XVI
Nobody knows anything
So here we all are: the Ceilidh that Clara had foreseen, or had some other knowledge of, fully gathered. All fates that hung upon it having no choice but to play out to their doom. Tragedy, salvation or otherwise, the defining few hours had arrived: their net inescapable.
More than we might imagine was at risk and Clara had given no prophecy that an end favouring our own sentiments was decreed, while it cannot even be said that those present knew exactly what game was being played.
That all players were lured was all that was yet certain: the adventurer from far away knowingly putting himself in danger; and his companion from another land seeking to escape it; the lost child evil chased from homely comforts; two unsuspecting locals caught up in events on a doorstep they thought unexciting; the unhinged pursuer who did not belong; the warden all credited with the wisdom of the land; and the true warden who held a wisdom far deeper.
The emergence of that presence of legend, so often aloof, should be enough to tell us that a greater conflict was at hand than any Adam had aspired to set in motion; a conflict poised to take place in the physical realm even if its origins and connotations were spiritual in essence.
Only time and hindsight will tell whether life’s lessons had adequately prepared those involved.
Back in Aviemore the villagers crossed their fingers, or themselves, and prayed for good news. Many still searched within the vicinity of the town and the imminent surroundings, but even they put their hope in respected local figures like Affleck who was accustomed to drawing people away from potential disaster. Only Clara thought on matters other than Alice’s well-being alone and aimed those thoughts at the mountain of Ben Macdui.
As for Affleck, he then stood outside the Corrour Bothy minus the young American lady he thought to have left safe there, puzzling over a trail of running footsteps and what it could possibly mean. Inside, the injured Jim lay asleep with no clue as to what might have transpired and why his vulnerable state presented the warden with a dilemma over whom he should seek to help first.
Becky’s disappearance did bring to mind whether some fresh crisis was at play, considering the reason for her flight to the Highlands, but jumping to conclusions was not his way. Besides, he had been reliably informed the unhinged individual in question was on his way to a police cell and so, unable to justify going against the wisdom of the information he had, Affleck stuck to the task in hand and put off chasing unclear paths, though the decision weighed heavily on his heart.
No one who needed to know was aware that the police vehicle in question had been run off the road. Only the officers involved – subsequently making their way back to town by foot with aching ribcages and communication destroyed.
Negotiating his way back to the bothy was Clyde, the other half of the two AWOL townsfolk who had been given the opportunity of restoring some value in his existence by helping to find the missing child. Again fate had played him a cruel hand, however, and he wandered alone in the snow not only having failed to locate Alice but having also managed to lose the Englishman he set off with. Not only this, but their sundering of ways had occurred after a sighting that meant he would be subjected to the same bar-side mockery as his friend Jim. Now following the same tracks he and Jim had made earlier as they approached the Lairig Ghru, he found it difficult to prepare himself for the wrath of Affleck and did not relish explaining how the impromptu flight down the mountain had occurred – the Big Grey Man being a fireside tale he had never really paid much attention to.
Murky roles and unclear stakes for all those caught up; I will offer some interpretations as I write down the closing of these events, but only in the context of Adam’s life story and the assumption he is not insane or a fabricator – any alternative contexts are for others to discuss.
To Adam I return first of all and, though always tempting to assume the only intact story account is also the most compelling, after reading these next two chapters it will become clear as to why I find it hard to imagine that anyone else’s experience of that night could have been more profound.
Waylaid from one purpose to another, for a second time Adam’s search for the missing child had led him to an encounter I would not expect any human being of these times to master. As a result he had probably become the first of the gathering to fall subject to the total mercy of another’s will – and so faced being the first individual to meet their demise.
Dabbling in Underworld mythology is not something to take lightly. Adam should have known that much already, bonded to unholy spirits as he was.
Mages of yore might have advised him on many lessons if any were still around, but he woke to no pagan lectures, only a cold night air that had chilled his bones to the core. Lying still for an uncertain amount of time had prevented his body from warming itself, but at least he woke surrounded by the familiar heights of Ben Macdui rather than some friendless afterlife.
His limbs desired movement in order to fight off the chill but a dizziness was upon him and for a while longer he was unable to see, resisting any attempt to focus in case the swaying world caused him to vomit. The vicious giant might have stood over him still for all he knew but he had no choice other than remaining passive until full control over his senses returned. As if by the trickle of an hourglass a firmer image of the world eventually returned that he could accept as real, even though it seemed to be formed from vapour and flurry. Succeeding to raise himself upright, it was not until his attention was diverted by the stars above that the process of thought was genuinely under way again and, to add further confusion, his first thought was not for any of the happenings around him but for the galaxies that made up the farthest reaches of his vision. Boundless is the universe, but for some reason he seemed to imagine that unconsciousness had brought him closer to a far away so distant that the most powerful telescope would have to wait beyond the lifecycle of the Earth before being allowed to see what it looked like.
Confused by thoughts he deemed wasteful, Adam rejected this gift of far-sightedness in order to recollect what had happened in his own tiny existence. Once able to do so he found himself checking all his limbs for breaks, surprised that no lasting physical damage other than a sore head lingered as a result of his encounter with the Grey Man. The Nephilim-like being must have had little interest in him, flinging him unceremoniously down the mountain to a fortunate landing – and perhaps not as far from the footpath as the being was capable of throwing him.
Surveying his surroundings, he saw no sign of movement but, more importantly, no longer even felt the burden of that ominous presence that caused his and Clyde’s attempt to flee. We can speculate that his sensory perception had been shaken out of kilter and it is important to appreciate, for what came next, that without nerves it is hard to feel afraid. So it was that, rather than waking like a frightened deer, Adam felt more like the curious cat left to search every nook and cranny of a rival’s territory while it roamed elsewhere.
A mood for investigation had brought him there after all and, in his delirium, was able to kick in once again, even though his ‘expedition’ was a dim memory at that point. Dazed but with the calmed demeanour of a man whose task was done – and forgetting that he had left Alice still with the Ben Macdui peak to negotiate – he proceeded to have a good look around.
Climbing up to what he considered the next level, for he was upon the steeper mountain slope and, he guessed, some way beneath the footpath, he was lightly aware that the attempt caused him less consternation than previously but refused to give too much thought to whether he was concussed. Uneven snow or a mini-avalanche might have resulted in a fall from which he would not have emerged so luckily, but once past the point of no return the mind no longer bothers to feel as anxious about the hand fate is poised to deal.
The first notable finding he came across was the footprints; he estimated them to be some three feet in length with a 12-inch diameter. Back when he was deep into cryptozoological research, such a f
inding may have seemed world changing, but after the events of the last day the gathering of proof to amuse boffins and journalists no longer interested him. Incredible and otherworldly phenomenon now surrounded him but he discovered that he cared not for influencing the minds of others anymore, concerned only for what this revelation meant to his own existence and those he deemed precious. Bigfoot hunters might have loathed him that he sought to retain none of the physical evidence of a being that, Adam’s estimate would agree, exceeded at least twenty feet in height but, frankly, fuck ‘em. They would have missed the most important point anyway.
On scouting the route he found three other such footprints only, but saw no bare ground where the giant might have escaped leaving marks. Unwilling to accept any physical explanation for a lack of further tracks, he took their absence as supporting a growing synopsis that the Grey Man’s treading of physical and spiritual boundaries was a fluid one, meaning he could be present temporarily when the moment suited but beyond man’s reach the next. A summation supported by the observation of Adam feeling so calm; if the Grey Man was present in either capacity it would cause difficulty, but no manipulation of the atmosphere was under way.
Disorientation still robbed Adam of certain facts; he was unclear on where everyone had got to and what the next task was supposed to be, but one memory at least returned at the moment he turned and saw once more the ethereal doorway that had so entranced him. By coincidence he had climbed to a similar vantage point to where he had first seen the anomaly and at last some more details came flooding back to his fuzzy mind; his separation from Clyde, the locating of Alice and his last gasp reach as he told her to follow their tracks back to where Affleck waited. She had got away, he recalled, and the Grey Man must have departed in another direction.
Memory is no guarantee of wit, however, for the question of Alice’s descent down the steeper side of Ben Macdui should have urged him into action to assess whether the six-year-old had the balance and perseverance to complete the journey. But at that moment it was the door that hypnotised his thoughts, glistening back at him, he thought, like black tinsel on an unlit Christmas tree. A curiosity for the unknown compelled him and, without any depth of purpose at all, he found himself trudging his way towards that most unlooked for of mysteries.
How each of us might view such a scenario can only be imagined. It might very well be that we would lack any kind of collective thought and all respond differently. With no common understanding of such phenomenon we cannot, after all, claim an assured wisdom from which to judge. Many might have run in terror and never dared repeat or admit to themselves that such a thing existed; others might question their own sanity or conclude they had eaten something bad.
For Adam neither option presented itself as a viable course. Knowing the purpose of his journey to the Cairngorms I am sure I do not need to delve into his reasoning for not fleeing there and then. Mystery was his business and so the persistence of the phenomenon in refusing to dissipate presented him with a challenge that would have been clear to any interested or disinterested party. That challenge was to walk through the doorway; there was no way of knowing if he was the first of his kind to attempt such a feat, but should he turn his back on the task he would become as the astronaut too afraid to take up a mission to another planet; or the boxer who gave up his belt rather than test his status against a formidable opponent. There was no dilemma, only the question of did he have the courage to go through with it?
Upon this question of courage he did not immediately make up his mind, nevertheless he found himself edging along the verge once more, whether compelled to attempt an untested logic or else feeling no pressure to make up his mind until within inches from the decision itself.
Discovering what lay beyond that unlooked for mountain exit seemed to be a task made for him, but curiosity killed the cat and it became apparent that a question he had been avoiding needed an answer. The question concerned otherworldly barriers and whether mortals should play with them. In desperation to be released from his nightly tormenters it was easy to persuade himself that a degree of recklessness was called for, but deep down the potential of risking more than just his life was a reality he had failed to confront in full. Risking one’s life is a deep matter, but risking one’s soul deeper still.
Being presented with a doorway to the unknown ensured this suppressed question was now out in the open. The possibilities of what lay on the other side were endless, for the imagination is like the universe – the more it looks for answers the more mystery it finds. The question of destination is the simplest of these conjectures; should Adam suppose to step out on the other side and find himself on another mountain? – of another range, distant land or continent of this planet we call Earth? Should he rather be expecting a different landscape altogether? A sandy desert; the depths of a forest; a seabed or an arctic waste? Was it wise to assume the doorway belonged to our own world when it did not appear to obey any of our natural laws? Then there are more complex suppositions; might the doorway lead to another world entirely, another planet in the Milky Way or even another galaxy? If so was said planet guaranteed to offer breathable air or endurable temperatures? Indeed, should the firm footing of another planet’s terrain be expected at all if the Grey Man – to whom he presumed the doorway belonged – did not need firm terrain? And if the endless universe is to be considered then there is nothing to say he would not step out into a vacuum; space and all its emptiness poised to decompress. Into the nuclear heart of a white-hot star to burn him to nothingness in an instant; or into the singularity of a black hole and whatever that might mean. Plus, if the doorway’s nature could not be linked to any kind of science of which a learned man had experience, how could he be sure it was made for physical beings at all? With the Grey Man seeming to be fluid in his relations with the physical world, the chances of his own ability to survive the door mentally and physically intact was uncertain. Would the doorway rip his soul from his body, turn his flesh inside out or cause his brain to explode? Moreover, would there be any lasting consequences such as eternal damnation, banishment to the void or purgatory dished out for the sin of attempting to follow a being his ancient kind would have revered as a god? Heaven and hell proved greater considerations than death and suffering alone after all, even though it might just as well be that the doorway proved as a brocken spectre and he stepped through it as one might a ghost, onto the familiar crunch of Highland snow; a reflection from another world but not an entrance.
As with the ocean’s first explorers, there is no way of narrowing down such conjectures without someone willing to put their life on the line – and so the transformation from scientist to adventurer would indeed be complete with this act.
For good or evil Adam Forrester of Lincolnshire stood looking into that doorway of glistening uncertainty, the other side of which was a destination that no human being had ever spoken of. He had come this far and one more step forwards was all that was required to test one of the barriers he had longed to manipulate. Facing this reality was terrifying, the more so because he knew he had no choice unless he wished to prove to his torturers that when it came to the crunch he had no fight in him whatsoever. Memories of those visitations were never far away, but were they enough to tell him that death, or damnation, were worth the risk? Useful in a fistfight he might have been, but he realised then that he was no Neil Armstrong or Christopher Columbus; selflessness in discovery for mankind was not in his makeup. Mankind as a whole is undeserving of such knowledge as far as he was concerned; he wanted to live, to retrieve or at least aspire to some of the life he might have had if some wandering devil had not made his anus a drop-off point for one of Hell’s demon rapists.
Despite his fury at years of haunting, he could still have walked away there and then and suffered the Hag’s visitations for the rest of his life, if it was not for the thought of Becky. A need for companionship had found him away from his laboratory, but he knew that could never be if he remained devoid of
inner peace when he lay down his head at night.
After all the conjecture there was no room for analysis; scientific theory no longer offered any comfort. In truth, there was no reason to suppose that the secrets of his haunting lay beyond the doorway, but tactically he had prepared himself to try whatever mystery presented itself in order to expand upon his experience and seek out a path to salvation. If he was to be the intrepid explorer he would have to accept the same odds that sailors, pilots and astronauts before him had, which meant that many of them would perish in the attempt.
Life’s experience gave him no preparation for such a choice. He was not fond of vertigo, but pride had seen him go through with fairground attraction rides he took no enjoyment in. By closing as many senses as possible he had gone through with the challenge but it would be wrong to compare the two, for back then the machinery of the ride had rendered physical collaboration unnecessary. He would need to take the step himself, despite knowing that a parachute drop or a bungee jump were not in his makeup. Most would have deemed freefall as preferable to being torn limb from limb by the demons of Hell, but he had to believe it was not part of the equation in order to proceed.
Well… it was time to find out. Regardless of depth of thought and deliberation, life is sometimes content just to challenge us with the act of putting one foot in front of the other. Fate had called his bluff in its simplicity but at least it was ready to show its face.
Accepting his doom, Adam put his face to the shimmering blackness and stepped forward.
First he was aware of a slight sensation that he would later describe as slipping without losing balance, a sense that he was being propelled forwards somehow, assuredly but in a gentle manner not disturbing to his physical frame; second was the feeling of the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, such as we might occasionally experience when watching a film, or listening to music that for some reason connects so firmly with the soul that it causes the mortal coil to quiver for the longing of a forgotten Eden. Vision then left him momentarily, as if a blanket had been thrown over his eyes and left him wondering if he had closed them or not. Thankfully sight and light returned before there was time to fear the blackness, for there was no Hell, void or imminent death on the other side, but something else entirely.
A sky and a beyond there was, as anywhere outdoors on earth would have. Stars, constellations and gas clouds such as those of us who have never made one of the space missions imagine astronauts are able to see. Clear and bright, the sight suggested that more colour than blackness makes up the unexplored universe, but he was not in a vacuum and his feet remained planted on the ground with the same gravitational pull he was accustomed to – indeed the only one he knew. Flirting with the paranormal had finally brought something other than trauma, but where in Creation was he? No longer did he stand upon the heights of Ben Macdui that was for sure; here is the scene as he who stood there tried his best to describe it.
Even before I looked around I was aware that my surroundings and what one might have perceived as sky was a wholly different colour and texture. Though obvious I was no longer on Ben Macdui, I think I knew instantly I no longer stood anywhere on Earth either; as a person has only to walk out the front door to know they are no longer at home, similarly we know the planet we belong to and when we are no longer within its atmosphere.
Surrounded by little that was familiar, there were many observations to make and, though I give them in a chosen order, it is an imagined one as my eyes were compelled to look around somewhat frantically and so – with the exception of the final observation I give here – I may actually have registered them all simultaneously.
The first I give is the sky – although in one sense the single common factor between the two standpoints, I firmly believe it to have been a different sky. About me was none of the cloud cover of the snowy Highlands that night, indeed no kind of recognisable atmosphere at all; the stars were clearer than anywhere in Scotland and quite likely more so than the remotest parts of the Pacific ocean that, I’m told, are so bright a person can read a book by their glare. More importantly, however, I believe that they were not the stars as we see them from Earth, and that they may even have been a completely different set entirely. In this respect I will admit a regret in never having studied the star systems above us even lightly; there are colleagues of mine who can point out Orion, Pegasus or Betelgeuse when they appear in the night sky but, despite a career in science, at that time I had never bothered to learn cosmic mapping beyond naming the planets of our own solar system. Had I done so I could have looked for some certainty that was in common with our own, to seek an answer to whether I was still a being of the Milky Way and, if so, perhaps even to relate some information at a later date and discover where in our galaxy the doorway had taken me, but I am as certain without evidence as a scientist can be that I no longer looked out at Earth’s night sky. It is a shame that on this point I cannot offer more – however, before leaving behind my description of the sky I must also point out that this clarity of vision did not apply in as wide a sense as one might imagine. Directly above me the stars shone, to my thoughts more beautiful than I had ever imagined them, but in standing there I felt more shrouded than open. On looking to scan the heavens more horizontally, towards where the horizon should have been, I found that the plain upon which I stood succeeded in dimming my surroundings with some kind of thick atmosphere. As a dust cloud I thought it, like pastel on black canvas. I imagined the material to be something like that making up the decorative rings of Saturn but, in truth, I do not know for sure that it was any such thing and it is just as likely that if someone else were to witness it that they might imagine some other matter responsible.
My second observation, to complete the lateral picture, concerns what type of ground I was standing on. As far as appearances go it had similarities to some kind of cloud formation, white and bulbous with no jagged edges, but in body its material was completely solid and so I was not in danger of falling through it. From a distance one might have sworn it was cloud, albeit of a thicker density than we are accustomed – indeed I held this very thought as I looked out upon it in every direction, until looking down I realised it was the very same that was firmly under my feet. I cannot offer any scientific understanding of what substance made up that flooring and, for reasons I hope will become clear, I have no optimism that any super telescopes or future star trekking will succeed in locating further instances.
My third observation is to assess what type of landscape – if land it can be called (belonging to no conceivable place of gravitational force that observers of space have yet found) – it was that I looked out upon. There was a wide view in every direction and the curving heights of the Cairngorm landscape I had grown used to over the previous few days had vanished. In fact, there were no hills of any kind at all, but do not think that I am describing some barren desert or featureless glacier, there was a great deal for the eye to see. Laid out before me, the opaque surface stretched ahead, not as a wide plateau, but as a thin avenue no wider than those we follow from our own city doorsteps. A lane beyond the maps of mankind leading me onwards, but it was no cityscape about me, no buildings or infrastructure of any kind lined its rim where instead, if I was to step off the path, I would fall into darkness and what appeared to be the kind of void I had feared before stepping through the doorway. In my dreams now I find myself falling into that void, a bottomless fall as far as those dreams are concerned but, once more, I cannot attest that a person who stepped from that maze would fall endlessly, having no intention of losing my balance to explore such a fate.
My lane was not unaccompanied either, in every direction there spread out a giant maze of these paths, stretching as far as the lilac cloud would allow my eyes to see. Like a giant crossword; a maze of avenues separated from each other by chasm rather than greenery. Mazes, as we design them on Earth, are done so to hide their secrets, of course, but in this case the secrets did not need to be hidden for I had come f
rom one myself and, just as the doorway I entered, they gave no clue as to what lay behind them. One such I had already walked through, but my field of vision then looked out on a zonescape of hundreds, if not thousands of them – who knows, maybe billions, for that maze stretched out of sight in every direction, but when I was first told there were billions of galaxies in the universe I didn’t quite believe it and so, even if as a scientist I imagine it might also be true in this case, again I will live my life failing acceptance.
This final amazing claim in particular was set to impact upon the night’s further events and, as much as the philosophical connotations of the doorway’s other side might be beyond summation here, we can assess to some degree what that curious plain of zigzag pathways is in fact for – even if we can get no nearer to understanding how it is possible. The maze serves to link different worlds that cannot be linked through physical endeavour in the way that great voyages across the oceans first brought our continents together. I know of no comparison in the natural world as we know it, but perhaps there are in the virtual world we have discovered relatively recently. For want of a better description, I will have to concede that Adam’s thinking of that other place as a ‘portal of destinations’ is similar to how some website domains list web addresses of a certain context, offering page visitors a convenient means of searching the Internet sites that are potentially of interest to them. A maze of, shall we say, intergalactic doorways presents a similar possibility for physical destinations of shared atmospheric pressures and gravitational pull (at least this would seem to be the case based on the further findings of this expedition).
Once again here I must resist deviating completely from the telling of this story, with the plethora of debating points and philosophical connotations proving too immense to do credit in these pages. If we are to accept that Adam’s dizzy head had not made him delusional then his experiences upon Ben Macdui provide endless speculations on the structure of the universe, a far cry from the comparative scraps of paranormal activity accounts to which he had anticipated contributing. One can imagine ancient man coming upon Ben Macdui at a time when the doorway was accessible and leaving with fearful tales of being lost in some half-world; tales that became those of the Underworld so potent in Highland folklore, but in this age we must consider fresh interpretations unless our species has failed to advance itself at all. There are, at least, some obvious assumptions to make before moving on with Adam’s story; primarily that the maze of doorways was purpose-designed in nature, clearly being set up with specific worldly links in mind. Just as on the London Underground each exit might look the same but takes its passengers to different parts of the capital, so this zonescape – as Adam names it – gives a route to different parts of the galaxy, or Universe. Whether it was beings like the Grey Man who were responsible for setting up each link, or whether they be users of them only, remains open to debate, but undoubtedly here is one secret of that terrible mountain spectre. From this revelation we can assess why psychological distress only occurs on Ben Macdui in scattered accounts and why no one has been able to find out more. Often, if not most of the time, the Grey Man is simply not there but dwelling in or haunting some world beyond the doorway completely unknown to us. An age of learning from this book’s publication and perhaps some of these mysteries will be more effectively described, but for now we must settle for being primitive to this knowledge, as with our ancestors who first looked on the stars above.
It would be rude not to allow Adam the first analysis, however, for the experience itself if not for his credibility as a scientist. For our neurochemist it is science, not superstitions of the Underworld, that leads his thinking and key to this the M Theory of Bagger and Lambert. Life forms of Earth perceive themselves as existing in three, perhaps four, dimensions, but the scientific community believe that the Universe consists of eleven. Adam had already speculated on the spirit world being another one of those dimensions and, since entering the doorway, he believes he has stood in another.
A dimension that allows for movement between different worlds, too far from each other to overcome a distance that even light speed does not reach within our own lifetimes. On lilac highways the outer reaches of the Universe await if ever we are permitted to use them.
No telescope, therefore, will ever have sight of such a place. On these terms Adam also arrived at an acceptance of why gravity and atmosphere were not hostile, despite the maze seemingly belonging to no known heavenly body. The doorways were organised to link worlds of similar endurability, or else the ability to move between them would defeat its own purpose. As for the maze itself, it must have been linked in some way like unseen irrigation pipelines are to the homes of city folk. Skilled hands were no doubt behind its organisation, making sure that water flowed from the right taps and that waste disappeared down the appropriate holes. When such work was undertaken and by whom can only be guessed at, but no doubt there must have been a time when no lanes or doorways stood to guide the inter-galactic walkers, but the dimension still existed as undeveloped land yet to be made orderly.
So it goes… but these are periphery issues and I am yet to relate the strangest parts of Adam’s account. As you will find out in the coming pages, the events of the night owe much to what else occurred in that unnumbered dimension – although piecing together Adam’s additional story from the other side of the doorway, for the purposes of this book, proved quite a problematic procedure. Up until this point he had been completely open on many matters that were alien to me, but once his tale went through the doorway it became clear he was holding out. Secure in the integrity of his experiences, he’d shown little wariness in delving into subject matter it did not seem proper for a scientist to give credence, but what happened upon the other side of the doorway was so beyond this own thinking that he felt unable to proceed with the same sincerity. In the end I had to ply him with drink on a pub crawl through the streets of London until he was inebriated enough to tell me what happened – or perhaps he waited until he perceived me as drunk enough to hear it – regardless, here is the story as I understood it, though I have not the benefit of questioning him in depth on these details.
What happened was this…
Once beyond the doorway with the zonescape before him, Adam was naturally driven by the same curiosity that led him there in the first place; the desire to know what lies beyond the next door. If he was interpreting what he beheld correctly then there were worlds aplenty to explore, but there was danger also, the danger of wonders so enticing they might lead him away from his own life and those who needed him. Start walking such a road and who knows if the wonders ahead are too great and numerous to turn our backs on and return to the stressful modern lives of the twenty-first century. Could he dare even start such a road he might so easily become lost on or destroyed by greater beings? The thought of Becky alone allowed him to resist, otherwise there might have been nothing powerful enough to draw him back to his life on Earth.
Torn between the secrets of the Universe and a defining life regret, Adam’s first instinct – once he was able to attempt rational thought again – was to turn back immediately and flee; depart from that place and never think on it again. Inner peace away from worldly affairs is a temptation too tantalising to endure for long, while he also feared a Narnia-effect of unstable time. Not wishing to return to Earth and find Becky sixty-five years old and welcoming her first grandkids, it might have been that a single lone viewpoint of that dimension proved our only insight, if it was not for another small but significant observation that urged him on.
According to Adam, his immediate position meant a close proximity to two other doorways other than the one he had entered from Ben Macdui; the first a mere few paces away on his left, the second directly ahead estimated at some eight metres. At this second alternative doorway the lane became a T-junction and so onwards to many more turnings and other doorways, the closest of which he would not even have been tempted to seek out for fear of becoming diso
rientated.
At first he had failed to pay any attention to the small object that sat beneath the nearest doorway, taking in so many wonders at once, but at last it drew his attention. A green stone sat there; not the kind one can find walking the British Isles, although it is doubtful anyone but a stoneologist would have given it a second thought if it was not for the familiarity Adam had with that particular stone.
Drawing the velvet cloth from his pocket, Adam unwrapped the material and once again beheld the three stones he had been given. What were they called?: Malachite, Sodalite and Anthracite; and he recalled that the green was a positive stone, something he would have to take Clara’s word for, knowing nothing of the spiritual values of earthly materials. His memory proved sound, however; beneath the first alternative was another Malachite stone, just like that given him by the enigmatic Clara.
Even if Celtic superstition still drew little from him, the wisdom of Clara’s words was no longer to be overlooked. Without their meeting the finding would have had no importance, but the coincidence was one only a fool could dismiss. Someone had been present – ten days ago?; one hundred years ago? – and left a stone of positive properties to guide future adventurers.
Looking down, Adam then saw that a second, the Anthracite stone, was beneath his feet and, over at the furthest door, another… the darker coal-like Sodomite that Clara had told him was ‘not as evil as nervous folk might think, just a warning’. Because of these minerals, therefore, his decision to leave that place was in jeopardy despite a lack of indecisiveness. Principles of his expedition still ran strong in him after all and there was no other way of interpreting what he had found. Clara’s words told him that the first alternative doorway was safe to proceed through, a lone clue to an unsolved puzzle. This meeting of mysteries did nothing to explain the existence of the maze, but showed that there had been more than superstition alone behind her words. A warning was there also, to avoid the doorway directly ahead, but how could he turn his back on the first having claimed to be on a mission of discovery?
Already Adam stood an inconceivable distance away from the world to which he belonged. Like a child that had dared balance on the edge of a cliff and look down, then tempted to reach out for some treasure but an arm’s reach away. No trail or map existed to prevent him becoming hopelessly lost and a form of vertigo was evident as he took his first steps from the Ben Macdui doorway, giddy at the prospect of becoming lost forever.
On the verge once more he doubted his courage and resilience. Incomprehendable challenges lay ahead but once again the knowledge that he would not be able to live with himself if he walked away urged him onwards.
Who knows what the rest of us would decide if faced by such possibilities, but turning down a unique opportunity to learn more is a crime in Adam’s profession and so the gamble had to be taken once more. A duty to his own soul was being fulfilled, combined with his faith in the guidance of Clara who had been kind enough to reach out so generously to an outsider. He held no suspicion of that unthreatening complexion and, though he risked never seeing Becky again, it was the desire to fight against the curse of the Hag that convinced him to follow the wisdom of the stones.
From this second doorway he did not wholly expect to return and he made a silent wish that, if on some future day God did plan to make all truths clear, He would see to it that Becky understood he took those fateful steps for love and nothing else.
And so with Malachite gift in hand, Adam stood upon the threshold and took the second existence-transcending step of the day. Closing his eyes so as not to be put off by the unfathomable drop beneath, he allowed himself to slide on through the inter-dimensional gateway once more and suffer whatever consequences might result.
Not Far From Aviemore Page 16