Necronomicon: The Wanderings of Alhazred Read online

  strange race known to the herdsmen of Leng in their folktales dwells in a world of ice and darkness beyond the sphere of Saturn, yet within the orbit of the fixed stars. They call it Yuggoth, and it is unknown to our astrologers, for it cannot be seen with the eyes. It is not their world of origin, which lies within the constellation of stars known as Al Dubb al Akbar, the Greater Bear, yet it is still so remote from the earth that our sun is a mere point of light in the star-crusted blackness of their sky, and offers no warmth that can be discerned to their touch. A single great moon circles their heavens, much larger than the moon we know, and is in color a dull purple similar to the color of bruised flesh. They dwell in caverns, and get their heat from fissures that emit sulfurous plumes of gas. Glowing lichen on the cavern walls offer a faint crimson illumination that is sufficient for their needs, for their eyes are adapted to the murk so that they see as well in the night as we see in the day.

  It is difficult for the traveler to judge their size, for there are no measures of comparison with the human form, and the weight of things on their world is less than the weight we know so that, when dropped, a stone falls slowly as through water. Their bodies are covered in a horny armor or shell that is similar to the armor of scorpions, or to sea creatures such as the crab. This natural defense makes them dreadful warriors, as neither sword nor ax can penetrate it. Little can be seen of this shell, for their entire bodies are furred in a white fungus that resembles bristling hair. Only their faces and their powerful hands, shaped much as are the pincers of a scorpion but having more complex movements that allow them to grasp tools, are bare of this fungoidal fur.

  They are a race of warriors and farmers. When not making war, all their care is devoted to the cultivation of a single type of fungus resembling that which grows upon their shells. It is their sole source of nourishment; as they are dependent upon it for their survival, so it requires their constant tending to flourish, for it will not grow without their assistance. Indeed, they and the plant they cultivate cannot be said to exist separately, for should either fail, the other would surely perish.

  It was their constant need to fortify their fungal crop that sent these creatures to our world in search of certain minerals in the ground that are rare on Yuggoth but abundant here. The minerals are applied sparingly to the fungus beds in the same way that our farmers spread rotted manure upon their fields, and for the same purpose. It is said among the inhabitants of Leng that the race first arrived at a time following the great war between the Elder Things and the armies of Cthulhu, after the Old Ones had retreated from the malignant alignment of the stars, and they came not as humble visitors seeking charity but as conquerors, and such is ever their way. There was no subtlety in their mining; they turned the skin of our world inside out, causing great destruction of plants and beasts. The Elder Ones resented their intrusion into our world and fought them with their arts, but were unequal in might to the space spore from Yuggoth, who drove them from all the northern and central regions of our world, forcing them to seek refuge in the deepest parts of the southern ocean.

  The caverns of Yuggoth are splendorous and vast. Where nature on their world has not sufficed for their purposes, they have carved the rock, and have constructed buttresses to reinforce the roofs and great arches to span the crevasses. The floors rise and fall irregularly, but offer no impediment to the progress of the dwellers, who leap across minor barriers on their powerful legs; because the weight of things is less in their world, these leaps carry their bodies farther than the bounds of a mountain ram. They have no families but live in groups of a score or more, and spawn their young from their own bodies in a way that resembles the budding of plants. When the young are mature enough to move about and eat the fungoidal crop, they fall from the backs of the adults like ripe fruit from the tree, already covered in the white fungus that acts as their fur.

  The creatures worship their moon, and seem to have no other religion or god apart from the livid sphere that rises and falls in their dark sky. Its cycles govern the growth of the crop they rely upon for nourishment, and it is also their expressed belief, when they speak of such matters among themselves, that it generates the heat within the center of their world that causes the sulfurous plumes to issue from their vents, providing warmth for the living things of the caverns. It is forbidden to journey to the moon, under penalty of death both of the flesh and of the soul. Indeed, violation of this prohibition is their greatest sin, and is accorded the most severe punishment in their laws. It is equally a crime to speak about it or even to look upon it when they travel across the upper surface of their world.

  A soul flyer of our race who journeyed to Yuggoth once used the power of his will to compel the inhabitant serving as his vessel to go to the surface and gaze up at the moon, for they can be ridden like a horse but do not completely lose their awareness and at times resist instruction. Great was the battle of wills before the monster would lift its eyes, and the sight of the moon filled it with such terror and nausea that it became weak and fell to the earth upon its face. When it recovered its strength, it drew forth a blade and, by inserting it in some clever way between the plates of its armor above its heart, killed itself before the traveler could prevent it. Such is their veneration for their lunar orb.

  Upon their moon’s face is a curious pattern of rings and lines that is the holy symbol for their race. When graven into an amulet by our necromancers, this sign confers certain perceptions that are useful in dealings with the dead; however, the scattered few of these creatures who continue to inhabit our world can sense its presence when it is near to them, even when the amulet bearing this seal is hidden from their sight, and they will seek out with tireless intention its possessor and slay him, then take the amulet away with them.

  Their voices upon their own world are silent, for the air is too thin for speech. They communicate by means of colored lights from their heads that flash on and off, constantly changing with all the hues of the rainbow and with the rapidity of

  lightning. On our world, they are said by the shamans of Leng to speak most eloquently in the language of Leng. It is rumored in dark places that a small number of the race of Yuggoth still inhabit the mountains of the east, where they live in deep caverns and cultivate their crop as they do in their homeland. They are spies left upon this sphere to report its changes to the leader of their race. The hardy native folk who dwell in tribes under the authority of shamans in those heights call them meegoh, and sometimes hear their murmuring voices echoing from the mountains as they talk in the tongue of the mountain race, and sometimes see their footprints impressed upon the snow that forever covers the peaks; yet they are elusive and subtle beings, and are seldom seen, and if observed they swiftly slay those who watch them so that their activities cannot be described.

  It is spoken in Yuggoth in the language of lights that the minerals in ancient times gathered and carried away from our world will soon be exhausted, and then their armies must return to take what they need from our soil. Not the kingdoms of men, nor the arcane knowledge of the Elder Race, perhaps not even the Old Ones and the death spawn of great Cthulhu himself, should he awaken at that time, will have the power to stand against them.

  he gateway to Atlantis crosses not only space but time, for the traveler is precipitated into the distant past when most of our race dwelled in caves and wore uncured skins, possessing only stones with which to hunt, and lacking the skill of writing whereby they might record their works. Atlantis was the highest achievement of man, as the Greek philosophers attest, and though aeons have passed since its fall, man has yet to regain its wisdom. Why the reptilian beings who dwelled beneath Irem chose to create a portal leading to the eve of its destruction is not evident from their murals, but it may be that they found amusement in observing the fall of the city, as a kind of entertainment of infinite variety, for each journey results in a different human vessel, and hence a varied experience for the traveler.

  Of the geography of the city little
need be written, for it was well recorded by the Greeks; let it only be stated that Atlantis was founded upon a group of small and rocky islands in the ocean that lies beyond the Pillars of Hercules, far from any other lands. It was arranged in a series of concentric rings made up of great curving causeways that overlapped the islands, with roads that radiated from its center like the spokes of a wheel. In the exact center of the city stood its parliament building, a magnificent edifice of white marble quarried from distant lands and carried to the isles in ships, for the people of Atlantis were sea traders who profited greatly by conveying goods between the distant human settlements of the world. There has never been so bold a race of mariners. No sea was too remote or too dangerous for their sturdy galleys, and no coast unknown to their cartographers.

  In appearance the Atlanteans were fairer of skin than our desert peoples, and some possessed golden hair and blue eyes. Enjoying both grace of body and strength of limb, they were reputed to be the most beautiful of all men, but their hearts were evil, and their fair exteriors concealed a blackness within. They came by their great sciences not honestly, but in dealings with the children of the god Dagon, one of the lords of the Old Ones who lies in his house beneath the waves beyond the Pillars of Hercules, waiting for the stars to realign and become wholesome to his kind.

  His children have been called the dwellers in the deep. They have power to travel both across the land and through the water, although it is said that they much prefer the waves above their heads, and cannot with comfort long endure dryness on their skins, which have a faint bluish cast and are pallid, like the bellies of frogs. Their heads are blunt and rise from their shoulders without the mediation of a neck, their fingers and toes are webbed for easier swimming. At their sides are gills like those of a fish. They wear no clothing but delight in costly ornaments and jewelry, and no superior workers in precious metals and jewels are to be found anywhere in this world. Endless wealth is theirs, for they are aware of all the shipwrecks that have ever been and have easy access to the wrecks to despoil them of their treasures.

  It is a strange characteristic of the dwellers in the depths that they feel affinity for our race. Tales are told of friendships, and even loves, between the children of Dagon and the children of man, and by some unnatural art they are enabled to breed with human beings when they wish to create offspring from these abhorrent couplings—for it was never meant by nature that the Deep Ones and the surface dwellers should engender children, and such spawn is cursed to the tenth generation, for breed as often as they will thereafter with men, they can never expunge the traits of their alien blood.

  The women of Atlantis bred freely with the males of the children of Dagon, in their degenerate lusts preferring these couplings to union with men of their own race, and many children of mixed blood were created. They came to rule Atlantis, although they never appeared unveiled under the light of the sun nor openly challenged the arrogance of the pure-blooded citizens of the city, who regarded the mixed spawn of the deep with revulsion and contempt, even as they became dependent upon their unnatural intelligence and their associations with the children of Dagon to increase the power and prosperity of the city.

  Those of mixed blood grew to hate the much more numerous citizens of pure blood, and their hate burned even more deeply in their hearts than the hatred of the slaves stolen from many lands by the Atlantean ships; for the Atlanteans scorned physical labor of any kind, and relied upon the services of slaves for their every common need, so that the population of slaves within the walls of the city was greater than the number of those native born.

  The city was powered by the fires within crystals gathered by the children of Dagon from deep rifts in the floor of the ocean. These same stones were used to build terrifying weapons that could burn ships and overthrow fortifications. In their conceit, the Atlanteans considered themselves invulnerable to invasion, both because of the weapons and by virtue of their remote location so far from the lands of the barbarian races. The half-breeds with the bluish blood of the Deep Ones flowing coldly through their veins were content to run the affairs of the city, and wait and watch for their opportunity to overthrow the arrogant nobles. In secret they devised a plot with the foreign-born slaves and with the children of Dagon to overthrow Atlantis and slay all those of pure blood—for they reasoned that the nobles contributed nothing to the keeping of the island, and therefore served no purpose.

  A soul traveler to Atlantis through the portal beneath Irem emerges within the body of one of its inhabitants, but whether in the body of a slave, or a noble, or one of mixed blood is a matter of chance that cannot be controlled. The portal is so constructed that the visitor emerges in the mid-morning, and for several hours may observe the works of art and social pastimes of the city through the eyes of his host. In the afternoon the invasion of the dwellers in the deep begins, in unison with the uprising of the slaves, and the chaos that ensues makes observation difficult, for the vessel of the traveler is often swept away on the ebb and flow of warfare, or may even be slain outright in the first clash of arms.

  It is at once apparent to the traveler that the blue-blooded traitors who conceived the overthrow of the city miscalculated in their assessment of the decadence of the nobles, for though they had little skill in any other field of endeavor, the nobility excelled in warfare, which was the devotion of all their energies throughout their lifetimes. From the age of five years they were trained daily in the use of the sword, the javelin, and the bow, and soon became wise in innumerable ways of killing. The half-breeds sought to keep the nobles away from the weapons vaults, where the energy crystals were stored, but they were swept aside in the first assault of the nobles so that when the forces of the Deep Ones arose from the sea, the noble warriors of Atlantis stood ready to repel them.

  The destruction wrought by the crystal light cannons wielded on both sides of the conflict is beyond the power of the pen to convey; no such warfare has ever been waged in modern times, for the art of making weapons so powerful has been lost even to the Deep Ones themselves, who forgot in the ages since Atlantis sank the art by which the crystals are empowered. So great were the forces released that the very fabric of matter itself was made unstable, and the sea would no longer support the isles upon which the city was founded. A rift opened and the city sank, together with all its inhabitants of many races and those dwellers in the deep who were too slow to flee to safety in the turbulent waves.

  A traveler to this fair city is constrained by the nature of the portal always to watch, never to act, for the vessel into which his soul is precipitated cannot be influenced by his will. The reptilian race that made the soul gateways so contrived this portal to prevent a traveler from attempting to influence the outcome of the conflict. Were it possible to control the hosts, a man might go back to the same moment in time repeatedly and in this way amass an army with a single purpose, to change the history of the battle so that Atlantis was not destroyed. What the consequences would be for later ages is a matter to ponder, but the reptilian race took care to ensure that no such tampering with the river of time might be attempted.

  The library of Atlantis is located to the east of the central ring promenade, which surrounds the buildings of government. If you are fortunate, your soul vessel may proceed toward the center of the city, to which all roads that are straight lead, then turn into the morning sun to face a pillared structure with a shining roof of beaten copper, before which stands an immense statue of their god Dagon. Entrance is freely granted to all, for slaves are employed to carry books to their masters and to return them, and none of the librarians question their presence. The storehouse of wisdom is immense, gathered over centuries from all corners of the world, and translated by scribes, then inscribed onto plates that resemble gold, but are not gold, with the sharp point of a stylus, a form of writing that is almost as flowing and graceful as our own letters. The plates are bound together by rings to make books.

  The frustration to the seeker of wisdom c
annot be described. It is surely greater than the torment of Tantalus, who stood deep in water that receded each time he sought to drink. Only the book chosen by the visitor to the library will be seen, and then only if that person stays to read a portion of it. It is unfortunate that the favored texts of the Atlanteans were florid romances containing extended erotic descriptions and complex social conflicts that have little meaning for the traveler. Should you be fortunate enough to find a work of greater value opened before your eyes, it is sure to be shut before you have had your fill of its viands, and return as often as you may you will never see it again, for you cannot inhabit the same body twice at the same moment in time.

  here are places in this world precious to the seeker after arcane arts, yet unnamed in the cities of men, that may be reached afoot, or on horseback, or by ship, though many are distant and difficult to find and even more difficult to attain. Other wondrous realms exist that may not be visited by common means, no matter the keenness of desire or the willfulness of striving. Some, such as the city of Atlantis, are in other times, either in years that have passed or years yet to come; others have presence in our own time, but not in this space in which we dwell, so that a man with unaltered mind might walk through them as through a shadow or a mist and have no awareness of their nature, unless at the nape of his neck there arose a prickling of unease.

  Kadath in the cold wastes is such a place that is of our time but of another space. It is fabled to lie north of the plateau of Leng, beyond the snowy mountains; this is no more than a fable, but it has a mustard seed of truth at its heart, for Kadath is near the ruins of the ancient city of the Elder Ones, and the creeping of the land upon the ocean that supports all the ground of our world has carried both far to the south; whereas the ruins of the city of the Elder Ones are of stone, the great mountain known as Kadath is not material, and cannot be seen clearly with normal sight. Many men have dreamed of it, and have not known of what they dreamed, and always their reports are different, for each dreamer makes his own world in the endless lands of sleep, and no two visions of Kadath seen in dreams are the same.