Voice in the Mist

by Nigel Cubbage

  And in a trice, it was ended.

  A deafening silence followed, almost more terrifying than the noise of the attack.

  Manacled to the wall of the oubliette, Rebecca could only wait for what was to come, the blood pounding furiously in her temples. She held her breath, afraid to make a sound.

  Inexorably, there came the sound of something scraping and pushing at the other side of the huge stone. It started to roll slowly back. Rebecca was paralysed with fear.

  She let go a small, strangled cry.

  A thin glow of light seeped through the widening gap until the stone had rolled away completely.

  Standing in front of her, panting, was the wolf.

  Rebecca trembled, uncontrollably.

  Seeing him this close, she was awestruck by the size and power of the beast.

  Had she been standing, his great head would be at the same level as her own. The pale glow seemed to radiate from his silver coat. She stared into his white eyes, transfixed, unable to look away. At his feet lay the prone, crumpled form of Morgan.

  In the dim light surrounding the wolf, she could see the marks of the beast’s jaws and claws upon the body and dark patches of blood oozing from his head and chest. She shuddered, presuming him dead.

  The wolf’s unblinking eyes looked down at Morgan. Then they stared into Rebecca’s.

  Hakon raised his nose, as he had that time by the loch, taking in her scent.

  Then he took a step forward and licked the tips of her fingers.

  Rebecca was taken completely by surprise at this docile gesture. It was almost affectionate, something to expect from a friendly dog.

  The wolf grabbed the chains around one of her wrists between his powerful jaws and snapped them, effortlessly. The manacle fell away. He did the same to the one around her other hand and then to her feet.

  The force sent her staggering across the rocky floor, out of the oubliette. Rebecca rubbed her wrists but remained on the ground, startled and still not certain if she should feel safe. The wolf flicked his eyes away from her. His bloody jaws seized the body of Morgan and flung it against the dungeon wall.

  Drawn by a strange, unseen compulsion, Rebecca reached out and took hold of the wolf’s powerful neck and swung herself onto his back.

  Instantly, as if he had been waiting for this, Hakon leaped off down the tunnel into the blackness. Rebecca could not see an inch in front of her face but felt strangely safe. In the rush of air across her face, she could smell the fresh salty smack of the loch outside. The wolf was gliding effortlessly through the cavern towards the opening to the causeway.

  They soon arrived in the larger chamber where Drew had discovered the stolen paintings. Hakon stopped at the water’s edge and sat down. Rebecca slid from his back.

  There was just enough light to be able to make out the shapes of the various rubber bags, hidden among the rocks by the thieves. Rebecca’s gaze fell upon two smaller bags. She grabbed them and undid the zip fastenings. She was not surprised to find that they contained the Princess’s burial mask and the wolf’s studded collar. She stood up and turned to Hakon, raising them into the air in excitement.

  But the wolf was no longer there.

  Rebecca gripped the mask and collar in her hands. Now, at last, she could return these treasures to their rightful place and release Becca and Siobhan from their torment.

  She threw the two empty rubber bags high onto the rocks, clambered carefully back around the cavern to the second chamber and looked for the sword which marked the entrance to the Sanctuary. Stuffing the mask and collar inside her jacket to keep her hands free, she squeezed down into the narrow opening as she had before and pushed herself along the low passage. She emerged into the wider chamber and stood up.

  Long shafts of silver light shone down from high in the cavern, casting eerie pools of light on the glassy lake. Rebecca made her way down the side of the rocky cave wall.

  As she reached the water’s edge, a few yards in front of her, shimmering in a pale glow, the mighty Viking Ghost Ship materialised out of the darkness. Its oars were poised at right angles above the water, motionless. Hakon’s white eyes now stared down at her from the bow, beside him the mighty figure of Knut the Strong.

  “Why do you return to the Sanctuary?” boomed the angry voice of Knut.

  Rebecca took a step forward, holding out the mask and the collar.

  “Hakon brought me here. I have what you seek. I have the collar and the mask. Look!”

  On the edge of the lake a few feet further along, the figures of Becca and Siobhan also emerged from the shadows and came to stand in front of Rebecca.

  Becca pulled back her hood and smiled at her. Her face seemed changed, no longer empty as when they had met on the island at the Lighthouse. Rebecca was struck by how beautiful she was.

  Becca held out her hands and took the mask and collar. She ran her fingers over the burnished gold of the mask as if she were barely able to believe she held it. She handed them both to Knut. They all watched as he fastened the collar around the powerful neck of the great wolf.

  Becca turned back to Rebecca and gripped her hands in her own.

  “You have risked much to come here, Rebecca and much on our account these past days. We owe you a great debt of thanks.”

  “What will happen now?” asked Rebecca.

  At that moment, a pale slim figure in a white robe stepped forward from behind the Warrior and the Wolf. She had long, auburn hair and a gentle face. Rebecca guessed that she could not have been much older than herself. She took the mask into small, delicate hands and studied Rebecca. After a moment, Rebecca heard a soft voice inside her head. The lips did not move.

  “I am Princess Immelda, daughter of Karl of Norway. I have been a prisoner of these labyrinths for centuries, left for dead by the Machoiann.”

  The Princess held the mask in front of her and studied it.

  “This mask of my ancestors was for the eternal rest I have never had. On the day I married the Machoiann, the Scots chained me to the rocks down here and pretended to my father that I had been lost in a storm. Lachlan stole the mask for its gold. Hakon has finally avenged his foul deed and you have restored what is mine. There is but one more thing which must be done and that rests with Knut and Hakon.

  Then, at last, we shall set sail to eternity.”

  As her words faded, the Longboat turned slowly and its oars pulled it away across the lake where it was swallowed into the darkness. Rebecca could no longer make out the far side of the chamber.

  She turned back to Becca.

  “What is the one more thing which remains?”

  Becca put a hand lightly on her shoulder.

  “You must leave this place. It is no longer safe here.”

  “But what of you? What of Lachlan?”

  “There is nothing more to fear, child. Our duty is now fulfilled, thanks to you. Go home to Rahsaig and worry for us no more.” She tightened her grip on Rebecca’s arm.

  “With all my heart, thank you. I will never forget you and what you have done.”

  With that, Becca and Siobhan turned and vanished into the darkness.

  Rebecca felt a surge of happiness as complete as anything she had known in her young life. Remembering Becca’s warning, she decided to leave without delay. Pausing for one last look around the Sanctuary, she turned and hurried back through the passage.

  CHAPTER 25 – The Reckoning

  When she reached the outside, Rebecca was filled with a sense of fulfilment and happiness that Becca and Siobhan would at last be freed from their misery.

  She was proud that she had helped to bring this about, although was not sure that she would ever fully understand what had happened, or be able to find an explanation for it. Her friends back home would never believe a word about the Ghost Ship, Hakon, Knut and the Princess.

  Sitting on a rock in the middle of the peaceful loch, with the stars overhead, Rebecca was aware she had grown very fond of this mystic, magical place
. She now understood what her uncle had meant when he spoke of the Highlands getting under one’s skin and calling one back. It was the first time she had ever felt empathy for a place, a sense of belonging.

  But she was still troubled. Rebecca harboured uneasy thoughts about Lachlan and was disturbed about his connection with Morgan. The young princess had called her Machoiann husband the “ancestor of Lachlan”. Was there some sort of evil connection in her family, handed down through the generations?

  She began to question what she had actually seen in the tunnel. When she had looked into Morgan’s eyes, she had been convinced she was looking at Lachlan. The man, who had been killed in the tunnel, had appeared to be Morgan. However, she was far from certain that she would not return to Rahsaig to find him there. She wondered fleetingly about re-entering the tunnel and going to check if he was still lying there, but decided against it.

  The picture of Morgan lying bleeding at the feet of the wolf was still all too clear in her mind. She would need time to come to terms with this jumble of emotions.

  “There you are, Rebecca McOwan! I’ve been searching high and low for you!”

  “Campbell! Well for once I am really glad to see you.” Before she was aware of what she was doing, Rebecca jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Drew, hugging him. This took them both completely by surprise. She relaxed her arms and stepped back, not quite sure what to say. He too let go, gazing at her, for once silenced.

  “Blimey,” said Rebecca, the first to recover herself. She jumped down from the rock and onto the causeway. An impish grin broke out on her face. “For a second there, I thought you were going to kiss me.”

  Drew looked perplexed.

  “Aye, I know. Frightening. For a second there, so did I.”

  Rebecca permitted herself a small smile. She turned back and looked up at him.

  “Well don’t worry about it too much. Others have tried too, you know.”

  “Did they succeed?” Drew lowered himself back onto the causeway and they began to walk back towards the shore.

  Rebecca smiled again.

  “Depends how you define success.”

  “Oh,” said Drew. He frowned, not altogether understanding this answer. Rebecca did not give him time to dwell on it, however.

  “So where were you when I needed you?”

  “I was away to ring for help at the Mountain Rescue when I looked back here and saw you come outside. What happened to you? I looked everywhere but you had just vanished.”

  Taking a deep breath, not sure how much she believed in what she was about to say, Rebecca recounted the events in the cave. Drew was incredulous.

  “You really know how to have a good time! Ghosties, ghouls, wild savage beasties and underground dungeons! … Are you telling me Morgan is … dead? In there?”

  He pointed to the entrance of the cave. Rebecca gave him a look that was all the answer he required. He shivered.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said, more slowly.

  They were both silent for a long time.

  “We’ve got to get back,” said Rebecca eventually, stopping and looking towards Dead Man’s Crag away up the glen.

  “Should we go back through the tunnel or overland?”

  Drew looked up at the moon and then out towards the sea, where some thick clouds were gathering ominously. He nodded towards them.

  “If that lot is coming our way, looks like the tunnel will be better … if you really want to go back in there. I’m not sure I do. Hold on a moment! Listen!”

  He grabbed her arm and they both fell silent for a few seconds.

  Rebecca heard it too, the unmistakeable rumble of a boat’s engine. Moments later, she saw a light on the water, further down the loch. It was coming towards them.

  “Our friends coming to collect their stash, do you think?”

  Drew nodded, chewing his lip.

  “Aye. Well, we can’t go by the tunnel now. There’ll be people here in a few minutes. And they’ll be back to Rahsaig by morning. You’ll need to be safely in your room by then. Mind you, they’ll find out I’m not where I’m s’posed to be.”

  “Well somebody there doesn’t trust me either, seeing as they locked me in my room.”

  They crouched down in the darkness on the beach and watched as the boat drew level with Barradale and chugged gently along the edge of the causeway. It stopped just short of the island and somebody leaped into the water with a splash. A man appeared in the bow and dropped an anchor over the side. He then followed the first man into the black waters. They waded ashore. One headed off towards Barradale Castle, the other disappearing into the entrance to the cave.

  Drew identified his former jailor appearing out of the darkness from the direction of the Castle, to greet the first man. After a brief exchange, the jailor leapt aboard the boat.

  “I hope you’ve tidied up that teacup, Frenchie,” said Drew.

  “Eh?” Rebecca looked at him blankly.

  “You had to be there.”

  Rebecca and Drew watched as the men came and went from the cave, carrying the black rubber bundles containing the stolen paintings. The wind had stiffened. Rebecca felt a drop of rain on her cheek. In seconds, it was raining quite hard. Drew tapped her on the shoulder and indicated the trees behind them.

  In the time it took to reach shelter, several mighty cracks of thunder shattered the peace of the loch. The water was swelling up and the boat in which the men had arrived was now being tossed around by bigger and bigger waves. The men could be seen, fighting to get their cargo below deck and keep the boat righted.

  A storm was on the way.

  “Where did this come from?” asked Rebecca, looking around open-mouthed and having to shout to be heard above the roar of the wind.

  “Search me!” shouted Drew, his eyes full of wonder at the suddenness and power. Thunder rumbled, lighting flashed across the sky and lit up the whole glen. Fierce wind and torrential rain swept in, causing streams to sprout up all around.

  But the most dramatic part of all had been waiting until now. From the end of the loch by the sea came a low roar, which gradually swelled and became stronger. Rebecca yelled something incomprehensible and gesticulated in the direction of the sea, her eyes fired with a mixture of fear and excitement.

  Further down the loch, a mighty bank of water, at least ten metres in height, was welling up. It stretched from one shore across to the other. From where they stood, it appeared to be a gigantic wave.

  As they watched, mouths open in astonishment, it surged up the loch, swamping the banks of the normal shoreline and sending other waves crashing up the sides of the loch.

  It was rushing headlong towards Barradale and the causeway.

  “Run!” shouted Drew. “Get higher or it will take us with it! Come on!”

  They turned and fled up the hill, scrambling on their hands and feet, stopping only when they had climbed a good distance. They turned and looked back, gasping for breath.

  Rebecca gripped Drew’s hand. The scene was almost unreal. The mighty wave was now level with where they had been standing watching the boat. It seemed as if it might break at any second and pound into oblivion whatever lay in its path. Had they stayed where they were, they would have been swept away for certain.

  The wave reached Barradale and erupted in a huge white froth of spray against the walls of the castle. The water was flung far above the tower itself. Barradale Island, the causeway and the smaller island were totally submerged. In the melee of spray and surf, Rebecca could no longer see the boat.

  The beach had now disappeared under water.

  And in the midst of all this, the mournful howl of the wolf. Three times it rose above the roar of the waters, long and tremulous.

  As the wave crashed down, the silvery shimmer of the Ghost Ship materialised.

  Rebecca could see Hakon at the bow, his great nose raised into the wind. The Ship seemed to hang in the air, before it vanished beneath the spray.

  Re
becca turned to Drew, her eyes shining.

  “Did you see? Did you hear Hakon?”

  Drew was silent, unable to tear his eyes away. He slowly nodded his head.

  Above their heads, the thunder and lightning ceased abruptly. The clouds began to roll away. On the slope below them, the waters gradually started to recede. Trees had been uprooted and the water had torn a searing gash through the beach where previously there had been just a small stream in the smooth sand down to the loch. Little by little, the causeway re-emerged.

  “If I had not seen that with my own eyes …” Drew’s voice tailed off.

  “I now understand what that word awesome really means.”

  “The wave stopped when it reached the castle. Why?” said Rebecca, shaking her head in mystification.

  “Look – the boat!” She pointed to where the boat had reappeared at the edge of the loch below them. There was no sign of the men who had been on board.

  “Come on.”

  Before Drew could protest, she led the way back down through the battered, soaking trees to the water’s edge, through pools and streams that had been formed by the wave. They crossed the sodden beach, knee deep now in water and waded out towards the boat. It appeared to be deserted. They slipped quietly over the side to take a look around.

  “The stuff is all here,” said Rebecca, looking into the cabin.

  “No sign of them though.”

  She looked perplexedly at Drew. He shrugged his shoulders.

  “So where did they go? Washed overboard?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see anybody in the water.” They scanned the waters and shoreline for signs of the men, to no avail. Rebecca sat down on the edge of the boat.

  “So, what do you reckon we should do now?”

  Drew went into the cabin where the wheel and instrumentation were. The key was still in the engine. He shrugged and tried it. The engine fired up first time. Rebecca appeared at his shoulder.

  “Back to Rahsaig?” she asked.

  “Don’t see why not,” he said. “Don’t think there’s anybody left to come after us now.”