Entwined (33 page)

CHAPTER 34

“Are you certain, Sir, that these directions are correct?” Robert asked, squinting against the darkness ahead.

“No, Mr. Hamilton, I am not,” Simon replied sardonically, maneuvering the lorry around another sharp right hand bend. He felt the top of the lorry lurch to the side and held his breath. His heart pounded in his ears as the road narrowed and dipped before him. Another tight bend and then another steep descent. One after another the bends came, tighter and tighter on the uneven, icy stretch of mountain road. Simon had long since given up checking his mirror and the onboard camera for signs of the following lorries and van. He had lost interest in them. His mind was focused on only one thing. His wife and the time he had left to save her.

“Eilidh mentioned that this part of the journey would be difficult,” Simon said, as the road veered sharply left.

“Sir, difficult is not a word I would use to describe this journey.”

Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead, Simon arched his brow. “Oh aye, Robert. How would you describe it then?”

Robert turned his head to Simon.

“I think, Sir, that my thoughts are better kept to myself.”

At that Simon laughed as he had a fair idea which words the man would have chosen to use, had he not been such an irritating gentleman.

“I fear that the worst is yet to come,” Simon said, baiting him to use the words he knew were on the tip of his tongue, but instead Robert remained measured and considered in his speech.

“Why would that be, Mr. Campbell?”

Simon lifted his eyes momentarily from the road to glance at Robert.

“Would you do something for me, please, Robert?”

“Yes, Sir, what is it you require?”

“Please cease your use of the words ‘Mr. Campbell’ or ‘Sir’ when addressing me. I am indeed Mr. Campbell but I would prefer you not to address me as such and a Sir, I am definitely not.”

Robert hesitated, moving his eyes to look long and hard at the man controlling the giant machine.

“What is it you would rather be addressed as?” he asked, eventually.

“Simon, plain old Simon will do me very nicely,” he said, maneuvering the lorry at a ridiculous speed around yet another sharp bend. “As for your other question; I think it is perhaps better that you don’t know.”

Robert raised his eyebrows, in much the same fashion as Simon would have.

“If that is your wish, Simon, then I await the more difficult part of the journey with complete faith in your ability to guide us through it.”

Simon shook his head, thinking as he did that the man was quite the most irritating character he had ever known, but resolved not to let it distract him.

He knew what was coming and braced himself. He had either to trust in Eilidh’s words or forfeit everything. Cowardice was something he detested, but staring ahead at what he knew to be a sheer drop off the edge of a mountain, he couldn’t help a moment’s hesitation, the briefest of panic and a silent prayer. A thought flickered through his mind. Could the slate Duncan found in the tunnel have been meant for him? Was this what it was meant to be warning him about? This moment when the lives of so many hung on his decisions, his courage and ultimately his trust in Eilidh, the heather, the Highlands and the Stag. Simon shook his head and lifted his hand momentarily from the wheel to feel for the slate in his jacket pocket. He drew strength from its words, courage from the message, but pained at the loss that had brought them to him. His head throbbed with the sound of his pounding heart. A light dew of sweat clung to his face, his hands tensed on the wheel and his knuckles whitened.

“Brace yourself, man,” Simon said, closing his eyes as the headlights of the lorry showed the end of the road at the edge of the cliff, as if the sea had claimed it.

Robert gave a deep guttural grunt as his eyes focused and he suddenly understood Simon’s intention.

“Are you out of your mind, Sir?” he shouted as the lorry approached the cliff edge.

Instinctively Simon inhaled what he believed could be his last breath and drove his right foot hard to the floor. His thoughts were racing between faith in the protection of the heather, the diminishing power of the Stag, his wife, Corran, in the back of the lorry, and the faith his passengers had put in him, Eilidh and the magic of the Highlands. The lorry sped up, coming ever closer to the end of the road. Simon realized that he had gone past the point of no return and could not stop the lorry or avoid going over the precipice now.

Robert leaned back, grabbed the edge of the seat with his left hand. His right hand flew up to his forehead. Then in the simple gesture of a man who believed himself about to die he made the sign of the cross as the vehicle flew over the cliff’s edge.

Simon had expected to feel the cab lurch forward and drop into open space, the lorry’s engine to scream the moment the wheels freed themselves from earth’s surface, then the sickening seconds of freefall to blackness. Perhaps he expected sudden death, pain even, but what he hadn’t expected was to feel nothing. As the lorry flew off what he thought to be a cliff’s edge, he felt nothing but the drone of the engine and the roll of its wheels. He stared, eyes wide as a sea of twinkling lights came into view. Tiny, flickering flames lined the street ahead. He blinked hard.

“Mr. Hamilton, are we alive?”

“Yes, Sir, I do believe we are.”

Grateful to be alive, Simon, ignored the fact that, Robert, had reverted to calling him, ‘Sir’ and lifted his right foot to let the lorry glide gently to a halt beside the line of light. Anxious faces, illuminated by the candles they were holding stared up at him from their position on the side of the track. A bright light shone from behind him. He cast a quick glance in his side mirror. One of the following lorries pulled up behind him.

His mind was dazed, his heart still beat fervently in his chest. His right hand flew out and grabbed the door handle. The tiny flames drew closer, their bearers converging on him. He flung the driver’s door open and ran to the back of the vehicle. His fingers fumbled with the catch. It freed and he pulled hard, throwing the back doors wide open.

“How is she?” he demanded, lurching himself up into the lorry.

Graham shook his head, slowly.

“I’m sorry, Simon…”

Simon dropped to the floor beside his wife and slid his hands urgently under her back and knees.

“Get out of my way,” he screamed, to the anxious faces crowding in around his wife.

Gently he lifted her from the mattress into his arms.

“Simon, you can’t help her,” Graham said, laying his hand on the man’s arm.

“I told you to get out of my way,” Simon growled.

“Put her down, Simon,” Graham coaxed, undeterred by the madness in Simon’s eyes.

“Not while there is a breath left in her body will I give up the fight for her life. Now do as I say, man, and move.”

“Simon. Let her be,” Robert said, coming to stand beside him.

Simon stood in the doorway to the lorry, his wife’s limp and dying body in his arms. Looking out at the faces below him he took a deep breath and bellowed.

“Take me to the Stag.”

“It is dying, Sir, it cannot help you,” a young man replied.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion on its state of health, lad. I asked you to take me to the Stag.”

“We will take you to it,” came a frail, trembling woman’s voice from the crowd.

She stepped forwards to make herself known but Simon had no need to see her face, he already knew who the old lady was.

“Help her, Marta,” he pleaded.

“I will try,” she said, pausing to cast her eyes over the faces in the lorry. “Where is Eilidh?”

“She is lost, Marta. I am sorry.”

Marta nodded slowly, then turned to face the villagers.

“Eilidh is lost to us,” she said, letting the night air carry her whisper to the ears of her people.

The crowd stilled and for a moment an uneasy silence fell upon them.

“Do not avenge her death, or her sacrifice will have been vain. Stay strong my people and stick to the principles which have held us together. You will not fail. Now go,” she said, waving her hands, “and settle our new friends. Return them to their families and may you all live in peace and prosperity.”

With tired aging eyes she turned from the crowd to face Simon. “Come with me.”

******

CHAPTER 35

‘The Village’, North West Highlands of Scotland - 21st December, Modern Day

He followed her past the mass of people and lights that crowded the lorry, along the banks of a loch, through a small village of tiny cottages and then out into a clearing in front of an ancient forest. The old woman moved swiftly as the fallen animal came into view.

“Here,” she said, pointing sadly to the Stag. “Now you can see why it can no longer help you.”

Simon ignored the old woman and dropped to his knees beside the creature, lowering Corran gently to the ground. He couldn’t let this happen. Not now. After everything they had been through, after all the things they had done, he would not let it end here. He wasn’t a man to beg, but for Corran, he would do anything. “Take me,” he whispered to the Stag. “Please, she is far more important to this world, to these people than I could ever be. I don’t deserve this chance to live whilst she lies here dying in my arms. It can’t happen… How can you let it happen?!” Tears streamed down his face as he screamed in anger. “It was I who took her out of innocence, my people who attacked hers all those years ago! I have taken far more lives than I wish to recall, so why am I still here and it is my wife who lies here dying!?” Simon’s shouts of anger and desperation turned to a quiet whisper, “I can’t do this alone. Please, don’t make me…” he pulled Corran’s body closer to his own, cradling her, holding her, not willing to let her go. “Take me…”

The Stag lifted its head and turned slowly towards Simon. Its soft hazel eyes locked with his and in that moment they became one. He felt its power and understood its purpose as it drew him deeper into the darkness of what had been and what was to come. Simon raised his hands to the side of his head, clasping it with his palms as a band of pain encircled and squeezed his skull until he felt as though it were being crushed. He screamed in agony and tried to shut his eyes, to block the reflected images. Except he couldn’t. He was locked in its trance, his eyelids unblinking, his soul forced to bear witness to the truth. Hell burned as darkness rose and lives entwined and twisted before him.

“Hello, Simon.”

He cast his eyes around, trying to establish the direction from which the voice had come. The sound seemed to surround him, emanating from every way at once. He hadn’t moved from where he had been, but Corran, Marta and the Stag were no longer there. The night air had become so overwhelmingly immobile and crushingly heavy that he struggled for breath.

“What’s going on? Where’s Corran?” Simon shouted.

“Calm down, Chief! I need you to focus. Corran is fine, and she will survive.”

A huge wave of relief rushed through Simon at the words but his eyes still frantically searched the darkness for his wife.

“Tell me what’s going on…” Simon demanded, through gritted teeth.

“I will. In time,” the voice replied, frankly.

“What…What are you?”

“I am the Stag.”

“Aye, well I guess that was a stupid question. Why am I here?”

“Things are not as they seem, Chief.”

“You should be helping Corran, not passing time idly talking to me. Are you going to help her?” Simon paused and held back his anger, “Please, just help her. If I need to die for this to happen, then just make it so. Quickly…” he whimpered.

“Oi! Simon! I don’t want to have to tell you again. I need you to focus. Corran will be fine!” the Stag shouted.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Simon replied, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I think Andrew is a good name for your son.”

“Aye, it is a good name. But I’ll let Corran make the decision.”

“She already has. Andrew it is.”

“If you say so,” Simon said, sarcastically.

“There was a chance he could have been called something else…” the Stag began.

“Oh aye?” Simon lifted his eyebrow inquisitively.

“Brody.” The Stag replied abruptly. A nauseating feeling fell upon Simon.

“Brody? As in, ‘the Dark Circle’, that twisted excuse for a human being, Brody?”

“The very one, yes.” Simon fell silent. “I have something to confess, Simon…” he said. “…In another time, I didn’t save Corran.”

“What do you mean ‘another time’?”

“I mean, the way that things should be. I took the decision not to save your wife. And as a result, she died.” Simon stood up as the voice said this.

“She died? You let her die?” he shouted, with his fists clenched.

“Yes, that I did, Chief. But you can relax. Your Corran is safe.”

“My Corran? There is only my wife. She is one person. How can she be safe if you let her die?” Simon spat.

“Oh, Chief, try to understand what I am telling you. This is a different time, a different reality, if you will. Letting Corran die turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. This mistake will result in my death anyway. I might be the one who grants immortality, but I, like everyone, must face my fate at some time.”

“So what did you do?”

“I had to rewrite time. I had to correct my mistake,” the Stag replied.

“And was it Brody, my son, that caused all this?” Simon asked, with tears in his eyes.

“I’m afraid so,” the Stag paused. “He had to be stopped, so I broke the circle of darkness that created him.”

“Why didn’t you just kill him?”

“A bad man feels his death just as deeply as a good man does. Brody is a tortured soul, it’s as much my fault as it is his, and I couldn’t let him die because of my mistake. Besides, he is more powerful than me…”

“So how are you going to stop him?”

“I have thrown him back to 1715. It is now your job to train your son, Andrew, to make sure he doesn’t share Brody’s fate.”

“Train him? How do I do that?”

“Prepare him for the fight that he must face,” the Stag replied.

“A fight with Brody? Listen, I don’t want my son fighting. I’ve lived the life of a soldier. It’s not the life I want for my son!” Simon shouted. “Besides, if you are right, Brody is as much my son as Andrew. How can you expect me to set them against each other?”

“I’m so sorry, Simon. I know this is going to be difficult to hear, almost impossible to understand, but your son will either be the savior or the destructor of time and space itself.”

“If Brody is more powerful than you, what’s stopping him just traveling forward in time and killing us whilst Andrew is a baby?”

“What do you think the Dark Circle is about?”

“To capture Corran and to turn Andrew evil,” Simon replied decisively.

“You’re close, Chief. The Dark Circle is merely a pawn in Brody’s game. He is after Corran, yes, but not for the baby. Remember, he is the baby, the baby is him, they are essentially the same person. He wants to save his mother from the death that I failed to save her from,” the Stag paused. “Brody has already traveled forward in time and he is looking for you all in the 21st century York.” Another pause lingered for a moment. “I warn you, Chief, Brody has the power to locate people, it will not be long before he remembers how to do this with devastating accuracy. He will be unable find you, Andrew or Corran for a while. But when he re-discovers this power… well, let’s just say that Andrew needs to be ready.”

“But I ask you again, when he discovers this power, what’s stopping him travelling back to when Andrew is defenseless?”

“Both Andrew’s and Brody’s powers don’t develop fully until they are in young adulthood. Before this time, they hold uncontrolled and unrestricted power. Andrew will be able to sense the danger that Brody brings. He has been unconsciously protecting you and those you have traveled with since he was born. What none of you realize is that Brody’s power far surpasses the power of the heather and the crystal - as does Andrew’s. Why do you think the crystal and heather failed to protect Eilidh at Scotch Corner services, or Harry and Kate in the tunnel in the York? You have survived your journey because Andrew was with you. Without him, Brody will find and destroy you.”

“If he is protecting us, why do I need to train him?” Simon asked.

“Because there will come a time when this protection will cease. Andrew’s physical senses will begin to take over his powers and his unconscious mind will no longer be able to defend you all. You must train Andrew to be pure of mind and heart so he can channel his powers for the good of the Highlands, the good of our people and the obliteration of Brody.”

“Couldn’t I just try and teach him to control the power to protect us? It seems far easier than preparing him for some kind of foolish battle against his demonic self,” Simon hesitated for a moment. “Better still, can’t we tell Brody that Corran is well and has survived, so that he will stop looking for her?”

“Chief, Brody is hell-bent on two things: saving Corran, and killing me. He will tear the universe apart to do either. If he believes that Corran has indeed survived, he will travel back and keep killing me until we reach the beginning of time. But this is not likely. His version of reality is that his mother died and only saving her with his own hands will assure him that she lives.”

“Well, why didn’t you let him do that?” Simon asked defiantly.

“Because the power he will use to do it will be so unstable and unbalanced that time will rip apart. I’ve played out every possible outcome over and over in my mind, and it all ends up with the same result. The end of the universe.” There was yet another uneasy silence. “You must train Andrew. It is as much your future at stake as it is his. Your son’s power will become so vast that even the smallest darkness in his heart will manifest into disastrous consequences. I do not have long left in this world; it is now up to you, Chief.”

“But…” Simon uttered in protest.

“Good bye, Simon…” the Stag interrupted. “Don’t fail me.”

The link had been broken and his mind released. Simon’s eyes snapped closed on the torturous world he had glimpsed and his lungs inhaled deeply. The crushing pain vanished and consciousness returned. He raised his eyelids to stare with horror at the creature before him. His mouth opened to scream but no sound came from it. Simon fought to deny what he had seen, tried to erase the memory it had burnt on his soul. Darkness had risen and he alone would carry the burden of this knowledge for the rest of his days.

Tiny flickers of light danced through the evening air, seeking Corran’s motionless form, coming to settle on her sunken, lifeless face. The tiny rays of light began to grow and spread across her, moving slowly, like a gentle running stream to blanket her body in a glow that shimmered and danced with brilliant tones of orange and yellow. Bending slowly the Stag lowered its head to nuzzle the tip of its nose against Corran’s face.

Corran heard the murmur of voices somewhere in the distant echo of a dream. She tugged at her mind, desperate to drag herself from sleep. Her arm reached out in the direction of the voice, her fingers stretching to touch its source. She clawed at a tiny hole of light, desperate to break through the darkness and as she did she saw the great Highland Stag with its silver antlers bending towards her.

It dropped on its front legs and knelt in front of her. She crawled towards it and pulled herself up onto its back and it rose. She clung onto its fur as it flew through the air toward the tiny hole of light. She held out her hand to touch the light and the Stag burst through the darkness and into the shining brightness of life.

She gasped two short quick breaths as her lungs sprang back to life. Her eyelids flickered and she fought to keep them open. Then she was falling through the sky and darkness was once more around her. She tightened her grip on the Stag but they were in an uncontrollable decent. She understood, knew what she had to do, but fear gripped her soul at the thought. A voice echoed loud and clear through the night air as she finally released her grip on the Stag and flung herself from its back.