In contrast with their method of travel over the past year, the gentlemen found themselves taking their ease as the barge sped through the moonlit clouds. Friedrich stood at the window, a snifter of brandy in his hand as he stared at the passing atmosphere. Niles lounged in a chair, fussing with his unlit pipe, smoking being, of course, prohibited on sky-barges. The other three men sat around a table, their attention fixed on a map of the region, which they had acquired in London. Normally, passengers would not have spacious enough apartments to fit five, but with the particular mix of coin and papers presented, the crew had been convinced to cramp themselves for the benefit of the gentlemen’s comfort.
After some space of time, Wilson stood and approached Friedrich. “What is troubling you?”
Friedrich turned from the window and took a sip of his drink, grimaced, then placed it on a nearby table. “Nothing in particular, merely the haunting suspicion that this is something for which we will find no explanation.”
“You have never come to that conclusion before now, why the change?” asked Wilson.
Friedrich touched a finger to the glass of the window, letting his skin absorb the temperature differential. “Are you familiar with the Roanoke Colony?”
“No, what of it?”
“There are many similarities. It was a colony which is said to have disappeared as well. The people simply vanished without a trace, without an explanation.” Friedrich rubbed his fingers against each other. The thoughts he was expressing hid a much deeper tempest, a fact of which all of his friends were aware.
“Surely, there was some sort of explanation. Natives, weather, something. The Americas are treacherous places.”
“More treacherous than Scotland?” asked Niles wryly, “after all, the Americas void of Scots … mostly.”
Each of the Fellowship brooded for a while before retiring. Most of the journey was spent in silence, as each gentleman tried to prepare himself for that toward which they were headed.
Weyland’s estimation had not been far from correct, and even accounting for the necessity of nighttime caution, and various geographic demands which prevented the plotting of a direct course, the Fellows disembarked their transport and set foot upon the Inverness sky-port not more than three days following their departure from Plymouth.
The barge had begun its approach to the mooring mast slightly after the seventh bell of the mid shift, and was firmly attached by the first bell of the morning. When the initial approach had been completed, and the barge was moored to one of the three masts of the Inverness harbor, the duty officer had informed the sleeping Byron as instructed, and so it was that the Adventurer Scholars stood sober against the cold winter breeze as the barge was brought to rest upon the ground.
From there, it would be a simple matter of sitting atop their steeds and re-seasoning their rumps against the saddle as they rode into the highlands just south of the regional capital. Their days on the barge had bestowed upon the Adventurer Scholars an unusual restlessness, and there was as a result a strong desire to push forward. However, a voice of caution suggested that they first meet with the constable in order to confirm their information.
As the sun was only then beginning to rise above the peaks of the highlands, Niles was adamant to begin the day’s journey and to earn substantial progress for their efforts. But in the end, he gave ground to the idea and conceded to the will of his fellows.
Their horses had been well rested during the voyage, and the gentlemen had taken efforts to ensure their proper care. Even so, one of the pack horses threw a shoe as they first exited the city. Thus required to return to the city proper, Niles was at less than his best mood when he strongly urged a smith to warm his forge early. To his credit, the heir to Newstead Abbey was generous with his compensation, and his harsh demeanor was softened by the kind words of his colleagues.
This delay, as temporary as it was, increased the young Byron’s desire to be about the task and to put behind them the “black-eyed Scots.” And so the Fellows departed the city once more. Both the riders and the horses were sluggish in response to the cold air, and the rising hills were no friend to their efforts. It was for this reason that they had traveled only a short distance when the group rested for lunch.
For this lack of proper planning, the Fellows set upon the upward roads of the snow-covered hills far later than was best, and had thus found themselves riding for hours in the dark before they finally set down in a fielded slope under the stars. Although the night was dry, the clear sky had made the evening bitter cold, and more than one of the Fellows felt the fool as they collected themselves in the frost-covered morning.
The ordeal was not, however, an entire waste, for they had turned off of the highway early on the following day, and slightly after noon had come upon the subject of their curiosities.
Entry Three
It was in this latter stretch of the journey, as the troupe walked their mounts along the shore of the river Findhorn, that Friedrich was struck by the scenery. There was some intangible element of the way in which the water struck the snowy banks that led him to recall a legend he had read of some years past.
“Ah! I have it now. I find that my recall has provided me with the details which I had formerly lost!” he exclaimed in reference to a point forgotten by his colleagues. “Inverness, roughly meaning at the mouth of the River Ness. It seems so obvious really; I am nearly ashamed to have missed it.” Friedrich then paused, grinning, as though expecting his colleagues to comment.
Niles shrugged. “Is this supposed to mean something?”
“Well, it very well might,” said Friedrich, with a hint of consternation in his voice, “but I guess that such depends on your familiarity with the Christianization of the pagan lands. Does the name Saint Columba mean anything to you? No? Anyone? Well then … Saint Columba was attributed with Christianizing many of the Gaelic pagans in these very highlands. One of the miracles that has been attributed to him involves a river beast. It is said that he came upon the funeral of a man who had been slain by a beast of the river, so Saint Columba sent one of his men to swim the river.”
“Charming man, I say,” Niles said drily. “No wonder he was sainted.”
“When his man was in the middle of the River Ness,” Friedrich continued, ignoring Niles, “a foul beast charged upon him. Saint Columba turned the beast aside with the sign of the cross and drove it away, saving not only his man but also the people of the region. This sign of faith was said to have contributed directly to the conversion of the Highlands. Of course that was the river Ness, and we are upon the banks of the Findhorn. I wonder … might we find a cut through this northern ridge and return to the sky-port via the Ness? I would be intrigued to see if we might find the very location of this legend.”
“I stand corrected, my dear fellow,” said Niles, with one eyebrow arched. “That was indeed useless in every possible manner of the word. Next time, please be so kind as to keep such things to yourself.”
His lips drawn in a thin, tight line, Friedrich turned and walked his mount away. The rest of them followed, continuing down the banks of the Findhorn.
Weyland leaned in close to Wilson. “Is it possible that our dear friend has ceased his regimen? Or has he lost the proper Christian heart?”
Wilson sighed. “There is no curing a sour disposition. I fear that, despite Rufus’ careful prescription, even cocaine lacks the properties required to bestow a pleasing manner upon the Honorable Niles Byron.”
“So it is not a panacea after all?” asked Weyland, forgetting to keep his voice low.
Wilson held up one hand and replied sotto voce. “None ever claimed cocaine to be a cure-all. Every medication has its limitations. Cocaine has many wonderful effects, but it is no panacea.”
“And this is your medical opinion?”
“It is indeed.”
“If you wish to speak of me,” Niles declaimed in a loud voice, “then please do so such that we may all hear. I would prefer it if all
of my friends insulted me at the same time, rather than parsing it out amongst themselves.”
Weyland flushed bright red, and Wilson cleared his throat, but it was Rufus who spoke first. “You need not add fuel to the flame, Niles. We respect you and enjoy your company, oddly enough. Why else would we subject ourselves to your presence?”
“Why indeed,” muttered Niles, apparently sinking into one of his more petulant moods.
Ahead of them all, Friedrich pulled short, causing the whole train to come to an abrupt halt. “You began the mocking, Niles,” said he, with a shake of his head. “A proper gentleman knows not to complain when his own devices are turned against him. Besides, you mock me without cause. This story may seem useless to you, but for all we know, this disappearance is somehow related.”
Wilson drew back. “Are you suggesting that a monster climbed out from the river and devoured the populace? Is that to be the theory we open with?”
“Certainly not,” said Friedrich. “If that were the case, then there would be signs of conflict with the village; blood, overturned furniture. That, and I would expect there to be more recent accounts of such a beast.” He waved his hand dismissively. “No, no … what I intended to convey is that any local legend is relevant, and for two reasons. First, this particular legend is one which originated in these very hills. It is quite likely that the ancestors of our subjects were among the first to hear, and to repeat the narrative. Yet that narrative survives to this day, which means that it influences not only the past, but also the present.”
Wilson gave him a grudging nod.
“As a side note,” continued he, “let us not forget that it is our purpose is to investigate these events in light of legend and lore, while doing so with the lens and technique of modern Philosophy. We were at first unable to identify a tale that might account for the events which we investigate. This legend is precisely that; it is one which offers a potential loric explanation. This is a point which is worth considering, even if examination shows that the specifics of this particular event fail to match with specifics of the lore. Now, away from the aside and to the second point, even if this narrative is not directly applicable to the subject matter, it may shed some illumination upon the systems of thought that are most dominant among this region's people.”
Weyland shrugged. “While I appreciate the concept, I doubt very much that it will matter. That kind of an understanding is helpful in interpretation, but without any one local with whom to speak, I do not see how that can assist our current endeavor.” He resumed then his walk, leading his mount on down the riverbank.
“It matters not,” said Niles, “for unless I am mistaken, we have come upon our subject. Is that not a farm and house up ahead? Indeed it is. Come then, my fellows, let us set aside our musings and commit to the task at hand. After all, an entire village is missing, and here we are, ready to subject ourselves to the same fate!” He glanced around, grinning at his fellows, then urged his mount forward into the village.
Entry Four
Niles led the group briefly as they neared the village. Upon reaching the outskirts of the town, they happened upon a small farmstead. While there was some indication—even at this distance—of agricultural efforts, it was evident that the primary effort of this stead was in the herding of sheep. As the Fellows approached, they were better able to distinguish between the plots of potatoes and the pens, which should have then been filled with livestock.
What they found when they arrived was little different than that which they had expected. The stead as whole was vacant of any signs of life. The sheep pens were empty. The troughs were filled with untouched and frozen food. The deep snow obscured any sign of what might have happened to the flock, adding to the feeling of unease which was then settling upon the gentlemen.
When venturing into the domicile, they again discovered every indication of an abrupt and unplanned departure. There were no signs of struggle, but neither were there any signs of a planned departure. Clothes remained where they had been set aside for the following morning, and the food which had been set out by the goodwife remained unmolested. The domicile appeared exactly as it would have when the family set down for the night.
The best conjecture that the Fellows were able to surmise from their observations was that the residents appeared to have simply exited their beds in the middle of the night and departed into the void.
When a detailed examination of the residence revealed nothing more than these curiosities, the Fellows set to the task of searching the exterior of the farmstead. This likewise bore no fruit. Although none of the gentlemen were skilled trackers, the layers of snow which had accumulated upon the ground gave a degree of insight to any man with eyes. By this, they could see that a single trail of footprints had been left some time in the past, and this, they concluded, was most likely that of the Inverness constabulary.
As the day was even then darkening, and each breath exhaled grew thicker than the last as it pushed forth into the cold air, it was decided that the Fellows would remount and survey the remainder of the village before bedding down for the night. Were they to find a person to question, then their work would be that much easier. If they found the village to be as they expected, then they would return to this home and warm themselves at its hearth, for they had little fear of contaminating their investigation of this home by sleeping within it, but wished to avoid doing so in any place that had not yet been investigated.
They had, in short order, confirmed their suspicion and found Dalmigavie to be deserted. The streets were barren. The homes empty. Food was frozen in cookery over cold hearths in the houses they glanced in. They then returned to the easternmost hut, where they pulled dry wood from its store and set it to the flame within the hearth. As they gathered around the table for their evening meal, snow began to fall from the sky, and darkness set upon the valley. With the darkness came a silence which embraced the Fellows. The silence encapsulated them, erasing the world beyond the door and enclosing them in a world no more than fifty meters across. When they rose in the morning, they found that their tracks from the previous day had been all but erased overnight.
They tended to their horses first, then saddled them in preparation for a short jaunt through the village. They had, by mid-day, confirmed the state of each of the domiciles within Dalmigavie. While there were some differences, most of the residencies were very much uniform in content and state of being. Not one of the farms possessed signs of recent habitation, and each and every one of them was as abruptly departed as the first.
There was, however, one exception. Near the center of the village was a house which, from the outside, appeared no different from the rest. The furniture of the main room had been set such as to accommodate several guests, and upon the table, perfectly in the center, sat a leather-bound volume.
While the presence of any text within a village such as this might be enough to raise one’s intrigue, what was more perplexing was the combination of the quality, age, and incomprehensibility of the text. It was quite old, to be sure. This was a point which may have been lost to the constable, but the Fellows were not novices to such things and could readily recognize the qualities which made this volume worthy of note.
It was handwritten and appeared to have been bound at a time before the advent of the printing press. The leather of its binding had been aged by unknown years, and the pages were of velum.
The vellum pages were bound in leather which had been aged by unknown years—a point which may have contributed to the constable’s lack of consideration, but which drew the attention of the fellows as would have the scream of a child. By appearance alone, the gentlemen knew that this text did not belong within the impoverished walls in which they found it.
These qualities were not, however, the most perplexing factor, for when the gentlemen opened the tome, they discovered that the words within were not words at all. The pages contained little language so far as they could tell, and consisted mostly of incompre
hensible diagrams and archaic, pseudo-mathematical formulations. At least one may have thought of them as mathematical if they had contained any indication of a numeral system. Instead, the pages were frequented by a series of geometric characters, which were occasionally related in formulations vaguely resembling equations.
Most of these pages contained large, page full geometric diagrams which looked to be more artistic than practical, but which Friedrich recognized as akin to some ancient alchemical notations. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of Alchemical notations. Could this text carry some link to the Tabula Smaragdina, the fabled lost Hermetica? He shook his head. The likelihood of that was slim, but the Hermetica was a secret passion of his. Not since the time of Sir Isaac Newton had any headway been made in the interpretations of the Tablet. But these geometric shapes, upon closer inspection, did not match the Hermetica as he remembered it.
There were, however, exceptions, and a few examples of a written language were scattered amongst the pages, although none of the gentlemen could begin to identify the source. It was presumed to be some forgotten variation of Gaelic, although to this point the gentlemen acknowledged their own ignorance on the topic. Friedrich tried to muddle through the words which read Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.
These words seemed as little more than complete gibberish to the group of men, and they eventually concluded that this tome was most likely a trinket of a lost age which had been preserved by this community for centuries. It was likely meant for little more than to be celebrated as a reminder of this people’s heritage.
While the others continued a systematic investigation of the remainder of the village, Friedrich was left with the task of studying both the unknown tome and the place in which it was discovered. The echoing idea of the lost Hermetica refused to be banished from his mind, and though he tried to focus upon the room, he felt compelled to decipher the contents of the tome. This compulsion was empowered with each turn of the page, and he was enchanted by the knowledge that some dark truth was contained within. We finally he set the tome aside, it was for sheer exhaustion, and he was only then aware of the near manic state which driven his continued examination.
The Dandy Boys Mysteries (Vengeance Book 0) Page 16