The Nemen
By
M D Gray
Laughing Owl Publishing, Inc.
Copyright © 1998 By M.D. Gray. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from Laughing Owl Publication, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and review.
This is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Other names, characters and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, as are those fictionalized events and incidents which involve real persons and did not occur or are set in the future.
e-book edition, 1998
Cover art and design: Laughing Owl Publishing, Inc.
ISBN: 0-9659701-1-6
Author’s Foreword
The study and practice of magic may be the oldest of all religions on Earth. It is certainly one of the most interesting. In this little text, readers will encounter ritual and ceremonial information gleaned from a variety of ancient and modern sources. They have been distilled into a fictitious form that we hope will entertain without instructing. Because of this, neither the author nor the publisher accepts any responsibility for the actions of curious readers who may wish to experiment with the magical formulas presented in this book.
Instead, we administer a practical, if cliché, disclaimer. Don’t try this at home.
Excerpt from Chapter One
She forgot to breathe. Old things did that to her, and the grimoire was very old.
Genessy Dean shivered as a collective, reverent gasp ran through the classroom. The other students crowded closer to the glass cabinet, but Genessy stood back, isolating herself from the excitement.
The dark leather binding of the old book was cracked and shiny. Reddish dust fragments lay in crumbs beneath the book, testifying to the decaying process of age and use. A leather buckle had once kept the grimoire locked against prying eyes; frayed and tattered remnants of it now hung uselessly to one side. Old.
Genessy wanted to run her fingers over the grimoire, to open it slowly, turning back the pages of time and arcane secrets. Yet there was a hesitation in her too, a feeling of something not quite right. Something forbidden.
But that was silly. It was just a book. A sort of cookbook of old magic spells and rituals. There was nothing wrong with just looking at it. Or reading it. Genessy tried to reassure herself even as a warning rush of energy washed over her.
The professor cleared his throat and the attention of his students returned to him at once. Like a flight of locusts, they scattered to their respective seats. No one, in the introductory class of "Magic and Religion" wanted to miss this afternoon’s lecture. It was the reason they had all signed up for the course.
"It is priceless," the professor told the class. "And it is termed a dangerous heresy."
She wanted to feel the leather binding, to run her fingers over the faded forbidden writing that still showed faintly on the parchment pages. She could almost smell the oldness of the thing.
Genessy pulled the pencil from behind her ear and began to sketch rapidly on the notepaper before her.
There would be illustrations in the grimoire, elaborate images of spirits and devils and tools. It would make an incredible mural; a wizard at work in his laboratory, bent over his book of spells. His staff and sword would be positioned at the ready, mortar and pestle at hand. Familiar spirits would be crouched at his feet; above his head the laboratory would be open to the stars so that he could determine the correct hour for his experiment to begin.
"Grimoire," said Dr. Fen, "is an archaic word referring to a collection of alchemical or sorcerous magic. Today it would be called a book of shadows. This particular grimoire is reputed to be around three hundred years old. I cannot vouch for the validity of that belief."
Dr. Fen made a circling motion on the glass as though reverently polishing the case. "This particular grimoire is believed to be a verbatim copy of one discovered among the effects of Edward Kenney, a reputed magician of the fifteenth century. Its authorship is disputed. The rites and spells contained do not correlate to Kenney’s own journals. He, as we have learned, practiced what has come to be termed simple astrologically based magic. This book, this grimoire," Dr. Fen tapped the glass case once more, "deals with the creation and calling forth of elemental spirits to do the bidding of the magician. It is more than plausible that the scribe who copied it acquired the grimoire by less than ethical means. But we shall not attempt to delve into the mind of a man who is not here to explain himself."
Dr. Fen looked out at the small group of rapt faces. "As I said, a dangerous heresy. Who but the Creator should be creating such a limited version of life as this book describes? These creatures that the grimoire speaks of would be little better than slaves, brought forth under duress and commanded to carry out the will of the master. The Devil is not mentioned as we know him, but surely this grimoire is the work of such a being."
The professor walked to the front of his own desk and sat down on it, dangling his denim covered legs over the side. His eyes twinkled behind his thick glasses. "Or, perhaps, the grimoire is a test, devised to discover just how far man will go in his quest to become God. Imagine, just picture for a moment, the resulting chaos should such experiments as these fall into the hands of a Hitler. It is well known that Hitler was a devotee of occult knowledge. What if this grimoire, or one similar to it had been brought to him?"
Genessy felt an uneasy tingle moving up her spine. She stifled the apprehensive shiver that tried to accompany it.
It’s only a book.