‘Where?’ Nat was confused.
‘To the Enclave of course. You surely didn’t think that there was only one entrance?’
To Nat’s astonishment, Samuel and Marissa walked over to a rack of mountain bikes and selected one each. ‘Come along, man. Fastest way back—downhill.’
Marissa looked gleeful as she clambered onto her saddle and began to disappear into the long corridor ahead, lights illuminating her as she triggered them. ‘Wonderful…’ she trilled, her voice fading.
‘Oh, for f…’ but Nat was already catching them up.
As he descended, Nat noticed how warm the tunnels were and he was glad that he didn’t have to pedal hard. There was the occasional oasis of a larger cave and after ten minutes or so, Samuel shouted back to him.
‘Take care! There’s a pool. Artesian water. Area’s riddled with them.’
Nat swerved past the blackest of pools. Samuel called, ‘No idea how deep. Warm though. Fascinating, don’t you think?’
Nat imagined thermal currents swirling up from far beneath the earth and heating these deposits of mineral filtered water. He felt the sweat on his brow and his back was damp. He knew that they must be heading south-east to Edwalton but it was the most disorientating feeling to see the blackness ahead light up and then to turn around and watch as the darkness chased them. They crossed fords where the sound of running water was almost deafening in the pressured depths. Sometimes they had to pass their bikes over narrow cracks in the earth, where Samuel took a firm grip on Melissa’s arm as she stepped across. Nat thought that there was the whiff of sulphur floating up and tried to quell images of Moorcroft’s face. After twenty minutes or so, they started to climb and the air cooled. The tunnels opened out into a wider cave—a room—and there was the door of a lift built into the rock.
‘Why not just drive?’ Nat was annoyed with himself for having enjoyed the ride.
‘Well, the car’s already been collected and we find it preferable not to signal comings and goings from the Enclave. Security measure. Never know who’s watching. Come on, man.’ He would rather not mention that the Jag had been a two-seater and probably a foolish choice.
Within moments, they were in a well-equipped room in the Enclave. Winifred appeared with tea and paracetamol for Nat and raised an eyebrow when Samuel declined the cake. ‘Right. Let’s get on with it. How do I travel back?’
‘Have you not understood us, Nathanial?’ Marissa looked pained. ‘It is tragic but the timeline is clear: Florence will die in 1646. She is already dead to us.’
He simply shook his head. ‘I can get to her. Save her. There’s nothing that can’t be changed. I know it.’
Marissa was tender with him, ‘The records show no wrongness about her death—only the recorded girl-child.’
‘Why? What happens to her?’
‘We don’t know. This has not yet been revealed to us by the records.’
‘You mean you can’t find her.’ No one answered.
Nat stared at them. Were they really refusing to help him? He stood. ‘Your precious timeline line is wrong. Florence Brock deserves to live and I’m going to make that happen. I’ll find my own bloody tree. You don’t know as much as you let on. You’ve no idea about this child. No idea if she should exist as Florence’s daughter or what Moorcroft has to do with it all.’ He grabbed his coat and headed towards the lift. He had no security card so he searched around for one to grab. He was getting out of the place and going to the forest. Samuel, Marissa and Winifred caught up with him and stood together. They were in no rush.
‘And then what—when you get to a tree?’ Samuel paused watching Nat’s face. ‘How will you navigate the timeline? Will there be a solar flare? Will it work? Will you be one of those unfortunates that does not complete the translocation? And if you do, will it be to the place where Moorcroft has taken Florence? Think man.’ He watched realisation destroy Nat’s hope. ‘Even with our help, there are no guarantees but without us, you will surely fail.’
‘What would you do if it was Marissa, Sam? Give up? No. I didn’t think so. I have to try. Just let me out of here.’
Marissa touched Sam’s arm, pausing him. ‘Wait. There may be something. Come, Nat. Listen to my suggestion. Remember, the past has already happened. There is no urgency if we find the right point to return to.’
Once in the Library she began, ‘There is no precedent for this action and there may be great risk.’ It was a question to him and he nodded. Anything was worth Florence’s life.
‘Very well. If we are able to return you to Florence, you may help us by removing the girl child from Denzil Moorcroft. He should not have a lineage—no matter who the parent. This you must do by any means. Let us be clear: it is better that the child does not live than you should fail. It would seem that she is the anomaly.’ The silence in the room was thick with the gravity of the action.
‘In return for your help, we will assist you and Florence to perhaps escape the paradox of the timeline.’
‘Thought you said that was impossible?’
‘Improbable. We have the ability to send you both far into the past. It may be that there, where your presence—Florence’s continued existence—will be beyond affecting events to come. Understand Nat. Once you have travelled there, there can be no return.’
Nat nodded far too quickly. He’d agree to anything right now. Anywhere with Florrie was better than here without her.
‘Marissa, surely this is a dangerous offer. Should the girl survive…’ Winifred was less than happy.
Melissa waved a dismissive hand. ‘It has been done before. It will be acceptable to the Futures Chapter.’ She was tight-lipped about the details.
Winifred wouldn’t let that go. ‘Why would they agree to it when this woman is as much a threat to the Futures Chapter in the seventeenth century as in ours. If Moorcroft uses her to gain access…’
‘It is true, Winifred but there are two threads here which must be cut. It will be enough for Florence’s life-line to be so far flung that it is of no consequence to our history. It deals with a problem which may impact on us all. As things are now, we are heading towards a catastrophic future event. Florence’s death has not changed this. Moorcroft’s intent is unclear but siring a lineage seems to be an imperative for him. The Chapter has sensed its wrongness. Avoid that must be our priority. Florence’s potential access to the Futures Chapter is presently simply a risk.’
Nat wanted them to stop the squabble. Every moment of indecision was time that Moorcroft held Florrie. ‘OK. I’ll do it. Send me to Florence and I’ll make sure that the child is…taken from Moorcroft.’ Even as he said it, Nat wondered what that would mean.
‘Good. Then let us begin to plot your route.’
The high tech room with screens and keyboards where Winifred began to access NASA information, started to fill with a relay of Taxanes carrying in dusty books from the archives. Nat felt the shock of recognising Edward Cavendish’s copper-plate handwriting. His entire collection of data was preserved. His throat tightened. The final volume bore Margaret’s name—her married title. It seemed that she continued his work throughout her life. Nat ran his hand over the worn leather.
‘She makes it then? A long, happy life?’
‘Yes indeed,’ smiled Marissa.
‘Cavendish was more of a friend to you than you knew,’ Samuel said, holding one of Edward’s notebooks. ‘His data has been crucial for our studies and has helped us towards a method of navigation. He has his own place in our history.’
The amount of material was overwhelming and Nat was losing patience. ‘Why can’t we just ask the Futures Chapter to contact themselves in the future and tell us where Florence is and how to get there?’
‘That is not our practice,’ Marissa said. ‘It is rare for the Chapter to receive information from our future. The dangers of knowing what is to happen… The Chapter is not God. Only when the timeline is threatened, may we intervene. Each generation—even here—makes its
own discoveries and they are naturally learned. There are no short cuts or what would be the point to life?’
While everyone seemed occupied with ancient texts and computer screens, Nat found a large map of England, laid out with purple lines tracked across it. Ley lines.
‘I’d never heard of them before Florrie told me,’ he mused. ‘She’d always thought that they were rubbish but once we’d gone through the tree…If she was here, she’d laugh,’ he smiled. A cloud crossed his expression. Had he already begun to think of her as dead?
‘Yes. Once our certainties are eroded, one is far more open minded. You see straight away that many of our ancient trees are very close to the lines. She would find that very interesting.’
‘Why is that then?’
‘We have no idea,’ Samuel laughed. ‘The evidence speaks for itself, however.’
‘Hopefully, you’ve got some idea of how the navigation works.’ Samuel’s smugness was aggravating.
‘Ah. Yes. We put our knowledge together and make predictions,’ Samuel heard Nat groan. ‘I did not say that this was a precise process! The data tells us that yesterday there was a significant solar flare. NASA is excellent at publishing the data for these. It takes eight minutes for the light to reach Earth. However, the particles take anywhere from one to five days to travel to us. If we know there’s a flare and we can find a suitable portal—preferably close to a ley line—we can calculate approximately where a translocation will take you.’ Samuel looked triumphant.
‘One problem. You have to know about the flare in advance.’
Marissa turned her head. ‘The Futures Chapter gives a weekly account of the flares to come. It is our…their one concession. From the year 2000, The Taxane Enclave has known when time travel will be possible. The strength of the flare and the age of the tree, allow us some measure of time navigation.’
Nat sat up. Now that was starting to sound useful. ‘So, when we went through…?’
Samuel shook his head. ‘We knew that there could be activity. Our watchers are spread over the ancient forests. It is a demanding calling. We missed Florence Brock by minutes. As soon as the cry went up that she’d gone missing, we knew what had happened, of course.’
‘But by then it was too late,’ Nat’s eyes narrowed again.
‘Yes. We set a watcher by the Major Oak to see if she’d return but…’
‘I’d found her in 1644.’ The thought brought a smile. He was philosophical, ‘Is it just coincidence, Sam, Marissa? Was it just a quirk of fate that I was there for Florrie?’
‘Who can say, Nathanial. It is like love. Who can say why worlds collide? Is there just one window in the whole of time for that to happen? The same is true of time travel. Are we drawn to a point in time or is it completely…what is the word, Samuel?’
‘Random,’ he replied gazing at her. ‘No, Nat,’ he continued to stare at Marissa, ‘I don’t think it’s random. Whatever is at work, it’s not random.’
In the quiet room, Samuel walked over to the door and closed it. Just the four of them were left. He cleared his throat, ‘We have an additional problem. We’ve discussed this and it is disturbing us that Moorcroft knows so much about the network of ancient portals. We have come to think the unthinkable…’
Marissa shivered, ‘We have a traitor in the Taxane Enclave.’
Winifred shook her head and pursed her lips.
‘Suspects?’ Nat asked.
‘None.’ Marissa looked pained. ‘Knowing what is at stake, who would want to betray our cause in such a way?’
Realisation dawned on Nat’s face. ‘None of this is coincidence. Christ! Someone’s feeding Moorcroft information—from here! For all your Taxus Morte shit, there’s a traitor in your base.’ His eyes flashed.
All three Taxanes looked pained but Nat wasn’t about to let up. He leaned against the edge of the map desk and lifted his head—slowly. ‘You need to give me everything you’ve got on this because you’re bloody culpable. Florrie might well have been taken because you fucked up and leaked info to Denzil Moorcroft.’
There was no argument from any of them.
Three hours later, he emerged armed with the probabilities based on the variables they knew: solar energy, the pull of the ley lines, the trees extant which might transport two or three people and Edward Cavendish’s observations. Marissa added a snippet of her own. She told Nat about how she’d arrived in the twentieth century, explained about Mortimer’s Hole.
‘You mean the tunnel that you can go down on tours?’ It didn’t seem very plausible to him.
‘No. Mortimer’s Hole— not the passage which now is labelled so. What is called so today, is a simple route through which supplies were delivered to the Castle. There was never anything secret about it. But, there is another tunnel which was most secret. At the entrance to it was an ancient yew. It is still there.’
When she pointed to its location on a map, Nat knew how Denzil had taken Florrie. He was white with rage. ‘When’s the next flare?’ When they told him, he thought that he’d go crazy with the wait.
‘Four days! They could be anywhere by then. Samuel, he could…’
The Taxane put his hand on Nat’s shoulder. ‘You have not yet understood how the timeline flexes. If Moorcroft went through yesterday, the solar eruption was significant but not extraordinary. The one in four days is marginally more powerful. We believe that it will transport you back within hours of Moorcroft’s arrival. Don’t forget: we know where he’s going.’
‘Montebray,’ Nat shivered at the thought of the place.
‘Indeed. Now. We need to discuss foci. Do you have something which Florence holds dear which you might use to focus the energies of the tree to take you to when she might have gone?’
Nat frowned. ‘We didn’t really bring anything… Wait. She’s with Denzil. I’ve got something that he ‘holds dear’. A Taxane was dispatched to the apartment and quickly brought back the Dinky car which Nat had taken from Denzil’s cabinet. It felt good to have taken it when Moorcroft had taken so much from him.
‘Perfect,’ confirmed Samuel, ‘although you really should have handed it over to our archive department…’
‘Yeah, well…’
‘We have set a detailed watch on the trees and Moorcroft has not gone through using any around Montebray—Locksley—that was our first thought. It seems most likely, that he wanted to escape the present time as quickly as possible and so used the nearest portal. There is only one in the whole of Nottingham City and it is the yew at the foot of the real Mortimer’s Hole. He’ll have to travel to Montebray once he arrives but we can take you to Locksley and transport you there. You may even beat him to it and be waiting for him.’ It was the first glimmer of hope that had stirred Nat’s heart.
The four days passed a minute at a time and each minute Nat thought about Florence. He was kitted out by Winifred in clothing that looked like a low-ranking gentleman. She’d added a waterproof lining to his garments and antibiotics were stitched into the seams. The boots were a replica of the ones that he had before except these were totally waterproof and a perfect fit. He had a long dagger rather than a sword and Samuel told him to use it carefully. The timeline did not take kindly to killing the wrong people. Nat intended to use it on only one person.
Samuel drove him to the woodland around Brockhampton—just ten miles from Locksley. Taking the overcoat from Nat, he smiled at the outfit. ‘Very dapper. Now. Just a slight warning. The oak is nearly seven hundred years old but it does mean that it could be a bit of a tight fit when you arrive.’ Samuel passed him a small axe. ‘Just in case, eh?’
Nat was alarmed. ‘Nothing would make me go in there again except for Florence you know. It’s … disturbing. Remind me to tell you about the voices one day.’ And with that he stepped in.
Before he could ask his question, Nat was gone. ‘God’s speed,’ he offered and once he was sure that the oak was empty he began his own journey back to the Enclave to scan the records again and
see what had happened.
40
Cruel Intentions
Cruel Intentions
It was not Mortimer’s Hole. No tourist had ever trekked down here. This tunnel was rough, unused and unlit, descending sharply and unevenly. Rocks and debris made the descent hard and Florence tried not to fall as Holless shoved her forward each time she paused. Denzil led. Her plan was to slow them as much as she could, wanting to believe that Nat would give chase but they didn’t care about her bruises or scrapes and cuts—or her plan. The stale air clogged her throat and Holless thrust a bottle of water towards her. She drained the lot—a small defiance.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she rasped at Denzil, trying to sound confident.
‘To the second best kept secret in Nottingham,’ he threw back at her.
‘The first being…?’
He sneered, ‘The Taxane Enclave.’
He laughed at the shock on her face. ‘Wouldn’t you love to know how I know?’
She shrugged her shoulders, affecting nonchalance.
He sighed, ‘Your lack of curiosity is disappointing. Perhaps you are learning wifely modesty.’ He didn’t tell her.
‘You won’t get in.’ It was her turn to sneer. She tested him.
‘Thank you for that confirmation. I agree. Not here and now—which is why we’re going to the Enclave in another less technological time.’
It seemed so strange to hear him use the words of this century. It made his deception in the past even more accomplished. She was afraid now. How could Nat ever find her? Was she destined to live and die as this bastard’s property in that barbarous age? Florence bit her lip and said nothing. She was sure that there’d be an opportunity to kill him.
They slithered their way down to the bottom of the tunnel until they came to an abrupt halt. Above them was an iron grill with a lock and Florence could see the stars. Holless used a Yale key and they emerged into someone’s garden. She was confused. ‘Where are we? What is this?’
TAXUS BACCATA: Book Two of the Taxane Chronicles Page 27
