The Tirnano - Book 1 'FINN'

by Peter Emmerson

  ‘The Chin have returned, and we have found it necessary to take up arms against them once more, but that is not all. My people in the extreme south of our lands are being ravaged by a terrible foe,’ he continued, ‘the Enemy; they are giants who wear armour crafted from stone.’

  Tom’s jaw dropped as his mind clicked to the Holborn Circus incident.

  ‘For scores of years we have used magic to hold them at bay, creating a wall of force that they have not been able to breach. Now, however, our magic-wielders grow sickly and perish. The Enemy have devised methods of breaching our defences, and of harming our magicians in the doing. Without their protection, our warriors are hard pressed to defend our homes. We are,’ the Croninn signed grimly, ‘in grave danger of losing our fight.

  ‘Now our Shaman have discovered that the Enemy have learnt to break the fabric that separates our worlds, they have been coming here, to your world - to your time.’

  The look he turned on Tom was piercing, sober.

  ‘Your race too is now threatened. In my world, we once lived in peace - the Croninn and the plainsmen, sadly no longer. Although you, and she’ - Ny-mo paused to single out Winn herself - ‘bear different eyes and manes to your kinsmen, you share similar hides. You and the Plainsmen are brothers of different breeds.

  ‘Long have we made war upon our enemy, the Chin, but daily their might strengthens. So few’, he mourned. ‘We are few and they have become mighty. In order that we perish not, for truly now we know that we share the same blood. The wisest of our chiefs and the strongest of our magic-wielders who remain, chose to send me from my world to yours. I have come to seek aid, to supplicate for help.’

  Grimly, slowly, he signed, ‘I ask you now, Chief - brother of my heart-sister’s father, for your assistance. For we have concluded that if we perish, so will perish many of your people too.

  ‘For there are many places in our world where your kind live, they have fallen or come through the tears that the Enemy make. Their lives have been hard, difficult, but they have survived, like our forefathers they are hardy and have survived through their strength and tenacity.

  ‘Our Shaman have told us, that they have seen in their dreams, in far off lands, many white eyes that have not come through the fabric. Some are primitive, scrabbling for nuts and berries, others following behind the beasts of the field, as they wander across the plains.

  ‘There are tribes of our Brosynan ancestors too, ones who have not intermingled with your kind, they are a wild, but gentle people, without too much magic. They live far to the north of our lands. Soon the Enemy will be past our defences’ … he stopped and sunk his head into his hands in despair. Such a human gesture, thought Tom poignantly.

  ~

  Later, alone in his room and with the privacy of his thoughts, Tom paced restlessly back and forth. How did I get into this? He kept wondering. Then, Can it be real? I mean, finding one creature out of a storybook was fine. But now they’re popping up on both sides of the Atlantic, and this one’s got a tale to tell that’s enough to freeze anyone’s blood.

  Well, anyone except Wintergreen Evans. Tom could only marvel over his niece’s composure during the entire affair. Throughout the Croninn’s fantastic, oft times disturbing tale, Winn had maintained her cool. Of course, kids these days tend to be desensitized, Tom thought, what with the violence in video games, books, and movies. Yet Ny-mo’s astonishing tale of gigantic beings swooping down unexpectedly to gather up Croninn and humans alike - as food - was enough to send chills down Tom’s spine.

  Can this be real? He wondered again. What the devil am I going to do?

  What they were going to do depended heavily on the veracity of the tale. Which, he very much feared, considering Holborn and the current disaster in Sao Paulo had a great deal of merit. There was the fantastic, storybook creature right there, before his eyes, garbed in clothing and carrying weapons definitely from another age.

  Over the following days Tom took the opportunity to have numerous conversations with the little warrior, asking about his life, his people, and especially the mysterious plainsmen and the Chin. His knowledge of ancient civilizations accorded perfectly with everything Tom knew about pre-historical tribes, both American Indian and the Mongol hordes who followed Kublai Kahn.

  A studied historian wouldn’t be capable of making all that up, of making it so real. He knows everything from what food they grew to the beads on the chief’s moccasins. Again, Tom ran through the evidence in his mind. He knows their weapons, their religious practices, their methods of making dye and paint. ... All of the knowledge that we’ve only gleaned the barest basics from using archaeology, he talks about as if he knows personally.

  So does that mean he does?

  What a conundrum! Tom was shaken up - and he didn’t mind admitting it. More than the fact that a storybook creature from another realm had abruptly appeared was the conclusion Winn had drawn before Tom could. Pausing on one of their return trips from barn to house; his niece had turned to him, squinting slightly through her red-rimmed glasses.

  “Uncle Tom,” she’d said very seriously, “you know what this means, don’t you?”

  Tom’s mind had been racing with a multitude of things it could and might mean. What was one more added to the list?

  “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  “Basically, it means that if Ny-mo’s story is true, and he really does come from a world parallel to ours ... if he really was somehow shot here through time or space or whatever ... and if his people and the local human tribes really are being devoured by some kind of monster ... you know what that means, don’t you?”

  Slowly, Tom shook his head, not entirely sure of the point the girl was trying to make.

  “It means,” Winn continued soberly, “that if we don’t help them stop these things and save their race, we could be next.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Think about it. Nearly everybody in Oklahoma has some Indian blood. I realize a lot of the tribes were brought here from over the trail of tears, but who knows how the people here may have married and intermarried throughout the centuries with people from out of state? In other words,” she summarized, “what Ny-mo’s tale means to us, boils down to us. If we don’t stop those things from killing his people and the humans back then, soon, none of us are going to be here today.”

  Tom’s heart froze. “You mean...”

  “Exactly.” The teen nodded her head wisely, pleased to see him catching on. “Whoever has the slightest connection with any of those people back then - which I guarantee is a large number - will just ... wink out of existence. Not to mention, if it’s happening here in Oklahoma way back when, who knows where else it’s happening? Could be happening all across the States...”

  “And across the ocean as well,” he murmured aloud.

  Dear heaven - Jeanne!

  “Jeanne,” Tom now murmured aloud. He sat alone in his room, rubbing his hands absently over his forearms to lower the bumps raised on them. “Jeanne, what does this mean? If Ny-mo’s people are being threatened by these monsters, are Finn’s? And if they are, are the humans in our age also being threatened? Could you - or I - be next?”

  The faces of those he loved - Macy, Winn, the twins, Sam and Michelle, his parents, his sister in Kansas, and last of all Paul - and Jeanne, raced again and again through his mind. Groaning helplessly, Tom lowered his face into his hands.

  How did I walk into this nightmare?

  18.

  The Assignment

  Aberdeen

  May 2011

  Jeanne walked back to her office from Finn’s room. The little Brosynan was picking up signing so well that Amy was having trouble keeping up with him. Amy found that she had no need to teach Kasha; for during their frequent times together, Finn would download all that he had learnt.

  John too, had blended into the team beautifully, helping the two little creatures to grasp the minutiae of some words and concepts that were totally alien to
them. Given his military background and detailed knowledge, permission had been given for him to join the team.

  The two creatures were also beginning to understand human speech, and although they could not articulate any words, their grasp of spoken language was almost as fluent as their ability to sign.

  It had been over a week since Tom had left for the States, Jeanne couldn’t believe how much she missed that damn Yank. Annoying though he was, she couldn’t get him out of her thoughts. It was crazy - after Mike, she had promised herself that she would never get involved with another man, and here she was day-dreaming like a love struck teenager.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the day before; she had been on a little stroll down Union Street when she glimpsed a man coming out of the Disney shop. He was a ringer for Tom; she had to hold herself back from shouting out his name and chasing after him. The pained loss she felt stayed with her the whole day, after the guy turned towards her and she realised her mistake.

  She sat at her desk, tapping a pencil mindlessly on the edge of the keyboard. Her phone chirruped, with a start she brought herself out of her reverie and picked up the handset. “Hello, McLennan,” she said.

  “Jeanne, our cousins from across the water have been in touch. As you know we have been sharing info with them since the start.” It was The Commander.

  “Aye.”

  “It would seem they want to get more involved with the little people, they want you and Wilson to go across, to someplace out in Indian country, you know where Pink disappeared to last week - yep, I do know exactly where and why he went.”

  “I thought you would be up to speed on it, you know more than I do. I haven’t had a peep from him since he left.” Jeanne replied.

  “It would seem the FBI is involved now, along with a whole pile of doctors, trick-cyclists and general pen pushers. They want to start sticking things in him to find out what makes him tick, but it seems the little guy goes spare if anyone other than a sixteen year old girl,- Pink’s niece, goes anywhere near. They seem to be petrified of being seen to be treating an alien like a laboratory specimen. Some sort of hang over from the flying saucer years, when stories were rife that they were chopping up little green men.”

  “Did you say you wanted me to go across to the States,” Jeanne’s heart was doing flick-flacks in her chest. The fluttering was creeping down to her stomach. God sakes what’s up with me, he’s just another bloke. - Well maybe not just another bloke.

  “Yep, you’re on a RAF flight late tomorrow, alright? Instructions be coming via secure email.”

  “Okay, Guv I’ll be there.”

  “Don’t forget to take Wilson in your mad dash to get there.”

  “What?”

  “You think I’m daft or summat.”

  “No, I just didn’t think I was so obvious.”

  “Ahhh you see, nothing gets past me,” his voice softened, “Just take it easy girl. Not saying don’t get your boots wet - just be careful.”

  “Don’t worry, I will.”

  She had no sooner dropped the phone back on the cradle when it rang again.

  The outside line light was flashing.

  “Dr Jeanne McLennan,” she responded.

  “Jeanne, its Mike, I’ll be up about noon tomorrow to pick Paul up.”

  “That’s fine; he’ll be at your mum’s.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Sure.” As if you care creep. “He’s looking forward to seeing you. It seems that I will be up here for quite a while, so I’m going to change his school after the holidays.”

  “That’s okay, my mum says she loves seeing him again, thanks for involving her.”

  “No problem, why shouldn’t I? He likes being round her too, she’s got his daft love of fantasy, they spend hours talking about strange creatures.”

  “Alright, will I see you tomorrow?”

  “Nope, I got to work.” What you want to see me for, your love life growing cold? Well tough, you ain’t coming back in this direction, sonny.

  “That’s a pity.”

  “Why?”

  “No reason, just haven’t seen you for a while. Thought we might catch up over dinner or a drink some time.”

  “Mmmm. Well sorry, I’m too busy, maybe next time.”

  “I look forward to it. Bye.”

  Jeanne gave a grunt, and replaced the receiver with a wry smile on her face.

  Bubbling with excitement, Jeanne pulled her mobile from her bag, flicking it open she quickly found the icon she had assigned to Tom, she displayed his number on screen and picking up her desk phone, keyed ops.

  “Can you give me this number on a secure link, and make sure the country of origin is not the UK,” Jeanne reeled off the number.

  “Just a moment Dr McLennan, - there you go.” Jeanne looked at the clock 9:30AM, good, I’ll get you back. She listened to a number of clicks and then the dial tone came back to her. The phone rang a number of times.

  “Hi,” his voice was full of sleep, croaky and a bit confused. Her stomach did little jumps, behave, she remonstrated to herself.

  “Hi honey-chile, I hoid yous was back in the good ole US of A. When y’all a comin to see me.”

  “Who, what?” He mumbled, - then “Hi, Jeanne, you alright?”

  “Mmmmm, how’d you know it was me?”

  “Because that was just about the worst attempt at an Aberdonian trying to sound like Scarlet O’Hara, that I have ever heard in my life. - And I’m sure Mary-Loo wouldn't have a secure line, at least she didn't have when I spoke to her yesterday.”

  “What?”

  “Ha, gotcher.”

  “I phoned to let you know that the powers that be have decreed that John Wilson and I are to join you, we’re on a flight to Canada tomorrow, so probably be with you the day after.”

  Tom’s reply was interrupted by a banging on his door, it burst open to reveal Case and the line-backer, both toting large black handguns.

  “What are you doing?” Case demanded.

  “Speaking to my Boss lady in Scotland.”

  “Why are you using a secure line?”

  “Because I can.”

  “Don’t get funny with me Doctor, I am responsible for security on this site, which means I get to know exactly what is said in and out. What authority have you for access to a secure line?”

  “MI5, as I’m sure you already know. That was a call from Aberdeen in Scotland to let me know that my boss and an expert in these creatures are on their way, and if you have a problem with that I suggest you have a word with your superiors.

  “Did you say MI5? What have the Brits got to do with this?”

  “Would you believe … three of them?”

  “Sheeoot, I’m gonna have to speak with the office. You got MI5 ID or something?”

  “Sure.” Tom reached for his wallet and slipped out his ID card. Case inspected it closely, probably never seen one before thought Tom with a smile. “That enough for you.”

  “I thought you was just the kids’ uncle, nobody told me you were working for the Brits.”

  “Just happens that both are correct.”

  “Okay, sorry about the interruption, I’ll speak to you later.” With a bemused look on his face, Case ushered the line-backer from Tom’s room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Tom raised the phone to his ear, “You still there?”

  “Aye, that was a wee bit of an eye opener.” Jeanne’s voice was subdued.

  “Yeah, a real case of one hand not knowing what the other is doing. Did you catch it all?”

  “Every word, I’m going to have a word with the Commander, make sure there are no more hiccups. So I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “I look forward to it Mary-Loo.”

  “Ha ha, - bye for now.”

  “Bye, - missed you,” he said and closed the connection.

  Jeanne sat for a long while looking at the handset, “Missed you too,” she said to the dead phone.

  19.


  Gander Airport

  Canada.

  May 2011

  Jeanne’s first act, soon as the RAF transport was safely on the ground, and it was permitted, was to pull out her mobile. Turning it on, she saw three unread texts from Paul, a missed call from The Commander, and what concerned her most-seven missed calls from Tom.

  What the dickens?

  Hastily, she hit the redial button. It wasn’t Tom who answered, however; it was a young woman’s voice, an unexpected flash of jealousy surged through her blood, shocking and warming her at the same time. Nevertheless, Jeanne held her cool.