Gems of Dominion 2

Gems of Dominion 2

Stan Wolf

EUR 18,90

Format: 13,5 x 21,5 cm
Seitenanzahl: 216
ISBN: 978-3-99026-173-6
Erscheinungsdatum: 09.08.2011

Many things are too unfathomable to write them down like that. Perhaps they even should stay hidden, for the human mind accepts only what it is familiar with. Therefore I am writing this book in the disguise of a novel.

It is up to each reader to decide what he will acknowledge as true.


My gratitude is primarily due to Linda who accompanied me with big patience and perseverance on my journeys and adventures.

My gratitude also to Werner, the policeman who helped with great personal effort to bring some facts and more to light.

To my old friend from the Lions’ Club, Kurt the museum’s director, who supported me with vast knowledge during my archaeological research.

To Roland, chemist and Rosicrucian, who showed me the way to the entrance.

To the Baron whose stories kindled my intellectual curiosity.

To Franz, the General Manager of Sheraton Soma Bay in Egypt, who helped me again and again with good advice.


The story so far
When more than twenty years ago, German hikers vanished from Mount Untersberg and called home two months later from a cargo ship in the Red Sea, Wolf gained interest in the time phenomenon of Mount Untersberg near the Austrian town of Salzburg, an anomaly which until then had been known to him only from legends. The more as Wolf himself had met these people some years before their disappearance, in a shelter on the Untersberg. Years after he had a very mysterious experience when he tried to explore the time anomaly on the mountain, together with his daughter, Sabine.
But again several years passed before he encountered a similar, puzzling phenomenon during his frequent trips to remote rocky and sandy deserts in Egypt, accompanied by the teacher, Linda. This phenomenon obviously was connected to orbed black gems of the size and shape of an orange. His search grew more intense, until by chance he discovered in the underground chamber of the Cheops pyramid such a Black Gem. In his further research he came across a little-known legend, according to which a Knight Templar had taken one such Gem from Mesopotamia to Mount Untersberg in the eleventh century.
This Gem, which, as tradition would have it, was hidden by the Templar in a cave in the mountain, had already been searched by Adolf Hitler, known to have a predilection for Mount Untersberg. Hitler supposedly had evidence that this Gem was the key to absolute Dominion. Wolf extended his research to Mount Obersalzberg near the German town of Berchtesgaden, and there, with the aid of two German policemen, he made a startling discovery, which was almost fatal.
Once again Wolf focused his search on the Untersberg, and he was able to uncover a volatile secret. He discovered a hidden entrance to the mountain. A general of the Waffen-SS, who had discovered the time anomaly already in 1943, had in the last year of the war established a comfortable base as his hideout inside the rock, and the delay of time in the mountain enabled him to pass seventy years within a few months. Wolf and Linda came later into contact with him and his men from the past, learning of them things which are not found in any history book.
The General showed them a gold deposit in the mountains and asked Wolf, who also is an amateur pilot, to commence a flight to Fuerteventura where two cylinders made of lead were waiting for retrieval in the lava caves beneath the Villa Winter. Wolf and Linda wanted to fathom the mystery of the time shift and consented. The long flight with the single-engine Cessna and the subsequent events on the Canary island turned out extremely adventurous for them. In the end, however, they managed to retrieve the lead cylinders and to take them to the General ...

<strong>Chapter I</strong>

Mount Untersberg, 20 A. D.
The three soldiers had already spent a considerable time in this narrow and dark passageway. Straight it led them through Mount Untersberg. More than two months ago they had already taken shelter inside the mighty massif of this triangular mountain range in Southern Germany, shrouded in so many legends. The year before a secret base had been installed in the interior, holding a supply of provisions that could last for months. Now those three men were sent to deliver a dispatch to Hitler’s headquarters on nearby Mount Obersalzberg.
There were reports that the Obersalzberg had been bombed in late April. If that was true, there was little chance that someone might still last out up there. To whom then was the dispatch to be handed?
Well, wondering about that was not their task. They just had to follow orders.
It was damp inside the cave. In some places water dripped from the walls, forming tiny puddles on the ground. Sometimes it splashed up to their very knees as they passed through it. The passageway was very extended, and they did not know how much further they had to go on until they would reach the exit. Their destination, in any case, was Mount Obersalzberg.
SS-Sturmbannführer Hübner, the officer in charge, halted and checked whether his submachine gun was locked. Before, it had once got caught at a ledge. But it seemed all right, the locking lever was still in position. Scharführer Bauer, walking in front, disrupted the almost monotonous silence inside the dark passageway: ‘Sir, over there it is light. I guess we will have reached the exit soon.’
Half a minute later, the three soldiers crawled through a half buried gap out into the open. A bitterly cold wind blew snowflakes into their faces. Just a few more steps, and they were standing on a small rocky plateau near a frozen waterfall, high at a rugged, steep slope of the mountain.
Hübner took out his compass. He narrowed his eyes and checked this way and that, the instrument and around.
‘Mount Obersalzberg should be over there, on the other side of the valley.’ His hand pointed up and to the right. But there was hardly anything to see, for the light snowfall veiled the view of the mountains all around.
‘We’ll have to hurry. Out here it’s already late afternoon, I suppose. Let’s see then that we’ll get down to the road. There we’ll stop a car that will take us up to the Führer’s off-limits area.’
Their executive order had been signed by SS-Obergruppenführer Dr. Kammler. It was equivalent to their permit.
The road that was passing from the town of Salzburg to Berchtesgaden through this valley was well maintained. They would probably reach it latest within another hour.
‘Can’t see any houses all around, sir,’ wondered Bauer. ‘And there’s no hint of a path, either.’
‘That’s because of these dreaded snowfalls. It seems to me that it has been snowing here a lot lately,’ the Sturmbannführer replied. He had sunk up to his knees in porous, powdery snow.
The descent from the mountain wasn’t overtly difficult. They skidded rather than walked. Hübner plotted in his mind already their way back, because climbing up again across this snow certainly would turn out as a worse ordeal. Yet, when they had finally reached the valley bottom, there was still no sign of any houses, not even of the road that should have passed them by just along the narrow river. Indeed it seemed like there had never been anything else but wilderness.
Had the Allies covered this area so thoroughly with bombs that absolutely nothing had withstood? And now all remains were even covered by snow, leaving no trace of civilisation anywhere? Or had this been the effect of a so-called atomic bomb, a weapon that was rumoured to exist already?
But that could not yet have happened. Mount Obersalzberg had been bombed just a month ago, while they had order to leave the passageway six years before that date.
The rattle of a submachine gun startled Hübner from his thoughts. Untersturmführer Müller, the youngest member of his squad, had fired. For a large brown thing had jumped just in front of him from behind a snow-covered bush.
‘I couldn’t see what that might have been, sir,’ stammered Müller, his face still marked by fear.
The three soldiers were surrounding a dead deer.
‘I say, such palmate antlers I’ve never seen before!’ Hübner said. ‘Looks like a fallow buck to me. And this, here in the Alps. Such beasts may have been around here perhaps hundreds of years ago! All right, let’s follow the river then. Somewhere we should get at last to that road!’
Down in the valley their tiny squad was less exposed to the icy wind, but the view rapidly worsened as heavier snowfall set in. Toilsome they trudged upstream, fighting their way through high, snow-covered coppice. Snow drizzled into their collars. The small river to their left was thoroughly frozen in parts. Yet, avoiding any unnecessary hazard, they preferred to look out for one of a few bridges by which they might get safer to the other bank.
‘If this snowfall shall go on like that, how will we then find our way back, sir? We’ve no evidence other than our tracks!’ Hübner recognised that Müller had got quite upset. Even he himself felt eerie. What had happened here: The topography was the right one, but without any signs of civilisation? Yet the very next moment Untersturmführer Müller pointed with a suspicious look at a tree.
Its bark bore funny notches. Obviously they were some kind of characters, like Germanic runes, but hewn with an axe just into the bark of a mighty fir-tree. So there were people around after all. Slowly, the men felt how the cold crept up through their wet uniform trousers.
Sturmbannführer Hübner was still wondering whether the better choice might have been to abort their mission and to return on their own trail back to the passageway, when suddenly a bunch of barbarians, clad in fur and armed with spears, broke screaming through the brush at the riverbank.
With one fast clutch Hübner raised his submachine gun, but the attacking horde was not at all impressed. Müller and Bauer also cocked their arms - ‘Fire!’ the Sturmbannführer shouted.
One sheaf from his gun struck down two attackers. His mates fired almost at the same time, some more of the barbarians fell into the snow, screaming. The others halted, just for a moment. Then they raged on again towards the three soldiers. Hübner exchanged the first magazine of his gun, and with his next thirty-two cartridges he felled another several of these fearless beings from a time long ago. Now they came from either side. It seemed that more and more of them were appearing from between the trees, as if out of nothing.
The three soldiers were firing at will. And then, when Scharführer Bauer was at the verge of inserting the second-to-last one of his six magazines, a spear hit him straight into the chest. Without a cry Bauer fell to the ground, mortally wounded. There he remained, silently lying on his back, his eyes staring up to heaven. Bright blood issued from his mouth. A cry of triumph rang among the barbarians who now stepped over their own dead warriors, circling in on the two remaining SS-troopers.
Once again Sturmbannführer Hübner’s gun was rattling, once again some of the blood-lusty fellows fell prey to his nine-millimetre bullets. ‘Get back to the cave! I’ll keep those subhumans at bay for you!’ Hübner screamed at Untersturmführer Müller. And when yet he saw that Müller bent down to his lifeless mate, picking up another loaded magazine for his own weapon and taking on firing, he bellowed in his most commanding voice: ‘Turn around! Run as you may! That’s your only chance. If you don’t get back to that cave quickly, you’ll be done!’ And just at that instance, with a crunching noise there came a spear, piercing the frozen ground right next to Untersturmführer Müller.
Panic-stricken, the young man realised that this fight was futile. There were just too many foes, and apparently they had no fear of death. Müller dashed off as fast as he could, just as Hübner had ordered him to do. He was running for his life. Still he could hear the bellowing of the gunbursts and the harsh cries of the mortally wounded behind. And he knew that the Sturmbannführer would maintain his last stand against the death-defying superiority of the attackers just for a few more minutes.
But as little time as that was, it should give him enough of a head start to escape to the sheltering cave. Snow fell from the shrubs and trickled down his face. Müller felt no longer cold. He perceived their own trail in the snow, indicating the way back to the plateau. He was glad that he could still see the tracks, for by now really severe snowfall had set in. When he arduously wound his way across the deep snow and up the slope of Mount Untersberg, he released again the safety lock of his gun. For if he was pursued and had to shoot again, he might do faster without.
Suddenly, all turned quiet down at the river. The rattle of the submachine gun had ceased. So Müller fancied that now the Sturmbannführer was no longer alive. Only a distant howl of victory rose from the valley floor. He could well imagine how the barbarians would hunt himself now.
In trembling fear, he struggled the steep slope up across the snow. Again and again he slipped. He held fast to everything that offered support in any way. And as he looked back, he could descry a fur-clad shape just fifty metres below him. This barbarian could not hurl his spear that far up, though: Müller was still too far away and ahead of him. The Untersturmführer wondered whether he might shoot his pursuer, but he thought better. His submachine gun was indeed quite an effective weapon, but the distance was yet too far for a single shot as well. And one or two whole sheaves would certainly already consume half of his magazine. In any case he had to spare some ammunition, for getting back to the cave entrance would take him at least another half an hour.
His hands were bleeding, torn by sharp, ice-clad rocks, the numbness in his wet, cold feet he hardly perceived at all. How much closer had the barbarian drawn by now? If he wanted to check, Müller had to turn around, and that cost precious time. Panic seized him again. Half leaning against the slope, he fetched the penultimate gun magazine from his pocket and inserted it into the weapon. Now he only had to wait.

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