Not Far From Aviemore

by Michael Reuel

XVII

  Jewels

  Other than the initial darkness and sliding sensation, if Adam had looked to prepare himself for a similar experience to that of the first doorway then he would have found little to cling to when emerging on the other side. Later on I would suggest to him that the human mind, as a tool, is incapable of coping adequately with such otherworldly travel, but he disagreed. Although not schooled as we suppose the Grey Man to be in such pursuits, he insisted his mind was no more disturbed than it already had been for being exposed to something so potentially mind shattering.

  Difficult as it was to have any specific expectations, he did wonder if mountain ranges might prove to be a power base for such portals – half expecting to walk out on another Earth location of similar geography – but it was no cliff-side or snowy height that he beheld and it was certainly not of our world.

  Once again he had found solid ground and felt relieved not to be falling to an uncertain doom, but he was no longer out in the open air. Instead he stood under a curved ceiling, with the trickle of dripping water massaging his eardrums.

  Relating the first observation of that alien world, Adam succeeded in waxing lyrical on the subject of colour, captivated like a child given his first set of paints. A plethora of colours decorated the walls about him, made possible by an overwhelming quantity of gemstones and crystals of various sizes that succeeded in reflecting even meagre sources of light back and forth.

  A cave of some kind, Adam inferred his new location to be, but no cold, damp tunnel sunk with spatterings of guano; no puddles underfoot or creepy crawlies scaling the walls. Rock itself was visible, within which the jewels had formed and no doubt there was much more holding the structure together, but the treasures that had formed within had been allowed to surface and so he beheld a speleologist’s dream shimmering in unexcavated glory.

  Britain’s caves are not, in truth, worthy of such a dismal description. Adam himself had visited many caves in the Peak District that, though dark and chilled, were nevertheless decorated with natural wonders formed from running water and condensation reacting with various gases. People who visit caves expecting them to be empty and featureless know nothing of stalactites, stalagmites and speleothems that show the capacity of nature to impact on the hidden parts of the world.

  To a certain extent this cave did obey some of these rules. There was running water but it did not drip uncontrollably and gather in random places, instead it was directed through the surrounding walls to form an exquisite and elaborate water feature, settling in an oval basin a few paces in front of him. Farther on this same water was then heard trickling into more extensive systems somewhere beyond his sight.

  It was not the water that drew his gaze, however, but the surface through which it ran; a conglomeration of natural treasures Adam would not have thought possible. He knew nothing more of jewels than he did of stoneology, or of mapping the stars, unqualified to confirm the types of crystals, gemstones or even diamonds that made up those walls, except to say that their variety was many and wondrous, as was their shape, size and colour. Still clinging to some form of base material, we can suppose that significant handiwork had been at play, made clear by the curvature of the walls and water feature in particular, but any technique that had been employed was done so to enhance the beauty of the formation rather than claiming responsibility for its creation.

  This palace amongst caves takes some imagining, but on Earth itself we still discover the results of millions of years of mineralogical activity and find ourselves astounded. We too have underground wonders that no one imagined likely before their discovery; Mexico’s Cueva de los Cristales is known as the Sistine Chapel of Crystals and so perhaps one day, if our worlds ever meet, speleologists can visit the two cave systems and argue which is the most beautiful.

  Beyond bewilderment, Adam did not stand dumbfounded for as long this time, deciding he would have to get used to being amazed that night, though what followed would prove even more difficult still for him to speak of, wary as he was of stretching my disbelief too far. Even with free-flowing drink and unguarded humour he asked me to bear with him on this one, while also assuring that if I did not believe him he would not think any less of me.

  Emerging from what should have been a dead end, as far as the cave was concerned, Adam did not have open enough surroundings to boast a wide view, but he was able to tell that the caverns proceeded for some distance, with no obvious exterior light source. ‘Vast’ he described them, with many curves, layers and outlets he felt to be heading upwards presumably to a view of a foreign world. Had nothing then happened, looking upon those caverns would probably have been enough for him anyway. The hint of Clara’s stones had led him that far but there was nothing else to compel further exploration unless he reneged on his decision not to give up on all planet Earth has to offer.

  For once destiny was not something to be sought out on this occasion. Refreshingly, it was there waiting for him. Whether his presence had been seen, felt or foreseen he found it impossible to say in retrospect. Had he made a noise and drawn attention to himself, or were there guardians of the doorway that knew when its boundary was breached? Whatever the truth, there was a complete absence of surprise or alarm in the eyes of the being that beheld him.

  Someone’s reflection had been in the water all along, but with so much to behold it might have taken hours of scrutiny to realise. She was aware of him, however, so must have had the chance to consider what type of man he was before deciding to step into view.

  Taking his first look at an alien world, Adam was far from his comfort zone and risked being startled by the slightest hint of attack, but so softly did her figure fall into view that he was no more alarmed than by the first snowflakes of winter. Perhaps he was already charmed by her presence on a subconscious level, or maybe his wits had been stretched beyond the point of fearing some cruel and ugly fate. For whatever reason he felt only warmth and benevolence, though the eyes that beheld him would have humbled the kings and emperors of old with their beauty. Though her appearance did not alarm him, his heart beat faster nevertheless for an honour beyond the capacity of a fallen species to except without trembling.

  Before the meeting he might have claimed to have seen many beautiful women, but he had seen none to rival the lady of the cave that came forth. He knew without putting such a scenario to the test that, like a goddess, on earth she would command armies if war was her demand. A man’s soul would burn and fail under her scrutiny if it was not made from strong foundations; Adam barely had the strength and found no words to satisfy his own testimony of her brilliance, claiming to notice no other jewel for as long as he remained in her presence.

  The Lady had emerged from one of the cave’s offshoots and stood reflected in the concave water feature between them, but nothing else other than a few paces obstructed their proximity and no security or protector arrived in accompaniment. On her clothing Adam found it disrespectful to dwell, but after insistence he tells of a transparent shawl resting on her shoulders, beneath which she was clad in a close-fitting bodice that extended to cover her waist. Itself decorated with gems, perhaps borrowed from the very walls themselves, the bodice was held on by two straps that circled her neck rather than the shoulders, while on her bosom lay a necklace that, instead of a jewel, was another Malachite stone carved in the shape of a leaf. Her hair hung long and loose, seeming fair in pigment but, under lucid lighting that caused all surfaces to shift and sparkle, it was impossible to say for certain, as with her skin pigment that he suspected darker than his own but was unable to offer an Earthly comparison.

  Unhurried she stepped forward, showing no sign of offence at his intrusion or unease that he was not permitted. Instead, after regarding him only momentarily, she stood beside the concave basin and, by opening the palm of a hand, beckoned him to approach, though for some reason he felt she was asking him to approach the water as opposed to herself.

  Granted an audience he felt unworthy of, if he had th
e peace of mind to reflect back on the day he had conceived of his expedition he might have considered himself fully awarded for his pains. He was no closer to knowing if lifting the grip of the Old Hag from his soul was achievable, but if there was such a thing as compensation for years of visitations from Hell’s foulest wench then this meeting might be a candidate. So it was that when becoming great in the ascensions of mankind Adam was also reminded of humility.

  Overwhelmed by her grace though he was, refusing such a gesture was not in his makeup to consider. Slowly he too stepped forward, not seeking to disguise his shyness in any way and careful not to make any threatening movement. His carefulness was born out of courtesy alone; for he imagined that, in her element, the Lady might wield weapons he could not comprehend and was likely the one who should be deemed perilous.

  Whatever urgency to leave had gripped him was forgotten as soon as he saw those eyes looking back at him and so the risks of bathing even temporarily in the wonders of another world would seem to have been demonstrated. Even if desperation compelled him there and then it is doubtful that taking his leave of such divinity would have been achievable without her blessing. Enchanted he stood before her, subject to the mercy of whatever inner nature existed behind those eyes and ignorant to any cultural norms or nuances that might lead to offence. Should that beautiful countenance belong to a succubus then doom would have found him without resistance, but rather than swallow his soul the lady of the cave looked to the water between them and placed the palms of her hands so they hovered but a whisker above its surface.

  By what skill the water flowing through that cavern had been manipulated Adam could not guess, but the basin appeared rather to be still, not unlike the water of a well. Indeed, its depths were deeper than the eye could tell and dirtying it in any way would have felt like sacrilege.

  Far away and sober-looking Adam’s eyes became as he related this part of the story, I could tell he was holding back his opinions on what he thought that cave and its lady to be and have often since sat and thought what it all means. Strange as it might seem, I can’t judge the experience as impacting greatly on his studies. There was nothing supernatural to interpret from it and so it goes down as nothing more than a chance meeting along the way. A fresh mystery from the ether with no comparison and uncertain context. Perhaps this is why Adam’s usual deliberations were absent; in passing both doorways he had taken his experience beyond where his intellect was able to tread.

  Locating the Grey Man had proven certain aspects of his thesis; discovering the doorway and subsequent revelations had made them seem primitive. Centuries from now he expects science to be lagging behind in insightful research.

  On this revelation one notable point with many connotations can at least be made. Which is that the entire meeting did not proceed in silence; she spoke to him and, astoundingly, spoke English. (There are many strands of this tale hidden from our viewpoint that Adam did not wish to debate.)

  One point he was clear on, however, was the proof of the wisdom of the Malachite stone and the debt owed to Clara. Proof came when the lady of the cave requested his damaged hand (which was bruised from smashing it into the face of Stevens) before cleansing it in the water of the well. Clearly that cave had been so tended and cherished for more than a joy of aesthetics, for the water healed his scars and bruising, as it did the blow to his forehead. A place of healing was his reward for faith in the stones; Clara had given him guidance on travelling far from where mankind should tread and that place’s keeper had been generous enough to ensure he returned to his own world strengthened by the rejuvenating qualities of the water that ran there.

  But his recent bruises were not alone in being affected by the Lady’s wisdom. A third curious healing act occurred when her hands touched his left arm and she indicated he should roll up his sleeve. Upon doing so Adam revealed the mark he had woken up with on his sixth birthday. Allowing her to bathe his arm in the water, he saw that the clarity of the mark waned and lessened, not reducing its visibility completely but leaving a grey smudge where that bothersome scribble had been.

  Is it too much to hope for that his link to the Hag has been severed? Only time will tell. Adam himself was intrigued, but decided to take nothing for granted as far as that lifelong battle was concerned.

  To find anything in the history of these isles remotely like Adam’s account we have to look all the way back to the Dark Ages, and then only to stories that survive as folk tales or parables. Every child of these shores will be familiar with the legend of King Arthur, the once and future king said to have been removed to the healing isle of Avalon to return at the Britons’ time of need.

  Clues might be found in these pages to claim that stories and superstitions of the past are, even if not wholly true, too clumsily dismissed as inconsequential. Though no prophesy is made here concerning the return of King Arthur, Adam strongly believes that his experiences represent more than merely a testing of M Theory, but serve as a warning against the increasing narrow-mindedness of modern thinking. Our analyses of what we consider ‘truth’ is itself always in flux because learning remains in progress and, in these terms, dismissing what primitive minds perceived as truth because we are now more educated is an act of oafish intellectualism.

  Events were too pressing for deliberation as Adam stood in that cave, however, although this was something the Lady had to remind him, bringing him out of a trance that ancient man would have agreed was dangerous.

  ‘You must go now; do not linger here,’ she told him. The urgency was subtly hinted at, but he sensed a clear warning behind those words, the kind given to children when they play by the sea in an approaching tide. Reminded that being absent in another world was not something to take lightly, he faced the prospect of having to draw himself away.

  He asked for no further knowledge; in Britain it is considered rude to ask the Queen a direct question and so he took his leave, in reverence not turning his back until stepping once more through the doorway to the lilac maze that then became the most emptiest and cheerless place of existence. Though done out of respect, not turning away had also allowed him to make the most of what he believed would be his last ever sight of that angelic being. In comparison the mysteries of the in-between zonescape seemed drab and meaningless, but he was reminded of his space travel anxieties and marvelled at how Creation had transcended them into something as simple as the meeting of two people.

  A moment of clarity was long overdue however and, though he imagined the world he was set to return to as dim and unfulfilling, he also felt that part of his soul had been filled he did not know was empty. Of the healing water Adam also attests that he felt fully revitalised from its effects, as if more than just outward wounds were washed away; the determination to return to Ben Macdui and set matters straight without timidity or exhaustion found him and then his memory came flooding back. Unfortunately he realised that common sense was also a part of that memory when he recalled that the incident with Alice and the Grey Man had been left far from anything like a conclusion. Achieving the small victory of setting her on the path towards Affleck had been magnified in his scrambled brain as task accomplished, but a lone descent of a snowy mountain at night was something no one had intended her to attempt alone.

  Fates on his own world demanded a major part to be played from him. If so then for once help could be said to have come from the heavens and, with a focus on making this so, he set his sight on doorway Earth – but matters were not destined to be that simple.

  Interrupting his momentum before it had even begun there came an incongruous image appearing quite clearly within the haze he knew to be a portal to his own world. Anything out of place might have proven alarming in those sparse environs, but even more so when Adam realised what he then beheld. Amidst that shrouded frame he recognised well the slope of a mountainside at night, the very same that he knew lay on the other side, but not the same point of space. On that different slope of Ben Macdui – for he presumed i
t was said mountain – there lay a figure, still and pale despite the icy wind and snow so unforgiving. He feared for that person, remembering the shivering cold he had woken to after being knocked out and its worsening effects for having been motionless for a time. To his horror he then saw who the person was; it was Becky… and not only was she not moving, but her shirt was stained red with blood.

  For all he knew she might already be dead.