Unlocking the door, she turned back to Michael and without saying a word, gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Then she reached out and grasped his hand, just for a moment. “Thanks again.” She smiled, and pulled the door closed behind her.
Erin was exhausted, but slept peacefully for the first time in weeks.
Chapter Twenty-one: Kidnapped
THE PORT OF OBAN, ARGYLE, SCOTLAND
At 6:30 A.M. Wednesday morning, Lys Johnston was awakened by a sound outside her room on the third floor of Oban’s historic Caledonian hotel. Cautiously drawing aside the drapes, Lys peered out, blinking her steel-blue eyes against the light. Dawn was breaking, and from the window she had a panoramic view of the Bay of Oban with the green island of Kerrera just offshore, and the distant mountains of Mull glowing red in the morning sun.
In the harbor, brightly painted fishing boats were already heading out for their day’s work. Further to the south, the massive ferry, the Isle of Mull, was alive with activity as crewmen prepared to take on vehicles for the first crossing of the day.
To the north, Lys caught a glimpse of the four men Erin had seen the night before. They were walking south along the quay on Queens Park Place, heading for the ferry terminal parking area. As they passed in front of her room, they paused to talk to a woman who was leaning against the concrete railing at the edge of the quay. The woman was tall and slender with a pallid complexion and long, jet-black hair. After an animated discussion, the four men continued toward the ferry terminal. As they departed, the woman turned, looked directly at Lys, and smiled. There was no mistaking her. It was Kareina.
Lys quickly pulled on jeans and a tee-shirt, slipped on a pair of sandals, and ran down the stairs. Exiting the hotel, Lys looked around frantically. Kareina had already reached the corner of Queens Park Place and George Street and was walking north toward the Corran Esplanade.
Damn! Lys said under her breath, I forgot to pick up my cell phone. I should let Holmes and Piper know where I’m going. But there was no time to turn back. Sprinting to catch up, she reached the corner of George Street just in time to see Kareina turn right on Argyle Street. Lys ran to the corner of Argyle and peered down the street.
Kareina was much closer now. Lys slowed her pace. Moving away from the tourist area on George Street, they walked past rows of plain, three-story tenements. Lys followed as Kareina turned left on Tweeddale Street, passing an old Congregational church and more three-story tenements of grey granite.
Tweeddale was a narrow street jammed up against the base of the mountain. On the right, Lys passed a set of steep stairs known to the locals as Jacob’s Ladder, leading up the hillside toward McCaig’s Folly. Further ahead, the street dead-ended at the rear of the famed Oban Distillery.
Halfway down the street, Kareina turned into a narrow alleyway that passed between two shabby tenements. Peeking around the corner, Lys caught a glimpse of Kareina slipping through the door of a small carriage house at the rear of the tenements.
Lys cautiously approached.
The carriage house had been plain and utilitarian in its day, and that day was long gone. Its grey slate roof sagged like a sway-backed horse, while its broken windows and crumbling walls confirmed that it had gone unused for many years.
The left-hand panel of the door had been left slightly ajar when Kareina entered. Lys walked quickly to the door and peered through the crack, but could see nothing in the darkness within. She waited a minute, listening, but no sound emerged from the dilapidated structure.
Logic told her that she should turn back, but Lys didn’t want to let Kareina get away again.
Easing the door open a few more inches, Lys stepped inside. Pausing while her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she looked around, but could see no one. The building smelled of mold and decay. The bare rafters over the coach area were rotten and badly bowed, and the hay loft over the horse stalls in the back had collapsed many years earlier.
There was no sign of Kareina.
Lys noticed another door at the rear of the structure and was cautiously making her way across the liter-strewn floor when she was startled by the sound of the door slamming shut behind her. She whirled around and found herself face-to-face with Kareina.
Kareina studied her in silence, with lips drawn into a sneer and eyes burning with hatred, then took two steps in her direction.
“So we meet again… my good friend Lys.” Kareina smirked, then slapped Lys hard across the face.
Recoiling from the blow, Lys felt two sets of hands grab her arms from behind. Turning her head, she found herself looking into the leering eyes of the men from the BMW.
“Let me introduce my subordinates, Botis and Turell,” Kareina said. “I know you’ve seen them before, but you’ve never been properly introduced.”
Lys struggled frantically against their grip, but they held her arms firmly.
Kareina stood back and eyed Lys for a moment, while Lys continued her futile battle to break free.
“You’ve grown stronger since I saw you last,” Kareina finally observed. “When our last attempt to kill you failed, I had hoped to possess you and use you for our purposes, but I see you’re beyond that now. What a pity. It would have been interesting to possess a singer.”
Looking to Botis, Kareina said simply, “Bind her!”
Lys was stunned by the superhuman strength Botis and Turell both possessed. Ignoring all her struggles, the two calmly forced her hands behind her back and bound them securely with duct tape. Almost immediately, they stuffed a foul-smelling rag deep into her mouth, wrapping a strip of duct tape around her head several times to hold it in place.
As Lys fought to keep from gagging, they roughly threw her body to the floor and bound her legs as well.
When they finished, Kareina spoke again. “On our first attempt to kill you I spent three long weeks setting up the scenario. It was such an amusing game. You tried so hard to be a good friend to poor, lonely Kareina.” Grinning sadistically, she continued, “It’s too bad your Irin friend, Araton, spoiled everything by cushioning your impact when the Corolla went off the cliff.
“But I wouldn’t count on help from your Irin friends this time,” she added, “They’re all fully occupied now … on Iona.”
Lys looked on in horror as Kareina withdrew a small hypodermic from a pouch and filled it with yellowish liquid from a vial. Plunging the needle into her thigh, Kareina smiled, “This should keep you quiet ‘till we’re ready to move you.”
Lys felt an unpleasant warmth spreading through her body. The carriage house began to swim around her. She caught a glimpse of Botis standing over her, darkened eyes glaring. His lips went taut and he bared his teeth in a demonic grin. Then only darkness.
There was a sensation of motion. Lys opened her eyes and began to struggle back to consciousness. The rag and duct tape had been removed. It was dark, and she was being carried through the crowded streets of Oban. People looked at her as they passed. Some were laughing. She tried to resist, to cry out, but her body refused to cooperate.
Her vision began to clear, and with it came awareness of her situation. Botis and Turell were walking on either side, with her arms draped over their shoulders. Although smiling and laughing, they each held one of her wrists in an iron grip. They’d liberally sloshed a bottle of scotch down the front of her shirt, giving the impression to passersby that they were helping a drunk friend back to her hotel.
They crossed George Street and started down the concrete ramp at the north end of the promenade. By the lights on the promenade above, Lys glimpsed Kareina waiting in darkness at the bottom of the ramp, standing beside one of the tiny fishing boats that crowd the quay.
With no power to resist, Lys was dumped roughly into the back of the boat, face-down on the weathered deck. Botis and Turell climbed in after her. The pungent aroma of rotting fish made her gag.
Standing on the ramp, Kareina watched as Botis crudely bound her hands behind her back with a length of rope. “Take her out to
the middle of the Firth of Lorne,” Kareina ordered, “… well away from the town, and drop her overboard. Make sure the anchor line is secure around her when you do. I want no mistakes this time.”
Kareina shoved the boat away from the ramp and Lys felt the engine rumble to life. The tiny craft swayed for a moment, rocking from side to side, then began moving across the harbor.
The ride out to the Firth of Lorne was long. A stiff offshore breeze had sprung up, and once outside shelter of Oban harbor, the seas were rough. Lys was still battling the effects of the drug. She passed in and out of consciousness several times. Once she vomited.
But the cool night air was gradually reviving her. She tried to formulate a plan of escape. Gaining strength, Lys struggled with the rope binding her hands. Botis hadn’t anticipated much resistance from her, and the bindings were not tight. She quickly loosened them enough that she could slip her hands out when the time came.
Now, if they would only attach the anchor line that loosely.
She knew there was no hope of escaping her captors in the boat. Her only opportunity would come after she was in the water. If she could free herself from the anchor line and somehow swim to shore…
Lys decided her best strategy was to feign unconsciousness.
After plowing through the rough seas for almost an hour, the boat finally came to a stop. Leaving the engine idling, Botis and Turell came back to Lys and quickly wrapped the anchor line around her limp form. They looped the line around itself several times and pulled it into a knot, then lifted her up and calmly tossed her into the churning water.
As they hoisted her body from the deck, Lys began to hyperventilate—breathing rapidly in and out—trying frantically to build up the oxygen supply in her bloodstream. Then, as they released her, she took one more deep breath and hit the water.
It was cold! Much colder than she’d anticipated. Thousands of pins and needles were jabbing at her, all over her body. Then she felt the anchor line tighten around her with a jerk, and begin pulling her down. She knew she had mere seconds to free herself.
Slipping her hands from the rope bindings, she began to fumble frantically with the anchor line, but the weight of the anchor had pulled it tight and her fingers were already growing numb.
She fought the rising panic. I must stay in control. I must think clearly. Now… where is the end of this line?
She felt along the coil of rope that was tightly wrapped around her waist. One end was taut, leading downward to the anchor, pulling her steadily into the depths, but the other end hung free. She grasped the loose end with numb fingers and traced it back to the knot. Then she began to pick at the knot to loosen it.
Her chest was burning. Her body demanded to exhale, to take a breath…
She continued to fumble with the line in total darkness… working to pull the loose end out of the knot. She sensed the line loosening, sliding further down her body. And then the line slipped free. It was gone! The weight of the anchor pulled the remaining line from around her torso as it plummeted into the depths of the Firth.
Lys sensed she was rising, but there was no light above… only darkness in every direction. She was disoriented. Which way is up? She could only wait for the buoyancy of her body to bring her to the surface.
Her lungs were screaming to exhale, but she forced herself to resist. The air in her lungs was the very thing pulling her upward. She didn’t dare release it.
And at last, she was there!
Breaking through the surface, Lys exhaled explosively, then gasped—her chest heaving—drinking in huge gulps of the crisp night air. She’d never realized what a luxury it could be just to breathe.
As she began to catch her breath, Lys glanced around in the darkness.
Her plan had worked so far… she was free… but which direction to go now? She knew she wouldn’t last long in the frigid water. Her teeth were already chattering and her body shuddered in the cold.
The boat was nowhere in sight, but she didn’t dare scream for help. Not yet. Not ‘till she was certain Botis and Turell were gone.
She bobbed up and down in the churning sea, trying to catch a glimpse of shore.
The stars overhead gave her a rough sense of direction. To the northeast she saw a lighthouse, but it was much too far away. There were faint lights along a distant shore to the west, but she couldn’t tell how far. She set out toward the lights, knowing her chances weren’t good.
It was difficult swimming through the heaving water. Wind-blown swells surged under her, propelling her skyward, only to smash her down, thrashing her body violently.
Lys was growing disoriented. Every muscle ached, but the waves kept coming.
She tried diving under the swells. That’s better.
Lys established a ragged rhythm: popping to the surface to gulp air, swimming one or two strokes, then diving again before the next wave struck.
Her heart was pounding, but she continued to thrust herself through the icy water, stroke after stroke. Willing herself to survive.
Finally she paused to catch her breath, treading water. Fear was gnawing at her. The glowing beam of the distant lighthouse swept by overhead, continuing its endless rotation, but the lights on shore seemed no closer.
Lys screamed for help and waited for a reply, but none came. Taking a deep breath, she called out again. Nothing.
Fatigue was setting in. She could no longer feel her fingers.
She commanded herself to swim … kicking numb legs through icy waters. Her pattern repeating with endless monotony… two strokes, then dive, then a breath… two strokes…
Her arms were burning. Her muscles quivered with exhaustion.
And then she was sinking. Her arms and legs had stopped moving. Her body demanded rest.
Get a grip, Lys!
She struggled clumsily to the surface and gasped for air. Her body was sluggish.
Got to keep moving, Lys. One more time…
Focusing on the distant lights Lys forced herself to swim, but she realized now she’d never make it. It was simply too far. A few more strokes left her exhausted and gasping. She knew she didn’t have the strength to keep going.
In desperation, Lys shouted for help again, but there was still no answer. She cried out one last time, then the surging waters engulfed her and she sank.
It was cold and dark beneath the surface, yet somehow welcoming. It felt good to stop struggling.
Her body was numb. She no longer felt the pain or the cold. Is this how it ends?
There was no way to go further. No way to survive. She was far from shore with no one to help, and her strength was gone.
In utter hopelessness, she relaxed and awaited death’s icy embrace.
But as she felt her body slipping silently into the depths of the Firth, Lys remembered something Eliel had said. It was just one brief phrase, but it exploded within her, releasing a faint surge of hope.
There IS a way to get there. She told herself. There has to be!
Laying hold of Eliel’s words; Lys reached into the deepest recesses of her being, searching for some hidden pocket of strength, then steeled herself to make one last desperate drive for the surface.
Chapter Twenty-two: Ben
THE ISLAND OF MULL, ARGYLE, SCOTLAND
At first Holmes didn’t know what awakened him. He lay still for a moment. Then he heard it. It was a sound. A deep throbbing roar like the rumble of distant thunder. But it did not dissipate. It increased steadily, like the lumbering growl of an approaching locomotive, building in intensity until it seemed to reverberate in his body. Even his bones seemed to be shaking.
And then the room around him joined in. The glasses on the bathroom counter began to clatter. The pictures on the wall, the lamp beside the bed, all joined in the rising cacophony.
“What the…” Holmes mumbled as he and Piper both sprang from the bed, pulled on robes, and headed out the door. The sound was louder outside. The ground beneath their feet was shaking.
&
nbsp; It was a clear, crisp morning. The sun had not yet risen, but the light of the approaching dawn had already spread across the sky, illuminating the distant red peak of Ben More.
In the ancient past Ben More had been the largest volcano in northern Europe, a beautiful, snow-capped peak, ten-thousand feet in elevation. But before the dawn of human history a massive explosion had blown away most of the mountain, leaving only a three thousand foot remnant. The titanic force of that explosion had collapsed Ben More’s subterranean passages, cutting it off from its magma source and rendering it virtually extinct.
But as Holmes and Piper slept, an army of Archon warriors had unsealed the ancient lava tubes and reopened the long-closed channels, releasing once again the massive power of the earth’s core. By morning, Ben More, the last active volcano in northern Europe, had ended its long dormancy.
The mountain now thundered angrily as a river of magma, churning with explosive gases, surged from the planet’s depths.
“Watch for Ben,” Holmes muttered.
“What?” asked Piper.
“Erin’s word yesterday… That’s what her gift was telling her. ‘Watch for Ben.’ Ben isn’t a person, it’s a mountain.
“That’s the Archon strategy. They’re trying to cut off access to Iona by rekindling the fires of Ben More.”
The rumble of the volcano increased in volume.
Suddenly there was an explosion. They saw it before they heard it… a huge ash cloud silently blossomed near Ben More’s peak and rose hundreds of feet above the summit. Moments later, the shock wave arrived: a violent, shuddering roar impacted their ears and shook the ground beneath them. A volcanic vent had opened.
By now, Erin and Michael had joined them in front of the inn. Every eye was focused on the mountain.
Iona Portal (The Synaxis Chronicles) Page 19