by carl ashmore
But Joe wasn’t stopping for anyone. ‘Can’t you see just how cool this is? We’re gonna be sooooo rich… Like Jay-Z rich. Just imagine - you have one of these freaky visions about the winning numbers on the national lottery and we’re laughing all the way to the bank. And then there’s the Euromillions, the footie, horse racing, boxing - we can bet on all of them … and we’ll win … everytime!’
Uncle Percy scowled at him and said in a sharp voice, ‘Joe – for once, could you try and show some sympathy for the feelings of others.’
‘I’ll do that when I’ve got my Ferrari!’
Becky frowned at Joe, who had begun to do a dance. Slowly, her lips arched into a smile. Before she knew it, she was laughing.
‘That’s better.’ Joe grinned at Becky. He stopped dancing and said, ‘Now are you gonna look on the bright side of this? Let’s face it, your weird vision has already given us some ace news.’
‘What’s that?’
‘If we end up in some remote jungle in the future, we can’t be stuck in Medieval England forever, so that’s a result, isn’t it?’
Becky nodded. ‘I s’pose.’
‘And what did we look like?’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Did we look about the same age as we are now?’
‘I think so.’
‘Then that means not only will we make it back safely, but we’ll make it back pretty soon. Another result!’
Uncle Percy looked impressed. ‘Excellent reasoning, Joe.’
‘Thanks,’ Joe said. ‘But I’m still all about that Ferrari.’
Just then, a worrying thought struck Becky. She turned to Uncle Percy. ‘But there’s something else you should know - Drake knew I might develop this new power.’
Uncle Percy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘At Christmas, when you left us to plant those squid bombs in Memphis, the Butterby cyrobot asked me if I’d developed any more gifts. As we now know, that was Drake asking the question and not Butterby. So did Drake know about Hilary’s powers?’
‘Yes,’ Uncle Percy replied.
Becky nodded. She mulled this over for a few seconds, before coming to the conclusion it didn’t matter one way or the other. ‘I’ve said it before,’ she said. ‘There’s no point worrying about what he does or doesn’t know, so as Joe said last night, let’s concentrate on getting this sword, and finding a way back home.’
‘Quite right, sis,’ Joe agreed.
‘So are you going to be okay with this?’ Uncle Percy asked.
‘What choice do I have?’ Becky replied honestly. ‘I can’t change it, so I’ll just have to deal with it whatever way I can.’ She fixed Uncle Percy with a firm stare. ‘But I would like to know why it’s happening to me.’
‘Wouldn’t we all …’ Uncle Percy muttered.
Chapter 27
The Road to Urquhart
They were packed and ready to depart within ten minutes. They said their farewells to Lady Ann and Lady Caroline, before gathering in the courtyard to say goodbye to Marian. Becky noticed Marian seemed unusually troubled to see them leave, although she did her best to conceal this behind a mask of smiles.
But it was only when she and Will hugged that Becky understood why.
Their embrace lasted barely ten seconds, but it was one unlike any Becky had seen before. Will and Marian held each other in silence with such raw, unfettered emotion, their bodies locked as one, absorbed in each other, the rest of the world seemed to be disappearing around them. Becky felt embarrassed to watch, not because of anything inappropriate, but because the tenderness of the embrace was so pure, so revealing it made her feel like she was intruding on the most special of moments. And she knew at once whatever feelings Will had for Marian were returned a dozen-fold.
Will was the first to break off. He turned and walked away, not once looking back. As everyone followed him, Marian seized Uncle Percy’s arm and said in a small voice, ‘Sire, I beg thee take good care of Will. I pray to be with him again soon.’
‘I shall try, Lady Marian.’
Seeing the jeep for the first time, Tuck’s legs threatened to buckle. ‘By God’s bones,’ he said. ‘Tis a carriage fashioned by Saint Eligius himself.’
‘Believe me,’ Joe said, just loud enough for Uncle Percy to hear. ‘It’s got nowt on the Ferrari I’m gonna get.’ He aided Tuck on to the backseat and sat next to him, trailed by Becky. A few moments later, Uncle Percy started the engine, swung the jeep about and drove off.
They were barely a mile from Wulvern House when something occurred to Becky. ‘Uncle Percy, shouldn’t we ditch the jeep, get some horses and ride to Scotland?’
‘Why?’
‘What if Kruger and the Associates have an Alto Radar? Even if they didn’t see us leave at Alnwick Castle, they’ll know we were there and that one of their jeeps is missing. Won’t an Alto-Radar tell them exactly where we are?’
‘It would,’ Uncle Percy replied, ‘and that very fact crossed my mind. Indeed, last night I struggled to sleep worrying myself about it. In the end, I stayed awake and watched the horizon for signs of Associate activity. But I didn’t see any. The fact is, Alto-Radars are not standard issue in many time machines and most TTs tend to install them for cautionary reasons - being spotted by the casual onlooker, that kind of thing. Most TTs go to great lengths to respect the verisimilitude of whatever time period they visit. Well, I doubt Emerson Drake or Otto Kruger give a tinker’s cuss who sees them, regardless of the time period. Subsequently, I doubt they’d have Alto-Radars installed in their time machines. Who knows? When all's said and done, we have a choice: we can drive to Abriachan in a matter of hours, or travel by horse and have it take days.’ His lips tightened into a line. ‘And I’m not convinced we have that much time.’
By nine in the morning, the sky was the colour of milk. Considering there were very few paths that resembled anything like a normal road, they were making good time. Even Tuck had come to terms with travelling by jeep, and it didn’t take long before he announced in a loud, booming voice they were in Scotland. Energised by this, he asked Joe something that had seemingly been playing on his mind.
‘My prince, I understand it is not my place, but shall you return to this time, force the claim of king and take the land that is rightfully yours?’
‘No,’ Joe said curtly. ‘And stop calling me a prince. I’m not a prince, I’m not a king, I’m not a Sith Lord, and my name’s not George - it’s Joe … Joe Mellor … and I live in Wythenshawe, Manchester in the twenty first century with my mum and weirdo sister, and that’s that. End of story. D’you understand?’
‘But my liege –’
‘But nowt!’ Joe interjected. ‘I’m not your liege. I don’t even know what that means. And I don’t want to talk about any of it anymore. End of!’
Becky spent the next hour watching the scenery pass in a blur. She had never been to Scotland before and was astonished by the harsh, unforgiving splendour of the countryside. A light rain had started to fall, covering the fields like varnish. Rolling hills of purple heather painted the skyline and a gentle mist clung to the glens, which were carpeted with yellow bracken.
It was three hours into the journey when Becky saw a stretch of water extend before them, carving the landscape in two.
Loch Ness.
She had seen countless pictures of it in magazines and books, but nothing could have prepared her for its magnitude or beauty. A virulent wind whipped the water into angry swells, which battered the shoreline relentlessly. And then she gasped with surprise. Set on a rocky peninsula on the north shore, the silhouette of a huge castle dominated the horizon, looming imposingly over the Loch.
‘Urquhart Castle!’ Tuck said darkly. ‘As damnable a place as Abbadon.’
Uncle Percy turned the wheel and steered them away from it. ‘Don’t worry, Angus, that’s as close as we’ll be getting to it.’
‘What’re you doing?’ Joe asked, dismayed
. ‘Aren’t we going to check it out?’
‘Why would we, Joe?’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘This isn’t exactly a sightseeing tour.’
‘I know that,’ Joe replied. ‘But I don’t wanna visit Medieval Scotland and not take a gander at Morogh MacDougal’s castle.’ He pointed at the castle. ‘I mean, look at it … it’s very cool…’
Uncle Percy exchanged a look with Will. In an instant they understood each other perfectly. Joe had been through the most traumatic twenty-four hours - the least they could do was grant his request.
‘Of course we can, young man,’ Uncle Percy replied, smiling. ‘And you’re quite right – we should always spare a few moments to appreciate the world around us.’ He glanced back at Tuck. ‘Apologies, Angus, but we’re popping over to Urquhart.’ He steered the jeep in the direction of the castle. ‘As a matter of fact, Joe, even in our time there’s a legend that claims the Loch Ness monster inhabits a cave beneath Urquhart Castle…’
The moment his words were out there it was clear Uncle Percy regretted it. And the uncomfortable silence that followed made it apparent everyone felt the same way.
*
From a distance, Urquhart Castle looked like an imposing and impregnable fortress, an outstanding specimen of medieval craftsmanship and construction. However, on close inspection, it was clear it was a desolate, eerie, empty shell, overgrown with moss and brambles, which gripped the crumbling walls.
Uncle Percy brought the jeep to a halt to the right of a lowered drawbridge.
‘Wow,’ Joe said, looking around. ‘What a dump!’
‘It has been a century since human voices have echoed in these walls,’ Tuck said, his usually crimson face whitish and pale. ‘This is a cursed place. And we should not be here…’ Fear in his eyes, he pulled free his sword.
Everyone left the jeep and made their way over the drawbridge into a wide courtyard, choked with weeds, many of them three feet high.
Joe glanced at Becky. ‘You sure this isn’t the jungle from your freaky vision?’
‘No,’ Becky replied, before looking over at the high walls opposite. A raven was studying them from a turret, its jet-black eyes following their every move.
‘Not exactly the Disney Castle, is it?’ Joe muttered to Becky.
Becky and Joe walked across the courtyard, through an archway, and stopped at a wide breach in the wall that led down to the water’s edge.
Looking out over the Loch, Becky’s eyes were drawn to what she thought was a fallen tree washed up on the rocks below. As her eyes locked on it, she nearly threw up. At least thirty seagulls were tearing the flesh from the corpse of a black and white whale, perhaps twenty-five feet long and five tonnes in weight.
‘Flippin’ ‘eck!’ Joe puffed, before shouting back, ‘Uncle Percy. Will. Come and look at this!’
Hearing the panic in Joe’s voice, Uncle Percy, Will and Tuck sprinted over, drawing their swords as they ran.
Reaching Joe, Uncle Percy’s mouth tumbled open. ‘Oh my word!’ he gulped.
‘It’s a Killer Whale, isn’t it?’ Joe asked.
‘Erm, it was,’ Uncle Percy replied.
‘What’s a Killer Whale doing in Loch Ness?’
Uncle Percy took a second to compose himself. ‘Err, the Loch is connected to the North Sea via the River Ness, so it’s not surprising one could enter the Loch.’
‘It could’ve got here by bus for all I care,’ Becky said. ‘Shouldn’t we focus on what killed it? I mean just from its name I’m guessing a Killer Whale is pretty much at the top of its food chain, right?’
‘You could say that,’ Uncle Percy replied flatly.
‘And it’s pretty safe to say it didn’t die from eating a bad prawn, did it?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Tis the Kraken’s doing,’ Tuck said, his hand tightening around his sword. ‘The great beast still exists.’
‘Let’s not jump to conclusions, shall we?’ Uncle Percy said.
‘No, let’s leap to them,’ Becky replied, her voice rising. ‘And what was it you said about a legend that it lived in a cave beneath the castle?’
‘Okay … tour’s over!’ Uncle Percy said decisively. ‘Everyone back to the jeep…’
No one disagreed with him
.
Chapter 28
The Fallen of Ascalon
As one, they raced back to the jeep, and within minutes were tearing away at a breakneck speed. The further they got from Urquhart Castle, the more Becky began to feel at ease. She had seen too many bizarre and terrifying creatures over the last nine months to doubt anything other than the Kraken’s existence, and if the legend did prove correct, if it did indeed inhabit a cave beneath Urquhart, then the further they were away from there the better.
As they pushed on, the weather took a turn for the worse, and soon booming claps of thunder and wispy streaks of lightning accompanied the rain that had plagued them for most of the day.
Soaked through to her skin and feeling miserable, Becky pulled her hood around her face and watched Uncle Percy power them up a steep incline to a plateau overlooking the Loch. It was then she saw a small stone church. Constructed from large, grey stone blocks, Saint Cuthbert’s was composed of a curved apse, a thatched nave with pointed lancet windows and a high rounded tower. Rows of gravestones rose from the damp ground at angles, fencing the church like an attacking army.
‘That’s a lot of gravestones for a tiny church,’ Joe said.
‘Saint Cuthbert’s is the last resting place of the hundred,’ Tuck said solemnly.
‘The hundred?’ Joe replied. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘Morogh MacDougal’s brothers in arms,’ Tuck replied. ‘Beneath this sacred ground, the same ground that once welcomed Saint Columba, lie the bones of a hundred of the bravest Hospitallers slain at the Battle of Ascalon. It is said that MacDougal wished his comrades to be buried in this sacred ground and not where they fell in the barren desert, and so he brought their bodies home with him on his return from the Crusades. Then he rebuilt the crumbling Saint Cuthbert’s as a shrine to his fallen colleagues.’ He motioned toward the gravestones. ‘Tis even said he carved the inscriptions himself out of respect for his fallen brethren.’
‘That’s a very touching story,’ Uncle Percy said, pulling the jeep to a halt.
‘MacDougal was the noblest of Knights,’ Tuck replied.
Uncle Percy stepped out of the jeep, everyone following close behind.
Staring out over the black water, the snow-tipped mountains and the sweeping glens, Becky felt as far from civilisation as could be. Even Wulvern House seemed a world away, in another time, another place. She also felt a swelling sense of apprehension. Were they close to finding the Sword of Ages? Could it really be here, at this abandoned church in the middle of nowhere? Did Kruger know they were here? And was the Kraken real and a genuine threat? The one thing she knew for certain was that every time they came close to finding an Eden Relic they were pitched into the most dangerous of situations. Would this time be any different?
Just then, her eyes fell on a nearby gravestone. Curiously, there were no actual words on it. Instead, a symbol was carved ornately into the sandstone. It was the eight pointed cross she recognised as the symbol of the Knight’s Hospitaller, and just below that, so tiny it could easily be missed, a black bird, its wings extended. She scanned a second gravestone. The Hospitaller symbol was also there, but the black bird had been replaced by what looked like a ship’s anchor. Finally, her gaze found a third headstone. She crouched down and leaned in for a closer look. Again, the Hospitaller symbol was present, but this time it sat above the figure of an animal covered in spines. Intrigued, she stood up as Uncle Percy appeared at her shoulder.
‘I wonder if Morogh MacDougal really did carve all of those symbols himself?’ he said, his outstretched hand fanning the cemetery. ‘Now that would be a great deal of work.’
‘It would,’ Becky replied, before pointing at the headstone she’d just b
een studying. ‘What do the symbols beneath the Hospitaller cross mean?’
‘I don’t know,’ Uncle Percy replied, studying the headstone. ‘Perhaps they’re a pictogram identifying the characteristics of that particular Knight.’
‘So that Knight had the characteristics of a hedgehog?’
Uncle Percy chuckled. ‘Who knows? Hedgehogs are renown for being amongst the most deadly of the animal kingdom, not to mention gallant in the company of lady hedgehogs.’
‘Really?’ Becky said, surprised.
‘No, not really,’ Uncle Percy said with a playful smile. ‘But I do know the name for a baby Hedgehog is a Hoglet, a term I do find most agreeable.’
‘A Hoglet?’ Becky laughed. ‘Yeah, I like that, too.’
‘Good,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Now shall we go and see what secrets lie within Saint Cuthbert’s hallowed walls? For the first time we may be on the verge of finding an Eden relic without being in an immeasurable amount of mortal danger.’ Turning on his back foot, he set off for the church, trailed by Tuck, Will and finally Joe.
Becky followed them up a footpath, through a stone archway to a studded timber door, obscured by shimmering cobwebs. Uncle Percy wiped away the webbing, turned a heavy iron handle and pushed open the door.
Nerves flooded Becky as she entered the church. Inside, swirling clouds of dust clogged the air and the stench of dry rot clawed at her nose. Facing right, she saw an elaborate font and an octagonal pillar with a cross within a circle etched into the stone. Then she turned about and her eyes widened. Set into the far wall was a spectacular stained glass window, as impressive as any she’d seen in a cathedral, depicting a fair haired, bearded man, his head encircled by a shimmering halo. Saint Andrew’s arm was curled around the shoulder of a young boy who was holding five loaves of bread and two fish.
In silence, the group walked as one toward the window, their footsteps echoing against the tiled floor. As they advanced, Becky could make out a series of Latin words in glittering gold letters at the base of the window.