Dalkhu (Demons) - 1. Dalkhu (Demons)

As the third and unimportant son of Duke Rothtree, Oliver had gotten away with many things his brothers hadn’t. Maybe that was why he forgot he still had some worth. Through a rich and influential marriage, he could have filled his father’s and elder brothers’ coffers and improve their standing at court. Instead, he had embarrassed them by having an affair with the stable boy.

Oliver’s carefree life ended the night his father’s henchmen tortured Adam to death.

Instead of outright killing himself, Oliver chose to become a soldier. Fighting for years on gory battlefields, watching friends and brothers die in endless wars should have been enough to repent for his arrogance and finally be rewarded with his own death. Right? Wrong!

Oliver’s gaze followed the shadows cast by the fire—flickering, jagged patterns against reddish walls—trying to work through what he had just learned: Adam wasn’t dead but a demon, a fiend existing on both sides of the veil. All those years Oliver had had one goal: fighting until he had earned the right to be at his lover’s side in the afterlife. It had all been in vain.

But fate, in her infinite cruelty, hadn’t stopped here. No, she let them turn Oliver into a monster too.

All of a sudden, hot, white fury consumed his entire being. Maiming and killing the one who had destroyed all his hopes—Zaidu—became his single focus. Arms outstretched, claws emerging from his fingertips, he leaped. But Zaidu easily dodged his meager attempts, and only moments later, Oliver was helplessly lying on the floor, with his arms shackled behind his back. Instead of raking his newfound weapons over the demon’s flesh, he was wriggling in the dust like a worm. Growling, Oliver tried to kick his tormentor, but Zaidu just nonchalantly stepped out of his leg’s reach. It fueled Oliver’s rage even more, and somehow he catapulted himself back on his feet, ready to tear into Zaidu—when he caught his reflection in the mirror over the mantelpiece: a distorted grimace, with huge fangs glistening red in a wide-open mouth. He froze, giving Zaidu time to grab him again, this time restraining his legs with chains.

“Shh...calm yourself.” Kneeling beside him, Zaidu held his shoulders while Oliver uselessly twisted and turned, tried to free himself.

Then Adam came into view, his hand on Zaidu’s arm. “Don’t hurt Oliver, Zaidu!”

The older demon chuckled. “This is a young demon struggling with fear of his new existence, nothing but instincts; it’s not Oliver. Yet.” Zaidu nodded at the table near the fireplace. “Take that piece of wood, and next time he growls, gag him. We need his mouth open to feed him more of our blood and establish the bond.”

Adam looked at the table and then back at Oliver. “What if he doesn’t want to be bonded to us?”

“He has no choice. We already started it when we both fed him on the battlefield.” Zaidu locked eyes with Oliver. “It is his destiny. When the time comes, and only the three of us can save humanity from becoming nothing but cattle to demons, he will understand.”

“I don’t want to force him.”

Oliver expected Zaidu to become angry with Adam, but the demon just smiled, transforming his entire face from grim to comforting. “That is because you have a gentle soul, my beloved.” Then he fixed his gaze back on Oliver. “If he is only half the man you said he is, he will see reason. Once the demon’s hunger is satisfied, Oliver’s humanity will come back and you will find the man you missed.”

“I know...it’s just so terrible to see him like this, desperate...full of hate.”

“Then let us end his predicament.” Zaidu held Oliver’s head firmly between his hands. “Come on, Adam, feed him!”

Hesitantly, Adam bit into his wrist and held the bleeding wound over Oliver’s mouth. Their eyes met, and Oliver made sure to convey all the fury and hatred he felt at that moment. He hissed triumphantly when Adam flinched and pulled his arm back.

Zaidu growled. “Do it, Adam!”

Warm blood dropped into Oliver’s open mouth. It was sweet and rich. He almost groaned in pleasure before he remembered he didn’t want this, and tried to push it out with his tongue, but Zaidu forced him to swallow by pressing his thumbs against Oliver’s Adam’s apple.

When the blood flow stopped, they changed positions, and Adam held his head while Zaidu fed him. They took turns until all fight left him, and Oliver’s body became limp. He fell asleep.

Three days later the bond was in place, and they removed the restraints. For a while, Oliver tried to hold on to his fury, but he no longer felt the urge to kill Zaidu. He still wasn’t comfortable with taking the older demon’s blood, even though it tasted deliciously strong and powerful, and its smell alone caused saliva to pool in his mouth. Drinking Adam’s blood was much easier. It was sweet and made him think of the time he and Adam slipped away from his guards on a beautiful spring day and had taken the horses for a ride.

Finding out that Adam and Zaidu had somehow managed to get their hands on his father’s three Arabian horses had been a huge surprise. They were a great comfort to him. Oliver had never believed he would see them again, especially Riah.

One evening, Adam came to him when he was at the stable. They fed on each other and then he told Oliver the story of Kianu and Amarud.

Thousands of years ago, two seven-year-old boys, Kianu and Amarud, met at the temple of Lamashtu. They were to become priests, a common deal between desperate parents and the goddess, since she offered protection to the families of her disciples from one of the greatest plagues at that time: roaming demons. The boys became friends fast, and when they grew older, their friendship turned into something more. Then one day, they found out that Lamashtu actually commanded the Lili–her demon army. Most of her disciples weren’t to become priests but demons. The boys made a plan to escape, but they were caught. To make an example of them, Lamashtu herself turned Kianu into a demon, starved him, and when he was addled by bloodlust, gave him Amarud to feed on and kill. For centuries, Kianu, whose new name was Zaidu, which meant ‘hunter’, was a mindless killer in Lamashtu’s service.

Finally, the other gods had enough of her rampage. They banded together, decimated her demon army in a surprise attack, and finally killed her.

With her death, Zaidu was free from her leash, but his freedom came with a price, as he now understood what he had done. Not being able to live with his guilt, he decided to meet the sun, thinking being eradicated by light was a fitting end for a creature of the dark.

In the last moment, Amarud’s ghost appeared and persuaded Zaidu that it wasn’t his time yet; he still had too much to do. From then on, Zaidu hunted demons instead of humans. After centuries, the gods rewarded Zaidu for his outstanding service by leading him to Adam, the reincarnation of his dead lover Amarud. They gave him back to Zaidu on one condition: He was to build a trifecta, a bond of three, where two opposites are merged with the help of a third to create something new, something greater, something that when the time came, could eventually be the last stand to protect humanity against the demons.

Together, they had waited for their third to be ready.

Oliver always thought that if he hadn’t failed Adam, fate would have granted him a long life at his lover’s side. It was why he fought so hard to become worthy again and be with him in the afterlife. As it was, they were never meant to be together, in life or in death. Zaidu would have come through time and taken Adam, or Amarud, away from him no matter what.

He knew this because he could sense the deep bond between Zaidu and Adam. It felt old, intricately woven long before his time, long before his own bond to them. Now he understood why.

His first reaction was that he didn’t want any of this—and yet he did. It was confusing. He felt manipulated, forced, but at the same time he longed to belong, knew he would only be whole with them.

And he made a decision. Whether it was the blood bond, destiny, or the God’s plan, he didn’t care any longer. Being bonded to Zaidu and Adam felt right.

After coming to terms with his new life, his friendship with Adam was easily rekindled. Like the last time, they built on it and, initiated by Adam, they became lovers again.

Oliver expected Zaidu to be angry with him. Only he wasn’t. He was...impersonal. As much as he tried, he couldn’t detect any ill feelings even when they fed on each other and were at their closest. He also knew that Zaidu and Amarud/Adam were lovers too. It should have made him jealous; he should have hated the other demon, but curiously, he didn’t.

It took him a while to understand that Adam was their link. Through him, they got to know each other. Sometimes it felt to Oliver as if Adam was feeding them understanding and love with his blood. The bond deepened, not only between Adam and Oliver, but between Zaidu and Oliver too. It was a slow process, but they had nothing but time.

And over decades, friendship became passion, became love. The trifecta was ready.

Two hundred and forty-three years later...

The professor slowly ran his fingers over the rough stones. How he itched to take a chisel and hammer and break through the bricked-up entrance. He longed to see what was behind this ancient wall with his naked eyes, not just through the lenses of the endoscopic camera. With a sigh, he turned away and switched off the light. Lamashtu, Queen of Demons, had to sleep just a night longer.

When he first dreamed of cuneiform clay tablets, he never thought they actually existed, or that he would be able to find them, and through them, the exact location of her prison. According to the script, the other gods had imprisoned Lamashtu for unleashing her demons and threatening gods and humans alike, taking over the world and its heavens. Of course this was only a colorful tale, exaggerated and elaborated over time. He was a realist, a scientist, and didn’t actually expect to find an imprisoned goddess but an unfortunate person who may have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Probably not much left of them either, as they had been walled in thousands of years. However, he hoped for unique artifacts: jewelry, weapons, pottery, and maybe even more scripts about the demon cult.

His time had come. After years of diligent decrypting, which eventually led him to this very excavation site, he would become famous.

The security guard outside nodded at him, and the professor searched his pockets for a pen to sign himself out of the attendance list.

“Good night, Ahmed.”

“Good night, Professor Hendricks.” Then he grinned. “Big day tomorrow.”

Only a few more hours. In the morning, when the film team would have optimal light, his competitors and colleagues were going to witness his triumph through a live feed. He would revel in their envy. No one would dare to belittle him any longer. The dreamy professor... No one!

Yes, he could wait just a little longer.

***

A huge, red moon hung over the edge of the desert; scattered rock formations cast jagged shadows against the vast, undulating sea of sand. No fennec fox was hunting for mice that night, no spiders scurrying about, and even the scorpion hid in its hole. It was as if the barren landscape was holding its breath.

Suddenly, wind stirred up the wispy ground and three dark shapes appeared out of thin air. The one in the middle stumbled, but the other two immediately steadied him, followed by quiet laughter.

“Damn! I’ll never get used to this.”

“That’s because you still don’t trust Zaidu enough to take us safely to places, Oliver.”

“Not right! I do trust him. It’s that feeling in my stomach, this...lurch. I’m afraid I’ll get sick, and we’ll turn up wherever covered in my puke.”

“Eww.”

“Exactly.” Oliver bent down, bracing his hands on his knees, breathing noisily through his mouth. “Z would be very upset.”

Adam snorted. “He would, only you’re a demon, remember? You can’t puke any longer.”

“Tell that to my stomach.” Oliver took in one last deep breath, before he looked around. “So, this is home?”

“No!” Both men startled at their companion’s angry shout. “This,” Zaidu waved his hands around, “is not home.” He wandered off until he was standing at the edge of a steep slope. Tension was rolling off him in waves. “Sand!”

He had spit the one word out with so much disgust; Oliver frowned, then looked at Adam for clarification. But before Adam could answer Oliver’s unspoken question, Zaidu muttered, “It was in my nose when I took the first breath. It was on my tongue the moment I spoke the first word. In no time, I will be covered in it again, it will encroach on me, own me.”

“You’re wearing a tagelmust, Z.” Oliver stepped closer and brushed aside part of the aforementioned indigo blue cloth hiding most of the other demon’s face and head. “It will protect you from all the evil sand.” Despite his teasing words, he leaned into the taller man, cupped his neck, and pulled him down just a little until their foreheads touched. “Everything will go well. We’ll dash in, kill the evil bitch, and we’ll be out of here in no time. Back at home, we’ll take a hot shower, wash all the sand away and then Adam will give you a massage using one of his heavenly smelling concoctions. After that, we’ll make you forget we were ever here. No more sand for you.”

Adam had come over also. He ran his hand down Zaidu’s shoulder and arm until he covered the fingers resting on Oliver’s hip with his own. So much had changed since the first time they met. The rage of a fledgling demon and scorned lover clashing against the silent power of a thousands-years-old demon lord had been ugly.

It had taken them long to come this far, to be a unit. It was worth the time, and now they had eternity.

They knew Zaidu hated having to come back to where everything had started, where his mother had abandoned him, where he had lost his love—and his humanity. Time to change the topic.

“Is that the camp of the archeologists?” Adam squinted at the tiny light in the far distance.

“Yes. I thought we would investigate the terrain first, make sure they didn’t change anything, and check their security.”

Adam nodded. “Good thinking.” He stepped away from Zaidu, so did Oliver. They waited silently for him to take point.

The three men made their way through the sand until they reached a bluff, from where they could look down on the brightly illuminated camp. As they had predicted, several guards were patrolling the excavation site.

“There are more guards than before.” Adam looked at Zaidu. “Will that be a problem?”

The man shook his head. “They won’t see or hear us.”

Oliver crouched down and pointed at the excavation site. “They also installed cameras.”

“Yes, but as they don’t have any inside the chamber, we’re fine.” Adam looked at Zaidu and Oliver. “Let’s go over the plan one last time.”

Oliver grinned, but when Adam asked, “What?” he said nothing but motioned with his hand to continue.

“Zaidu will bring us directly inside the burial chamber-slash-prison cell.” He caught Oliver’s gaze. “Remember, Oliver, we need to be demons, so, no breathing.”

“I know, I know.” Even though demons didn’t need to breathe, Oliver still clung to this part of his humanity; he claimed it gave him the feeling of being alive.

“Good.” Adam then drew a rectangle into the sand with his finger. “According to the plan the wind god gave Zaidu, we will be able to pop in here—” He pointed at the upper left corner. “—without triggering any alarms.” Adam touched Zaidu’s shoulder. “Can you picture the place in your mind so that you can take us exactly where we need to be?”

The other demon gave a sharp nod. “The video from the endoscopic camera was blurry, but it was enough to picture the place.”

Oliver elbowed Adam in the side. “Good thing you are a hacker now. I still don’t know how you got into their system so fast.”

Adam winked. “As easy as breathing if you know what to do and where to look.” Then he became serious again. “Do you have the decoy Ashur gave us?”

Oliver pushed his hand into the left pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out a gleaming, black pearl, roughly the size of a golf ball, and showed it to them. “It’s exactly the same in weight and appearance as the one inside the chamber, just without one evil goddess caged inside.”

“Perfect. Her prison sphere is resting on a construct built from three thin, needle-sharp rods, here.” Adam made a cross in the middle of the rectangle. “To prevent tomb raiders, or demons, from releasing her, accidentally or on purpose, the gods prepared various traps. For example, as soon as someone lifts the sphere from its stand, sunlight will pour inside the chamber, even if it is the middle of the night, and demons that aren’t a few thousand years old, like Oliver and me, will be nothing but dust—”

“Nice.”

Adam glared at Oliver. “Spare us the sarcasm, will you?”

“Jeez. I’m sorry, okay?”

“—and the whole building will crumble. So...remember, no talking, no wandering about, no breathing.” He threw a sharp glance at Oliver, who lifted his palms in a placating manner.

“I got it.”

“Inside, we have to move close to the walls—without touching them—until we are each in position.” To demonstrate where that was, Adam made three indentations around the cross he had drawn earlier.

“We are each now standing in front of ornate stones. As soon as Zaidu gives the signal, we simultaneously take a step forward. The stones are pressure-sensitive; stepping on all three of them at the same time will, hopefully, prevent light from flooding the room as well as the chamber from crushing us. Then Zaidu exchanges the spheres, because he is by far the fastest of us, and with luck, it won’t trigger any other alarm our friendly wind god Ashur might have forgotten to mention.”

“When you tell it like this, it sounds almost easy.”

“Only it is not.”

“I know.”

“I do have another question I meant to ask you when we first talked about the plan.” Oliver stared at the rough sketch Adam had drawn into the sand. “Where does the light come from? I mean, I get it during the day. There will be an opening in the ceiling or something, but at night?”

“I think I know how this works.” Zaidu’s gaze became distant. “When the gods decided to fight against Lamashtu, they needed weapons against her demon army. They developed crystals that were able to store sunlight. When triggered, they released the deathly rays and demons became dust. I guess they installed some of those in the chamber.”

“Nifty.”

***

Everything was exactly as the wind god had described it to Zaidu: the square, black stone pedestal, the stand on top, built from three glass-like needles, the ornate stepping-stones. What they had not expected was the cold. A thick layer of ice covered all the walls, letting their black and red markings shimmer eerily, almost as if they were alive. The worst was the pure evil radiating from the black sphere resting on the tip of the needles. Adam and Oliver instinctively took a step back after they entered the chamber. They would have touched the walls behind them if Zaidu hadn’t pulled them closer to his body. Their bond pulsed through them and gave them the strength to endure the malice pressing down onto them, a feeling that Zaidu knew all too well. The day Lamashtu personally had made him a demon flashed back to his mind, and for a short moment, he froze. But instantly, warm hands ran up and down his arms, while another pair brought him down for a kiss, and he was back in the present again.

After that, everything went according to their plan. They were shadows, moving without sound, without stirring the stale air, stepping on the stones as one, exchanging the spheres, and then they were gone without triggering any of the traps.

Zaidu teleported them back to the bluff where earlier they had watched the camp.

“Woo-hoo!” Oliver grinned. “Let’s kill the bitch and go home.” He looked at Zaidu expectantly, then his eyes widened. The hand holding the sphere was a frozen claw. “Zaidu!”

“I need blood! It will help me open my hand.” Zaidu scanned their surroundings. “Quickly! I can feel that someone is coming!”

Adam was already one-step ahead, pressing his bleeding wrist against Zaidu’s lips. “Oliver! Get the cylinder out of my backpack!”

Oliver hurried to open the clasps, pulled out a silvery container, and unscrewed the lid. He quickly passed it to Adam, and took over feeding Zaidu, while Adam held the container under Zaidu’s frozen hand, slowly prying his thawing fingers open until the sphere dropped heavily into the container.

“Done!” Adam screwed the cylinder shut, flipped a switch and a crank handle appeared. “Let’s finish this!”

A low chuckle made him stop mid-motion. Goose bumps ran over his whole body, and he shivered in fear, an emotion he hadn’t encountered for a very long time.

“You liberated our beloved queen!” A small, whip-thin man held his hand out, obviously expecting Adam to hand over the cylinder. “Well done, little Amarud. Now give me that and let us all part in peace.”

Adam automatically cradled the cylinder protectively against his chest. “No!”

Instantly, the friendly face became a menacing grimace. Claws with needle-sharp talons reached for him, when he felt someone at his back. A moment later Adam stood in the cave Zaidu had brought him to after he had made him a demon.

“Zaidu! Oliver!” Looking around frantically, he quickly found he was alone. What happened? Then he understood. Zaidu had sent him away from the oncoming battle! Furious, he yelled, “No!” Then he heard Oliver’s voice. “Use the cylinder, Adam! Destroy her! Zaidu and I will handle Nuri.”

Nuri? Their friend Nuri, who had taken time out of his busy schedule to explain complicated rituals to them when no one else had? Who helped them out so many times to spare them the high priest’s eager whip? That couldn’t be! But the face looked familiar.

Adam stared at the cylinder in his hand. It felt almost as if the malice inside it was daring him. “Now!” Zaidu’s voice yelled in his head, and woke him from his stupor. Determined, he turned the handle. It was easy at first, but then it became harder and harder, and in the end he needed all his strength to keep going. A constant whispering tried to stop him. He knew it was her. It began to overwhelm his mind. But then he envisioned Oliver and Zaidu fighting for their lives, giving him time to finish the mission. He channeled all his demonic power until a loud crack sounded through the cave, making his ears ring.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in the desert...

“Where is she?” Nuri roared. “Zaidu! Tell me!” His long, white hair whipped around his face as if the strands were alive and had a will of their own. “What have you done?!”

Zaidu calmly drew a long, curved sword from the scabbard on his back. “Now you know why I insisted on bringing the swords, Oliver.”

“I see.” Oliver gripped the handles of his twin blades more firmly. “Adam is safe?”

“No one can find him.”

“Good.” Oliver pointed his swords in Nuri’s direction.

“No!” Zaidu stepped in front of him, making a twirling motion with his hand, which looked almost playful to his companion. “Nuri brought enough for you to dance with; this one is mine. I waited centuries to reacquaint myself with...my old friend.”

Frowning, Oliver looked up and only then he saw that they were surrounded by demons. Holding various swords and long knives in their hands, they started to growl and bare their teeth when they felt his gaze on them. He quickly saw they were no match for him. Only a few were older; the rest were mere fledglings, still suffering from the bloodlust and rage of the very young, making them stupid. He grinned. Having spent half his human life on various battlefields, and fighting demons at Zaidu and Adam’s side for the last few centuries, this would be an easy task.

“Let’s hurry, Zaidu. Adam is having all the fun with the evil bitch. It’s not fair.” Then Oliver indicated a bow, swirled his blades around a few times and smirked at his opponents. “Care to join me for a dance?”

That did it. They came to him all at once, most of them clumsily brandishing their weapons as if they were sticks. Oliver mowed them down left and right; decapitated, they turned to dust before their bodies hit the ground. It was almost too easy. When a particularly young boy suddenly stood before him, Oliver hesitated and promptly felt a knife piercing through his stomach. Even though it wouldn’t kill him, it still hurt, and he lifted his swords, all remorse wiped from his consciousness, and swiftly killed his attacker.

It was silent after that last kill. Oliver had destroyed Nuri’s entire army. The wind was still carrying away their dust, when a sharp scream made him turn around, just in time to fend off a strike that was meant to take his head off. The relief was short-lived, as he had fallen on his back from the impact, and a white, ghost-like figure was looming over him with a raised sword. He knew instantly he didn’t stand a chance. Nuri was by far faster and stronger. Where was Zaidu? Was he dead? The sword buzzed through the air. He held his own weapon up in a last attempt to parry the killing blow, when Nuri disintegrated before his eyes and the sword landed beside him in the sand. Seconds later, he was pulled up and searching hands ran all over his body.

“Are you all right?” A ridiculous question. He was a demon, properly fed, his wounds healed instantly, and as his head was still on his shoulders where it was meant to be...

“Zaidu?” Oliver finally pushed against the other demon’s chest. “I’m okay.” And after a short pause, “Are you?”

“He suddenly teleported to you! I should have anticipated this.” Zaidu’s hand clamped around Oliver’s neck and he pulled until he was pressed against the older demon’s chest. “I almost lost you.”

“But you didn’t.” Oliver buried his hands in the other man’s hair. “It even gave you the chance to kill him.”

After a long moment, Zaidu took a step back, brushed the dust off his clothes, and gestured for Oliver to do the same. “Adam does not have to see us like this. Now let’s get him here and finish it.”

***

Adam stared at the cylinder in his hand. He knew it wasn’t over yet, but the handle was stuck. He couldn’t finish this alone. As if the mere thought had summoned them, Zaidu and Oliver appeared beside him. Zaidu grabbed his hand, and they were back in the desert.

“What happened? Where is Nuri?” Adam scanned his surroundings, but all he could see was an endless, undulating sand.

“He is dead.”

“Oh.” He knew it was silly, but he was still sad. He had lost a friend.

“He couldn’t be saved, Ama...Adam. It was too late for him.”

“I know.”

Oliver looked at both of them. “I want to know all about him... before he became a demon.”

“Yes.” Adam nodded. “And in our memories he will be our friend.”

Zaidu took the cylinder from Adam, held it with one hand, and put the other on the handle protruding from the lid. “Now you.”

Adam and Oliver covered his hands with theirs, and together they were able to turn the handle. They heard another crack, and the cylinder became cold. They kept going. Slowly, the cracking turned into grinding, and finally they had to stop.

“Almost done.” Zaidu flipped another switch and the handle disappeared. After shaking the cylinder a few times, he unscrewed the lid and showed them the inside—a thin layer of glittering dust. Then he hurled it into the sky, where a gust of wind took the sparkling cloud, spread it over the night sky, and then quickly diluted what was left of Lamashtu.

“Nothing can re-assemble her now, not even a god.” Zaidu buried the dropped lid of the cylinder in the sand with his foot. “Let’s go home.”

Oliver elbowed Adam. “Yes, let’s head home and de-sand Zaidu as promised.”

***

The cameras were all in position. Professor Hendricks personally took a hammer and chisel to the walled door. Opening it was more difficult than he anticipated, and soon sweat was running down his face and his movements became slower. Some of his colleagues snickered behind their hands, and the cameramen became bored when finally, a huge part of the wall fell inside the chamber. The spotlights illuminated parts of the hidden room. Professor Hendricks’ heart beat faster when he saw the black pillar and some kind of sphere resting on a delicate stand. Moments later a loud ‘clang’ sounded; a deep groaning was all the warning they had before the whole chamber crumbled, and people ran for their lives.

With the chamber shattered, Professor Hendricks’ dream had shattered as well. Years later, colleagues and competitors still talked about his failure, naming it ‘The wake-up call of the dreamy professor’, claiming his preparation had been insufficient and unprofessional.

He excavated fragments of the murals, pieces of the pedestal and a perfect black marble sphere. He deciphered scripts and finally published his findings: The chamber hadn’t been a grave but a prison for the demon goddess Lamashtu, with the cell being the black marble sphere he had on his desk. Of course, no one believed him, and, over the years, his findings fell into oblivion.