Chapter 5
Talisman
Alison arrived at the restaurant and found a place by the window. Tom had asked her to help with his experiments. He wanted the gear that her father used to study brainwaves. Colin had refused to provide it and Tom had asked her to sneak into his laboratory and get it for him.
Tom was staying in a pub. She'd phoned and suggested they meet there but he said it would be better if they didn't. Alison knew why. They would think she was a thirteen-year-old and Tom was a paedophile. It made her so angry. She was almost eighteen. Why couldn't people see that she was just small?
She nursed her coffee and waited for him. Tom was persona non grata at home. Her mother had thrown him out and her father wasn't prepared to defend him. Tom spent the night in his van and moved into the pub the next day.
At thirty-five, Tom was twice her age. Alison's first memories of him were when he was still in the army. Her father was a colonel in the medical corps and Tom was one of the youngest majors to have been appointed to that rank in peacetime. For some reason, he resigned his commission, went to university and got a job as a lecturer in archaeology when he graduated. His talent with words captivated TV audiences but did nothing to endear him to his colleagues. They never lost an opportunity to ridicule him. Alison guessed the incident with the cat would put an end to his career.
The door of the restaurant opened and he entered.
'Have you seen this?'
He sat down and pushed a newspaper in front of her. There was a photograph of a cat on the front page. It had wires sticking out of its skull. Another photograph showed Tom beside a pond with a wicker basket. The caption said the cat had been found dead in a ditch close to where he had been conducting experiments.
'It's that Dr Duncan-Brown,' Allison whispered. 'He's out to get you. Daddy said he took photographs of you and the cat. That will be one of them. We spent all morning taking his laboratory apart and loading things into the trailer.'
'Did you get the helmet?'
Alison tapped a bag at her feet. 'I've got it here. We're not going to let that snotty-nosed Duncan-Brown win. I'm going to help you fight him. The best way is to prove you’ve discovered something really important.'
Tom picked up the bag and looked inside.
'It's not all here.'
'I'll bring the rest with me, Tom. I'll let you have it when you've agreed to my terms. I want to be part of what you are doing. If I let you have it now, you'll leave me out.'
It wasn't what Tom had expected. Perhaps it was Alison's small size. He reminded himself that she was almost eighteen. At that age she could join the army. Eventually he spoke.
'All right. We'll go this evening. Make sure you have everything we need. I want to try out some ideas on the pathways.'
'What are the pathways?'
'They're the lines I mapped with divining rods.'
'Do you think they have something to do with the old religions?'
'I do,' Tom nodded. 'That's why I want to be there at sunset. It is a time of transition between day and night ... a time when one state passes into another. According to ancient tradition, it is the time when one can make the passage between realms.'
Alison gazed into his eyes. 'Oh, Tom, it's so exciting.'
At a neighbouring table, a middle-aged man opened his newspaper and glanced at the photographs on the centre page. He returned his attention to Alison with an expression of growing concern.
***
They arrived at the pond towards nightfall. Alison helped Tom unload the equipment from the van and watched as he laid the coaxial cable over the grass.
She handed him the helmet.
'It measures brain waves ... is that right?'
Tom nodded.
'Do you think it will work?
'Dunno,' Tom shrugged. 'But I'm not going to let anyone insert electrodes into my brain like we did to the cat.'
He put on the helmet, attached the cable to it and sat cross-legged on the ground. Alison returned to the van and adjusted her binoculars. Tom was vulnerable. Photographs of him with divining rods had appeared in the national newspapers. What would people think if they saw him, sitting in a Buddha pose, wearing a helmet with wires sticking out of it?
There were photographers who hid in bushes. People called them paparazzi. Alison looked around and didn't see any. The only sign of life was a hot air balloon. She tried to relax. The sun sank. The shadows lengthened and the balloon disappeared. There was something peaceful about the place. The pond, the stream and the undulating ground were comforting. It was like being small again, lying at your mother's breast, feeling her warmth and protection.
Tom said that, in bygone days, people venerated the pond as sacred to the mother goddess. Young virgins came to places like this on summer evenings and prayed to the goddess. They came when the sun was low and magic hung in the air. They said prayers then wandered off and found somewhere to lie down.
Alison felt like one of those girls. They didn't know what life had in store and prayed for the assurance only a divine mother could give. They sought it in a dream. If they were lucky, their future lover would appear. But, if fate was unkind, there would be no man in their dreams.
A powerful force propelled her to her feet and she set off down the slope. Bats flew overhead and she heard the neighing of a horse. The sun sank and two small mounds appeared, scarcely visible before. They now poked up like breasts. Allison unbuttoned her blouse and sank between them.
Tom felt certain that something profound would happen. He sat cross-legged beside the pond, helmet on head, eyes directed at the computer balanced on his knees. As the sun edged towards the horizon, the familiar pattern of lines appeared and the noise of traffic was replaced by the neighing of a horse.
Everything was going according to plan. The sounds of his old realm were giving way to the new. He felt sure he was making contact with a different level of existence. The important thing now was to harmonise. He guessed it was like surfing. The trick would be to catch a wave ... and surf to another realm.
He sensed the wave coming and prepared to make the journey of a lifetime. Then the sound of the horse drifted away and he heard the cars again. It was totally mortifying. Everything appeared to be going so well but nothing came of it.
He waited for a while then a passing Airbus convinced him he was wasting his time. He'd failed to catch the wave. The sun was now set. The crucial time between day and night had passed and there wouldn't be a second wave that day. The window of opportunity had gone.
He got up and gathered his equipment together. Despite his disappointment, there was still magic in the air. Moths fluttered about him and settled on his clothes. He felt their furry bodies and heard the shrill cries of bats. The moths exuded an odour to attract lovers. As a child, he had been attuned to these calls of nature. Now, he was aware of them again.
A movement caught his eye. A creature, half-man-half-goat, was crouching in the bushes. It had to be a trick of the light. His military training had prepared him for such aberrations. But his thoughts were not on men with guns. He stopped thinking about the love life of moths and started to worry about Alison. He pulled a torch from his belt and flicked it over the ground.
Where was Alison?
The marks of her wanderings were visible in the long grass. He followed them and found her lying on her back in a small hollow. Her blouse was open and her face flushed. At first he thought she had been violated. Then he realised she was merely asleep. He buttoned up her blouse and carried her to the van.
***
Getting Alison home involved climbing through a window. Tom accomplished the task without awakening her parents. The experience was unnerving. Colin and Molly were amongst his oldest friends. It would be unbearable if they thought he had taken advantage of their daughter.
He got back to the pub with his nerves on edge, downed half-a-bottle of whisky, and slumped into bed. Sleep came immediately but it was not the pleasant alcoholic haze that usually accompanied his drunken soirées.
Dreams invaded his mind. He was back beside the pond. Dark shapes hovered at the edge of his vision. Bony fingers pulled him down and a board was placed on his chest.
'Tomas son of John.'
It was like being back at military college … taking tests. But the tests were more demanding than at Sandhurst. There was no written paper. Questions were asked in a croaking voice and came in the form of riddles.
The first involved double negatives.
Tom answered without difficulty.
The next was more difficult.
He hesitated and a stone was placed on the board. He tried to rise and bony fingers held him down. Another question followed. He answered quickly ... got it wrong and another stone was added.
The interrogation proceeded relentlessly. He continued to make mistakes and the stones piled up. The pressure was unbearable. He summoned all his strength and was ready to give up when a female voice drummed in his ears.
'Nonsense ... nonsense ...'
It sounded like his mother.
His relations with her had never been smooth but the message came over loud and clear. The questions were trivial. They only gave trouble if you thought they were clever. When you knew they were stupid ... you could handle them.
He answered the next one correctly. A stone came off. After that it was easy. More correct answers followed and more stones were removed. The last came off and he guessed he'd passed the test.
***
Alison stretched and looked around. She was lying on her bed fully clothed apart from her shoes. On the ordinary plane of existence she remembered very little of the previous evening. But, on the plane of dreams, her recall was total.
She remembered sinking into the grass and closing her eyes. Moths flew about. She became drowsy and the dream took hold ... if it was a dream. Everything seemed so real. The boy wore old-fashioned clothes and smelt of wood smoke and bracken. At first he just looked at her. Then he came close and reached out a hesitant hand. Alison felt his soft touch and looked into his light-blue eyes. He was only a little bit taller than herself. Beside him she did not feel small.
After a while, he began to sing. He told her she was beautiful and sang about his homeland, about the animals, flowing streams, woodlands and grassy meadows. He said he wanted to take her there. Alison let the words flow over her. A great weight was lifted from her mind. Things would work out all right. Her perfect lover was waiting for her somewhere in the future.
As the song continued, a note of sadness entered the boy's voice. He said they lived in different realms and would forever remain apart. Just this once they had come together. Tears formed in his eyes and he reached for the small carving that hung about his neck. He told her it was his talisman and very precious to him. He gave it to her and she gave him her necklace: a stainless steel cat on a stainless steel chain. They talked for what seemed a long time. Then Tom's voice intruded and the boy faded away.
Lying in bed that summer's morning, Alison reached for her necklace and found it gone. In its place there was a carving of a bear on a leather thong. She held it in her hand and fell back to sleep.
***
The bear plodded up the slope, following a trail of honey. His face was marked by scars, the product of fights with males of his own kind. Now, in his twilight years, the old animal sought the company of a young cub of a different species. Treading cautiously amongst the fallen branches, he stopped to sniff the breeze. His eyesight was failing but his sense of smell was still good. He caught the air in his nostrils and formed a picture of what lay ahead: honey, fresh rabbit droppings, nectar-laden flowers, a fire, and the reek of human kind.
The presence of humans would normally have sent him into the safety of the thicket. But he recognised the smell as belonging to a harmless individual: a young male who had befriended him when he was ill and given him honey.
'Brother.'
He heard the boy's familiar greeting and quickened his lumbering pace.
The boy held out a sticky hand. 'Come, Brother. Look what I have for you.'
The bear reached the circle of firelight and halted. The stench of canine presence filled the air and he drew back ready to attack or take flight if the murderous beasts appeared. He grunted fiercely and heard the boy's calming voice.
'Peace, brother. There is no one here but me and our good friend, horse.'
'The stench of dog no longer seemed so fresh. The bear moved forward into the firelight and watched through his one good eye. The boy held up a bulging leather bag. His fingers slipped down and he pulled at the string that secured the neck. A gush of amber liquid flowed onto a slab of stone. Abandoning caution the bear ambled forward.
'I have much to tell you since we last met.'
The boy watched the big animal lick up the precious liquid.
'I have found a friend. She is gentle and modest ... not like the girls in my mother's village. We have exchanged talismans. I gave her mine, which is made in your likeness, and she gave me hers.'
The boy reached into his tunic and pulled out a chain.
'Look, brother, her talisman is a cat.'
The bear looked up but his eye was on the bag. He stuck out a huge paw and the boy responded swiftly, squeezing more honey onto the stone.
'We have tied our soul lights together,' he said. 'We have exchanged our talismans as an expression of our love. We are united but apart.'
He began to sing and the bear was distracted by the mournful sound.
'We are separated by a vast abyss. We belong to different realms. It is not like she is in one wood and I in another. We cannot walk across a meadow and be united. A Void lies between us.'
The wailing put the bear in a bad mood and he would have wandered off but for the honey. He growled and the boy squirted a few more drops on the stone. The meagre offering did nothing to pacify the big animal. He bared his claws.
'Peace, bother.'
The boy held up a hand as the bear lurched at him. A paw struck out and he suddenly realised how big and powerful the animal was. Claws ripped through his cheek. He dropped the bag and the bear made off with it. Blood ran onto his tunic. His cheek was cut through and he felt faint. The wound needed dressing but he couldn't go back to the priests of the Duideth. They would want to know how he came to be injured. His thoughts turned to his sister, Adrina. She would know what to do.