He toggles the image back to the alien landscape. 'This is Shael,' he says, 'The world I have been able to travel to since I was a boy.'
Both Godfrey and I continue to look on in wonder.
'It would seem the tear we discovered can actually give us access to six different parts of the world, which is a most interesting development. According to the directions given to us by Godfrey, it is this desolate landscape that can get us nearest to where Molly and Edith are. We do unfortunately have a trek ahead of us. It may take a number of days to reach the exact location.'
I am not perturbed by this, in fact quite the opposite. The opportunity to spend time in an entirely different world must be every schoolboy's fantasy and here I am, literally in touching distance. There is however, one thing that does concern me. 'This contraption of yours,' I say, 'Where has it come from, and is it safe?'
Father toggles another switch and the image on the screen goes blank. 'There is some highly advanced technology in Shael which I have been studying for a number of years. As unbelievable as it seems, this type of gate or portal is rather common, and I have used one, such as this, to access different areas of the world. I have never seen one that can open on multiple scenes and I have never physically travelled from our world, but I assure you it is completely safe and with the crystal power will remain open indefinitely.'
As is my want, I am naturally cautious as I do have a ten year old son to think of, but in my mind I am already thinking of the supplies we shall need for an expedition of this length. It seems that after weeks of hard graft we are on the verge of something most extraordinary.
5
‘It’s getting light,’ said Thomas.
George looked up from the journal just as Thomas snapped open the gate. It hadn’t been more than a couple of hours since they went through, but he could tell the boy was right; the scene in front of them did appear to be getting lighter. Thankfully, the storm seemed to be easing off as well. ‘That’s been a pretty short night,’ he said.
‘Yeah, maybe time runs differently over there.’ There was no sign of Andrew or Karen, so he clicked the gate shut. ‘Do you think they’ll be much longer.’
It was a question he had been asking himself. In truth they had no idea where they had gone and it wouldn't be long before a decision would have to be made. 'Give them another hour,' he said, 'If we haven't heard anything, then we may have to go find them.' He held up the journal he'd been reading. 'This thing says that gate can stay open on its own. Work out how to do that and we may have some options.'
Thomas' eyes lit up at the prospect and went back to his books. George, liking the situation less and less as the minutes ticked by, did the same:
Wednesday 11th June 1930 - Godfrey and I took a trip into Yeovil and bought a supply of camping equipment and provisions. The clerk in the shop asked if we had a trip planned and not one to lie, I told him we would soon be embarking on an expedition to uncharted lands. Taken at face value, that is exactly what we are doing. I just failed to mention it wouldn't be on our current planet.
We are all in high spirits mixed with more than a little trepidation. We are about to embark on a trek into a completely foreign land in search of a goal with an uncertain outcome; quite the explorers are we. Father insists we spend one more night in the house before setting off. He wants us to have a full night's sleep and have full stomachs before embarking. He also wants to double check our supplies. Along with plentiful food and water, we have two small tents with the requisite sleeping materials. We have a small stove and some rudimentary steel eating utensils. He says, we have quite the distance to travel, and is keen for us to not be over-laden. Godfrey and I take early to bed whilst father neatly packs the supplies into three rucksacks. So full of excitement am I, that I doubt I shall get much sleep.
Thursday 12th June 1930 - Like a veritable Stanley and Livingstone we three set off on our quest. We secure the house, taking care to ensure the billiard room is sealed shut. If we are to fall foul to misadventure, then the outside world should not learn of our whereabouts. Father deems it highly important that the gateway is not discovered. He is especially protective of his strange world and worries that in the wrong hands the technology of Shael could be used for ill deeds.
With our supplies squared away we each take our first steps through the gateway. There is a queer vertigo sensation on stepping through, which takes us all some minutes to overcome. Godfrey is acutely affected and I feared our expedition would be ended before it began. Thankfully, after taking some rest and water, his colour returns and he insists he is sufficiently recovered to proceed. I must keep reminding myself that despite our excitement, he is still only a boy and my first priority must always be for his well-being.
Once our queer feelings have subsided, we are in a position to survey our new world. Apart from the redness of the earth, there is nothing overtly spectacular about the landscape. What does strike me is the quality of the air. I thought our Dorset country air was pure, but compared to Shael, it is as polluted as an inner city. I warrant that many a sick person could be cured just from sampling the air in this place.
The parched land is no surprise either as the heat is so overwhelming it could give Calcutta a run for its money. In this parched world, we see a small earthen hut in the distance, proof to my eyes that there has been human activity; if not now, then possibly in the not too distant past.
Father sets a course which is in the opposite direction to the dwelling and one I fear could be hard going in such temperatures. After a hard day's trek, we camp on a rocky incline; the tents set facing each other around a small fire. Thankfully, the temperature drops considerably come nightfall, but the complete silence coupled with an all encompassing darkness, adds an eerie quality to our makeshift camp. Father says there are very few indigenous species in Shael, but even so, and despite my obvious exhaustion from the days activities, I fear I shall have a restless night.
Friday 13th June 1930 - We set off early to make good use of the cooler morning air. I don't think any of us had a particularly good night's sleep and the mood is somewhat somber. Father assures that the heat will lessen as we move further towards the interior. I sincerely hope this is the case, as our water supply and not to mention our bodies, surely cannot take much more of the sapping heat.
At around midday a cooling breeze picks up from the direction we are heading. I am thankful for this respite, but along with it comes our first signs of life. The red alien landscapes dramatically changes to a more standard looking browned earth and at the boundary of these contrasting terrains lay a herd of beasts the likes of which I have never seen. I can only describe them as elephant sized slugs with sharpened beaks for mouths and short stubby legs for mobility. Father says these types of herds are usual at the boundaries between lands and historically are docile during the day. His assurances are a comfort, but even so, we keep a wide berth.
We make much better time on the cooler, flatter land and spirits noticeably lift. We stop for a short meal late afternoon, but father wants to push on to what he refers to as a 'staircase' that lies ahead on our path. After another few hours of walking and as the light is beginning to fade, we reach his 'staircase', and what a sight it is too. Jutting from the flattened earth is an enormous expanse of rock which we climb to a caved entrance approximately one hundred feet up. This cave leads to a tunnel which opens upon a dark and seemingly bottomless cavity that stretches both above and below. It is all a wondrous sight and almost too much to take in . I suggest torches but father says they will be unnecessary and as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see why; the cavern is lit by thousands upon thousands of miniscule lights, with the same look and feel as fathers crystals.
We head upwards on a crumbling stone staircase that spirals in both directions along the caverns walls. It is a surreal experience, but one that thankfully only lasts a mere hour. We exit through another tunnel onto what first appears to be the same browned landscape as before. Father assures me it
is a different land, but on these initial appearances, I am yet to be convinced.
We walk for another two hours and as the sun moves lower in the sky we spot a forest in the distance. Seeing this more recognizable sight lifts our spirits immeasurably and we aim to make the tree line before dusk. On the very edge of the forest we spot our second sign of life: a strange circle of smooth rocks similar in shape (if not size) to our very own Stonehenge. What people have lived here before and what this odd assortment of stones means, is beyond even fathers estimation.
Saturday 14th June 1930 - Godfrey appears to be struck down with an ailment. Whether it is still the after effects of the gateway, or our declining rations, I am undecided. He wakes from a troubled sleep with a high temperature and a complexion as white as a ghost. Father and I discuss turning back and waiting for him to recover, but Godfrey insists on continuing. He eats very little at breakfast and despite the cooler forest landscape we now find ourselves in, he is clearly struggling. We camp at sunset amongst the trees and find a spring of fresh water that replenishes our supplies and refreshes our weary bodies. Godfrey retires early. He says he is feeling better after a light supper, but I fear he is hiding how he really feels so as to not to disappoint.
Father says we have no more than two days walk ahead of us, but, even that may be too much for Godfrey.
Sunday 15th June 1930 - I am awoken in the night by Godfrey and a damnable return of one of his night terrors. Thankfully there is none of the screaming, but for over an hour he speaks in his sleep. These are not words I can comprehend but are chant like and spoken in a foreign tongue. It would seem the fever is bringing on a delirium and I fear our expedition must come to a premature end.
In the morning whilst Godfrey sleeps, father and I decide to terminate the expedition, head back and get the boy some well needed medicine. Miraculously though when Godfrey wakens it appears as if the fever has broken. He is animated and eats more in one meal than he has in days. He insists that he feels as fresh as ever and by the looks of him, it would seem to be the case. Naturally, father and I are completely perplexed by this overnight recovery. We decide to push on with a mind to keep a close eye on Godfrey's condition.
The remainder of the day is spent traversing the forest and the second subsequent staircase. The air is cool, water plentiful and it is a fine day. We all marvel at this wondrous and seemingly untouched world. With the knowledge that in a day or so we could be meeting my lovely Molly and my dearest mother - two people we could never have dreamt of meeting again - there is a definite spring in our steps.
Father makes a glorious fire and an even better meal as we settle down to camp for the night. We even manage to have a campfire song or two before we retire. After the relative hardships and concerns of the previous day, it now feels as if the quest is more than worth the effort.
Monday 16th June 1930 - As I write these words, I am still struggling to put into context the events which occurred in the small hours of this morning. I was awoken deep in the night, not by any ear splitting scream but by quite the opposite. Godfrey was sat upright in bed, his eyes transfixed on an unknown object. From his lips the same incantation from the previous night was being emitted, but in a voice that was far from his norm. So shocked was I by this behaviour, I rushed to father's tent to wake him. Neither of us could shake Godfrey from his catatonic state and as the first lights of morning appear, his condition has not changed.
The day has been a catastrophe from start to finish. Godfrey has remained in his catatonic state for its entirety. Father and I had a heated discussion over breakfast. He was of the opinion that as we are so near to our destination, we should continue. I on the other hand believed Godfrey needs urgent medical attention which by the looks of things could be days away. The compromise we settled on does not sit comfortably on my shoulders. We rigged a Travois from branches and tent poles and between us dragged him for as long as we could. Thankfully the terrain was relatively flat, but even so, we needed numerous rest stops; the result being we did not travel as far as we would have liked. We set up camp whilst the sun was still high in the sky and laid Godfrey in the tent. He has continued to chant all day and I believe our decision to continue may be a grave mistake.
Tuesday 17th June 1930 - Something evil has possessed my boy. Either that or I have completely lost my mind. I can think of no other explanation for his actions; actions that cannot be put down to mere fever. I was awoken in the early hours by something pressing down on my throat, I opened my eyes to see Godfrey above me and strangling me. Father heard the commotion and came to my aid. It took all our combined strength to restrain him whilst he still chanted in that damnable foreign tongue. I can only presume the world of Shael has somehow poisoned him.
I pleaded with him to wake from the delirium, but the words had no effect. The strength he had was frightening and when he lunged for me a second time we had no other choice but to bind him to the Travois. He writhed and writhed in his bindings and I swear at one point his eyes flashed a crimson red. I am at a loss as to what to do. Father says we are no more than three hours from the destination Godfrey has highlighted, and at first light, he sets off alone to see if he can locate our wives. He travels light leaving me to pack up the camp in readiness for our return journey.
Thankfully, Godfrey slept for most of the day; no doubt exhausted from his antics in the small hours. When father returns on the cusp of sunset, I can tell by his laboured gait that the news is not good. He is a forlorn character and as he nears, I can see the look of pure despondency on his face.
'There was nothing there,' he says, 'Nothing at all.'
'Are we sure of our coordinates?' I ask, clinging to the merest shred of hope.
'It was exactly as Godfrey described. Right down to the position of the trees and the rocks. I fear we have been duped. Tricked into believing our wives could still be alive and tricked into this foolish expedition.'
'Tricked by whom?' I say, 'And for what purpose?'
'I know not of the purpose,' he says, 'But as for who, I think we both know.'
At this point, there comes from Godfrey the most terrible, evil laughter I have ever heard and one I hope to never hear again. I turn to him, and all doubts as to father's suspicions are dashed. Godfrey's eyes are a blazing crimson, his face dark grey as if beneath a shadow, and that hysterical laugh that I know will haunt me in my dreams forever. He is still tied to the Travois but thrashing so wildly I fear he could shake himself loose. Father goes to him, at first I thought just to secure his bindings, but he then strikes him hard across the face.
'What have you done?' he screams, his face inches from the writhing laughing figure, 'Why trick us so?'
There is no answer - at least not a discernible one - and so father and I use whatever we can find to bind him as tight as we can. We have no other choice than to start the journey home, but with this abhorrence in tow, it will be an incredibly long and potentially treacherous voyage. Due to the urgency of our situation, we decide to push on through the night, taking only minimal stops for rest and sustenance. I must get my poor boy help. Be it in the form of a Doctor or a Priest, I know not. But I must get him home.
Wednesday 18th June 1930 - The last twenty four hours have been the most disheartening of my life. Even after the death of my dearest Molly, did I not feel so despondent. The trek has been arduous. Not only are we on the last of our rations and exhausted from lack of sleep, but the physical act of covering the miles is proving nigh on impossible. At every instant Godfrey - or whatever currently passes as Godfrey - seems hell bent in slowing our progress. On numerous occasions he has managed to break free of his bindings, meaning we are forced to stop and secure them. On three occasions he has actually capsized the Travois, delaying us even further. If we ever get close to him, he spits and bites like a wild beast. One time he took a sizeable chunk out of father's wrist when his concentration was elsewhere.
We have managed to traverse a staircase, which I thought would be the most troubl
esome. Godfrey seemed very subdued in this section, whatever is inside him obviously well aware of the perils of falling into the chasm. When we have taken even the slightest rest, he has kicked up such a fracas that neither father nor I could say we have rested.
Father has remained very solemn and for long stretches has been silent. I fear he has given up, not just on the expedition, but on himself. The sooner I can get Godfrey and him back to normality, the better, but it is such a slow turgid trek I am starting to wonder if we ever will.
After this, there are no further entries written in the journal, just a faded hand-written note folded inside the back cover. George carefully opens it and sees it is a letter written from Clarence to his son Godfrey, some days after the final journal entry.
Sunday 22nd June 1930
My dearest Godfrey,
If you are ever in a position to read this, then you must understand that everything your grandfather and I have done, is for your benefit. I hope you have been able to read the pages in this journal and understand the terrible situation we found ourselves in during our expedition to Shael and our hellish homeward journey.
Meadowbank: A dark fantasy thriller (The Shael Chronicles Book 2) Page 11
