Entwined

by Elizabeth Marshall

  “Yes,” came the coordinated response from Duncan and Robert.

  Simon’s choice was a simple one; the good of the many over one. He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. It was true that he had lost two friends and that by leaving Eilidh he had robbed Duncan of the girl he loved. Had he not, Corran and the other passengers of the lorry would most surely die before midnight. He grappled with his conscience, his mind bouncing through unspoken moral choices, his responsibility to his people, the villagers, Duncan, his wife, and their newly born son. Except he understood Duncan and the actions he needed to take, probably better than most men would. He had taken them himself, on the battlefield and off it. Had Corran been taken by the Dark Circle, Simon had no doubt what he would have done. Could he deny any man the right to do what he would have done? He tapped his fingers impatiently on the wheel. There was one question that plagued him more than any other. Did he, Simon Campbell, soldier, Redcoat, husband, father - love his son enough to risk his loss by letting him go?

  Simon flicked the indicator and the vehicle began to slow as he guided it skillfully into a lay-by.

  “Go,” he said as the vehicle ground to a halt, “And take the dog with you.”

  “What?” Duncan asked.

  “Go lad, now. I’ve got a trail of lorries behind me, and there’s not room enough for us all in here.”

  “On my own?” Duncan asked.

  “No boy, I’ve offered my help. I’m coming with you,” Robert said, moving to extract himself from the bed behind the cab.

  “Yes, on your own,” Simon growled, turning to face Robert. “You, lie down,” he said firmly. “Graham, give the lad your locket and crystal.”

  “What do I do, Pa?” Duncan asked nervously, opening the cab door.

  “Rely on your instincts, trust your mind, and let your heart be your guide.”

  Ignoring Simon’s demand, Robert continued to battle his way out of the bunk in an attempt to follow Duncan.

  “Boy, help me out,” he cried as Duncan jumped down from the cab.

  “I’ve told you to stay where you are,” Simon growled in a low throaty rumble.

  “I made the boy a promise…”

  “Be quiet, man,” Simon demanded.

  “I’ll be fine, Robert. Thank you for your offer but my father is right. This is something I have to do myself,” Duncan said, resting his hand on the cab door. “Look after them all, Pa.”

  “Don’t forget the dog,” Simon called as the door closed and he took one last look at his son.

  Minutes later, they heard the back door to the lorry slam shut.

  “Why did you let him go alone?” Graham asked as Simon rolled the lorry back onto the roadway.

  “That, Doctor, is my business and I intend to keep it that way.”

  ******

  CHAPTER 26

  Scottish Borders, Ellem Farm - 21st December, Modern Day

  Eilidh woke a few hours later to the same roughly plastered stone walls and bleak darkness. She stiffened as a rat scurried across her leg. She pushed herself up and felt the deep ache of sleeping on a cold, damp floor. Her hands reached out for the walls and she felt her way toward a small crack of light emanating from the wooden plank door. The light was dull, suggesting that sunset was close. She wondered how far the lorry had got and hoped that it was well clear of Berwick by now. Smiling ruefully to herself in the darkness she realized that the map she had left Simon with had probably already brought them past the farm. With that thought, instinct drove her to push hard against the door. Nothing happened, as she knew it wouldn’t. She had caught a glimpse of its hinges before entering the room. They were new and as solid as the freshly cut planks of oak of the door. Besides there was little to gain from escaping the cottage. She had nowhere to go and nowhere to hide.

  Eilidh turned her thoughts to Duncan, the only man she had ever loved, the only man she could or would ever love. Had he ever felt the same? She would never know now.

  The wind howled around the derelict cottage and she shivered as a blast of cold air seeped through the ancient cracks in the stone walls. The clock ticked in her mind, counting down the seconds in a desperate bid to keep track of time. The sun had set, and with it the thin sliver of light from the door. She hoped it would be a moonlit night, because she feared dying in darkness.

  35 Miles South of Newcastle - 21st December, Modern Day

  Duncan walked on in silence, heading south on the hard shoulder of the north bound roadway, his mind tormented by images of Eilidh at the mercy of the Dark Circle. He fought back the memory of Harry and Kate and grappled with the burning guilt that his failure had led to their death. He had to remain focused on finding Eilidh, he refused to let it happen again. This time, he would not fail, he could not, for without Eilidh his life was a painful, lonely existence in which each moment without her tormented and plagued him until his life ceased to hold anything but unbearable suffering. The past few months had proved that to him, more than he cared to admit, but at least then he had believed her safe. Now, the thought of Eilidh alone and afraid, suffering at the hands of merciless killers, was more than he could tolerate. He would find her and, if it wasn’t already too late, he would see her safe, if it was the last thing he ever did. He moved on, single minded and determined. Amber trotted obediently beside him, never flinching as the endless stream of cars sped past them. The wind whipped around his legs and he squinted against the setting sun for signs of the services. Finally, as the last rays of sun deserted the day they reached Scotch Corner.

  The foyer was crowded with people. He ignored them all, including the cries of -

  “Hey, man, you can’t bring the dog in here.”

  “It’s not a guide dog, mate. You can’t bring it in here.”

  “Excuse me, but my daughter’s allergic to dogs.”

  Duncan’s eyes steadily scanned the strangers around him. Amber sniffed the tiled floor, but neither could find a trace of the woman for whom they searched.

  “Well, girl,” he said, stooping to pat the dog’s back. “It looks like she’s long gone.”

  The dog’s ears were alert, her face focused as Duncan led them out of the foyer and into the car park.

  Street lights shone a gentle orange glow over the darkness of the early night. A thick icy frost had layered many of the parked vehicles. The wind had died back and the sky was clear but the air held the bone chilling cold of mid-winter.

  “Wherever she is, Amber, I hope she’s warm,” Duncan said, staring up at the moonlit sky.

  The dog nuzzled its nose against his leg. “I know, we’ve got to do something but I don’t know what,” he paused and looked down at the dog. “Tell me, Amber, tell me what to do?”

  She cocked her head quizzically at him. “Yes, alright, that was stupid thing to say. Come on, let’s go and find somewhere warm. Pity we can’t go and sit in that warm coffee shop. Never mind, hey, girl? We’ll find somewhere.”

  The two made their made way out of the car park and into a field of sheep. “Best keep your head down here, Amber. Don’t want the farmer to see us.”

  He stooped, sliding his fingers under her collar and taking a firm but gentle hold on it.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you, only they tend to shoot before asking questions in these here parts.”

  They walked on in silence with Duncan stopping occasionally to assess their position. Eventually they came across a roofless outbuilding.

  “This will do,” he said, leading the dog into the round, stonebuilt structure. “I bet this was a cozy home once. Pity it’s lost its roof.”

  Wearily he slid his back down the wall and sat, legs stretched out on the floor. “You thirsty?” he said reaching into the his sling-backed bag and extracting a plastic water bottle. “I’ve only got two of these, so let’s go easy on them, he said cupping his hand and filling it with some of the water, he offering it to the dog.

  “My, you are a thirsty girl. Want some more?” he said, moving his hand in front
of the dog’s face.

  When she was done, Duncan lifted the bottle to his mouth and drained the remains before returning the empty bottle to his bag.

  “What now then?” he asked, running his hand affectionately over the dog’s head. “We’ve got four hours to find her and get back to the lorry and you know what old girl? I don’t have a clue where to start.”

  His shoulders sank in defeated dejection. “Not going to happen, is it?”

  “Hello, Duncan,” a voice said, in a reassuring tone. Duncan was instantly alert, scanning the ruins of the ancient building for the source of the sound. A grey blur tinged the edges of the stone where a doorway had once been. He blinked hard to clear the mist but the hazy fog remained. Casting his eyes nervously over the empty space he quickly realized that everything wasn’t as it should be. He felt for Amber but his hands touched tufts of grass that had sprung up between the old stone floor instead of the soft fur of the dog’s coat.

  “Where is Amber?” he shouted, aggressively.

  “She is fine. Don’t panic. This is happening in your mind. When I am weak I have to rely on your memories to create a platform to speak to you. It looks like your memory is clearer than Corran’s.”

  “My Ma? What have you done with her?” Duncan shouted.

  “Nothing, my boy. She will be alright. You see, I have visited her many times. Her memories are tainted with pain. Yours are very clear.”

  “Wait, this is making no sense. If you are using memories, why not take me to a place that I know well.”

  “I am hours from death, Duncan. Such a feat is not as easily accomplished as it is said. The human mind is a difficult thing to read. I used what little power I have left to access your most recent thoughts.”

  “You’re hours from death? Are you… the… the Stag?” Duncan quivered.

  “I am indeed.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to drop in on you, to see how you are. Marvel at what kind of man fate has made of you. It’s amazing what a small bit of hope can do for a man, isn’t it?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The life you are living isn’t the one that was originally intended for you.”

  “What do you mean?

  “You were destined for darkness, Duncan.”

  “And what makes you think I’m not still destined for darkness?”

  “Because you are treading a new path.”

  “Well what kind of life will this path take me?”

  “A good one.”

  “So what should have gone wrong that hasn’t?”

  “You are indeed a smart man,” the Stag chuckled.

  “Well I’m getting tired of your riddles,” Duncan snapped.

  “There are things that you must find out for yourself and there are things that you must not find out at all. A man with no questions to ask about his fate is either a fool or disinterested in his life. You, boy, are neither.”

  “Eugh, you talk about visiting my Ma. How she coped with you is beyond me. She’s far more inquisitive than I am.”

  “Your Ma knows when to stop asking questions.”

  “Does she?” Duncan laughed sarcastically. “You’ll have to mention that to my Pa someday.”

  “You’re looking for Eilidh, aren’t you?” the voice said.

  “Aye, I am. I don’t suppose you are going to tell me where she is?”

  “No, I am not. What use would that be to you?”

  “A lot, since you ask.”

  “This is something you need to do for yourself.”

  “Typical,” Duncan retorted. “Are you sure you aren’t related to my Pa?”

  “I can tell you that you have the means to find Eilidh yourself,” the voice said, ignoring the question about his father. “All you need is some courage and hope.”

  “Thanks for the help,” he replied cynically.

  “You have such fire, Duncan. Your future is not going to be easy. It never will be, no matter what your fate. But it will be good. You will be good.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? I don’t understand.”

  “Certain actions, that I am yet to take, have started to affect this timeline. You are already different because of it.”

  “I still don’t understand. But I guess you won’t elaborate.”

  “Like I said, you are a smart man. You have reassured me and strengthened my decision. I will not fail you, Duncan. Go now and find Eilidh. Your futures are destined to entwine.”

  “Wait! If you know everything then tell me what happened in the tunnel.”

  “In time, you will learn what happened to Kate and Harry. An unfortunate loss, but necessary.”

  “Necessary? Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “The mastermind of fate, the architect of time and the keeper of Highland magic.”

  “Then bring them back, damn you,” Duncan screamed out in frustration, but as soon as the words had left his mouth he heard Amber’s low growl.

  She was back beside him and the Stag was gone. Moving her paw to the side of his hip, Amber nudged him gently.

  “What is it?” he asked, looking down at her. “I’ve nothing for you.”

  Amber cocked her head and stared up at him with her hazel eyes. They shone like tinted glass in the moonlight and he stared, mesmerized by her look. A sharp scratch drew him back to the moment as he realized the dog was clawing his trousers again.

  “Stop that. You’ll have me covered in scratches,” he said, moving her paw from his hip. “I’ve told you. I’ve no treats for you,” he said stopping himself mid sentence. “My pocket. That’s what you are trying to tell me. You clever, clever dog.”

  Duncan sprang up and slid his hand into his pocket and closed it around the crystal and locket.

  “We can do this, Amber. I know we can,” he shouted, looking for his lighter in his other pocket.

  The dog stood patiently beside him, her body pressed hard against his leg, her head proud and alert.

  “I’ve seen this done but I’ve never done it myself. Hang on there, Amber, because I have no idea where this is going to take us, but I’m doing it anyway,” he said, flicking the lighter and holding the crystal to its flame.

  “Take us to Eilidh, please,” he whispered.

  The night air swirled around them in an ever tightening vortex. He held himself and the dog steady as they joined the whirlwind of time and space until eventually, dizzy and disorientated the air around them drew still and their feet once again touched solid ground.

  ******

  CHAPTER 27

  Heading North West through Scotland - 21st December, Modern Day

  “You alright, Corran?”

  “I’m a bit cold, Rose,” Corran whispered, pulling the duvet higher.

  “The temperature has dropped a bit,” Rose said, lifting her hand to Corran’s forehead.

  “Here, Rose, put this over her,” Grace said, removing her coat.

  “No, Grace. She’s burning up,” Rose replied, turning a worried face to her Grace.

  “When did she last have painkillers?” Grace asked.

  “Three hours ago, she can’t have any more yet,” Rose replied, frowning at her watch.

  “Is there any way to get hold of Graham?” Grace suggested.

  “I don’t know where Eilidh’s mobile is,” Rose said, lifting Corran’s hand to check her pulse. “Check her backpack, Grace. It might be in there.”

  “It’s here,” Jenny said, reaching across to Eilidh’s neat stack of papers.

  “Nice one, Jen,” Rose said, releasing her hold on Corran’s wrist. “Chuck it over,” she said, clapping her hands.

  “Did Duncan take his phone?” Grace asked.

  Rose wrinkled her nose and frowned. “I have no idea, but I damn well hope not,” she said catching the phone.

  “Rose, I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Corran wretched and let out a strangled scream.

  Grace sprang to her side. “Where d
oes it hurt, Corran?”

  “It’s the wound,” she moaned.

  “Call Duncan’s mobile now and let’s hope to God, Graham picks it up,” Grace said, laying her hand gently on Corran’s back.

  The lorry fell silent as Rose dialed Duncan’s number. The phone rang.

  “And?” Grace asked.

  “No one answered. It went straight to answer phone.”

  “Try it again,” Grace screeched.

  Corran’s body shook violently as the fever took hold. Too weak to sit she slumped back on the pillows and closed her eyes. A thick dew of sweat covered her face and her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

  “Jenny, get me some wipes from that box over there,” Grace said, nodding in the direction of a blue plastic box.

  As Rose returned the phone to her ear, the lorry once again fell into silence.

  “Hey, who’s that?”

  There was a slight pause as the person on the other end of the phone spoke. Grace held her breath and prayed the voice belonged to Graham.

  “Oh, OK. Robert, can you pass the phone to Graham?” Rose went silent.

  “Graham?”

  Again she paused.

  “It’s Corran. She’s ill,” Rose said, massaging her forehead and then hanging up.

  “What did he say?” Grace asked.

  “He’s coming.”

  “Hang on in there,” Grace said, gently wiping Corran’s face with the damp cold wipes.

  “How is she, Mum?” asked Jenny with concern.

  “Not very well darling,” Grace replied, putting her arm around her daughter.

  The lorry pulled to an abrupt stop and seconds later the doors flew open.

  “What’s wrong with my wife?” Simon said, moving swiftly to her bedside.

  “Can you all move back, please?” Graham instructed, as he tried to reach his patient through the sea of bodies that had come to crowd around her.

  “Simon, you too,” Graham said, reaching up to touch the man gently on the shoulder.

  “What’s wrong with her, Doctor?” Simon asked, pale-faced and drawn.