Redhead

by Ian Cook

  “Don’t even think about getting away from Orkney,” Sandy said. “For one thing, we’d be leaving all the others to their fate! And for another, we don’t have enough fuel. So, we at least try. Agreed?” The others nodded.

  “What do we use for the Stone?” asked Angus, a burly builder. “We can’t use any of the Standing Stones – they’re too big and heavy. Even if we did manage to dislodge one, we’d never be able to move it over here.”

  Sandy looked back to the Standing Stones. “There is one smaller stone that’s lying down flat.”

  “I can’t see one,” said Angus.

  “The ‘table-top’ slab. It’s lying on the ground between the uprights over there. It was supposed to have been the sacrificial slab of an altar. Until about forty years ago, its proper place was up on top of those uprights. Let’s go and have a look.”

  As they stood over it, Angus still looked doubtful. “It’s enormous. I don’t see how we’re going to lift it, let alone move it a hundred and fifty yards.”

  “God man, use your initiative,” said Sandy. “What we do is try levering it up and shuffling it along. In fact, that’s probably how it was moved in the first place.”

  “You make it sound easy,” said Angus.

  Sandy eyeballed him. “And what else would you suggest, Angus?” Angus shrugged his shoulders.

  “We’re going to need some levers. Angus – go with MacDonald and try and get hold of some fence posts. But be careful – other people could be looking for wood for burning. We mustn’t be seen.”

  “This could take ages,” said Angus.

  “Well, we’ve got to be quick,” said Sandy. “John, Rob and I will try to dig this slab out.”

  He found two screwdrivers and a chisel in his tool box and passed a screwdriver to Rob. “Here. Start digging the dirt away so we can get some purchase with a lever.”

  “If we’re going to use that slab for the Odin Stone, you’d better remember to put a hole in it,” said Angus over his shoulder, as he disappeared into the blackness.

  “He’s got a point,” said John.

  Sandy passed him the chisel and a hammer. “Start chipping,” he said. “By the time they get back, we’ll have a hole. It’s only got to be big enough to get a hand through.” A sliver of rock flew into the air as John struck the slab.

  After twenty minutes, Angus and MacDonald were back, dragging four fence posts between them.

  “You’re right, there’s not much wood around. It’s all been taken already,” said MacDonald, throwing his two posts on to the ground.

  Angus grunted with approval on seeing that John had chipped his way through the slab, making a hole big enough to pass his hand through. Sandy and Rob had cleared as much soil away as possible from under the edges of the slab.

  Sandy got up off his knees. “Shall we give it a go then?”

  Together, they wedged the ends of the posts under the slab. There was an ominous crack from one post, but the slab shifted.

  “Right, now – do the same again and get a post right under the slab. Angus – get yours under.”

  As the slab began to shift, Angus rammed his post under it. They stood back, smiling with satisfaction.

  “We’re going to do it,” said Rob.

  “Now we try to get it upright,” instructed Sandy. Between them, half-levering, half-lifting, they stood the slab upright on its edge. Rob stuck his arm through the hole and wriggled his fingers, laughing.

  Sandy stopped smiling. “That was the easy bit.”

  He grabbed the side of the slab. “Are we ready? Two on each side.” He waited until they were in place. “Now – Rob, Angus. Move it forward on your side by about a foot.”

  “One, two, three… lift,” said Rob.

  Together they edged the slab forwards by a foot.

  “I guess we can do it then,” said Sandy.

  It took them an hour to get back to the oilskin and the hole in the ground. Slowly, they eased the slab into place. Suddenly, it fell into the hole with a dull thud.

  “Okay. Stand away,” said Sandy, praying that the heavy stone wouldn’t topple over.

  They all moved away from the slab together, Sandy gingerly taking his hand away at the very last moment. The slab didn’t move.

  “We’ve done it!” cried Rob, hitting the air with his fist.

  “Shush,” said Sandy. “We don’t want to attract attention.

  John looked in amazement at the Stone. “I would never have believed it possible.”

  “Well, we’ve managed to return the Stone,” said Sandy. “Now we’ll see what happens next.”

  It was the last thing he said before he felt the searing pain of a razor-sharp talon ripping open the top of his head. All the others saw was a flash of the bird’s white under-feathers as it disappeared back into the gloom. The other birds struck immediately afterwards.

  CHAPTER 76

  Larry and Jim arrived at Birsay shortly before dawn. The van shuddered as Larry pulled on the handbrake in the car park and slumped back.

  Jim got out and stretched his arms. “Come on,” he said to Larry, and held the door open for him. Reaching the top of the steps down to the causeway, they were relieved to see that the tide was out.

  “Okay, let’s go and find the symbol stone,” said Larry.

  “I’m still not quite sure what you expect to find there,” said Jim. “Neferatu standing by it, perhaps, hands in the air and saying, ‘It’s a fair cop’?”

  “We’ll see,” said Larry.

  Jim led the way over the causeway and went straight up to the symbol stone. “This is it. See the carved eagle.”

  At that moment, a peregrine falcon swooped down threateningly from the indigo northern sky, as if in warning, but veered off just before it reached them, flapping its way upwards into the distance.

  Larry watched it. “Well, well,” he said. “Try telling me that’s nothing to do with Neferatu. Which way is it heading?”

  “Judging by the glow where the sun is going to come up, it’s going due south,” said Jim. “But hey! Quick, look behind you! I think you mean which direction are they flying in?”

  As Larry turned, a pair of birds flew over from the north, high in the sky. In the sky further to the north, they could just make out faint black specks that were rapidly getting closer and larger. Then the birds, large and small, flew over in what was roughly a straight line, as if united by design.

  Larry and Jim watched, fascinated, like boys at an air display. Some birds flew singly, some in pairs, others in small groups. Apparently indifferent to the two spectators, they all seemed to be heading in the same direction, south, following the first falcon.

  “Look at them! They’re all birds of prey,” said Jim in amazement.

  “I know it’s fanciful,” said Larry, “but it looks as if Neferatu’s got some help. I wonder what they’re up to. We should try to follow them. Let’s go.”

  They ran back over the causeway to the van, while a few straggling birds continued overhead. In no time, the flock had become specks again, a jagged black line against the brightening horizon.

  “Get a move on,” said Larry, as Jim unlocked the door. Larry grabbed the map, opened it up and studied it. “There are two roads south. One to Stromness. That’s the one we came up on. The other goes to Stenness and Brodgar.”

  “What?” said Jim. “What did you say?”

  “Stromness or Stenness and Brodgar.”

  “Of course! That’s it!” exclaimed Jim, banging the steering wheel with his fist. “Brodgar. The Ring of Brodgar. That’s what was meant by ‘the ring’, of course! That’s the ring of Horus! It’s supposed to have been a sun observatory, and today’s the day of the winter solstice.”

  “‘When Horus comes people with red hair will fear his ring’,” intoned Larry. “I think that’s where we’re going to find Rebecca, and we’d better hurry. I can’t think of a more powerful icon Neferatu could use. And my guess is, he’s up to something pretty appalling t
his time.”

  Jim skidded the van around and slammed through the gears as they headed south.

  Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up by the Stones of Stenness, parking the van behind a small yellow car. Getting out of the van, Jim stopped short, the door halfway open, and peered through the pre-dawn half-light into the distance.

  “Just look at that! I don’t believe it. Over there – you can just make it out, there’s a stone with a hole in it. They’ve put it back! Someone’s put the Odin Stone back!” Then he noticed a movement by the Stone. “And there’s someone there – I think it’s a woman.”

  Syreeta didn’t see them until they had almost reached her. She was feeling sick at the gruesome scene in front of her; four mangled bodies lay around the base of the Stone. They were barely recognisable as human beings. Every exposed part of their bodies was a grotesque mass of ripped flesh, blood and bone, with flaps of skin hanging away from their faces and hands. Their clothes were torn to shreds, as if whatever had attacked them had been in some sort of crazed frenzy to get at the flesh beneath. Worst of all, all their eyes had been torn out.

  Syreeta turned round slowly, in deep shock, to face Larry and Jim. All three stood there in silence, stunned, finding it difficult to comprehend what they were seeing.

  Jim put his arm around Syreeta’s shoulder and turned her away. “What are you doing here?” he asked, gently.

  “I was worried about Rebecca.”

  “But why here? Why did you come to this place?”

  “I am supposed to be an investigative journalist. But I didn’t quite get it right. I thought you two might be at Maeshowe.”

  “Was it like this when you arrived?”

  “Yes. But I could see the birds even from Maeshowe. I could see a whole flock of them dive-bombing something, so I drove over here to see what was going on. They were already flying off by the time I arrived. But this is what they did – I know it was the birds that did it.”

  Jim looked at the Stone, and again at the mangled bodies. “It must have been these men who managed to put the Stone back. But why? Why was it so important? And why did the birds attack them for doing it?” He stood there, shaking his head in disbelief.

  CHAPTER 77

  As they walked back to the two cars in silence, the sun was just rising above the horizon, and the Ring of Brodgar could be seen on the hillside on the other side of the causeway. Larry peered into the distance towards the Ring. Though he couldn’t make out details, he could see that it was swarming with people.

  “That looks like trouble if I ever saw it,” he said.

  Jim held the van door open for Syreeta. “If you’re going to come with us, leave your car here. It stands out like a sore thumb.”

  He drove the van slowly past the Stones of Stenness and over the causeway, occasionally going on to the grass to make sure that they could not be seen. Parking behind a barn some distance away from the Ring and well out of sight, he switched off the engine.

  Then he turned to Larry. “What now? You seem to have all the answers.”

  Larry threw him a questioning glance, wondering at Jim’s sudden irritability. “I don’t know that I do have all the answers. Why do you say that?” he said.

  Jim now looked sullen. “I just don’t understand why we are getting mixed up in all this,” he said. “It’s nothing to do with us, and it’s just walking into trouble. It’s seriously grim stuff going on in this place.”

  “Are you suggesting we just walk away?” asked Larry.

  “But what exactly can we do to help?”

  Larry looked at Syreeta. “I don’t know what to do either – I just wanted to help Rebecca,” she said.

  “For Christ’s sake, what’s up with you two?” Larry said, climbing out of the van. “Let’s at least try and see what’s going on.”

  Jim shrugged his shoulders dismissively but opened the door, got out and, without a word, held it open for Syreeta.

  As they made their way slowly up the steep hillside, keeping their heads well down, they could hear the sound of children crying.

  “Make for the large rock over there,” said Larry. The rock was the Comet Stone.

  They crouched, hidden behind the Stone, while they got their breath back. Finally, all three peered uneasily around the sides.

  The sight that greeted them would have been shocking enough if it had been some sort of theatrical performance. But this was no performance art, this was all too real. The whole area was milling with swarthy, Eastern-looking, black-haired men who, despite the cold, were wearing only loincloths.

  “God, it’s like a return to pagan times,” whispered Larry. “And look at all those poor children – some are just toddlers. They must be the children who disappeared – there must be at least fifty of them. And see those women over there? Some of them are holding babies.”

  Huddled together in the cold and visibly distressed, every captive was now attired in a white shift and thin slippers. Without exception, all had red hair. Some of the children were hugging each other protectively. Others were crying and screaming for their mothers.

  Their cries were partly drowned out by the sound of drumming and the loud, discordant sounds of some kind of horn, which came from the centre of the Ring. Black smoke was pouring upwards, and heat waves shimmered in the air.

  “Get down and stay here a moment,” Larry said. He cautiously crept up the hill to get a better view. The pit was now visible, filled with glowing, red-hot embers and flickering flames.

  He edged back to the others and sank down on his haunches. “They’re planning a huge massacre here,” he whispered.

  He eased upright again, to see something emerging through the smoke; something huge and golden. Slowly, it trundled into sight. A gigantic statue on four huge wheels was being hauled to the centre of the Ring.

  “My God, this is unbelievable. They’ve even got a Moloch here! They’ve even brought a bloody Moloch!” he said. “This is absolutely terrifying. They’re actually going to make sacrifices to Moloch. You have to see this – but for heaven’s sake keep your heads down.”

  The statue must have been a massive forty feet high. It was surmounted by the large head of a bull, the mouth and eyes of which belched forth smoke. The bull’s head was set on a human torso, cut off so that it had no legs.

  The head seemed to be carved from solid metal. It was superbly executed, with long horns curving upwards, like those of a Spanish fighting bull. Even the folds of skin hanging around the neck seemed realistic.

  But it was impossible to miss the eyes. They were inset with jet-black stones that flashed through the smoke with reflected red light from the sun.

  Its long arms hung down, so low that the huge metal hands scraped the ground. Connected to its wrists were golden chains which passed upwards and over the shoulders, the ends dangling behind the statue’s back.

  “What are they going to do with it?” asked Syreeta.

  “Oh, they don’t intend to just throw their victims into the fire,” said Larry. “They intend to use that thing to actually drop those poor people into the pit. It’s a foul ritual, probably tied up with bull worship.”

  Jim looked perplexed. “How on earth could they have got a thing like that here, unnoticed? Who got it here?”

  “Neferatu,” said Larry. “He must have used the Ring of Brodgar as a massive portal to bring it through to our dimension. That must be how he got all those people helping him here as well.”

  Propelled by a mixture of sheer shock, disbelief and morbid curiosity, the three of them took advantage of the commotion and crept cautiously up towards the Ring.

  A number of red-haired men and women in white shifts could be seen among the crowd, leaning forwards in two files. They were dragging the statue along with ropes. Shortly before the pit, they stopped.

  As the Moloch ground to a halt, a number of swarthy, near-naked men armed with whips and spears manoeuvred some of the redheads behind it. It seemed that they were being made to p
ush the heavy Moloch the remaining few yards to the edge of the pit.

  With the final heave, a woman slipped and fell. A man in a white costume stood over her shouting, until she staggered to her feet. She looked around, her face pale and gaunt.

  Larry shook Jim’s shoulder in horror, pointing to the woman. “Oh, no, it can’t be! Over there! That’s Rebecca. We must do something! And look, right next to her! That man shouting orders – it’s Neferatu! He looks like an ancient Egyptian priest. In fact, the whole lot of them look like Egyptians. I just knew it – I knew he was the one behind all this.”

  The Moloch finally approached the edge of the pit, the front wheels perched perilously near the edge. There was a signal from Neferatu, and four or five of the Egyptian guards hauled on the chains behind the statue. The hands cranked up, finally joining together to form a platform in front of the head, as if the Moloch were about to eat.

  The guards locked the chains to secure the platform, and wooden steps were carried over and placed at the side of the monstrous machine.

  When Neferatu raised his hand, the crowd in the Ring suddenly fell silent, except for the whining and haunting crying of the children. The red-haired captives huddled together, now apparently quietly awaiting their fate.

  CHAPTER 78

  Neferatu stood, resplendent in his ceremonial robes, as High Priest of the Temple of Edfu. He now wore a high white headdress, with a dazzling green stone set in the front. All eyes were irresistibly drawn towards him. He was standing, facing the sun, watching it as it started to rise above the horizon, bathing the Ring in the thin light of a northern dawn. The Egyptian guards stood in line, awaiting his command.

  “Bring the first one!” cried Neferatu. He eyed the male prisoners with disdain and pointed to one man with thick, wavy, red hair, who was surreptitiously working his way back to the centre of the group, trying to avoid attention. “That man!” Neferatu barked.

  The man panicked and tried to run for it, but three guards caught him and soon hauled him on to the steps. They pushed him roughly up to the platform and forced him on to it at spear-point. He struggled wildly to get back to the steps, but Inherkhau climbed up and thrust a spear into his chest, drawing blood.