by C. Litka
Chapter 19: Sunday 14 July
01
I spent several hours weeding the co-op garden after which I talked shop with Daisy Grant until noon. The clouds had cleared and the day grown warm by the time I finished lunch, so I decided to bike out to Maryfield to make my weekly calls.
I reached Professor Blake and filled him in on what I was doing and how far I'd progressed.
'...Of course Learmonte wants faster results. I'm severely trying his rather thin patience.'
'So I hear.'
'I told him that if I did a less than a complete job, you'd just make me do it over it again in Cambridge,' I added, 'which is the last thing he wants.'
'Shifting all the blame to me. That's rather petty, Doctor Say. You know I'm trying to pry a research centre out of him.'
'I've shifted nothing. You deserve the blame, since it's true,' I replied, 'And I'm sure you have your research centre well in hand. Learmonte is no match for you when it comes to subtle cunning.'
'Just remember that. And stay away from Lady Nesta. You're there to work, not to flirt.'
'Was he complaining about that too?'
'He mentioned it several times.'
'Incredible. We just go for a bike ride and fish for an hour or so in the evening. You know she's engaged to Lonsdale, don't you?'
'Save your pleas of innocence for Dr Lee. Yes, I know, and I also know that Learmonte has big, important plans for that wedding, so I'm warning you, Say, don't get caught in the gears. Get your work done and get out. Learmonte has his limits. Am I making my position clear?'
'Yes, sir,' I said, and stuck out my tongue.
'You're blowing this off, aren't you?'
'Yes, sir,' I replied with a laugh.
'On your head, Say. I've done what I promised.'
'Yes you did, and I'll mention it, should the subject come up,' I replied, knowing full well that Blake didn't really care if I got caught in the gears or not – just as long as it didn't muck up his research centre dream.
Afterwards I called Penny and spent an hour bringing her up to date on my week.
'You're trying to make me jealous, aren't you?' she asked after I told her about the picnic, biking and fishing with Nesta.
'Yes, I am,' I replied.
'Not working, Say. Steal her away from Renny and I'll snatch him up on the rebound. We'll both be rich.'
'More likely, Lady Nesta would find herself a young widow. I'm Learmonte's worse nightmare.'
'Know the feeling...' she laughed.
Still, our easy camaraderie – if not exactly her words – was encouraging.
02
It was not until nearly 7 o: clock Sunday evening when the pink watson rang.
'Too late for a bike ride?' she asked as I picked it up off the desk.
'Not at all,' I replied. We'd almost four hours of light, and several before the storm would likely chase us home.
'Meet me in the lane in five minutes,' she said and hung up.
I was just walking my bike on to the tree shaded lane when she pulled up.
'Sandy,' she said with a curt nod by way of greeting and continued on without a pause. She wasn't in a good mood.
'What's wrong?' I asked as I caught up to her.
'Nothing important. Same old thing. I've about had my fill of Father and Flora hounding me to set a date. It gets wearing after a while. Hope you're up for a long ride. It's going to take me more than a few kilometres to work out my anger.'
'Seeing that I've a 150 kilometre tour next weekend, I can use the practice.'
She nodded, and we rode in silence into the Maig Glen.
The rain of the last few days had left the glen fresh and bright. The sky was nearly cloudless, pale blue fading to a soft green and yellow in the west where the sun hung low over the hills. Loch Maig was a dark mirror of the hills and sky. Birds swooped, insects darted, and sheep in the rich green paddocks watched us go by with an occasional “baa.” After crossing the long stone bridge over the river we came face-to-face with a flock of sheep being driven down the narrow lane. We pulled off the lane to the steep hillside bank and waited amongst the rocks and bracken while the sheep skipped by us, “baa-ing” to us like old friends, which perhaps we were after sharing a shed during last Friday's storm.
Jock McCay, who brews the estate worker's co-op beer, and his dog, Ned, were bringing up the rear. Jock stopped and greeted us while Ned kept the flock moving and in order. He hung back and we caught up on the news of the glen and bantered for five minutes or so, while the flock of sheep slipped out of sight beyond the bend in the lane. Jock assured me that Ned was an old hand and did'na need his help.
Eventually, he made a move to go. 'You two young folks are old enough to stay out of trouble now, aren't you?' he asked with a grin.
'You're never too old to stay out of trouble, as you well know, Jock,' Nesta replied.
He grinned. 'We're still forgetting, are we?'
'I am, if you are,' she replied lightly.
'Aye. Like old times, it is. I'll tell Ned to keep his yap closed as well,' he replied and doffing his dusty hat, 'Good Evening, milady, Sandy,'
We wished him a good evening, and started off again.
'What was that all about?' I asked as we pulled out of earshot.
'Oh,' she replied with a sidelong glance, 'Jock was once our technical adviser on brewing beer. He stubbornly refused to supply 14-year-old kids with beer, fearing it would cost him his job if he was discovered, but agreed to offer some technical advice on the sly once we embarked on brewing our own Lonon Waters beer. Ham and Barry were – and still are – enterprising lads and took the lead in that project. I believe Barry still brews his own. As you may have gathered from what I've said before about growing up in Glen Lonon, we were a very enterprising group of kids. We did some things that, on occasion, did not escape the notice of the gillies, farm hands or shepherds. Things – escapades – mostly innocent enough, but still things that we felt needed to escape the notice of our parents and guardians. So it was sometimes necessary to reach a mutual understanding with them to keep our secrets from our Olympians. We did that with a combination of charm, bribes, and when necessary, blackmail, since we were often about and knew a lot of things the staff would rather have kept secret as well.'
'We being your band of cousins and friends, whom I'm filling in for this summer?'
'Yes. Clan Lonon, or simply the Lonons as we called ourselves.'
'Somehow I've been given the impression that you were a retiring book worm.'
'I was, and still am. But then, as now, I was usually dragged along regardless. You see, I was the nominal head of the clan, being one of the oldest and the elder daughter of the estate's master and owner. Not that anyone ever listened to me. I spent my whole youth saying I don't think we should do this or Mother wouldn't approve to no discernible avail,' she replied with a laugh.
'Really? If I'm to fill their shoes, I should know a little more about them and what's expected of me,' I said. She had referred to this band of cousins and friends in our previous conversations, but never in great detail.
'Well, I suppose,' she replied. 'Do you mind riding out the storm in a cottage again? This will take some time, and I'm in no mood to return to the house any time soon.'
'As long as you agree not to play chicken,' I replied, with somewhat, but not altogether, exaggerated wariness.
'Well, I suppose,' she said again, with a show of what I hoped was exaggerated reluctance.
'Right. Now tell me of this fabled youth of yours. It sounds like an ideal childhood,' I said, as we pedalled down the narrow lane in the twilit gloom of the trees that lined its steep right bank. 'Who exactly made up this Clan Lonon, and how did it come to be?'
'Hamilton Fraser and I were the oldest. The Frasers are pre-Storm family friends of Father's and Ham stayed here all summer long. Then there were my cousins, Selina, Emma and Barry, plus Ivy Lonsdale, Renny's older sister, all of whom are just a year younger. Renny was
the youngest of our group, at four years younger than Ham and three years younger than me. Then there was Maggie and Giles, William and the McGregor twins, children of our staff whom mother always included. However, once they reached their teens, they spent a lot of time working on the farm or their own holdings, so we saw them much less once we were on our own. And, when we couldn't avoid it, Flora might tag along a well. That was the core of our gang, the ones who spent the entire summer and most school holidays in Glen Lonon. In addition, there would be, oh, three to six other kids our age who'd stay here for a fortnight or more, who'd fill out our ranks during the summer,' she said, thinking back. 'For example, Professor Blake's son Keith and daughter June usually spent a month up here, and there were others as well, so that our group was often 10 to 12 strong.'
'Mother loved children and when we were young she'd spend the day with us. On rainy days we played games, did arts and craft projects, ran about the house on scavenger hunts, or invaded the kitchen to make lunch... oh, and a hundred other things she'd come up to keep us active and happy. On the days we could get out, she, and a few servants, would take us about the estate, tramping here or riding there. She'd organize all sorts of games, picnics, pony cart rides, boating. We had our own garden and she'd lead us on so called, “archaeological digs” where we'd excavate junk around the abandoned cottages. She was full of ideas and there was never a dull moment.
'What she worked on most is moulding us into a group, a clan, she called it. We called ourselves the Clan Lonon. We had our differences, of course, but we were taught to make up and sort things out amongst ourselves. And we were taught to stick together and always look after each other.'
'When Ham was 14 and I, 13, she turned us loose. She put me in charge of the Lonons and told us that she trusted us not to do anything wrong or stupid and gave us the freedom of the estate. You see, there was another group of youngsters, with Flora being the oldest of that group coming up, and Mother wanted to raise them as she had us.'
Nesta shook her head. 'Mother must have been the world's greatest optimist. Putting me in charge... And letting us run largely unsupervised. I really don't know what she was thinking. I asked her, once, as she lay dying, if she really thought I could keep the clan out of trouble. She only smiled and said, All of you turned out just fine.
'Trust me, Say, it was a close run thing. Ham would dare anything, and between him, cousin Barry, Duncan McDonald or Keith Blake, I didn't stand a chance. As I've already said, I spent my whole youth, saying, I really don't think we should do that. It's dangerous, or if it was really beyond the pale, I'm going to tell Mother! Not that I ever did, or that it made any difference. We did some things I'm embarrassed about and a few things I'm ashamed of, but for the most part it was innocent enough fun.'
'Innocent enough that you needed to bribe or blackmail the staff to it keep quiet?'
She laughed, 'Aye, for example, Ham was into building and flying drones, so we rigged up a network of control relays so that we could fly them over most of the estate. No problem. Not until we decided to use the drones to see who could bomb the most sheep with paint balls... Things like that are what needed to be smoothed over... Still, the only reason we survived and turned out just fine was that Ham, despite his daring, has a head on his shoulders. He made sure every detail was considered and worked according to a plan. And he made sure we all looked out for each other. Everyone had a wingman as he called them and he was always there to look after everyone as well. He was our leader, and even at 14 was responsible enough to make certain that if the boys decided we'd all go skinny dipping in the loch on some twilight evening, everyone would have a partner. No one was allowed to drown on his watch.'
'When do we get to the skinny dipping part?' I asked.
'Any time you're ready, Say. I'm a doctor. It won't embarrass me,' she replied with a sidelong glance, and a look bold enough to convince me she wasn't kidding. 'Though I should add that the boys found that swimming in cold water did little to showcase their virility,' she added with a laugh.
'Ah... I’d imagine that the loch might be a bit cold for swimming,' I admitted.
'That's what I said, for all the good it did me, and that was only one of their more innocent ideas...'
She spent the better part of the next hour telling me stories that I'd best let the participants relate in their memoirs, if they dare, as we pedalled down the narrow lane. It was, however, easy to imagine from the stories she told, and how she told them, that she may've been, or still be, in love with Hamilton Fraser. He was the central character in all of them, but then, as the leader, I suppose that'd be his natural place in her stories.
The glen runs westward with several dog legs to the south, opening new vistas and closing ones behind us as we rode ever deeper into the slowly deepening twilight. There were still paddocks with sheep, but the widely scattered cottages with their tall lightning rods were now mere shells, cover for sheep, shepherds and unwary or indifferent travellers.
The sun had slipped behind the hills and the wind had fallen away by the time we were nearing the far end of the glen. Her stories had trailed off into longer and longer stretches of silent reminiscence. The sky was still cloudless, though it was getting late enough for the storm to develop. I kept a close eye on the sky and noted the location of each shelter we passed. Still, I was in no hurry to turn back, storm or no storm, I was enjoying her stories, and her quiet joy in recalling and recounting them.
As we neared Loch Bennerain I began to think about TTR's lab, or the Rhymer's Gate as it's known in legend. Though she'd not mentioned the gate in any of her stories, I was certain that, in light of their many escapades, the Lonons must have discovered and explored it – if it did exist. And if they'd done so, I could verify or debunk Guy's fantastic tale without having to do anything myself. He had seemed completely serious, but I could never be quite certain. He seemed determined to make Glen Lonon a centre of Celtic superstition. And well, curiosity can be a dangerous thing, so if Nesta could tell me from first-hand experience what, if anything, was going on with TTR's old lab, I could probably put my curiosity to rest. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
'I've a question,' I said as we neared the loch at the end of the road.
'Yes?'
'I've heard rumours ever since I arrived of the Rhymer's Gate and how it's the source of the Maig Glen storms, the “Riders” and, well, a whole lot more. The Gate's said to be TTR's old lab, which is said to still exist, but that it's a deep, dark family secret...'
'Such a deep and dark family secret that you heard about it within your first few weeks in Glen Lonon...' she said with a sharp glance.
I laughed. 'Well, I don't know just how deep and dark a secret would have to be to remain a secret around here. Hell, the reason I'm here was also supposed to be a deep, dark secret. And yet, even before I reached Glen Lonon I fell into talking with a chap along the way who, when I mentioned I was up to do some historical research at Glen Lonon, knew right off I was here for the TTR's papers, the ones found in a shed in Belgate Woods. Given that, I rather doubt you have many deep and dark secrets.'
'Apparently not.'
'And since then I've heard stories about your great grandfather's lab. I've been told that it's been fenced off, hidden and forgotten because of some terrible force or presence about it. Given what you've told me of your youthful adventures, it sounds like something your clan would've searched for, and found. I'm curious to know what you found.'
'Why? You don't think a gate to the Otherworld exists do you?'
'No. But TTR had a lab at one time, and from what I hear he didn't live at Glen Lonon after he retired, so it may still be around somewhere. And the stories specifically mention the lab as the source of the storms and that it has some sort of force around it that prevents people from getting near it. Seeing that I'm working with TTR's papers, if his invention is still operating, as the stories have it, I'd like to know what to look for in his papers that might tell me why.
&nb
sp; 'Mind you, I'm not equipped to actually investigate it, I'd just like to know how true the stories are,' I added.
'Did they tell you where to find it?'
'No. And well, I've some strong ethical objections against poking my nose into what seems the private affairs of my host. Which is why I'm asking you about it, rather than investigating the claims myself.'
'You'd have to find it first,' she said. 'It's a big estate.'
'Ah, but I know where to look.'
'And where would that be?' she asked with a glance.
'Scathroy Lodge,' I replied, watching her. 'Beyond the gate-less fence ahead.'
'You sound certain,' she said, giving nothing away.
'Well, it fits the description. If the lab is the source of the storms, it's likely in this glen. I've been told that your grandfather and father felt it was so dangerous that they had a fence built around it, and erased its memory. And yet hunting parties roam your hills each fall, so how has it been kept a secret? It's unlikely to be in the pine plantations – they're all on the steep hillsides, an unlikely place to build a lab. And since it likely would take decades for a forest to grow that would hide a building if it was built in the open. So it'd be far better to simply remove it from the estate and make sure no one strays off the estate,' I glanced at her, but she was thoughtfully staring ahead, so I continued.
'I've looked over the map of Maig Glen and this is the only road to Scathroy Lodge, but it now ends at a fence without a gate, leaving Scathroy completely cut off from the world – for no apparent reason, unless you've a lab you want forgotten. As Sherlock Holmes pointed out, when you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable must be the truth.'
'Assuming Scathroy was once part of our estate,’ she said, absently.
'I've been told that your great grandfather bought up all of Maig Glen after he retired from business and began work on his invention, and that he moved away from Glen Lonon. What more likely spot than Scathroy?'
She rode on in silence, deep in thought.
'I don't need to visit the lab, all I'd like is your impression of it, assuming you investigated it in your youth,' I assured her.
'We'll go there tonight,' she said, looking to me. 'You can see for yourself what it is.'
'Now?' I asked, taken aback. 'Isn't it rather late in the day? Won't we be running a risk of getting caught in the storm?'
'Yes. That's one of the things I want to show you. We've time to reach Scathroy before the gate opens. You can experience for yourself the strange aura that surrounds it – we called it the Field of Fear,' she added with a leering laugh. 'And then we'll take to the hill above the lodge to watch the opening of the gate and the birth of the storms. We've done this many times. It's safe enough.'
'I'm more than willing just to take your word for whatever conditions surround the lab. No need to run any risk to show me. All I'd like is a description of the effects of TTR's device so that I can keep an eye for anything that might explain them in his papers.'
She shook her head, 'No. You need to experience it, and now's the perfect time. Despite what you're saying now, you'll get curious and go there yourself and it's better if you have a guide. I'll be able to tell you when it's too dangerous, you shouldn't do that, I'll tell Mother,' she laughed.
'But there's another reason, as well. You see, Scathroy was ours – our clan's. All the gillies and shepherds have strict instructions never to cross the fence, not that they would anyway. They fear the Rhymer's Gate too much. So once we crossed over, Scathroy was ours – our Never Never Land – free of adults. And well, having discovered the Rhymer's Gate when we were young, foolish, and daring, we came to understand how it operates, what's safe and what isn't. Visiting the Gate was something every member of our clan did, most of us, many times. So taking you there is part of the tradition, part of what you signed up for as an honorary cousin, a member of the clan. But that's up to you. We're grown up now...' she added, watching me.
'Well, I suppose I'd like to see the Gate in action, if you think it's safe, as a grown up,' I said, trying to hide my reluctance.
'Oh, it's safe enough. There's a deep ledge up the hill where we can see everything without any danger or even getting wet. I'll just give you a taste of the sinister Field of Fear, and then we'll head up to that ledge to watch the storm being born. Trust me, my job was to tell everyone not go any further, it was dangerous.'
'And according to your account, no one ever listened.'
She smiled and said, 'When they were in the Field of Fear they did.'
03
We reached the tall, gate-less fence with the weather-worn Scathroy Lodge signs less than five minutes later. The sun was below the steep hills above us and we were deep in blue green shadows. It was very still, but there was no sign of the evening storm – the sky, cloudless and still bright.
'Leave the bikes here. The lodge is about half an hour ahead, at the head of the loch,' she said. Glancing at the sky, she added, 'Allowing five minutes to experience the strange aura and then up the hill, we should have plenty of time. But it will be wet coming back, so if you have your rain gear, take it and your bike's headlight along. It'll be dark by the time we head back.'
'Right,' I said, taking the small pouch that held my rain gear and slipping the bike headlight into my pocket. I didn't have a good feeling about this...
'We made a gate of our own, just up in the woods a bit,' she said.
We followed the fence line up the steep bank and plunged into the dim, bracken carpeted woods.
'Here's one of the reasons we had to keep on the good side of the gillies,' she said, as she showed me a fence post with a metal rod wired top and bottom to it that actually held the fence. 'Giles rigged this up for us,' she said as she lifted a loop of wire that held the rod to create a gap we slipped through. 'Keep it open, we'll close it on the way back,' she said.
We carefully climbed down the bank to the old road beyond the fence. The old macadamised road was cracked and riven with grass and weeds, but having not been used since the Storm, it was still partly intact between the cracks, making walking easy. It ran between the loch's shore and a towering old pine plantation, deep in shadow and aromatic with pine needles. It was cool by the water and under the tall pines. There was no wind to speak of, just an occasional half-hearted sigh that stirred the branches of the pines overhead or ruffled the surface of the loch. The birds were growing quiet, the bugs, however swarmed about us.
'So tell me about the aura, this Field of Fear. What's it like, really?' I asked as we set out at a fairly brisk pace. I had Guy's description, but I wanted hers as well.
She glanced at me and grinned. 'You'll find out, soon enough.'
'But what is it?'
'We don't know, though we've investigated it off and on over the years. Ham, June and Renny are now either engineers or scientists, and they took a scientific interest in the phenomena. Over the years they brought back various instruments to try to get some insight on the field, but every test proved inconclusive.'
'Such as?'
'Well, there's a mixed up electromagnetic field that usually extends over a hundred metres from the lab. However, the various fields and frequencies shouldn't be strong enough to cause noticeable effects, but we couldn't get close to the lab because of them. June tested it for sound, and did find a lot of low frequency sound, which seemed to explain some of the observed reactions, but it didn't seem to follow the observed pattern, it increased linearly while the effects seemed to increase geometrically. Whatever it is, it's not radioactive anyway. We even tried to fly a drone over the lab, but quickly lost control and the motor seemed to short out as well before it crashed. In short, we have theories, but no answers, which is why it's still in operation. Apparently Grandfather and Father couldn't figure out what was going on either. Hopefully the papers you're working on will shed some light on it.'
I shrugged, 'From what I've seen so far, I'm almost certain that an injured and ultimate
ly dying TTR outlined what he'd invented, having lost all of his work when the Storms fried his computers and all the data in the cloud was lost. However, the mice have chewed up great chunks of his writings and with that, any hope for quick answers. And I can't see how an energy field would be one of the intended results of his device, so the notes may not help at all. Just what is the clan's theory about the Rhymer's Gate?'
'I'll save that until after you've felt the aura and seen the Gate in action. I want the unbiased, independent opinion of a real PhD physicist.'
'Ph.D. or not, I'm hardly qualified to give one. Physics is far ranging and this seems to be far from my area of speciality.'
'So brilliant and yet so modest.'
'Just honest. But what does experiencing the aura mean in practice? I asked.
'The lab is behind the lodge, but the field usually extends well beyond the lodge, so we'll just walk towards the lodge until you feel the effects and had enough of it. Then we'll head up the hill to watch the storm build from a nice safe distance.'
'You're not being very specific, Doctor.'
She shrugged. 'Symptoms vary slightly with each person. We've all experienced them many times, so there's nothing to worry about. It just gets increasingly unpleasant the deeper into the field you get, so you're in control. As I said, nothing to worry about.'
Right, I thought. I suppose I asked for this.
'Growing up,' she continued after we had walked some way in silence with our own thoughts, 'our goal was always to enter the lodge itself. As I said, the lab is located on the far side of the lodge, almost a seventy meters beyond, but the aura usually extends beyond the lodge itself. However, after the Gate has opened and the storm passes, the field shrinks for a while. Perhaps the opening of the gate expends enough energy to draw down the field or maybe the lightning disrupts it for a time, I don't think that was ever settled. In any event, it would sometimes shrink enough for us to enter the lodge itself without encountering the field. We'd have perhaps half an hour before the field would begin to bounce back forcing us out, but we'd use that time to explore the lodge. Since it was always after the evening storm, it was usually pretty dark, making it a moderately scary adventure. The lodge was abandoned with all its furnishings, just draped with sheets like a typical ghost house. Most of the windows are broken and the weather has damaged parts of it, all very eerie. But the weirdest thing is that there are no spider webs, no mice, no bats. The field keeps every living thing at bay.
'And then there's TTR's Study. Or what we called his study. It's a locked room on the first floor. We never had time to find the key or break down the door... There are limits to even Ham's enterprise and daring. But that allowed us to imagine TTR still being in that locked room. You see, no one knows where he's buried, or indeed if he was ever buried,' she added in a mock sinister voice, 'So it was easy enough to imagine him still in that locked room, frozen in the flux of strange currents created by his Gate – trapped between this world and the Otherworld.'
'I really appreciate you telling me all this, Mackenzie. There's nothing I enjoy more than visiting haunted houses at night with dead people still in them,' I remarked darkly. 'Especially those engulfed by a Field of Fear with a Gate to the Otherworld in their back garden.'
'I didn't say he was dead, Say. We mustn't jump to conclusions. It's possible that he's not dead at all; he might be trapped in a state of suspended animation. Who knows what effect that strange field has when you get deep enough into it? So if things don't go as planned, we may find ourselves in the Otherworld or trapped between the worlds as well. After all, folks around here believe it's possible, and who knows? Where there's smoke, there's fire.'
'You're having a lot of fun, aren't you?'
'Well, I seem to recall that exploring the Rhymer's Gate was your idea. I'm just giving you the heads up on what to expect.'
'My idea?' I gave her another dark look. 'I seem to distinctly recall expressing a willingness just to take your word for everything.'
She dismissed that objection. 'You'd have regretted settling for that, soon enough,' and pointed across the dark mirror of the loch. 'Ah, you can see the lodge now. We'll be there shortly.' A ploy to distract me from pressing my protest over being cast as the instigator of this venture.
Across the water, standing on a low hill, I could see the grey slate roofs and white stone walls of a large, tall castle-like building just visible over the tops of surrounding trees and shrubs. It was already dark in the shadows of the hills and pines.
'I can't wait,' I said glumly.
'It's a rite of passage, Say. Tonight, you'll be a full member of Clan Lonon,' she said and added with a leering laugh, 'If you survive.'
I could see that I wasn't going to avoid the Field of Fear, or whatever it was, so I let it ride. Be careful what you wish for, wishes sometimes come true.
'Great Grandfather moved to Scathroy after he recovered from this accident and retired from business. Even in those days, the Glen Lonon Lodge was used mostly for business conferences and such, and he wanted to be completely out of the way.'
'Has your father ever told you about all this, or is it something you've heard from the gillies and the shepherds?'
She shook her head. 'He's never told us anything about Scathroy. It hasn't been considered part of our estate since before I was born. But, as I needn't tell you, there are others about here that either know, or have heard the stories and we were always in with the gillies and the shepherds, and their wives who like to talk, even if they don't, so we heard all the stories, and added a few ourselves...'
'Does your father realize everyone knows his secret? That you know?'
'I doubt it. He's never mentioned it to us. We discovered it all on our own. It was only afterwards that we found out what the residents of Glen Maig knew. They all keep very clear of it, I might add.
'From what they let on, I gather Father made it clear, early on, that everyone who knew about it was never to say a word about it to anyone, or they'd lose their position. I suppose he hoped to keep the exact knowledge secret. Not much you can do about the gossip over pints. I doubt anyone in the glen has crossed that fence line since those early days, so the real secret is likely safe. It's too unbelievable to be true.'
Shortly after that, we passed an abandoned cottage, the Scathroy's factor's house, she said. 'We could shelter in that cottage during the storm. It's rather cosy since it was also abandoned furnished. In fact, this was our home away from home back in the old days. We'd come here just to hang out, safe from any chance of prying eyes.'
'Having heard some of your stories already, I've a feeling I'd best not ask what you were doing that you needed to escape any chance of prying eyes.'
She may have blushed, a little. 'Oh, nothing really. It was our brewery and distillery. We've ten litres of Rhymer's Scotch Whiskey ageing in an oak cast hidden inside. And well, we just liked to be on our own. But as I was saying, you can't see the lab or the opening of the gate from here, and I want you to experience the full Rhymer's Gate experience.'
'I suppose I should appreciate that, though I don't really recall asking for the full experience.'
She grinned and walked on. I tried to take comfort in her apparent unconcern.
The lodge came into view beyond a stand of pines when the overgrown lane curved around the water meadow at the head of the loch towards what appeared to be some fallen down sheds or outbuildings.
'We'll just walk up the lane a bit more and then turn towards the lodge,' said Nesta.
'Lead on,' I said as breezily as I could.
The lodge is a large lichen stained stone manor house, built along the lines of a small castle complete with turrets. It stood on a slight hill, rising over old ornamental trees, large overgrown shrubs and a lawn grown wild in the years since the Storms. Its windows were black, unglazed holes with the occasional hint of a weather stained curtain peeking from the shadows. Nothing moved. It seemed, somehow, unnatural, frozen in time. And damn eerie.
'We won't be able to see the lab from this side of the lodge, but we should begin to feel its aura as we approach the lodge. We'll start here and just walk up towards the lodge. When you've gone as far as you care to go, or when I tell you to stop, it's too dangerous, we'll turn and head for that line of pines and then the hill beyond,' she pointed north, towards the dark stand of pines and the steep hillside just visible over the tops of the trees, adding, 'The ledge is right on the edge of the pines near the summit. Ready?'
'How close do I have to get to pass this rite of passage?' I asked.
She shrugged and said, with a sly smile, 'We're not 15, Say. You don't have to prove anything to me. We've all done it many times. I think it's safe enough. Go as far as you care to convince yourself of the reality of the lab's effects. When you feel your gut and bowels starting to churn, you've gone far enough. Head for the pines, fast. I'm going to be beside you, and I don't like it, so don't push it on my account. Just get a taste of it, and we'll head for the cave to watch the real show.'
I suppose I should have taken comfort in how casually she seemed to be approaching this, but I didn't. Still, like it or not, I had to go through with this because she was there.
'You will say Please don't go any further, Say. It's too dangerous, won't you?' I asked as I started up the hill towards the lodge.
'Trust me,' she replied with another rather taunting smile.
Which failed to comfort me.
We made our way through a patch of rough heather before reaching the overgrown lawn dotted with azaleas, rhododendrons and rose bushes growing wild in the tall grass. I pushed slowly up the rise, step by step, expecting the first tell-tale touch of field of fear at any moment.
The first thing I noticed was how absolutely still the world had become. The wind had died completely at sunset. Not so much as a zephyr stirred the towering pines that sheltered the lodge and grounds. Nothing seemed to be moving at all except Nesta, me and the blades of grass we pushed aside as we walked. The world around us, the glowing sky, the purple shadowed hills, and the tall pines could've been a painted backdrop for all the life they showed.
There were no birds, no bats flying about, which you'd expect at this time of the evening. No bird songs reached us from the hills, no buzzing of insects, no chirping of crickets. None. No sounds at all, even the movement of the grass as we slowly made our way towards the house was noiseless. I could hear my heart pounding, or feel it anyway. This stillness grew ever more intense, almost physically denser and ever more oppressive with every step we took through the knee high grass towards the house. It almost seemed to be taking on a presence.
Still, I'd felt nothing that I couldn't ascribe to my imagination, so step by step I approached towards the lodge, alternately scared and fearing I was simply making a fool of myself, that it was all an elaborate joke. Nesta followed, a step behind, saying nothing.
A step or two more and I felt, perhaps, a tingling. Looking down, I saw the hair on my arms beginning to stir and glancing back at Nesta, I noticed that strands of stray hair were floating out. She smiled, and nodded.
'Static electricity,' I said, if only to break the silence.
'We're in the aura now, the fringe of it,' she replied.
We were now within 20 or so paces of the lodge. It loomed over us, its weathered stone walls a deep blue grey in the evening shadows, its hollow windows staring blindly down at us. Frozen.
I took two more steps and stopped.
I could feel the field now, a subtle pressure. But was it in my head, or in the breath I drew, or in the effort it took my heart to pump my blood? It was impossible to tell. It was like nothing I'd experienced, or something out of a dream.
I took another step and one more towards the lodge and with each step, the effects of it became stronger. I felt like I was being smothered, the air seemed to have the denseness of water, which had to be in my imagination. Having been forewarned, I didn't feel the panic that Guy had felt, but I was close. I couldn't explain it. It was very different than seeing deer with St Elmo's fire in their antlers. I paused and forced myself to stand and consider a scientific explanation. I found none. And wasn't likely to find one standing there. And it certainly wasn't doing us any good being there...
Yet there was a feeling of being on the brink, that if you pushed on... I took one more step forward, mostly, I suppose for Nesta's sake. My heart seemed to labour, my breath harder to draw. I was breathing water. The pressure in my head increased. I'd go no further. We had to be immersed in some sort of energy field, though I've no idea how it could exist. But clearly it was time to go.
I turned to her standing beside me. 'I'm convinced. Don't you have something to tell me?' My voice sounded distorted.
She nodded and smiled wanly saying in a deadpan voice. 'This is dangerous, Say, I think we should turn back”.'
I turned back and quickly took several steps to escape the worst of the effects.
'How much further did you and the clan really go?' I asked as we started for the hill beyond the pines.
She shrugged, 'The boldest may have gone a step or two further, which was enough to make it feel really dangerous, almost impossible to breath, sharp pains in the head and for some of us, it affected our bowls, as well. If you look closely, you can see static electricity around your legs and the blades of grass. I'm sorry I made you do this, Sandy, but to understand what all the stories are about, you needed to experience it first hand, though I think we could've turned back a little sooner...'
'Wasn't it your job to mention it?'
She shrugged. 'I was curious...'
'About what?' I asked, but before she could answer, a savage flash lit the world in its raw light for a second or two, accompanied by a deafening crack of thunder and a shockwave of heated air. Glancing up I could see a glow– like a bright aurora – far, far overhead in the clear sky. We glanced at each other with wide eyes.
When she could be heard over the reverberations of the thunder from the surrounding hills she said with a faint, apologetic smile, 'Sorry. We're in no danger. All the lightning is centred on the gate. Still, we'd best be getting on if we don't want to get wet. The lightning sparks the storm.'
'Lead on,' I said and we started off at a trot. The stillness shattered, the wind swirled around us as the pines bent this way and that. The world grew darker. Looking up I could see the clouds condensing overhead like a dark rippling shadow spreading across the sky.
I followed her, dodging the clumps of shrubs towards a low stone wall barely seen over the tall grass 20 to 30 metres ahead. The wind strengthened, I suspect drawn up by the heat of the great bolt of lightning out of the blue. It was all beyond my ken...
As we rounded a big azalea bush angling for a gate in the stonewall, I glanced back just as another column of raw lightning rose, twisting to the heavens, there to explode like an electric umbrella far overhead. It lasted several seconds, silhouetting the turreted lodge in blinding violet light. We were caught in a gust of wind as the lightning-heated air rose upwards, drawing the surrounding air in. The lightning had etched itself into the retinas of my eyes so I didn't realize for a second or two that the streaks of lights I saw were actual objects, spheres of bright violet-blue light streaming around the edge of the lodge like some sort of firework display. There had to be more than a dozen of them, bright swirling spheres of electric plasma flying over and around the lodge. Several shot overhead, others zigzagged, floating slowly just above the tall grass.
I realized that two of the spheres had altered course and seemed to be heading directly for us.
'Nesta!' I yelled. 'Behind you!'
She'd gotten a little ahead of me when I'd slowed to watch the lightning and one of the spheres seemed heading directly for her. Desperately, I lunged towards her as the second sphere shot behind me. Drawing on all my meagre skills from long ago as a goalkeeper, I attempted to bat the glowing sphere of light up and away from her with both hands and an upward swing. There was a bli
nding, hissing flash of light and sparks as I made contact. I could feel the heat as I touched it and then felt like I'd been hit by a speeding train. The shock drove me downwards, into the tall grass with a jarring thump that knocked my breath from of me. Bright spots danced in my eyes as I sought to draw air into my aching chest. I may have blacked out for just a moment.
'Sandy! Are you all right?' demanded Nesta, who was crouching over me, taking my wrist in her hand, lifting an eyelid with the other.
I nodded to save my breath.
I felt her thumb on my wrist and when I opened my eyes again, I saw she was examining my hands. Fortunately, I still had my gloves on. They were scorched and tattered at the tip of my fingers.
'Did it burn your hands?' she asked.
I shook my head no. I couldn't actually feel them. 'I don't think so. I'm okay. Just had my breath knocked out.'
Another flash and splitting crack illuminated the grass and the black trees behind Nesta.
Glancing up I could see more spheres shooting over the lodge. 'We need to be going,' I said as I rolled over and tried to climb to my feet.
She offered her hand and helped me to my feet.
'Can you walk?' she asked.
'I believe I can run,' I replied and lurched ahead, not quite running, but managing a trot towards the gate while I sought my elusive breath.
Still holding my hand, she led me through the overgrown yard towards the gate in the deep shadows of the pines. I looked back to see more spheres shot overhead spewing sparks. One hissed close overhead only to flare brightly and scatter sparks when it struck a tree branch. Others just drifted above the high grass, dodging the shrubs like giant fireflies. We just reached the wall when three brilliant spheres seemed to be zigzagging purposely through the maze of bushes towards us, as if to cut us off from the gate ahead.
'Over the wall,' she ordered, and we flung ourselves to the top of the rough stone wall and rolled over, dropping into the thick tangle of weeds on the far side just ahead of the spheres. They dipped a bit as they scrapped over the top of the wall – one exploding in a crackling flash of light while the other two – I could hear their faint hiss as the floated over head – exploded in the branches of an old apple tree not three metres away.
After a cautious peep over the wall, and seeing that no more spheres of lightning were heading our way, we scrambled to our feet and took off again, pushing our way through the brambles, bushes, and fallen tree limbs, leaping over a small burn, dodging through the pines to cross an overgrown lane and up the steep, heather covered hill along the edge of the pine plantation out of breath, but not stopping because of it.
'There it is,' she said breathlessly pointing ahead to a large outcropping of rocks in the heather. And then, as if on cue, big, heavy, and very wet drops started to plunk down around and on us. By the time we scrambled into the shelter of the overhanging rocks we were a bit damp, but, I hoped, safe.
I collapsed against the cold wall of rock only to see another bolt of lightning slash down behind the lodge below. A score of glowing spheres sprang out like splashes of lightning. Thunder shook the hills. Nesta collapsed beside me, shoulder to shoulder.
'I'm sorry, Sandy. I'm so sorry,' she panted. 'It was never like that before...'
'I'm telling Mother,' I managed to say.
She thought for a moment before saying 'You almost did,' adding, 'I'm so sorry.'
'That's okay. We're both safe and that's all that's important.'
'Are you really all right, Sandy?' she panted. 'That Rider – the ball lightning hit you, or rather you hit it. It knocked you flat. Are you sure you're okay?'
'An electrical shock, that's all. I work with batteries and electricity enough to know how that feels. It was just a bit more powerful than any I've encountered before. Most of the charge was probably dispersed in the air with the flash, so it did no harm.'
'Let me see your hands again.' She peeled off the remains of the gloves and examined them in the dim light. 'Do they hurt?' she asked touching my fingers. “The tips of your fingers look to be burned.'
'A little,' I admitted, adding, 'I take it ball lightning is a new phenomenon?'
She shook her head and said quietly, 'No. It was always present. We called them the "True Riders”, since they seemed to come out of the gate. But in the past they never lasted more than a few seconds – never got beyond the lodge before bursting or fading away. I didn't think to mention them because they were never a factor for us. We only saw them from up here. I'm sorry, Sandy. I was being, oh, I don't know... I feel terribly guilty.'
'Don't. No harm done... I'm as much to blame as you. Trust me, I feel terrible too.'
'That was a very foolish thing you did down there. And very brave. You could've been killed.'
Flash and bang. I waited for the thunder to end. Balls of light shot away from the flash point and slowly dissipated. I'd been too busy down there to feel anything more than a great urgency to be elsewhere. But now, sitting safe in the cave above the lodge, I felt a sudden twisting fear in my gut as I thought of what might have happened if I'd not done something – if it had held a fatal charge and had struck Nesta.
'I wasn't thinking,' I said when I could be heard over the thunder. 'I was merely reacting. I must've known at some level it was ball lightning, which is reputed to be mostly non-lethal. I just didn't have time to dredge it to my conscious surface. I hadn't a choice. By the time I reacted there was nothing else I could do. It seemed about to strike your shoulder, or even your head, which, might have caused serious consequences... And well, I'm a better patient than a doctor...'
'You shouldn't have. I might've dodged it...'
I shook my head. 'I had to do something. I'm just very glad I did.'
I glanced at her. She was still watching me, so I glanced away again.
'You couldn't be sure you wouldn't have been killed,' she said quietly.
'I don't remember thinking at all. I just reacted. And I was lucky to discharge it. It was my job, after all. We all look out for each other, don't we?' I said, remembering her tales of Clan Lonon.
'Yes, but was a gallant thing to do. And foolish. Thank you.'
'Hardly. It was a desperate, instinctive reaction. But no harm done, so let's just forget about it. I want to hear what you think is going on down there,' I said to change the subject. The vision of what might have happened scared me far more than what had. I wanted to put that image out of mind.
She watched me for a moment and then said, 'If you watch, you'll see that the lightning strikes are focused on an object next to the lab building... There...' She paused as another thick column of light linked the lab to the clouds, illuminated the hills. She waited while the thunder reverberated between the hills. 'With field glasses you can see it's a large coil of high tension wire – likely used to connect the lab to the Loch Luicent powerhouse which TTR used to test his device under working conditions. Ham thinks the lightning actually originates from that coil and the electricity is being discharged back into the atmosphere, which then causes the storm to form.
'Ham believes the coil is still connected to TTR's device and acts as an antenna to draw electrical energy from the highly ionized atmosphere into the Gate during the day and then discharges it in the evening, as it's doing now. The higher the solar activity level, the more electrical energy is collected. Then, at some point, usually in the evening, the balance shifts – something to do with atmospheric conditions perhaps – and instead of collecting energy, at least some of the stored energy is discharged back into the atmosphere... (lightning and the cracking bang of thunder) ...Like that, which precipitates a storm – perhaps the heat of the lightning heats the air enough to start a sudden updraft that builds to a storm. The higher the solar activity, the more frequent the storms.'
'But how? How does the device, the Gate, as you call it, collect and store the electricity, automatically? Unattended. TTR was working to send electricity, not store it,' I asked, wondering out loud.
&n
bsp; She shrugged, 'Who knows? I'm just repeating what Ham has told me. What do you think?'
I stared down through the veils of rain. Each stroke of lightning sparked a pack of ball lightning, which sprang out form the coils, shooting or drifting through the trees and around the overgrown shrubs until they disperse in a flash.
I thought for some time. 'That describes what we're observing, but I can't think of any science that would support it. Where do all the collected electrons go and how are they stored? I haven't begun to read the part of the manuscript where TTR describes his device, but from what I have read of his theory, I think he believed he was not actually sending electrons anywhere, but rather making them disappear and reappear in some sort of super-entanglement. Mind you, that doesn't seem possible either, but if it worked as he thought it did, you'd still need an open circuit for the electrons to flow through and I can't see how the gate could be an open circuit. But well, we have this.' I said, waving a hand towards the lab below us. 'Obviously I don't know enough. And well, maybe TTR didn't know enough either...'
'I believe that's why it still exists. No one knows what's going on here, and no one knows what to do about it...' she said quietly.
'That's why I'm here, isn't it?' I said. 'All the secrecy – the insistence that I do my work here. Your father is hoping those papers will lead to discovering what's going on in TTR's lab. The spies in the research facilities was just a cover story...'
I felt her shrug next to me. 'Grandfather and Father likely felt they couldn't risk taking any action without knowing the consequences. They'd just experienced the near destruction of civilization and were unlikely to do anything that would have unpredictable repercussions on this glen, or beyond. Who knows what power resides in the Rhymer's Gate after all these years? Does it discharge all the energy it collects? Or has it accumulated a massive supply of energy over the years? If the field we feel is a result of the collected energy, it'd mean that there is a constant reserve of energy since it never is absent. What would happen if, say, they could get someone or some machine in to disconnect or move the coil? If the coil itself acts like a gateway, regulating the flow of energy both ways, as Ham thinks it might, disconnecting it could free who knows how much energy, or how it would be released. So you see, until we know far more, nothing can be done. The papers you're working on offer a hope that we can learn more, which is why they're so important to Father. Of course, Father wouldn't pass on the opportunity to revolutionize the transportation of energy, if he could do it safely. But yes, I'm sure his immediate concern is finding out what TTR was doing so that he can deal with what TTR left behind.'
It struck me that if you wanted to know what was going on, you'd study it, even if it took years. Many of the questions could be answered by careful observation. Ideas could be tested... But not in secret. And probably not now, after hiding it away for all these years.
'I'm pretty sure the papers will offer clues, but somehow, I rather doubt this was an expected outcome. Even if the people who follow me can reverse engineer the gate, I'm not sure that'll answer all the questions this,' another wave of my hand, 'raises. But that can wait for another day, I guess,' I remarked, and shivered. The rain had brought down the cool air. I was very damp, but my rain gear would cut the chill of the wind, anyway. 'May I suggest, Doc, that we put on our rain gear to keep us from getting hypothermia?'
'I concur,' she replied.
By the time we had donned our rain gear, the rain had dwindled to a cool mist. The tall black forest on our left hid most of the glen from view, but we could see the flashes of lightning reflected on the opposite hills. The storm would now be rippling down the glen for the next hour or so. The gate, however, seemed to have closed, the lightning from the wire coil had been weakening and now seemed to have ceased. I sat, knees drawn up pondering TTR's lab. I'd experienced nothing overtly supernatural and every aspect of the experience could, more or less, be described in scientific terms. The problem was, I couldn't imagine the science to explain them. Outside of my speciality, there are aspects of physics and electromagnetic theory that I'm not familiar with, so it might be possible to explain them by known science, but I have grave doubts. TTR seems to have done something completely new. I suspect this was an unexpected result. It was not a comforting thought; indeed, the only comforting thought was this has been going on for 36 years now. Hopefully there's time to figure out what's going on and bring it under control.
I questioned her about the gate over the years. This is a very active solar year, but there's been quiet ones as well. She said that from what they'd observed, the gate operated on the solar cycle, and in the winter, with the short days and different meteorological conditions, it seem to collect and then discharged far less frequently. Often the discharge was just a flicker or two, easy to miss, and largely unnoticed. In the solar quiet summers, it only sparked storms once or twice a week. This summer's nightly storm pattern was unique in their experience. The field around it would be less strong in the quiet years, but not by all that much, even in winter.
'I think we can go.' she said, climbing to her feet. The storm had faded to a few flickers in the east. 'If you want to see the inside of the lodge, we can go down now,' said Nesta. 'The field might be depleted enough for a quick look.'
'I've seen enough,' I replied promptly.
'Are you sure? I don't want you sneaking back here without me.'
'I'm absolutely certain. What answers, if any, are in TTR's papers. I'll stick to them.'
'I want your word on that. About not coming back here. I don't want to hear that you came across something in those papers that you wanted to check out.'
'You have it. Nothing without you,' I assured her. And I'd never take her back here. Not after tonight. No, I've seen all I need to see of the Rhymer's Gate.
Following the shafts of our bike lanterns, we scrambled down the hill. Nesta was silent as we walked back to our bikes and I had too much to think about to keep any conversation going. We climbed through the gap in the fence and rode slowly home along the wet and puddled lane, each wrapped up in our own thoughts.
I rode with her to Hidden Garden and rather awkwardly thanked her for showing me the Gate, and sharing her stories with me.
'You're certain you're all right, aren't you? You've been very quiet,' she asked, searching my face in the dim light from the doorway. 'Call me any time if there are any delayed effects. I can get some ointment for your burns, if you like.'
'They don't hurt. I'm perfectly fine,' I answered. 'I'm just very embarrassed about pushing the whole Rhymer's Gate thing to the point where it got dangerous. I feel horrible about that.'
'I seem to recall that it was me who made it a rite of passage for you, and I feel pretty horrible about it as well. I'm sorry.'
'It's late, Nesta, so I won't stand here arguing who's to blame. We can share that, and I hope we'll be able to laugh the whole thing off tomorrow. It'll just be another escapade to relate. But enough, goodnight, Nesta,' I said as I noticed the outline of Flora in the light of the doorway.
'Good night, Sandy. And thanks,' she said, quietly, and slipped into the house. She said something to Flora which I didn't catch, as I quickly slipped away and down the lane to the Groom's Cottage.
Back at the cottage I found myself too wound up for sleep. I kept going back over that second or two when the lightning was heading for Nesta. Which, of course, would then lead me to thinking about Nesta.
In the dim light of the desk lamp behind me, I sat on the sofa sipping tea and staring into the shadows. And in those shadows I saw just how much she'd come to mean to me, in what? Two weeks? All she'd done is to let me ride and fish with her and occasionally keep her company while she reads – as long as I don't intrude too much in her thoughts. But she makes me feel welcome, like an old friend. And the undemanding nature of our friendship makes it easy, and comfortable for me. I was homesick and lonely before we'd met, and now I wasn't... Most likely it's just this narrow time and place, this s
ummer, but in that instant, when that sphere of possibly deadly light was speeding at her, she was everything to me. Absolutely everything.
I'll not call it love. Rather it is, well, I don't know what it is. I love Penny, so it can't be love, it's just that she's terribly dear to me – now, here in Glen Lonon. She's my dear friend, will be for the few weeks more I'll be here. But even if I am infatuated with her, I'm determined that when I look back on this summer, years from now, assuming I survive it, I'll simply remember how wonderful she and this summer in the highlands had been. I'm not going to spoil it by being a fool or forgetting the promise I made in the shed with all those sheep as witnesses. And I'm not going to forget Penny. I may be a fool where Penny's concerned, but I know she's worth loving.
Too restless for sleep, I finished a rough copy of these notes before I was sleepy enough, around two, to climb up to the attic to bed.