The dark water swirled around her. She tried to swim again, pressing forward with her last remnants of strength toward the distant lights. She’d only gone a few more strokes when a huge wave lifted her up, and smashed her down, slamming her onto a hard surface of solid rock.
Ignoring the pain, Lys looked around in unbelief. She was still far from shore. The jagged rock barely broke the surface. Each new swell that passed crashed down around her, threatening to wash her back into the sea. But in the troughs between the waves she was high and dry. She drew numb legs under her and stood up shakily. Waves continued to crash against her feet, but she stood on solid ground. The rock was not large, but it was land.
The beam of the distant lighthouse continued its steady sweep across the sky. Off to the west she could still see the distant lights of shore. If only she could make it till morning, there would be hope of rescue.
As dawn approached, the receding tide left her well above the surging swells. The waves no longer crashed against her. When the first light of dawn broke, Lys sat shivering on the exposed rock.
“Lady’s Rock!” exclaimed Michael.
“What’s that?”
“I’ll explain later. Keep going. How did you get off the rock?”
“Just after dawn, some passing herring fishermen heard me calling and came to my rescue. Ben More was already erupting by that time. They insisted on taking me north, up the coast to Tobermory, but when we saw the ferry coming they agreed to drop me at Craignure.”
“Erin was standing on the shore when we landed. We’ve been talking ever since.”
“Michael, I’m sorry we worried you,” Erin broke in from the rear seat, resting her hand on Michael’s shoulder, “I didn’t realize how much time was passing. When Lys told me her story, it completed the process you began last night. When Lys described how she kept pressing forward, even after she lost all hope of survival, I remembered something Piper told me right after the incident at the ranch.
“One evening I was laying in bed, paralyzed by fear, reliving the horrors of the ranch over and over in my mind. Piper came in and sat with me for a long time. She told me something that didn’t really penetrate at the time. She said, ‘It may be that none of us survive this, but we can’t focus on that. We’re in a battle, and the stakes are bigger than all of us. All we can do is take things one step at a time and keep moving forward.’
“Michael, that’s what Lys was doing. She saw what was at stake and determined that, no matter what, she had to find a way through. I’ve been so focused on my own pain, I forgot the big picture. But now I understand.”
Erin looked at him with a strength and resolve Michael had never seen in her. “I may die on Iona, Michael, but I won’t hold back in fear. Araton once told me I’d have to face death to fulfill my destiny. I’m ready to do that now. I must get Iona, no matter what.”
As they talked, the Hummer continued its steady pace across the darkened island. Even for the Hummer it wasn’t an easy path.
They traversed a hellish landscape of swirling ash and cinders, glowing red in the light of the distant volcano. No road was visible, though a few shattered and burned-out remnants of houses still stood. But the four-wheel drive Hummer plowed steadily through the knee-deep ash, a twenty-first century lunar rover crossing a surreal moonscape.
To the north, Lys caught a glimpse of something new… a river was slowly winding its way among the steep hills and ash-covered glens of Mull. It was a river of fire, glowing dark orange-red and searing yellow. In places it was crusted over with black slag, but the leading edge glowed white hot as it steadily advanced. The lava was headed south, slowly snaking its way toward the sea.
And then, up ahead, peering at them across the infernal landscape, Lys saw two eyes, glowing red, staring at her.
As they approached, Lys squinted through the blizzard of falling ash. The glowing eyes became clearer. Horizontal slits, shining in hellish red.
She finally knew what they were. They were tail lights! Coming into view was a twisted lump of charred metal and glass that had once been a Mercedes C220.
Could Holmes and Piper have survived? Lys began mashing her hand on the horn, blasting it repeatedly.
Then she saw the lights of the Mercedes begin to flash on and off. Piper and Holmes were alive!
Chapter Twenty-four: The Fionnphort Gun Club
THE ISLAND OF IONA, ARGYLE, SCOTLAND
As they made their way into western Mull, the Hummer emerged from the path of the pyroclastic flow and conditions steadily improved. A light grey coating of ash still covered everything, and the sky overhead remained dark with swirling clouds from horizon to horizon.
Drawing near to Iona, Michael noticed new movement in the sky. The sky ahead seemed to be alive, a churning maelstrom that swung across the sky, completely encircling the island of Iona. Raising his binoculars, he saw that within the storm of smoke and ash, a massive winged army made up of millions of Archon warriors, had surrounded the ancient island.
Directly over Iona, a cloud of Irin circled, standing guard against the overwhelming horde. More than 30,000 Irin had gathered on Iona, but the dark forces now circling the place numbered many times that. And they were steadily drawing closer, slowly hemming in the island’s defenders.
From time to time, Michael could see clumps of Irin break away from the cloud and move to confront the Archons, but they were immediately surrounded by packs of Archon warriors, and in a flash of light, fell from the sky.
Arriving at Fionnphort, the waters of Iona Sound were churning as undersea earthquakes still rocked the area, but the intrepid crew of the Calmac ferry agreed to take them across.
As they emerged from the ferry on the Island of Iona, Patrick and several others were waiting for them on the ramp.
Patrick, Reetha, Marty and Ron excitedly embraced the new arrivals as they walked up the ramp from the ferry. They were particularly thrilled to see that Lys had been found.
“We’ve been so worried about you!” Patrick began. “All communications here went down yesterday, and then when the volcano erupted this morning we feared the worst. You must tell us the whole story, but first let me introduce some allies from Mull.”
Gesturing to three new additions to their party, he said, “I’d like you to meet Angus MacLean, Catherine Campbell, and Malcolm MacKinnon. They call themselves the Fionnphort Gun Club.” Holmes shook hands with all three and introduced them to the rest of the group.
Angus and Malcolm were tall and muscular, both in their mid twenties. Rugged outdoorsmen, they wore their hair long and unkempt, with Angus sporting a full and untrimmed beard.
But Catherine was something special. About the same age as her companions, she had the healthy glow of a woman who lived much of her life outdoors. She was dressed casually in jeans and a man’s flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, yet her attire only served to accentuate her natural femininity. Tall and slender with a good figure, her unkempt raven tresses fell softly over her shoulders, framing a face that was gentle, yet strong. Like the men, she carried a Remington 12-gauge pump-action shotgun.
As they walked together toward the local pub, Holmes gestured toward the sky. “Interesting weather you’re having today…”
“Living near Iona we’re used to strange sights in the sky,” Angus answered in a thick Scottish brogue. “But I never seen anything like this. Looks like Armageddon.”
“These three know all about the angels,” Patrick added.
“You don’t live across the water from Iona an’ not know about angels,” Malcolm explained.
“And Michael…” Marty interjected. “Angus here has read all your books.” Turning to Angus, he added, “By the way, Angus, this is Michael Fletcher, the author of those books on angels.” His warm greeting revealed that Michael had discovered a fan.
They sat together around the big table in the corner of the pub, and Holmes ordered drinks all around. The first order of business was to bring the group up
to date on the adventures of the last twenty-four hours. They sat enthralled as they listened to the accounts of Lys’s escape from death, Erin’s deliverance from the shades, and the rescue of Holmes and Piper from the ruined Mercedes.
After the quick briefing, Holmes directed the group’s attention to the situation at hand. Turning to Angus, he said, “Tell me about your gun club.”
“It’s not what you’d call a real club,” Angus answered. “Malcolm, Catherine an’ I have been pals since we was wee bairns. Even as children, we spent our summers hunting and fishing all over the island. So the club is just us—just pals who go huntin’ together.” Noticing their fascination with Catherine, he added, “Y’know, Catherine here is one of the best shooters in the Highlands.”
“What do you hunt?”
“Ducks, hare, an’ pheasant mostly, and sometimes vermin.”
“Today we’ve been huntin’ vermin!” Malcolm added with a laugh.
“So tell me, what’s been happening here since yesterday?”
“Those boggin’ cowboys drove in with their fancy guns, and tried to take over Fionnphort.” Catherine said, eyes flashing with anger. “They shot up the town, pulled down the cell tower, and cut off the phones. Then they tried to shut down the Calmac ferry, not lettin’ anyone on or off Iona.”
With a look of satisfaction on her face, Catherine added, “So we got our guns, and after a bit of a barnie, we drove the choobs off the island!”
Malcolm continued, “The damn cowboys stole a wee boat and escaped here to Iona where they’ve barricaded themselves at the fairy mound.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” Holmes observed, “driving Rex and his gang off Mull. They’re pretty tough.”
“Most of you Yanks think the Scots are weak ‘cause of the kilts,” Malcolm commented, smiling, “But we Celts have always been fearsome fighters.”
“We even stopped the Romans,” Catherine added with pride. “The Romans conquered everything else in the world, but when they got to our wee isle, Emperor Hadrian said, ‘those Scots are too tough for us.’ So they built a wall from sea to sea to keep us out.”
Angus glanced at Catherine with a twinkle in his eye, “Y’know, among the ancient Celts, the women went into battle right along with the men. And it’s said the women were the fiercest fighters of the lot.”
“And none of ‘em wore kilts.” Malcolm added, “They all fought stark naked, not a stitch of clothin’ on their bodies.”
“Even the women?” Patrick questioned, glancing at Catherine.
“Even the women!” answered Angus.
Catherine smiled mischievously, “See, the Celtic women used to paint their bodies all over with hideous war paint. Then, when they went into battle…” Catherine grasped the front of her shirt as though preparing to rip it off… “they’d rip off their clothing an’ go chargin’ after the enemy. One look at them and the enemy went runnin’ for their lives!”
“That certainly gives new meaning to the term ‘painted lady,’” laughed Reetha.
“’Course Highland lassies don’t need war paint to make the men go runnin’ from ‘em nowadays.” Angus laughed, as Catherine punched him in the arm.
“But Holmes…” Patrick interrupted, trying to get the conversation back on track. “We have a serious problem. Rex Vanderberg and his thugs are heading up a small army of Archon supporters. I counted more than twenty of them. They’re camped at the foot of Cnoc Angel. Even with our friends from Mull, I don’t see a way to get past them. They’re armed to the teeth with M-16s, Kalashnikovs, and Uzis.
“Yet over our heads that circling Archon army is getting closer by the hour,” he continued. “I don’t see a way we can get close enough to the Hill of the Angels to open the portal.”
Listening to Patrick’s analysis of the problem, Michael burst out laughing. “Well, if that’s our problem, we can all relax and have another pint.”
Everyone turned to Michael in surprise. Erin grasped Michael’s arm, “Michael, it sounds like you see something we’re missing. What is it?”
Michael looked at Erin and then to Patrick. “Don’t you see? It’s all a game. It’s the Archon strategy. Rex is just a diversionary tactic.”
“Patrick,” Michael said, “what made you think you needed to get to Cnoc Angel? It’s because Rex and his gang have set up their camp there. They’ve barricaded themselves at The Hill of the Angels because that’s where they want us to focus our attention.”
“But don’t we need to get to the hill to reopen the portal?”
“Patrick… I’ve been pondering this since we left Texas. Your cousin Columba used to pray at the Hill of the Angels, but nobody said that’s where the portal was located.
“The ancient legends say that on the night Columba died, a huge pillar of fire was seen on the eastern tip of Iona as the island filled with thousands of angels who had come to honor their friend Columba.
“My theory is that the pillar of fire was formed by thousands of shining angels pouring through the portal.
“But…” Michael continued, “the record specifically said the pillar of fire was on the easternmost part of the island. Any map will show you that the Hill of the Angels is not on the eastern part of the island. It’s located in the exact center of the island. So the Hill of the Angels is NOT the location of the portal.”
“Then where is the portal?” demanded Patrick.
“Remember your map of Iona, Patrick. The easternmost part of the island is found on Iona’s northeastern shore. In other words, at the location of Columba’s monastery. So the Portal was located at the monastery, not the Hill of the Angels.”
“But the monastery covers a big area,” Patrick responded, “much of which is now covered by a medieval Catholic church.”
“Yes, but we have another hint as to the location of the portal,” Michael explained.
“The ancient Celts had a practice of erecting cairns – pillars of stones – at places where they sensed the spiritual barrier was thin. So if the monks of Iona knew there was a portal into the heavens, they would have marked it. All we need to do is find the location of the cairns.”
“But there are no cairns on that part of the island now,” Patrick came back. “I’ve been all over that area many times.”
“Of course,” agreed Michael. “Any cairns, along with any other structures from Columba’s day, would have been torn down by peasants scavenging for building materials during the medieval period.
“But there’s one place within Columba’ monastery where we know cairns once stood. In fact, it’s a hill that eventually came to be known as the Hill of the Cairns.”
“Cnoc nan Carnan!” Patrick exclaimed, “The Hill of the Cairns! That’s Columba’s hill, where his cell once stood between the upright slabs of stone.”
“That’s right Patrick. I believe the portal was directly over Columba’s cell.”
“When Columba died and the angels poured through the portal, the monks marked the spot by erecting cairns of stone where his cell had been. So they renamed the place, the Hill of the Cairns.
“And that means we don’t have to capture the Hill of the Angels from Rex’s army…” Michael continued, “We just need to walk up the road to your Hill.”
“If that’s true,” Holmes said with rising excitement, “then we have our direction.” Glancing around the table, he added. “I believe it’s time to go and open the portal.”
“Wait a minute, Holmes,” Erin cut in, “I need to say something before we go.”
All eyes turned to Erin. “As we walked into the pub and sat down, I felt my gift activate. I got a strong impression I believe could be important.”
“What is it?” Holmes inquired.
Brushing a lock of chestnut-brown hair from her eyes, Erin looked around nervously at the group, “It’s a word for all of us,” she said, “including our friends from Mull. What I heard was this, ‘The enemy has formed a strategy to destroy you. Today you will face the powers of evil.
But you are now twelve. Your number is complete. Each of you has been called here for a purpose, and if you stand with each other, you will have what you need. Stand together and do not fear.’”
“I’ve been hearing something similar,” Patrick agreed. “I’ve sensed we’re heading into a major confrontation, and all of us need to be ready.”
Looking at Holmes he continued, “I also have a personal word for you. What I heard is this…‘In the confrontation to come, don’t hesitate to act. Do what you know is right, and don’t fear the consequences. This is your destiny.’”
When Patrick finished, the group sat in silence for a moment, trying to digest what had been said. Holmes, in particular, focused on their new friends from Mull, seeing them as if for the first time. With their addition, the group had, indeed, increased to twelve. But he wondered what the next few hours would hold for all of them.
Looking at Patrick, he said quietly, “I think we better get to your hill. Show us how to get there.”
Chapter Twenty-five: Releasing the Angels
THE ISLAND OF IONA, ARGYLE, SCOTLAND
Although it was only four in the afternoon, the landscape around them was shrouded in thick darkness. The churning clouds of dust and ash still blanketed the sky while the distant fires of Ben More cast a dull, red glow over everything.
With Patrick leading the way, the members of the synaxis followed the twisting road past the ruins of the medieval nunnery and the Columba Hotel. The Fionnphort Gun Club followed close behind.
They’d almost reached Cnoc nan Carnan when three dark figures stepped out of the shadows, blocking their path. In the lead was Rex Vanderberg.
When the lookouts reported to Rex that his wife was on Iona with the synaxis, he’d gone mad with rage. Leaving Grat in charge of the men at the camp, Rex, Reno and Bryce had come hunting for Erin. Reno and Bryce held black Kalashnikov assault rifles slung loosely over their shoulders while Rex carried a Beretta automatic pistol tucked into his belt.
Iona Portal (The Synaxis Chronicles) Page 21