by John Pirillo
The Jungle Lord, for he had shed his civilized clothing for a reason, was all that he should be as he leaped from roof-top to roof-top, his nostrils flaring to catch the scents and fragrances that wafted in the air. He was looking for one in particular, the one he had caught near the famous authors. The reason he had paid any attention to them at all, for the fragrance he caught was on them, and yet not. It was curious to him, as usually he could tell what a smell was the first time. It was as clear to him as seeing a diamond was to a jeweler.
But not one to intellectualize for long, he just savored the crispness of the air snapping against his bronzed skin, his muscles ripping in joy as they stretched and tightened leap after leap. He even caught an occasional antenna that was stout enough and swung from them, like a monkey might from a vine to another, or a branch to trunk or a new branch.
He was the Jungle Lord now, in the elements he preferred, his body exposed to whatever hand that nature dealt. He would not freeze, for he would not be still long enough to do so, and his body chemistry was unlike that of ordinary Englishmen. His time spent under the tutelage of the Grand Sorceress of Ar had taught him how to control his body temperatures in all extremes of weather. He smiled as he leaped onto a roof-top where a grandmother was pinning some clothing on a stretch of rope.
She looked startled for a moment, then recovered as he paused a moment to sniff the air. "You're that ape man fellow, aren't you?" She stated, not asking, but asking all the same. She eyed him like a young woman might, but without the lust or desire. She was admiring the finesse of his body's sculpture. He appreciated her honesty of purpose, which was seldom found in this city of imposters, miscreants and confused humans.
He thought confused as a description because even though the majority were good people, they hadn't a clue as to their true origins, very little contact with what made them human, and most preferred to live and die in the shadow of what they might have become, rather than what they could be.
A few rose above the masses, such as Professor Challenger, or Conan, his best friend, even Sherlock Holmes and Watson...and then sadly his thoughts plumetted. Moriarity. A grand soul, a great light now missing from the world.
Once more he gave into that darker memory and then snapped out of it when the grandmother reached into a basked next to her and pulled out a piece of fruit. "It's my guilty pleasure, but I suspect you will appreciate it." She told him as she offered him a fresh banana.
He didn't ask her where she had gotten it from. He just took it and then her hand, which he pressed to his lips in gratitude, then he ran away, leaping for the next roof top, leaving an old woman with fond memories and a great story to tell to her grandchildren of the day that the Jungle Lord had swung onto her roof top and kissed her hand.
As he continued his roof-top search he thought about the two young authors again and their cryptic conversation. Was it possible that they were not truly native to his world, just like himself? A secret he had kept from all his friends, even his beloved Lady Shareen. His entrance into this world had not been from the jungles of Africa as many had reported and made stories about, but instead he had been born and launched from a much harsher environment, where trees grew as tall as the Eiffel Tower and taller, and where animals the size of dinosaurs randomly plundered the lands, frightening the few humans there into hiding inside the great trees and beneath the earth.
His mother had not been an ape as was popularly believed, but rather a green skinned being with multiple arms. On this planet she would have resembled the infamous demon Kali, but in his world she was kind and gentle, but stood over fifteen feet tall when stretched, but only nine when seated, which she was much of the time with him as a child. It was only later on that his Ra, or mother as she was to him, had let him realize just how big she was. Most of his tender years, she kept him close, giving him much to do with her many arms, teaching him how to defend himself, how to leap, how to crawl, how to hung.
She had done a magnificent job of it, sharpening his already heightened senses to a sharpness not even her own people could reach.
She was his Ra, his mother, and he her Cur, or cub, or youngling. She had never had any of her own, because she could never find a male of equal heart and stature. The males of he race tended to be reclusive and extremely violent, which is probably why they were a dying race, as any race of beings that kills its own, is doomed in the long run...to extinction!
He had little memory of how he came to be in her charge, or even if he was originally of that world. She never ventured, and he never asked. He was happy for her love and to this day remained so. Should she ever have wished to reveal more, she would have. He was content enough of his life to let go of unwanted memories or to want memories that were not his own, or meant for him.
So between Ra and the Grand Soceress of Ar, Lah of Torn, he had learned how to deal with any kind of environment, weather or situation and be peaceful with it. He could regulate his body temperature and he never aged. He looked the same at the appearance of twenty-two as he had over five hundred years ago, for that was how old he remembered himself to be. Lady Shareen suspected the depth of his years, but never pried. He never told her for her own safety, for anything he revealed to her, could be used by his enemies against him and her in the long run, if they thought her to be a vessel of destruction to him.
He had not had any recent bouts with the Ancient Enemies who had followed him from Torn, but that did not mean they weren't preparing something. Some things never changed.
He landed on a last roof-top, near the docks. He stood there on the ledge, sniffing the air. He caught a familiar scent. But it couldn't be, could it? He ignored it, thinking it was a trick of his imagination or a combination of spices that had struck his memory cords. And in so doing he didn't notice the very large man below, known as Giant, and also as Moriarity, as he boarded a merchant ship with his few belongings over his shoulder.
The man looked back and up once, spotting the Jungle Lord, but he failed to recognize him. His memories were jarred by the imagery, but not enough to bring a clear recollection. He shrugged it off as to something he had seen in the papers perhaps, and boarded the ship.
He tossed his belongings to the deck, and joined the other Sailors in withdrawing the boarding ramp, and helping to get the ship ready to embark back to the ocean it had left a month ago.
The Jungle Lord looked down, but the Giant was already descending into the hold, to help tie up the cargo for the what would probably be violent rocking of the ship in the high tides as they emerged from the Thames out into the freezing, rugged waters of the Atlantic.
A new scent caught his nostrils. The one he had been seeking. And strong. He leaped down from the rooftop as nimbly as a cat might, landing on his two feet with little effort from the thirty feet he had dropped, then ran towards a warehouse.
He reached the doors of the warehouse as a horrible scream emitted from within, causing Sailors who were already gawking at the Jungle Lord to cross themselves and scatter for safety, as all were aware of the demon loose in the city and wanted none of it.
The Jungle Lord threw open the warehouse doors and launched himself inside, his right hand clutching his very sharp knife that was ready to defend him and strike down mercilessly the foul creature he had scented.
Will the Jungle Lord find out that his knife is useless against the savage mummy from the museum? Has the Jungle Lord finally found an opponent he can not defeat? Will Lady Shareen lose the one and true love her life?
Come back tomorrow for the next exciting episode of "The Revenge of the Mummy."
For those of you who are just dying to learn more about the famous Jungle Lord and how he figures into the Baker Street Adventures universe, then pick up a copy of The Baker Street Adventures, "The Jungle Lord." at Smashwords for 99 cents.
The Jungle Lord seeks to explore his new domain in the Land of Fairie and becomes entangled in the charms of a lovely English lady explorer, as well as the wrath of a dragon the size of a small mountain, who fancies the English noblewoman for his own tastes. LessLord Graystone is exploring the Land of Fairie, his new jungle home, when he discovers a fellow explorer in danger. He rushes to her rescue, battling a horrible
spider monster to free her. In the process of freeing her he enrages the King of Dragons, who is now dead set on adding Lord Graystone, the Jungle Lord to his main menu.
In London the Baker Street Adventurers learn of the missing female explorer at the same time they learn that Hyde is back and has taken over Conan's body in an attempt to enter Fairie where he plans to take over the body of the King of Dragons so he can return to London and destroy it.