by AuthorHouse 03/17/2017

    ISBN: 978-1-5049-4524-0 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-5049-4525-7 (e)

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Contents

    The Interview

    Chapter 1 Raising the Devil

    Chapter 2 The Black Limousine

    Chapter 3 Gargoyle and Buttercups

    Chapter 4 Khan

    Chapter 5 Rat, a Tat Tat

    Chapter 6 Rickety Steps And The Last Train to Bridmead

    Chapter 7 The Hangman’s Rope

    Chapter 8 Fact or Myth

    Chapter 9 A Letter, a Wink, and a New Shipmate

    Chapter 10 The Hidden Secrets of Dr Tobias Gladwick

    Chapter 11 Demons and Dreams

    Chapter 12 The Clock is Ticking

    Chapter 13 The Web They Weave

    Chapter 14 Heavy Sea’s and Monster Fish

    Chapter 15 Road to Marrakesh

    Chapter 16 Black Silk

    Chapter 17 High Noon

    Chapter 18 The Devil’s Whirlpool

    Chapter 19 Burning Bridges

    Chapter 20 Driegon’s Last Words

    Chapter 21 The Guest List

    Chapter 22 Mind Games

    Chapter 23 The Funeral

    Harriet%20GS.jpg

    The Interview

    ‘Please take a seat, Mr. Kane.’

    The reporter looked across the table at Nathan as they sat on the terrace at Gladwick Hall.

    ‘Would it be possible, Mr. Gladwick, to tell me, in your own words, about your extraordinary exploits?’

    ‘First of all, call me Nathan.

    It all really began after the explosion and the arrival of my new housekeeper, Rose Martin. Being short of funds, I organized a trip for a small group of children to Egypt. From the beginning, the journey looked to be a disaster. We travelled by ship, coach and train. Close on our heels was a man whose name you may know, a Doctor Rudolf Kazzan: a man who felt he had been betrayed by my father and was now out for revenge.

    Once in Egypt, I began to trace my father’s footsteps and that is when strange things began to happen. I became obsessed with his old maps, which finally led me to the Secret Lake, where I was taken over by some unknown force that led me to the Sacred Garden and the Silver Dome.’

    Kane leaned forward.

    ‘And then what happened?’

    Nathan smiled.

    ‘I would like to tell you, but I took an oath of silence.’

    Kane sat back in the chair.’

    ‘Then tell me. Are the rumours that are circulating the village true: that your cat, Cleopatra, can talk and you have visits from a man with supernatural powers?’

    ‘You mustn’t believe all you hear, Mr. Kane.’

    ‘Well then, professor, tell about your journey to Ghost Mountain.’

    Nathan took his pipe from his waistcoat pocket and proceeded to fill it with tobacco.

    ‘Do you mind me smoking, Mr. Kane?’

    ‘Not at all. Go ahead.’

    ‘Ghost Mountain,’ said Nathan softly.

    ‘After finding so many different clues in the chapel below Gladwick Hall, I felt it was my duty to go and search for the Cross of the Holy Brotherhood. We left England on the Plumtree Brother’s airship, The Silver Star. By ‘we’ I mean Rose, Timothy and myself. We travelled with two other passengers; Amy Wilmot, a music hall star, and Basher Braddock, a prizefighter, who, later on in the flight, proved to be one of the bravest men I have ever met.

    We stopped over in Paris at Molly Perkin’s Café. From there, we continued our flight. We hit bad weather and just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, we ran in to a fog bank. At that moment, I thought all was lost. Then, there it was—Ghost Mountain. After landing, there were so many twists and turns before we reached the castle at the summit. On entering, we met our host, Baron De-foe, a very powerful man of darkness, who led us into a secret passage that took us deep down below the castle. That’s when the mountain erupted and all hell broke loose.’

    Nathan watched Mr. Kane lick the end of his pencil as he turned the page.

    ‘Sounds to me, Mr. Gladwick, that you’re lucky to be alive.’

    Nathan nodded.

    ‘All I can remember is the burning ash and masonry tumbling down around us. We just kept running and never looked back until we reached the Silver Star.’

    ‘There is just one other thing you’ve failed to mention.’

    ‘What’s that, Mr. Kane?’

    ‘The Cross of the Holy Brotherhood.’

    ‘Would you mind if I make a suggestion?’

    ‘Not at all.’

    ‘Go to London and see it in all its glory. I’m sure that will ignite your imagination and help you finish your article.’

    The reporter held out his hand.

    ‘Thanks for your time, professor.’

    ‘You’re very welcome.’

    ‘Look, a Falcon. Did you see it? It flew up into that large oak tree.’

    Nathan smiled inwardly.

    ‘A Falcon, you say. Maybe that would make the perfect ending to your story, Mr. Kane.’

    PART ONE

    THE SOUTHERN CROSS

    Chapter One

    Raising the Devil

    ‘Wake up! Wake up!’

    L C Frinkle opened his eyes to see his master standing over him.

    ‘What’s wrong, sir?’

    Kazzan gave him a prod with his cane.

    ‘Get up. It’s time.’

    ‘Time for what, sir?’

    Ignoring his servant, Kazzan left the room. Frinkle sat, shivering, on the edge of his bed as he pulled on his boots, listening to the sound of the wind whistling down the chimney.

    ‘The man’s gone stark raving mad,’ he grumbled, as he grabbed his topcoat, putting it on over his pyjamas.

    ‘Ah! You’re ready at last. Now follow me.’

    ‘Do you mean outside, sir?’

    ‘Yes.’

    ‘In this weather, sir?’

    ‘Yes. Yes, in this weather.’

    ‘But it’s after midnight!’ complained Frinkle as he opened the front door and followed his master grudgingly out into the blackest of nights.

    They made their way along the towpath, which led up to the top of Dead Man’s Cove. Frozen to the bone, they struggled to hold their ground as the cliff top shuddered beneath their feet every time a giant wave crashed against the rocks below.

    ‘We best be going back, sir,’ suggested Frinkle, as he felt his new boots beginning to sink into the sodden earth. ‘Sir!’

    Kazzan held up his hand, expecting another protest.

    ‘Did you hear that?’ he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the storm.

    ‘What am I supposed to be listening for?’ asked Frinkle, with a hint of sarcasm.

    Kazzan glared down at his manservant, who had a raindrop dripping off the end of his nose.

    ‘Listen!’

    Frinkle felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising on hearing a strange, eerie sound, getting ever louder until it was echoing all around them as the storm worsened. He rubbed his eyes frantically, finding it impossible to see through the swirling rain. What was out there lurking in the darkness? He trembled, just as a bolt of lightening lit up the cove.

    ‘My God!’ he yelled, on seeing an old sailing ship rise up out of the sea.

    He stood, speechless, with his master, watching the ancient wreck, her rigging draped with barnacles and seaweed and water gushing out from her gunnels. Kazzan smiled.

    ‘The Southern Cross! He has answered my call.’

    ‘Who, or what, is he?’ asked Frinkle.

    ‘My demon of revenge, Captain Ely Bones, once one of the most feared pirates to sail the Spanish Main. A young privateer, who had returned to England to discover that his true love, Isabella, had been found guilty of witchcraft by the Holy Brotherhood. Her sentence was that she be taken to the village common to be burnt to death, by the people of Bridmead, to cleanse her soul.’

    Frinkle had stopped listening. He was watching the black flag of death, which carried the skull and crossbones, flying from the yardarm, and the tall, ghostly figure standing astride by the helm. A fearful thought ran through his mind as he watched the old galleon drop anchor. Had his master gone too far this time and raised the devil himself?

    *

    Timothy stood at the library window, watching the professor saying his goodbyes to the last of his classmates and their parents as they left for the Easter break.

    ‘How would you like a nice hot cross bun, straight from the oven?’ asked Rose, putting her arm around his shoulder.

    He smiled up at her, appreciating the comfort she brought him. She had become like an older sister, who gave him more care than he had ever experienced at home.

    ‘Do you think I will ever see my parents again, miss, or are they gone forever?’

    The housekeeper tried to hold back the tears.

    ‘Don’t worry. One day your father will return, but until then, your home is here at Gladwick Hall.’

    The last day of term was always hectic and Nathan felt exhausted as he slumped into his chair by the fire in his study. He sat, watching the flames dancing in the grate, then disappearing up the chimney in curls of smoke. His eyes slowly closed as he drifted off to sleep. A sharp rap on the door jolted him out of his slumber. He was shocked to hear the grandfather clock striking midnight.

    ‘Sorry to wake you sir,’ said Rose, as she stuck her head around the door. ‘You have a visitor.’

    ‘At this hour?’

    ‘I think he’s an American, and he said he’s sorry it’s so late, but it’s urgent that he sees you.’

    The professor stood up, straightened his jacket, and ran his fingers through his hair.

    Cleopatra, who was sprawled out on the sofa, had opened one eye to watch Rose as she entered the room.

    ‘Well, show him in then, and you had better bring some tea’

    The housekeeper nodded as she left, holding the door open for the late visitor who was already by the door. Cleopatra let out a low hiss before rolling over, turning her back on the late caller. Nathan noted her reaction with interest. He had a new respect for her intuition since their earlier adventures. The stranger held out his hand.

    ‘My name is Linus Clark.’

    ‘Please excuse my cat. She doesn’t take to strangers,’ said Nathan, as he shook his hand heartily. ‘Now, how can I help you?’

    ‘Tea, sir?’

    Rose, entering the study, made the visitor jump. He appeared nervous and edgy.

    ‘Please drink your tea and relax, while you explain why it is so urgent for you to see me.’

    Nathan sat back in his chair as the American began to tell his story.

    ‘My father, Luther, had told me that the Gladwicks were distant relatives, so when I read about your discovery of the Cross of the Holy Brotherhood in the Boston Herald, I was intrigued. I did some research and discovered that Gladwick Hall had been built over the remains of an old monastery.’

    ‘True.’ Nathan interrupted.

    ‘The more I delved into it I began to uncover the story of a secret society that began in the dark ages. It consisted of eminent people who, it was claimed, practiced the occult and even human sacrifice. It all began in a hidden chapel, built below this very building, and regular meetings were held there until the turn of the century.

    My father warned me to leave the subject alone, saying that it would only bring trouble to our door. He told me that he had come across a rare book in a curiosity shop in a small hamlet outside Boston. It was the bible of the secret society. He contacted your father and told him of his discovery and, after much discussion back and forth, they both agreed to revive the society, but make it one of research and study of ancient Egypt. Since your father was an expert in that field, it was agreed that he would lead the yearly expeditions and, if they discovered anything of any value, the reward would be divided equally.

    Everything went well in the early years until your father broke a secret code he had discovered in the Brotherhood’s so called bible. This confirmed his conviction that somewhere out there in the desert was an undiscovered energy force. His life became a never-ending search, scouring every flea market and Kasbah, looking for that final piece in the puzzle that he was sure would lead him to the power that had been buried for thousands of years, along with the Pharaohs.

    It all ended tragically when there was a terrible accident and one of the digs collapsed, killing a society member. I think his name was Dr. Rudolf Kazzan.

    My father returned to America and yours returned to England, where he opened his school at Gladwick Hall. They never made contact again. Then, out of the blue, my father received a phone call from one of the old society members. After replacing the phone, he was taken ill and didn’t speak again until just before he died of a stroke.

    At his funeral, I was approached by an evil looking man, who said that my father had a book which belonged to him.’

    ‘Was he a cripple with a patch over one eye, and a dwarf as his manservant?’ asked Nathan.

    ‘Yes. How did you know that?’

    ‘He is my sworn enemy, Dr Kazzan. He has been pursuing me relentlessly,’ said Nathan, scowling.

    Clark’s mouth dropped open.

    ‘My father was sure he was the man who died in the accident.’

    ‘No, everyone thought that at the time, after receiving news that the doctor had been buried alive. But, somehow, the man dragged himself free and from that day sought his revenge against the society, believing he had been left to die whilst they had fled back to England, taking with them untold treasures.’

    The professor studied the American as he bent down to pick up his briefcase.

    ‘My father never told me of any relatives by the name of Clark.’

    ‘My father changed our name from De-Foe when I was a boy. He explained the name was notorious. It was linked to an old fable, telling of a witch, Isabella of Bridmead, who had been burnt at the stake. As the flames engulfed her body, her lover, Eli Bones, cursed the De-Foes and swore that one day he would take his revenge, even if it meant rising up from the grave.’

    He fumbled nervously in the case, producing a velvet wallet. Hesitating, he looked up at Nathan before slowly revealing its contents; a leather bound book with a gold clasp uniquely carved in the shape of a serpent along with photos, carefully wrapped in brown paper. He handed the photos to Nathan, who immediately recognized Kazzan and his own father. He pointed to another man in the photos.

    ‘Is this your father?’

    ‘Yes. It was taken on their last trip.’

    As Nathan listened to the American, he wondered if this was just another twist in the tale. Linus held out the book.

    ‘Since this has been in my possession, I’ve had the uncomfortable feeling that I am being watched.

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