by Bo Luellen
Amanda displayed a devilish smile, “Oh, well, I hope Queen Elizabeth doesn’t hear of this. I think she fancies Buckingham Palace.”
Dyer gave a chuckle, “Well, according to my teacher, someone had to rule while Arthur heals on the Isle of Avalon. You see, the Line of Merlin believes in the prophecy that King Arthur will return at a time when he is needed most. Until then, Morgan le Fay watches over him.”
She furrowed her eyebrows, “Morgan le Fay was at odds with King Arthur.”
He tilted his head, “Bad poetry, my dear Mandie. The Line of Merlin observes a different narrative. One that has been passed down among its members since the time of the Camelot. Some of the current members of the Line of Merlin are said to be descendants of the Knights of the Round Table. As ridiculous as it sounds, there is some precedent to the claim.”
Amanda shut her sleepy eyes, “You’ve had quite a life, Josh Dyer. All that adventure tells me why you never chose to settle down, but why didn’t you bring someone with you? You could have still married.”
He tilted his hat over his eyes, “We had better get some sleep where we can. Finding Ian will be another adventure, I’m sure.”
He dodged her question, but Amanda decided not to press. Watching the green pasture land pass by, she was suddenly hit with how limited her life experiences had been. She loved being a mother, but the marriage was something that had been expected of her. An ache of melancholy hit her stomach, and she thought about the dreams she and Josh had come up with in college. A herd of brownish-red Highland cattle passed by her window and reminded her of the compromises she had made to appease her faith. The cattle stood motionless, as the freezing rain drizzled down on their long wavy coats. They almost seemed defiant, as their hooves dug into the mud and the rain dripped from their horns. Amanda thought about how she was much the same, weathering the storm of her husband’s death and abduction of her daughters. She stood in cold mud and manure, doing her best to preserve her dignity.
She touched the glass, Unless the Van Helsing’s can find my kids or I can get a new vision from Cernunnos, the Brotherhood will kill my children and me. I’m waiting out in the freezing rain for my turn to be led to slaughter.
The thought shook her awake, “Tell me more about Ian MacLean. What can I expect?”
Josh sniffed anxiously from under his Australian style hat, “Ian MacLean is a friend who I’ve learned to love like a brother. He is a loose cannon that never followed the rules despite his heritage. The memorization work, reciting songs, and learning the wide variety of plant and animal life necessary to ascend into the highest levels of the Druidic path was never in his DNA. MacLean was always born to be a Knight first and a druid second. The last I saw him, he was in the champion ranks at the caber toss and the hammer throw in the Stirling Highland Games. He was a mountain of a man who could hold his own in a fight. That’s been over a decade ago, and he has declined since those days.”
Amanda was determined to get her mind off her depression, “What kind of heritage?”
Josh gave up trying to sleep and took off his hat, “Well, if you can suspend your disbelief, Ian is a direct descendant of Sir Gawain. Because of that birthright, the leadership of the Line of Merlin fell to him. He inherited a bit of a mess, and last I heard he wasn’t dealing with it well.” He looked uncomfortable as he continued, “To be frank, the Line has seen… nobler days.”
She turned to him and probed, “What do you mean?”
He winced and answered, “They’re mainly a LARP’ing group now, but their Druidic practice is top-notch.”
Her eyes wandered onto the hilly road for a few moments until it hit her, “LARP! Like as in, Live Action Role Play? Are you seriously taking me to see a bunch of overweight manbabies in Styrofoam armor and PVC swords?”
Josh replied meekly, “Yes.”
She covered her head with her hand, “You mean to tell me you learned how to be a druid from people who dress up and play-act Dungeons and Dragons? You’ve got to be kidding me! I needed serious help contacting Cernunnos from true scholars in the arcane, not LARP’ers!”
He patted the air, “Calm down, Mandie. They are solid people if a little eccentric. They look at it as playing at war, like a civil war recreation company. You will see, they take the craft seriously.”
She turned to the passenger window and felt a headache building.
Stirling, Scotland – Tuesday, November 6th, 2018 – 6:55 p.m. BST
As they walked into the Curly Coo Bar just off the streets of Stirling, a large, older bald man was about to arm wrestle a younger Scotsman in his 20’s. The 40-year-old had red cheeks from a mixture of laughter and drink and weighed a hefty 21 and a half stones. His chest and arms were still muscular, but his belly stretched out his Stirling County RFC t-shirt. Nearly twenty patrons in the bar crowded around the two, screaming wagers and drinking Dun Hogs Head. The sounds of laughter echoed off the red-painted walls, as the black-bearded younger challenger threw insults at the senior competitor.
Amanda looked at the corner where three men in their sixties were sitting and ignoring the ruckus. Josh walked in the door and took a spot beside her. She noticed that the oldest man at the table had locked eyes with her. The scruffy faced Scot raised his glass, and nodded at her. She smiled and nodded back. The other men at the table got a broad grin, and one pulled out a chair for her to sit down.
Amanda pointed at the collection of elder Scots and shouted at Josh over the roar of the crowd, “I think I found your friend!”
Josh looked in the direction she pointed and then back at her with a smirk, “Congratulations, Love. You’ve just picked up four senior citizens at your first Scottish pub.” He nudged her to the pair of arm wrestlers, saying, “That, my dear, is the descendant of the Green Knight, Ian MacLean!”
His finger pointed at the overweight, older arm wrestler, as she sighed, “Oh, my.”
Ian and the younger man clasped hands, and the contest began. The pub exploded with excitement as the crowd chanted ‘MacLean!... MacLean!... MacLean!” With a great bellow, Ian pulled the younger man’s arm over and won the contest. He stood up, red-faced and proud, as the younger man held his bicep. The big man’s face went beet red and seemed to glow. As he reached for his mug of beer, Ian swayed left and then right. With a great crash, the massive Scot slammed chest first onto the end of the round table. Pints of beer went flying as he rolled off the end and onto the floor. The room went silent as his body lay still, and everyone froze. Josh took a step forward in concern just as a loud snore rumbled out from under Ian’s beer-soaked mouth. The patrons resounded to another cheer that Ian was still alive, and a few of the more stout drinkers helped Ian into his chair.
Amanda threw up her hands, “That’s the leader of the Line of Merlin?”
Josh shrugged and gave a boyish grin, “He’s seen… nobler days.”
Her headache pounded, “Great. Now what?”
Josh pulled out some pounds and said, “We wait for him to wake up. In the meantime, let’s get a pint, and you can entertain your new admirers.”
She looked over at the table full of older Scots as the eldest gave her a wink.
Stirling, Scotland – Wednesday, November 7th, 2018 – 10:25 a.m. BST
Josh told his assistant, “Love, I wanted something low key.”
Linda Jenkins’s high pitched voice blasted out over his cell’s speakerphone, “Don’t give me that ‘Love’ shit! Do you know how many ill-mannered Scots I had to flirt with just to get you any room in Stirling?”
He rubbed his forehead, “No. Look, I just wish you would have got us something less… highbrow.”
She seemed to raise an octave, “You’re lucky I could get you anything at all. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Stirling Gin Festival?”
He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Amanda, as Ian vomited another volley in the bathroom, “No.”
She blasted, “Well, until today, I was blissfully unaware. It seems the Scots take a break f
rom drinking to travel to Stirling to drink together. The Friars Wynd Hotel might not be your ideal local, but it’s the only Goddamn place that I could find! For the record, lying to the board of directors as to why you needed our company jet to pony you and your new girlfriend around the globe isn’t in my job description. I want a thank you and a raise!”
He closed his tired eyes, “Thank you and consider it done. We’ll discuss the particulars later. Now promise me you’ll find a way to keep that jet in Edinburgh until I’m ready to leave.”
Linda scoffed, “I promise you two things, jack and shit! I’m telling Jin Fakudas what’s going on.”
He nodded, “Good. Jin can help convince the board everything is on the level if they start asking any questions.”
Right before she disconnected the call, Linda screeched, “You egotistical Indiana Jones wanna-be. I’m not telling him so he can help you lie! I’m telling him so I can cover my ass. There had better be some serious zeros on my next check, Mr. Dyer!”
Amanda stirred in some sugar into her coffee and tried to look as if she wasn’t mortified by how Josh’s assistant treated him. Ian let out another loud roar as he vomited again. It had taken them three hours to get him to the hotel. In the end, they had to pay thirty pounds to two local pub crawlers to carry the Scotsman to their room. Amanda had spent the morning buying new clothes so she and Josh would fit in better with the locals.
Amanda picked up her cup from the table and looked over at the bathroom door. The sounds coming from it had died down in the last ten minutes. Ian had been up for the previous hour, switching between throwing up and defecating. She looked over at Josh, who sat in a pair of blue jeans and hiking boots, with a long look on his face.
Amanda took a sip and then remarked, “Please, don’t take me as ungrateful, but ...”
He stood up quickly and replied, “I know!” Josh pounded on the bathroom door and yelled, “Ian! Come on, lad!”
After a few moments, the door opened, and the wet Scot walked out, fresh from a shower. He was wearing the ugly grey sweatpants and shirt Josh had bought for him to replace the soiled clothes from the night before. His face was splotchy, and one of his eyes had burst a blood vessel from the strain of vomiting.
Ian’s eyes locked on Josh, and he charged at him with a great smile and a bear hug. Amanda glanced in the vomit and piss covered bathroom floor and nearly puked herself. She pinched her nose at the overwhelming smell of old spice that trailed behind the big man.
Ian’s eyes opened wide at Amanda, “Is this th’ wifie fae American that ye tellt me aboot oan th’ phane?”
Josh put out a hand towards her, “Dr. Amanda Lanyon, may I introduce the First in the Line of Merlin, descendent of Sir Gawain, Ian MacLean.”
He gave a slight bow as she smirked, “Charmed, I’m sure.”
The man was just under six feet and had a strong presence. His chest and arms were muscular in stark contrast to his midsection. His flaming red beard seemed to shine in the morning light, and beneath puffy eyelids, there appeared to be a pair of twinkling blue eyes.
He put his massive fists on his hips and asked, “Whit’s a bonny lassie lik’ ye daein’ wi’ an hackit jimmy lik’ this? Surely, he hasn’t dragged ye tae Sterlin’ ‘n’ forced ye tae thole his company. Fear nae, hings juist git mair interesting.”
She laughed a little, “I caught some of that.”
Throughout the next hour, Ian laid on the bed as Amanda and Josh told him their tale. The Scot was silent for most of it, absorbing the story as it came. He downed two cups of coffee as the tale went on. When Amanda got to the part where Thomas Booth had followed her into the woods and did spiritual warfare with a ghost, he stopped her and asked more questions. The large man seemed very interested in the part where she spoke with Cernunnos and the details of his message. She and Josh had decided not to tell Ian about the vampire, at least until they decided if it was needed.
She ended with, “So, you see, I need to get him to speak with me again. If I can find out where my daughters are, I have people in America that can go get them.”
Ian rolled to a sitting position and rubbed his bald head, “Cernunnos comes at his ain time. Ye cannae expect him tae respond lik’ some dog. It soonds lik’ he helped ye whin it suited his purpose. Yi’ll waant him tae find yer twa daughters. Cernunnos wants ye tae fin’ a purpose. If yi’ll waant his hulp, then yi’’ll need tae figure oot wha Amanda Lanyon truly is.”
Before she could reply, a loud knock on the door startled all three of them. Josh crept up out of his chair and looked out the peephole. Amanda suddenly felt utterly exposed and was reminded that hiding was her only way of defending herself.
Josh looked back towards them and shrugged, “It’s some guy in a green kilt with a wine box that says, “Stirling Gin Festival.” Probably something to do with the event today. I’ll get rid of him.”
Amanda almost objected when Josh swung the door open. On the other side was a handsome looking man with graying hair, a white polo shirt, red plaid kilt, and knee-high black socks. The visitor drummed his fingers against the box and looked over the occupants of their room.
The man looked annoyed as he announced, “So, I have a package for Ann Darrow.”
Josh shot a glance over to Amanda, “Did you order something?”
Ian looked at them both and asked, “Ah thought ye said yer name wis Amanda?”
The delivery man booted the door open with the side of his foot and marched past Josh, “Awesome! In less than five seconds, with me using only a cardboard box, you two geniuses blew the cover AEGIS spent thousands of dollars creating for you. I think that is a record.”
Amanda shot up, saying, “You’re Roger Quinlynn, I’m assuming.”
He dropped the heavy box on a desk, scattering pens and a lamp across the floor, “Yes, you would be assuming because I’ve yet to show you my identification. Let me also thank you for blowing my cover as well. How about you open a window and start yelling for a new English occupation. We might have better odds against the Scots than the Brotherhood.”
Ian stood up and bellowed, “Calm doon! He’s in a wee snit, isnae he?”
Josh held a hand in the air and asked, “Okay, may we see your identification?”
Quinlynn pulled open his sporran and produced a tan business card. The edges were worn, and the paper seemed old and moist. Josh handed the card to Amanda, who noticed it was identical to the one Patrick had shown her.
She looked up, “It’s the same card. This must be Quinlynn.”
The agent rolled his eyes, “Brilliant deduction! What gave it away? My obvious and proper use of the English language. Oh, and maybe you could say my name a little louder. I’m sure there is someone in this backwater village that didn’t hear you!”
Ian stood up, stuck out his chest, and challenged, “Be canny laddie, that’s Scootlund ye’r talking aboot!”
Amanda let out a gasp, as Quinlynn pulled off his kilt to reveal his naked ass and genitalia, “Easy, Big Mac. Next time I want something from you, I’ll ring England to get permission.”
Josh jumped in front of the advancing Scot as the large man yelled, “Urr ye keekin fur a rammy?!”
Amanda turned away from Quinlynn, “Why are you naked?!”
The agent ripped open the box, and took out a set of brown slacks along with a green plaid shirt, “I’m naked because I have to keep you morons in eyesight. I have to change into something different than what I came up here wearing. It’s called spy craft.”
The room was silent as he put a Glock 9 mm in a holster inside his right boot, a serrated knife in the other boot, a blackjack in his pocket, and a light Kevlar vest under his shirt. He took his old clothes and shoved them into the trash can. He pasted on a fake handlebar mustache and then handed out black Fitbits to Amanda and Josh.
Quinlynn held up his cell phone and ordered them, “Put those on and never take them off. I can track you from any location via satellite. I didn’t bring an extra one for
biggen, so if he gets lost, I’ll check the closest buffet line.”
Ian launched at the Agent, swinging his massive fists and growling. Josh put his shoulder into his friend’s chest and promised oatcakes and scotch broth to get him to calm down. The four of them found their way to the downstairs dining room so Josh could make good on his promise. On the table was a feast consisting of a Stornoway black pudding, haggis, Lorne sausage, bacon, tattie scone, tomato, and beans. Ian was eyeing Quinlynn disdainfully as he chewed on buttered artisan toast.
Amanda looked ragged from the nearly sleepless night, “Ian, you said Cernunnos wants me to find my purpose, and then he might answer me. How do I do that?”
MacLean slowly turned his head away from Quinlynn, then replied, “Th’ speirins o’ whit’s happening in Oklahoma haes reached a’ ower. Ah dinnae think it it’s ony coincidence that Josh haes returned wi’ ye. Yer purpose kin be wasted, destiny kin be denied, bit a quest is a holy thing.”
Josh squirmed nervously in his chair, “A quest? Ian, what are you suggesting?”
The big man opened his hands, “Let’s grab th’ lads ‘n’ set aff fur Cullerlie. It’s a four day donder tae th’ cairne. If Cernunnos haes some something tae say, then he wull say it. If he doesn’t, then we come back ‘ere ‘n’ hae a pint.”
Amanda looked over at Josh, “What’s a Cullerlie?”
The blond-haired man lifted his coffee cup and replied, “The Standing Stones of Echt, and for the most part a tourist attraction. When I studied with the Druids, these stones were a secret power source that is on a layline. To the public, they are the site of a ceremonial cremation. Inside the stone rings, oak and hazel were burned with bodies to leave only charcoal and cremated human bones behind. To those of the Line of Merlin, it is a place of special power and insight, more powerful than Stonehenge. If Cernunnos has put us on this path, and this is a quest, then I agree with Ian, it’s a good place to start.”