by G R Jordan
Kirkgordon stared in disbelief. “Minions?”
“Yes, minions. The masters and lords of those creatures are quite something else. They are usually held back from a full appearance here on earth, but at certain times they can be released. We are in one of those times. That’s why Mr Austerley is somewhat agitated.”
“Austerley? Are you saying he’s connected to this?”
“Mr Austerley is somewhat sensitive to the Eldars. At times like these, times when an Elder could be summoned forth to our existence, people of a certain disposition become attached… no, attuned to certain beings. They become entwined with their thoughts and sometimes actions. If they pursue these beings and expose themselves to these impulses, then certain knowledge can be passed to them. It is rarely of a nature beneficial to themselves or our human race.”
“So Austerley’s a problem?”
“A problem and, possibly, a solution. Bear with me and I will explain. Austerley’s agitations caused the folk in the pub to come to our room. Clearly, they recognized his connection, his previous showing downstairs contributing, no doubt, to their suspicions. I was indisposed with Mr Austerley, trying to contain his ramblings, when I heard a knock on the door. Being occupied, I told them to try again later when I would be able to attend to their inquiry. However, the door was rudely opened and in strode the robed gentleman who had been rather abrupt with ourselves in the bar.
“On seeing the man again, Austerley started to yell and weep on the floor, screaming out E-O-D, E-O-D. Behind the robed man, a few of the locals tried to barge into the room but only caused confusion due to the limited dimensions. The robed man tripped and fell onto Austerley, who kicked and lashed out in a rather effective manner, causing the individual to yell for assistance. Austerley, meantime, had ripped off the emblem on the robe and declared doom to all because of the Order represented.”
“Ah yes, the Entwined Order of Divinity!”
“Hardly, Mr Kirkgordon. The Esoteric Order of Dagon! A name I only remember because Mr Austerley brought its very roots back to me with his constantly agitated rambling as he kicked out. First Elliot’s, La Fayette, Washington Avenue; but then he continued: Gilman house hotel, Allen said it, Zadok said it. Mr Kirkgordon, we are talking about Innsmouth!”
Kirkgordon looked bemused. “Innsmouth. What the hell is Innsmouth?”
“Where, Mr Kirkgordon, where. An old seaport in New England and a serious place of trouble for our American cousins some hundred years ago. There was a cull there, by our friends in the FBI, of some very dangerous customs and creatures. People that became fish-like and frog-like through their worship of Dagon. It appears that some of the Innsmouth folk got out – and they seem to have migrated here. You saw some of them on the pictures in the church. And you encountered one, hand to hand. If my suspicions, or rather Mr Austerley’s suspicions, are correct, this place is overrun with them.”
“You said Austerley was both a solution and a problem. How come?”
“Well, unfortunately, the man in the robe got quite aggressive towards Mr Austerley and regrettably I had to remove him from the room.” Havers lifted his eyebrows.
“The broken window. So the blood on the ground belonged to the man in the robe, not you or Austerley.”
“Some of the blood on the ground was Mr Austerley’s.”
“The robed guy got to him then? Gave him a crack?”
“No, I did. I had to shut him up and find an exit from the situation. In his hysterical state, Mr Austerley was compromising that objective.” Havers showed no sign of emotion, just pure practicality. “Other men then tried to occupy the room but I managed to force them away. Unfortunately, my gun was taken in the process.”
“But didn’t they trail you?”
“Once on the ground I spotted Mr Austerley’s bleeding mouth and placed my handkerchief into it. The handkerchief appeared to perform both functions required of it more than adequately.”
“But why is he a problem?”
“When we were on the ground, turning to proceed clear of the building, a face appeared at the window. Mr Austerley recognized him immediately. His visage was similar to mine but this time he was not wearing a suit. I believe you have had trouble with him before.”
“Farthington! He’s here?” Kirkgordon was wide-eyed with horror.
“It would appear so. Hence, Mr Austerley is compromised.” Havers drew a grim face.
“I’m not with you, Havers.”
“Mr Austerley, when he screamed about the Esoteric Order of Dagon, was even more concerned when he saw the man in the robe. He recognized the colours as belonging to One Who Is The Gateway. The events that are to happen need a person like this.”
“Then we’re in luck, as he’s dead.”
“Yes… and no. There is someone who has the link, someone who has read that book, someone who understands all the ins and outs, all the ceremonies, the precursors, the elements necessary. Someone who can take the man’s place.”
“Austerley.”
“Exactly, Mr Kirkgordon. And Mr Farthington knows this. When they interrogated him they learnt a lot. Not the secrets to unlock, but rather the potency of, the mind of Mr Austerley. Turned the wrong way, Mr Austerley is lethal to the cause of everything good and decent. I have considered just dispatching him.”
“No!” Kirkgordon scoured Havers’ face looking for any pretence of drama, or a humorous context being drawn upon, but none was forthcoming. Havers was his usual calm, dispassionate self. “So why not, Havers? What’s stopping you?”
“Because it would not stop them, only slow them down. There are others. There will be other moments to release these beings. And I would probably condemn everyone, including myself, to an early grave. The problem would continue. When I finish things, Mr Kirkgordon, I finish them completely.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“From my conversations with Mr Austerley, I know there is a time during the summoning ceremony that the portal being used to bring forth the creature can be closed forever. Mr Austerley knows how. But we need to get him close.”
“You’re going to give him up. Let them place him in the ceremony.”
“Yes. They will come here for Mr Austerley. They will take him. The rest of us are in danger, for we are of no use to them.“
“What about the tunnel James and his mum hid in? Is there a way out through there?”
“No, it’s blocked. I’ve been holding here, trying to get Mr Austerley on board with the plan. I’ve also been trying to heal him. Miss Calandra will help with that. She’s very good with wounds. An impressive old woman!”
“So we need to move out. That’s a risk. Havers, are you sure about Austerley? He’s liable to conjure this thing up just to get a photo of it for his scrapbook. Trust me, he’s not stable!”
“That’s why we need to be there. Why you need to be there. You’ll need to do the necessary if he can’t hold it together. I know he’s your friend. But I know you will do it. You can be as dispassionate as me when you need to.”
“No, I can’t,” said Kirkgordon, turning away from Havers, “but I will do what needs to be done. And he’s not my friend, he’s just the poor bastard who screwed up my marriage.” Kirkgordon stared into the blackness of the room. “And what if this thing gets loose, what then?”
“Then, Mr Kirkgordon, you pray, and seek a higher power to deal with it. There is no blackness like this being. One of the Eldars and supremely powerful, mighty Dagon will wreak a darkness over this earth.“
Suddenly Kirkgordon burst out laughing.
“I don’t think you are taking me seriously, Mr Kirkgordon.”
“Dagon is one-nil down against my God, Mr Havers. And my God uses the weak. Austerley’s going to be perfect, just perfect!”
Donaldina
Austerley had calmed down from his ramblings but it took a good two hours before he was fully coherent. Kirkgordon had wondered how Havers had extracted so much information from him but surmised H
avers was well versed in the background of all this madness.
Certainly, Havers seemed to be accurate on most counts, and regarding Calandra he was certainly correct. A remarkable job had been done on Austerley to make him seem almost human again after his wounds from the encounter with the robed man. Indeed, when Havers explained his plan to Austerley, he seemed positively excited.
“The one thing we don’t know is the site for the summoning,” explained Havers, “so we’ll have to keep good tabs on you, Mr Austerley. Between your friends and I, I dare say that shouldn’t be a problem. Once we have closed the portal, we’ll need to be about ourselves and find an exit off this rock. The Innsmouth settlers will not be on friendly terms with us and we’ll need a small army to keep them quiet. So if anyone should see a boat or an escape of any sort then speak up.”
“Excuse me, Mr Havers?”
“Yes, James, my boy?”
“Well, I don’t know of any boats, but there’s an aeroplane on the far side of the island. Mr Mackenzie had it before he walked off the rocks that night. He used to go up in it a lot, but it’s been in his shed since then. At least, the frame is; he used to keep the wing separate as he told me that it was really expensive, and he didn’t want the frogs getting it.”
“Whereabouts is this place, James?” asked Havers calmly.
“On round from here… maybe, what, two mile, Mum?”
Mrs Macleod nodded. “But it’s not safe, Mr Havers! That’s where old Mackenzie said he saw them walking fish. I used to think he was drunk. He was such a laugh down the social… but with the drink and that… well, no one believed him.”
“It’s okay, Mrs Macleod,” said Calandra, putting her arms around the woman, who had buried her face in her hands, weeping intensely.
“Gotta be an option, Havers?” said Kirkgordon.
“I know a lot about aircraft,” Austerley beamed. “I could probably get that thing going!”
“No, Mr Austerley, your path is set. Perhaps I could turn a hand with young James. I’m an ex-RAF engineer, you know!” It was Havers’ turn to show a bit of pride.
“Then you should go, Havers,” Kirkgordon said. “It’s an option that needs to be pursued. We’ll take care of Mrs Macleod and then get after Austerley. After all, I’m always his wingman!”
Austerley grimaced at Kirkgordon before looking over at Calandra and smiling. “It’s fine. I have Calandra watching me.” Calandra played the enchanted party but deep down she knew she was merely protection for Kirkgordon. It would be his arrows that would take down Austerley in the case of failure.
“Agreed,” said Havers. “James, say goodbye to your mother and get a warm, dark coat. Don’t worry, madam, I’ll take care of him.”
Mother and child embraced deeply while Kirkgordon worked out how they should leave Austerley in the house. They didn’t want to make their plan obvious. Calandra took a secretive peek out of the front door.
“Churchy, the footprints are covered up. It’s still snowing quite heavily.”
“Good. Havers,” called Kirkgordon, before the government man could exit the house, “take the boy on your shoulders for the first mile. It’ll look like you’ve left Austerley behind. It’ll keep the boy out of their hunt too.”
“An excellent idea, Mr Kirkgordon.” Havers took Kirkgordon’s arm and drew him aside. “You know I can’t wait for any of you. Once it’s working, I have to go. There are no guarantees for the boy, either.”
“I know. Just hide him well. I’ll come get him. And I’ll try to indicate where the gate is for the cavalry when they come.”
“Do that, Mr Kirkgordon, otherwise they’ll have to wipe out everything. And I mean everything.”
“Understood. And Havers…” Kirkgordon extended a hand. “God guide you.”
“And the best of British luck to you, sir.”
Within thirty seconds, James was riding on Havers’ back out of the house and across the deepening snow. Mrs Macleod watched her son until Calandra pulled her back into the house, scanning the horizon for signs of anything fishy.
“Okay, Indy, time to get your make-up on,” said Kirkgordon. “Lie down on the floor. Mrs Macleod, get a flask and head down into the tunnel. Calandra and I will join you shortly.”
“Felt safer with Havers around,” grumbled Austerley. “Didn’t get bloody singed with him.”
You stupid arse, thought Kirkgordon. Havers would put a bullet in your head if necessary. All this over a woman I’m trying to keep away from.
“Come on,” said Calandra, “lie down and I’ll sort you out.” Like a lamb, Austerley obeyed, and soon Calandra was opening up some of his facial wounds, letting small amounts of blood trickle across his face. She calmed his pained look with several delicate kisses to his temple. Kirkgordon threw some furniture about and placed some props beneath Austerley’s head.
“It’ll look like Havers has gone for help. Just don’t get up.”
“All right! Just let me be.”
“And remember. Close the gateway! That’s all that matters.”
“What the hell do you think I am? Some sort of clown? I know what to do. In fact, I’m the only one who knows. For all your weapons and talk, who knows how to deal with all this? Me, flippin’ me. So get off your high horse, you perfectly heroic arse-head!”
“I’ll deal with this. Get to the tunnel,” Calandra whispered to Kirkgordon. She knelt beside Austerley and gently caressed his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Kirkgordon turned and strode away, praying to God he wouldn’t need to use an arrow. He swore he could hear Calandra singing.
Mrs Macleod was sitting quietly, if anxiously, in the small tunnel beneath the stairs. A flask of tea sat beside her with three mugs, a nip of milk and some digestive biscuits. She smiled at Kirkgordon as he clambered in beside her, placing his quiver and bow within easy reach.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being here. Helping us. It’s like the worst nightmare you can imagine. Living amongst them has been so crushing. Soul-destroying. They look at you like you’re the spawn of hell. Total ignorance and loathing. Funny though, turns out it’s them that’s the spawn of hell. Frasier said he didn’t like them. He never trusted them. Funny eyes, he said. And they have. Never realized how funny.” Mrs Macleod breathed in deeply, settling her nerves back down again.
“Frasier?” asked Kirkgordon.
“My man. James’ father. He won’t have a clue. Telephone’s not working, either. He’ll think it’s a power cut or something. Still, he’s better clear of it. James is better away too. Maybe he’ll get away with that Mr Havers. Very polite man. Good man, I think.”
Kirkgordon knew not to destroy hope at these times. “I’m sure you’re a good judge of character.” As long as there’s room for two on the plane. Poor kid. Still, he’d be a sitting duck if we hadn’t found them.
“Are you married, Mr Kirkgordon?” asked Mrs Macleod, interrupting his train of thought.
“Yes, yes, I am. To Alana.” Alana’s face rolled into view.
“That’s nice. Children?”
“Two. Peter and Ruth. Both under ten.” Again, he could see them clearly.
“Are you close, you and Alana?”
“It’s been difficult. My work, it… gets in the way.”
Mrs Macleod nodded sagely. “Time away always does. Frasier was difficult when he started the rigs. Never felt home was his own. Was it time away that hurt your relationship?”
“No, not really. I just… I just… well, let’s say… I brought my work home with me.”
They sat side by side in silence, each lost in deep thoughts of their better halves. Kirkgordon saw the curve of Alana’s shoulders, the long T-shirt she would wear when she really wanted him. He saw the wonder in her eyes when they “rocked the Kasbah”, as she put it. How he wanted to be back there right now. How he needed to be there. To hold her as they watched their young ones sleeping. He would not let this darkness take them away.
&nbs
p; “Do you pray, Mr Kirkgordon?”
“Well, they do call me Churchy,” laughed Kirkgordon, “but it’s been a while. We ain’t been on great terms.”
“He’s always with me, Mr Kirkgordon. Never left me through all this. Even when Frasier had the trouble with that woman. He’ll see me through, and you too. He’s on your side, Churchy!”
“I pray you’re right… what’s your first name?”
“Donaldina.”
“Thank you, Donaldina.”
She took his hand in hers and quietly spoke to her God for the next five minutes in a whispered voice. Protection for them all and a vanquishing of this darkness were her major themes. Often, she would clench tightly Kirkgordon’s hand. When he opened his eyes, Calandra was crouching before them, head bowed.
“Cup of tea, dear?”
“Thank you. Just black please, Mrs Macleod.”
“Donaldina, dear. Just Donaldina.”
“Cally. Just Cally.”
“Is Austerley set?” asked Kirkgordon.
“Yes. He’s good. Don’t worry, he knows what we’re into. Have some faith, Churchy.”
The tunnel was tight and Calandra had to sit down on Kirkgordon’s knees, sending that chilled ripple through his body. It was time to wait for the search party to find them. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the tunnel, and behind him Kirkgordon was able to see the rockfall which blocked the way. Not an easy job, but he reckoned the obstruction was removable, although some extra time would be required.
Time seemed to expand in the darkness, and Kirkgordon was glad of his watch to keep track of it. His mind drifted back to Alana and those precious moments of intimacy. And yet, sat on him was a woman who was in so many ways so similar. Cally especially reminded him of the Alana he had first met; she had her shoulders too. He longed to have that Alana back, but he knew time and circumstance may have sent her away forever.
Then they heard it. The front door burst open. From the sound of it, the hinges were in extreme danger of losing their mountings. Then footsteps, and something else. It took Kirkgordon a moment before he connected the sound with a hop, hop, hop motion. Then voices. Agitated, quite loud too. But in a foreign language. No, not foreign. Alien, unknown. Like the smacking of pouting lips. Like a… Kirkgordon felt sick… a fish. And then another voice. Damn it, if that wasn’t a croak of some sort. Then a human voice. Well, a dry, rasping, near-croak of a voice. It was telling Austerley to get up. Then the heavy footsteps. Austerley’s elephantine plodding. And a hop, hop, hop. And the slam of the door.