Not Far From Aviemore

by Michael Reuel

XV

  Fear Liath Mòr

  Upon Ben Macdui, the unpitying qualities of the mountain Adam had read so much about was closing in about him and Clyde, and the irony that such conditions had arrived just as a life had been placed in jeopardy was not lost on him. In part he had wanted such an experience, knowing that supernatural events on the mountain were typically tied to the freezing air and snow-covered ground, but he was painfully conscious that it was not just his own skin at risk and for this he was unprepared.

  Visually the sight did not disappoint; the shifting, mesmerising mists accompanied by unhurried snowfall seducing their heartbeats away from all sense of urgency, but at the same time the air had become fierce and unforgiving and he took no satisfaction due to the part he feared he had played in instigating events.

  Little more than twenty-four hours previously he and Becky had made that very ascent, marvelling at a privileged view of Scotland he now found it difficult to imagine was real. The Ben Macdui of his dreams was now before him, disguised in the fogs of folklore and mystery, but offering no time to consider if the Grey Man’s permission was warranted or if there were terrors about them they might not be able to withstand. The life of a child depended on their charge and so they simply had to be strong enough.

  From Adam’s perspective the memory of the previous day did little to inform the ascent, with thickening snow now covering the best footholds and forming deceivingly over treacherous slopes. Rushing the walk too fervently was not advisable, but a firm and determined pace was set, while they needed both wit and vision to assess where the best path lay and what ground was to be avoided. The task also demanded energy neither of them really had, but the peril of Alice’s predicament provided the adrenaline to aid the reserves they were running on. Even so, the further they progressed the easier it was to lose faith in Affleck’s summation; nothing about being on top of Ben Macdui in such conditions seemed sensible – something Clyde would have agreed with even in the mindset of plotting drunken adventures.

  At least the two of them did get on well, both sharing good humour over what had occurred at the inn four days ago. The first part of the climb would have been awkward had they remained silent but Adam found his new companion genial and easy to talk with – in fact it turned out the local was better informed on the dangers of the mountain than Affleck’s analysis of his drunken adventures might suggest. Clyde had grown up in the mountains’ shadows and ventured up them often. Such familiarity proved crucial to the task and was no doubt part of why Affleck was willing to put his faith in them.

  Of Clyde, Adam learned that he had been thrown out of college a few months previously because too much drinking affected his grades, and so was on bad terms with his parents and planning to move away. Until then he planned to carry on drinking. As for his friend Jim, he had a full-time job but had just split up with his girlfriend and taken to spending his weekends wandering through another type of mist – that of smoking weed. In this respect, seeing as Jim had a fortnight off work, talking him into drinking his holiday away rather than smoking it was a means of making the best out of the situation by indulging in a lesser evil.

  ‘Do you know Alice?’ Adam asked.

  Again he received the response, ‘Everyone knows everyone here.’

  ‘Have any kids her age ever climbed the mountains before?’ he asked instead.

  ‘Not that I know of, but I know where Affleck means. There’s a drained tarn some boffins were worried people would drown in a few decades back. Once we get across the summit it will be right beneath us.’

  ‘I guess we’ll be glad it was drained.’

  ‘I suppose, but that’s not how Affleck sees it. There’s been a lot of tampering with the mountains by tourism chiefs, he’ll tell you that in his youth they looked very different. We’ll still need to be careful on the summit, there’s lots of dips that the snow might have covered, but if we head straight across it we should be OK.’

  Nearing the summit, they reached the uneven ground Adam had been cautious of even without the snow. This time there was reason to use the pickaxes and climb as much as walk, the shear physical effort and concentration of which ended any conversation. The descent was likely to prove even more difficult, especially if one of them was carrying a child, but knowing they would have their own prints to follow in the attempt provided a crumb of comfort. Another being that the wind was not too fearsome to put their task in doubt, though they both knew it had the habit of changing every ten minutes on such heights. Of the snow beneath their feet they also became glad. Although on the mountain it was more like sand than the fluffy snowballs townsfolk thought fit for throwing in each other’s faces, its pure white form needed only the faintest of moonlight to be visible to the eye and the torches they carried would die eventually.

  By the time they set foot on the summit their lungs were burning and their legs felt like lead weights, but they had proven themselves capable of passing the most arduous part of the journey and had only to tread the elongated mountaintop, locate Alice and return without falling to their deaths for the mission to be a success.

  The mountain was no longer in the mood to be civil, however. Something otherworldly marked their arrival and both of them felt the hostility upon stepping into its domain. By choice of divided or united identity – Scotsman and Englishman; or else fellow Brits – they walked that rooftop of the world, but it mattered not under the watchful eye of the being whose courtesy they dared; it was another’s territory upon which those mortals chanced their lifeblood, claimed by unholy authority in a plain of existence beyond comprehension.

  For Adam it arrived as a moment of clarity unlooked for. Of the many mysterious locations he had visited, whether active, abandoned, slumbering, coiled or moribund, he felt the realisation that all activity emanated from that mountaintop; the epicentre of whatever spirits were or had ever haunted that region of vibrant folklore. An eye-opener that brought no pleasure to his inner scientist now that life was at stake. They were pitted against a power that had the skill to be unnoticed, as on the previous day when Adam had been enchanted by the music instead, but it made no such attempt to be aloof anymore. A glance between them was enough to know they shared the same apprehension, but neither spoke for fear of impacting further upon their willpower to proceed. One step at a time they continued, accompanied by the sensation that balance had become precarious, though this had nothing to do with the height. It was their mental strength that was being challenged, to balance a tightrope of courage or else give in to panic and flee. With every step they sensed their fate being assessed and what else could they do in response but bow their heads to a greater will, to the judgement of a being with no traits of fallen mankind? They had no say in the matter and, for some reason, did not even attempt to question their sanity. Just as it had become convenient for the universe to be as boring as atheists preached, the task before them had exploded with complexities that would continue to expand for eternity, while as mortals all they could do was hold on to a piece of matter and hope they did not burn up.

  Persisting with their great urgency proved unfeasible, poised as they were under the judgement of a higher power. Almost they forgot what they were there for, except that something precious depended on them, but no attack came and the terrible presence did not reveal itself in full and so, apologetically, they began their way across the elongated summit. Unholy dread does not pass quickly like a sudden near-death experience and the being that marked their passing had not the impatience of mankind. As condemned men forced by spear point to cross a lake of ice they walked, heavy foreboding giving them no respite, but they prevailed against the fear and so it was that the ice did not break. Perhaps the Grey Man thought his will enough to deter them, if so by great charge only did they withstand, but across the peak they tread and at last their feet began to quicken with the impression that the attention of the watcher was left behind. On rounding the direction indicator they began a more urgent pace again and, though the uneasi
ness did not pass, they recalled who they were and what they sought. Instinctively Clyde took the lead, being confident of his footing and so temporarily they began the longer but less arduous descent which, upon finding Alice, they would not have the luxury of continuing on so long as time was of the essence.

  Neither spoke of the fear. With the crux of their task before them it was a secondary concern only, for they would soon be approaching the drained tarn and putting the efficacy of Affleck’s claim to the test.

  Along Ben Macdui’s elongated spine were numerous curves of its form leading to various winding and uneven levels that might have proved enticing for anyone without common sense to explore – until they fell to their deaths. The first such curve was their destination on this night, as it soon circled about to the drained tarn to which Clyde knew where best to leave the path for access. It turned out to be located where Adam had suspected but there was little relief in having this confirmed, for seeing those same paths transformed only served to invite doubt that a little girl was to be found alive and well in such a remote and lofty location. The shelter Affleck had spoken of was not immediately noticeable and only by overcoming a battering of futility did they persevere towards a more thorough search.

  ‘The footsteps we followed could have led here,’ Adam said, sounding more optimistic than he felt. In response Clyde called out Alice’s name a couple of times, but not even an echo returned from the mist before them.

  ‘Come on, she might think our voices are evil spirits or something,’ Clyde said, proceeding onwards for a full search of the basin and the many ledges that lined its rim.

  Beginning their search, the first ledges proved to be less treacherous than the view had convinced them to imagine and so they attempted to check out every nook and cranny for any sign of Alice. No quick solution presented itself, however, and soon they were faced with contemplating a search of the more dangerous slopes that offered many enclaves in which a child might perch and hide but also a heightening of the likelihood of falling to their death. This agonising dilemma was made worse by the gloomy prospect they were silently coming to realise, that they were just as likely to find Alice dead as alive – or else greatly harmed by the cold. In adopting the task to save a child’s life they might ultimately be required to undertake another no one with a soul could go through unchanged, that of carrying a deceased child back to its mother. No experience they had suffered so far could haunt them for as long and as deeply.

  To their dismay no footprints were found, though there was a chance the falling snow would have covered them all by now. Neither was there any answer to their calls. Finding nothing more than snow and mist, it proved impossible to deny misgivings at the romantic notion that the child had run to a memory of her father, seeming now a slimmer hope than when first told.

  ‘I really don’t know what Affleck would advise now,’ said Clyde, contemplating the climb away from the tarn while wishing he’d asked for the warden’s permission to attempt such a task. Both were compelled to search further, however, concluding the risk preferable to abandoning the search only to find out later that Alice’s body might be a short distance away and never knowing whether her life had been beyond saving. The thought also lingered that she might be able to hear them but be too terrified to answer.

  ‘Can you shout something that would comfort her,’ Adam suggested, ‘tell her her mother’s waiting perhaps?’

  ‘Alice!’ Clyde shouted. ‘Your mother’s well, the doctors made her better. She’s waiting for you back at home.’

  Again there was no response from the ether, but it is not unheard of for children to hide and stay quiet at times when adults think it common sense to speak up. They knew by now they were intent on continuing regardless, however – at least as far as their grip would allow – but what the results of such action would have been we can only now speculate on, for it was here that their adventure on Ben Macdui met with yet another complication and an encounter that would make all goals and outcomes uncertain.

  The true Fear Liath Mòr is not shy or timid of revealing itself when judging matters afoot that feeble mortals should not proceed with in such a secret place. Perseverance before psychological nakedness might have been unusual, but the Grey Man would only stand aside for so long and knew of no human being to have withstood his physical approach.

  Their susceptibility to the oppressive atmosphere had lessened since climbing down into the tarn, but a fresh wave of fear stopped them dead in their tracks just as they were about to take on the more perilous route. No more blood-chilling than before, but its arrival was bristling with activity and urgency this time and accompanied, Adam thought, by an inhuman note that seemed to hang on the air. In a city nightclub the sound would not have been noticed, but in remote and empty regions even the subtlest chord of intimidation succeeds in being far more oppressive than the human soul is capable of bearing. At first they looked to the sky, but the sound was about them, emitting from an indistinct direction.

  In a less pressing situation they might have debated for some time what the sound was – which to Adam brought the tale of Frere to mind and the sound that had pursued him for miles and driven him mad even as he tried to sleep – but there was no time for any observational comment to be made. Danger approached with a fury that saw the mountain’s guardian discard its famous stealth, revealing itself on the ledges of the very footpath from which they had descended. There the mist shivered and swayed in a motion that would have been hard to dismiss as belonging to natural phenomenon even were it not for the being that then emerged.

  Heightened sensory perception was not needed; they both saw him. The Grey Man appeared before them – but not a man; a giant as older Albionic tales speak of before people and nations had wrestled these isles for their own favoured songs and colours. Except this giant was not dumb or stupid, as the clumsy oafs our ancestors were said to hunt down, but majestic in appearance, tall rather than thick-set and with a well-balanced frame that gave off nothing like the stomp to be imagined from beanstalk dwellers. Ancient craft it may have possessed to manipulate the atmosphere and terrify the senses, but the being looking down on them was a physical entity that belonged not to mind’s eye alone. Any wish for the humanoid shape to be an illusion of the mist proved frail and the Adam of a few days ago would no doubt have judged the level of disbelief he subsequently felt to be absurd. Accounts of his presence were no longer assigned to years gone by; Ben Macdui remains his haunt after all these decades – who knows, perhaps it has been for longer than man has noticed. Adam’s expedition had been to unearth or witness that legend, a plan that now seemed as misguided as a child looking for a tiger in the jungle. What could a person do except cower in such a presence?

  Even the whim of a mystery is not to be treated lightly. Events had caused Adam to switch off his scrutiny of whether the Fear Liath Mòr was real – since Becky had turned up in fact – but prior to being wrapped up in external affairs he had begun to suppose the phenomenon did exist on some spiritual or psychological plain that, by coincidence or design, occasionally interacted with people’s brainwaves. It is safe to conclude that, upon seeing the figure towering above him, this summation is not worth giving the time of day; the Grey Man is something far greater than the footnote of a parapsychology manual, the Grey Man is a barrier that biblical imaginings have failed to break down, an intelligence mankind remains inferior to and a purpose we have yet to comprehend.

  At least Adam could see that his unwritten thesis had been correct in some of its initial speculations, but there was no impulse to take an academic view there and then. Rather his neurology was driven by the weightlessness in his stomach and the hairs on the back of his neck. No temptation to surmise the height of the giant with clever measurements, he would settle for saying ‘it was very tall’ as he gave in to the symptoms of terror and turned to flee.

  Simultaneously Clyde responded to the same instincts. ‘Jim was right,’ Adam thought he heard him say, ‘let’s go
’ and neither of them felt any shame that this was to be their next action. From arms they knew could squeeze the life out of them, or rip their spine in two, they needed no prolonged thinking on what further attacks the Fear might attempt on their minds. Fortunately they were just a few strides from the rim of the tarn, therefore allowed a swift return to the footpath and a flight from whatever deaths or tortures greater beings than us might indulge in.

  In doing so they put the sight of those high shoulders behind them, but could not see whether they were being pursued. This mattered very little as far as their actions were concerned, compelled as they were to be far away from that imposing frame. A knowing that death approaches scrambles the thoughts and senses of the most analytical minds. They ran as urgently as if from the bloodlust of a man-eater and as humble as the Philistines from the wrath of God. (Such fear is not ‘irrational’ after all and Adam would remember to discard that word if ever he was to continue with his theses. If so a new account will need to be added to those of Frere, Densham, Collie and Kellas; another sighting to bring Fear Liath Mòr back into the field of modern paranormal study, no longer an archive slipping away into legend.)

  What happened next must be attributed to good fortune rather than any previous motivations to meddle with the supernatural. Adam’s encounter with the Grey Man appeared to be ending in a not untypical manner. Had it done so this tale would now arrive at an abrupt end, but instead we are closing in on some of the most strangest and amazing events of which I have ever heard in this age of the world and so to this writer it feels odd that they appear to have occurred by chance rather than as a result of Adam’s speculations – of which I have made you familiar.

  This happy eventuality – for so I will interpret it – occurred due to a brief turn of the head when Adam was negotiating a return to the snow-covered footpath that would lead both of them back down Ben Macdui if they could outrun their pursuer. On passing the many offshoots and various levels of treacherous descent, with Clyde leading the way, it so happened that something caught his eye.

  No movement had been deciphered but, for a fleeting moment, could it be a man’s shape had been visible upon the mountainside looking in his direction? It felt impossible of course, but it was hardly the time to be influenced by disbelief. As a lance hurled through a storm this anomaly sent the calling of their mission back to him, giving his feet the ability to slow and stand once more. They were looking for a survivor on Ben Macdui and, though he had not seen a little girl, there was something about the figure that drew him. Common sense suggested that anything out of the ordinary was to be taken seriously in such a place.

  He had called ‘Hang on’, to Clyde, but tentatively so and soon realised he was alone as he backtracked in hope of seeing the figure again. Frustratingly nothing was visible but, although he could still hear his own heartbeat booming, the action of stopping had nullified his panic and the pending attack that would have been inescapable if it came did not materialise. Although still longing to be elsewhere, he had come upon a temptation for further investigation in spite of the crippling fear.

  With his optimism for finding Alice severely wounded, the dilemma was wholly unsatisfying and impractical, only serving to place himself between a malevolent being and a fall to his death, but the pledge to leave no stone unturned was strong in him. Such instincts had driven all the successes of his professional life, all the same he could not help questioning his sanity for an additional and lone search of the mountainside; one factor alone compelled him to undertake it, being how could he tell the bereaved family that he might have seen a person at one of the possible locations of Alice’s whereabouts but fled to save his own skin? Daft as it seemed for someone to be attempting the treacherous mountain heights in a snowstorm, he could not walk away without discounting the possibility.

  A confusion of greying shadows alone remained, but had he imagined the dull green clothing that did not seem to belong to any reflection of snow or sky? Scanning from the same vantage point he could make out nothing more, but for better or worse his mind was made up even though he now rejected the notion that, because of his Old Hag haunting, he was better disposed to prevail against paranormal terrors. In fact, were it not for its paralysing effects, Adam would have chosen the Hag as a foe rather than the Grey Man, whose fleeting appearance had resonated a power and status deeper than the cackling harpy could have dreamed.

  Cautiously he took his first steps onto the ledge, wondering if he could bear the Grey Man’s reappearance and annoyed with himself for not shouting louder after Clyde. The parting of company would only lead to more complications as far as the night’s events were concerned and was exactly the kind of reckless behaviour Affleck would have warned them against at all costs. Plus, Adam was attempting a balancing act without protective gear that would not have been advised even in daylight, let alone at night in snow and mist and with exhausted limbs he was finding it tough to connect with whatever reserves of energy and precision remained.

  From his memories of yesterday such a task was not impossible, if care was taken, but the odds of failure were heightened by lack of confident footing. To his relief, it turned out that the first part of the task presented him with quite a firm ledge of fairly even ground, its sturdiness more obvious once footprints were set down. He estimated that for about thirty paces he was granted this security, until presented with a choice of two alternative routes, the first was thHe h

  at of hugging the inner cliff-side with the risk of a steep fall but with the benefit of a clearer direction, the second being to wind his way directly down the cliff-face, appearing to offer a firmer foothold but with very little visibility offered by a downwards trajectory. Either route might lead to where he thought the man dressed in green had stood, but there was still a lack of tracks to confirm anyone had attempted the task previously.

  With little argument to put his faith in one route over the other, he decided the latter would likely be farther from any malicious gaze that may have still been searching for him. Also the more uncertain route would, he guessed, offer greater possibilities, but upon proceeding he would find himself proven both right and wrong at the same time. Taking his first step, a large portion of snow dislodged itself from the verge that was not actually there, leaving Adam fortunate not to have done so too recklessly; as it was he fell backwards rather than sliding down to what might have been a fatal fall. The dilemma of which route to take had returned but, on looking back over his shoulder, he discovered that a better view of the cliff-side had been achieved by this narrowest of angles and, he couldn’t quite believe it, but he thought he could make out the head and shoulders of a person. Renewed hope convinced him to spend no time pondering the close shave he had just had, instead lifting himself up to take a better view. Dim and shady the image was, but this time it did not disappear on second view and he became convinced that the slim path hugging the mountainside was in fact the way he should be going.

  Wasting no more time, he set his will upon the balancing act required. Narrower as it seemed, he at least had the certainty of firm ground underfoot and soon arrived at a better vantage point for a closer view. It was then, finally, that he saw a sight to bring joy to the hearts of many. The head and shoulders were indeed no trick of the shadows. Upon a further ledge a complete human figure could now be seen clearer; the unmistakable shape of a little girl sitting and looking in his direction.

  It was Alice of course; the idea that she had decided to scale the mountain proved not so far-fetched after all. She sat what would have been ten easy paces away, were it not for the drop in-between, wearing a grey coat no one could have hoped to spot from distance on such a night. Certainly she could not have been seen from the footpath where Adam had taken a detour (there was nothing green about her clothing), but being able to wave ‘hello’ to the missing girl so many were having a sleepless night over made it easy to forget all the puzzles that had brought him there; it was time to be thankful and nothing else.

&nbs
p; Alice appeared to be quite comfortable and, to his delight, waved back immediately, calming his worry that he might frighten her away. His fears of finding her in a poor state, dying of cold, were also calmed; there was no impression of wariness in her movement and Adam even thought he imagined her smiling as she did so. The whole scenario might demand some conjecture, but at that point there was no reason to speculate on why her psychological state might be so healthy; any gifts from the day’s trying events were welcomed without ceremony.

  ‘Stay there, Alice,’ he called, at a volume he hoped loud enough to be heard and gentle enough not to disturb her – while also hoping the use of her name gave confidence. ‘I’ll climb on over to you.’

  She made no sound and seemed willing to stay put as he moved temporarily out of view. Soon he was able to near her position by hugging the cliff-face in a similar fashion as he had been doing, but accounting for a curving of the ledge that narrowed dangerously before opening out where Alice sat waiting. His anxieties had then turned to practical considerations, as at the time he could not imagine being able to carry the child along that precarious route if she would not attempt it herself. There was also the steep descent of Ben Macdui’s heights of course, but only one task could be attempted at a time.

  At last, upon reaching the farther ledge, Adam was able to see for the first time what Alice really looked like. He could not help imagine her smiley face photographed on a news bulletin if he failed to get her back safely, breaking parents’ hearts across the nation.

  Having reached firmer ground and with Alice giving no impression of avoiding him, he was able to catch his breath for a moment while allowing himself a slight speculation on what had brought her so high up the mountain. It was, however, clear the young girl had found an excellent place to shelter from the storm. Several feet above her the cliff-face was bare, with the over-hanging rock forming a surreptitious crevice that succeeded in blocking out the snow and wind from most directions, while even in the daylight it would not have been obvious from afar.

  Thinking of the grey spectre, whom for some reason had not shown himself again, led him to the nervous speculation that Alice might have been lured thus in order – in turn – to lure others. Unharmed she might have appeared, but had she been hypnotised or petrified into staying put? It seemed possible the girl might be in shock even as her mother was, but it didn’t seem advisable to push her into relating whatever had occurred. More pressing was the issue of the Grey Man, making Adam eager to get the next part of the task under way, but needing to do so without causing the child panic.

  The lesser of two evils was that the Grey Man had been enticed into pursuing Clyde down the mountain, providing a convenient decoy for the task that fell upon him to be completed. A more alarming possibility was that the Fear intended to scare them away from his prize – the soul of a little girl – and that he remained somewhere in the vicinity. Adam did not need to speculate on whether the souls of children were of interest to the cruel spirits of the universe and made no presumption that Alice would now be safe because she was located.

  ‘You’ve climbed a long way,’ he said, as brightly as possible, still careful not to frighten her. It would be the job of mental health experts to assess if she had been mentally traumatised in some way, but so far there were no outward traits of anything of the sort, meaning Adam had only to focus on her physical safety.

  ‘My name’s Adam,’ he continued, stepping within arm’s reach. She was sitting upon rocky ground touched only with the dregs of snowfall and did not appear to be shivering or showing any sign of gloom. Upon finding her – he would later realise – he had forgotten the man he thought he had seen, presuming he had somehow mistaken Alice for him in his urgency and giving it no more consideration. It was only later when he thought of her father and could not help wonder if even death was a boundary that could be overcome in order to protect a loved one at a time of need.

  ‘Hello Adam!’ she replied cheerily, in a voice he thought far too light and innocent for perilous places and times of dread.

  ‘You must be Alice,’ he said, resisting being hasty though conscious that time might have been of the essence. ‘Your mother’s looking for you and your uncle Affleck’s in the bothy on the other side of the mountain. You know Affleck don’t you?’

  Alice nodded and smiled, he returned the gesture and found it relaxed him a little. Deciding to reassess the terrain before rushing into any immediate action, it was well he did for he was able to realise exactly where they were. Thanks to one of the few clear patches of sky, he was able to note the rim of the drained tarn above them, where he and Clyde had stood not long before. On further inspection he at last proved that there was no magic to Alice’s arrival at the crevice, making out the dull but intact traces of footprints leading down from that very height. This discovery also showed there had been a better route down that conditions had not allowed them to find.

  So Affleck’s recollections had been proven sound. He stood in the secret place Alice’s father had once taken her on a clear summer’s day when a wide view of the Cairngorms must have been spectacular, but the memory was sacred even without the joy and warmth to which it belonged. To that memory she had fled when terror came calling, to a place of unforeseeable salvation.

  ‘Do you want me to lead you to him?’ Adam suggested. ‘If you let me carry you up to the summit then we can walk the rest of the way.’

  ‘I found a door,’ Alice replied.

  ‘A door?’ he responded, confused as to what she meant but relieved she showed no objection to his plan. As a single man with no nephews or nieces to speak of, he did not have much experience in speaking with children and so could only guess at what, on a lonely mountain height, could possibly inspire a child’s imagination into finding a door. He knew to humour children of course, but it was then that perhaps the strangest discovery of this whole tale occurred; an eventuality that no folk tale warned of and that no supernatural speculation had caused him to consider – something new and as far-reaching in its connotations as any mystery he had aspired to unravel.

  Out of instinct more than interest he followed Alice’s gaze along the cliff-face and so was fortunate to make the same discovery himself. Maybe deep down the ability to imagine with the mind of a child had not completely died, otherwise there was no reason to waste time looking, but he did… and he too saw the door the child spoke of, as if it was not a figment of the imagination.

  Farther along from their position the shelf upon which Adam had balanced thickened out to almost a path, until itself reaching a wider ledge. It was the kind of high ground where sheep and wild goats of the Highlands might huddle peacefully from the cold as a place they knew humans would not disturb, but there were no beasts there. Indeed one might describe it as empty, as the rest of the mountainside appeared to be, and he was about to look away before something caught his attention.

  It was not that he hadn’t looked in that direction before, in keeping his eyes peeled for spectres of unusual size, but if his curiosity had not been persuaded by Alice’s suggestion then he had to question whether he would have noticed anything at all. Even so, it took a while for his mind to be convinced of what he was seeing.

  Just as Alice had said, there it was: a door – or doorway, to be precise. Or certainly the shape of a doorway, not attached to a shed, bothy or building of any kind and neither could it be described as physically solid or have anything like a handle or a frame. A shimmer might be a more accurate description, as dust hanging in sunlight through half-open Venetian blinds. The shape was unmistakable, as if any particles floating nearby were drawn there, without intruding upon its transparent qualities. Offering a height greater than any man needed, he looked upon something not quite out of this world, but likely to remain unseen when daylight intruded once more and visible only by perfect angle and position.

  At first Adam refused to let his jaw hit the ground, for surely this was one of the optical illusions of which he had read. T
he ability of the heavens to perform the Aurora Borealis is well documented and here was a less grand if more peculiar curiosity; another form of brocken spectre less imposing than a giant’s shape.

  The longer he looked, however, the less satisfied he was with this explanation. No moon could be seen in what little of the sky he could glimpse and the doorway had simply nothing of the typical light phenomenon about it, seeming far too grounded and with a quality unlike the mist, the snow or the mountain’s surface in any way. Rather having more of a colourful quality, like how a clear night sky manages to burst forth with colour the longer the eye explores.

  So entrancing was the disbelief upon him that he must have stared at the anomaly for too long, given the urgency of their situation, until at last shaking himself back into action as if out of a dream. The doorway remained, however, but with the life of a child at risk there was no time for investigation; the doorway would have to stay a doorway and be left behind, being neither here nor there as far as Alice’s life was concerned. It was vital to make sure she was out of the cold and in familiar company as soon as possible, even if the danger of a giant in the vicinity was a trick of the imagination.

  ‘Come on,’ he told Alice, trying to sound as unrattled as possible, ‘I’d knock on but I doubt anyone’s in.’

  Seeking to dismiss a million curiosities, he reached down to pick Alice up. Again the girl showed no sign of alarm at his suggestion but, just before he lifted her over his shoulder, he noticed that her eyes focused upon something else behind him. This was all he needed to know that they were in danger. In staring at the doorway he had neglected the threat of the mountain’s true warden and once again felt the dread of that presence intensify.

  Instinctively he turned as he lifted her and there it was, that tall grey terror refusing to leave him be, standing beneath them on the very path that Adam had previously stood. No facial expression could be made out, but the Grey Man was clearly focused upon them.

  A race to save their skin then commenced. Adam feared the failure of his mission just as a happy conclusion had seemed achievable and understood there was no time to lose, worrying no more about Alice’s confidence in him as he set off directly up the hidden path towards the verge of the ex-tarn. Drawing upon all the power his legs could muster, he preyed he would not trip or find the slope too steep. Almost it defeated him, agility and determination was required but his tired instincts bore up well on that occasion, allowing him to balance Alice with one arm while the other gave extra purchase upon the snowy cliff-side. The tarn and the footpath to the summit were soon within reach.

  But it was not just the climb that had to be overcome. The Grey Man was after them just as swiftly and gaining three times as much ground with each step. Adam needed only one brief glance back to confirm their adversary’s movements were not made clumsy or laboured by his greater height. So imminent was the peril that Adam, on reaching the tarn, then made a fatal choice in desperation that his delay would not cause the death of Alice.

  Faced with negotiating the curve of the ground before reaching the footpath, escaping seemed a long shot, but he saw it was within his power to lift Alice up from the verge and save her the distance.

  ‘Run, follow our footprints,’ he told her, lifting her above head height and placing her in the snow above, which he knew to be just a few steps from the very tracks he and Clyde had recently left.

  To his relief he saw her legs respond with the sudden speed and energy that is a child’s gift, very quickly putting her out of sight. Even as she left him, however, a shadow fell over Adam followed by the clear sensation that he knew something had taken a grip of his body and that no ground remained beneath his feet. There was no time for despair; the world was out of focus and all senses turned dizzy, followed by nothingness and a time lapse that knew not in what where or when it was due to awaken.