Chapter 23
Nathaniel stared across the green rolling hills at the rows and rows of men. There must be at least four or five thousand of them, he thought to himself. Most of them were busy hauling on many long ropes. The ropes were attached to massive stone blocks that looked to be about six foot wide and at least twenty-five foot long. The marine figured them to weigh in at around forty tons.
The blocks were being towed atop massive wooden sleighs with smooth carved runners carved from entire trees. In front of each runner walked teams of men with what looked like buckets of animal fat. Using ladles they were pouring the animal fat into the path of the runners. Another group of men were clearing the way of stones and impediments. The going was slow but steady.
He saw two men approaching him, striding up the hill, their white robes billowing around them as they came. One of them carried with him a stout staff and the other a bright sickle. They were quite obviously druids.
Nathaniel felt for his colt 45 but, instead, his hands discovered the haft of an axe. The weapon was a simple one. It stood around four foot high, the butterfly shaped double blades at least eighteen inches wide. The oak shaft two inches across and covered in brass studs. The handle covered in strips of wound leather.
A weapon for killing, not for show.
He glanced down to see with surprise that not only was his weapon different, so was his clothing. He was dressed entirely in steel armour. And, when he looked more closely at it, it was apparent that the armour had been fashioned out of old car parts. The Japanese Nissan symbol for their Infiniti car was emblazoned across his breastplate. The rest of the steel had been enamelled in deep black.
It was then that he realized that he was dreaming and he grinned to himself.
‘Bloody weird,’ he mumbled under his breath.
The druids got to within a few feet of him and both of them took a knee.
‘Our humble greetings to the Forever Man,’ said the one.
‘Through the dark hours of man’s night may you protect and surround us,’ the other intoned.
‘Greetings, druidic dudes,’ said Nathaniel. ‘I know that this is just a dream but, is that Stonehenge that you’re all building?’
‘That is the Hooded Gate, Forever Man, methinks that it is called Stanheng in your times. It is how we tell when and where the life-light will occur so that we may rekindle our magiks.’
Nathaniel slapped himself across the face. Hard. It stung. But that doesn’t prove anything, he thought to himself. When you get hurt in a dream then it often does actually feel sore. He tried to wake up.
‘You dream not, Fear Go Deo,’ said that druid with the sickle.
‘Bloody well am,’ countered Nathaniel.
‘Nay, Fear Go Deo, you have traveled, through time and space to see us.’
‘What’s Fear Go Deo?’ Asked the marine.
‘Tis your name, the Forever Man. You have ever been known thus. And ever will thou be thus known.’
‘Right,’ said Nathaniel. ‘I give up, may as well go with the flow. So, dude, why am I here?’
‘You need both warning and guidance.’
‘Hit me then,’ said Nathaniel.
‘Firstly, you must seek the other and, secondly, beware the folk that are fair and, finally, remember, when all appears lost, thine enemy of thine enemy is thine friend.’
‘Woah,’ said Nathaniel. ‘For a start, who is the other?’
‘Your time with us grows short. Remember, beware the fair folk.’
Nathaniel felt himself fading. Waking. The druid with the sickle grabbed his arm and slashed the back of the marine’s hand with the tip of the blade, twisting the sickle as he did. Almost as if he were writing something. Pain shot up his arm.
And he sat up in his bed.
The marine chuckled to himself. It had seemed so real. The feel of the wind on his face, the smells. The pain in his hand. He picked his hand up and looked at it.
Blood ran freely down the cut and dripped onto his bed.
And, carved into the back of his hand was the symbol
Lemniscate - the sign for Infinity.
The mark of the Forever Man.