Iona Portal (23 page)

PART FOUR:  PORTAL

Chapter Nineteen:  Haggis

THE PORT OF OBAN, ARGYLE, SCOTLAND

Two weeks later, the entire synaxis flew from Dallas to Glasgow by way of London’s Heathrow Airport.   Deplaning at Glasgow, they collected their luggage and met at the rental car counter where Holmes had reserved two Mercedes C220 five-passenger sedans.  Since Patrick and Michael had the most experience driving UK fashion—on the “wrong” side of the road—they were unanimously selected to drive.

Heading north from Glasgow they drove along the “bonnie banks” of Loch Lomond, then followed the A82 highway on its long climb into the Scottish Highlands, driving through some of the most spectacular scenery on the planet. 

The Highlands are often described by phrases like “majestic loneliness” and “wild grandeur.”  It’s a place where towering mountain peaks stand vigil over desolate moors, punctuated by scattered flocks of sheep and the ruins of ancient castles.  Every turn of the road brought new wonders into view.  Golden eagles soared above shimmering lochs, while shaggy highland cows roamed the glens.

At Crianlarich they turned west on the A85.   Following the shore of Loch Awe, they passed the magnificent ruins of Kilchurn Castle, former home of the Campbells, and finally descended into Oban, the gateway to the Western Isles. 

The synaxis arrived in Oban on Tuesday evening, thoroughly exhausted, almost twenty-four hours after leaving Dallas.  It was the height of tourist season, and Oban was thronged with visitors from all parts of the world.

Holmes had booked rooms for them at the Caledonian Hotel.  The Caledonian is one of Oban’s landmark buildings, located directly on the waterfront.  Built in 1882, it proudly boasts that it was the first hotel in the Highlands with "a motorised lift and central heating."  Almost every room offers breathtaking views of Oban Bay and the distant mountains of Mull.

After an hour in their rooms to freshen up, Holmes called everyone to the lobby to formulate their plan for the evening.  Eliel had asked to meet with them at ten o’clock for a final briefing, leaving them just four hours to see the sights of Oban.

Ron, Reetha, and Marty elected a quick snack in the hotel bar, followed by a nap. 

Michael and Patrick, however, were ready to explore.  Their plan was to visit one of the city’s famous pubs, and the remainder of the group enthusiastically chose to go along.

They exited the hotel, and walked north along the waterfront to the city’s main shopping district.  Crossing George Street, Michael pointed up at McCaig's Folly, the huge coliseum-like structure perched like a giant tiara on the cliff above the town, and related the history of the landmark to Holmes and Piper. 

“You really should go up there some time,” he said.  “There’s a public garden inside the hollow shell, and an observation platform offering one of the best views of the Western Isles. It’s a steep climb to the top of the hill, but the view is worth it.”

Michael and Patrick had compared notes on the pubs they’d sampled on earlier visits, and finally agreed on Aidan's.

Aidan's is a quintessential Scottish pub, situated in the centre of Oban on a short, curved street called Aird’s Crescent, not far from the Hotel.

Entering the pub, the Americans immediately fell in love with its Celtic warmth and charm.  The well-stocked bar was situated prominently in the center, with the taproom on one side and a cozy dining room on the other.  The surrounding walls were awash with maritime prints honoring Oban's centuries-long seafaring heritage.

Though popular with tourists, Aidan’s is primarily a local watering-hole, famous throughout the region for its friendly staff and menu of home-cooked highland faire.  During soccer season, the place is often packed with loudly cheering fans, all crowded around the big-screen televisions.  There was no game this night, however, so the locals had found other forms of entertainment.  A group of younger Scotts were enjoying a game of darts near the back, while some older patrons shared a few pints over a cutthroat game of dominos. 

As they took their seats, Michael passed out the menus.  “This place will give you a good sampling of traditional Scottish food,” he said.

“I seem to remember a line from a Mike Myers movie…” Lys interjected, “something like 'All traditional Scottish food is based on a dare’.”

“That accusation is sometimes made,” Michael smiled.  “But most Scottish food is really quite good.”  Pointing to the menu, he added, “Take Scottish eggs, for example.  Not something a vegetarian would choose, but quite delicious.”

“What are Scottish eggs?”  Piper asked.

“Scottish eggs,” Michael explained, “are not like any eggs you’ve ever eaten.  To make a Scottish egg, you take a hard-boiled egg and encase it in a thin layer of ground sausage meat, then roll it in breadcrumbs. The entire concoction is then deep fried until the outside layer is golden brown.  It’s usually served with hot German mustard along with a chilled spinach and bacon salad.”

“That really does sound good,” Lys agreed.  “What are some other Scottish foods?” 

“Well, the quintessential Scottish food is
haggis
,” Michael answered with a mischievous smile. “And the Scots have discovered an amazing variety of ways to eat it.  Sometimes it’s battered and deep-fried and served with chips.  It’s even sliced and eaten in a bun as a ‘haggis burger.’

“More traditionally it’s served with ‘neeps and tatties’ – that’s mashed turnips and potatoes – and a ‘dram’ … a glass of Scotch whisky.  You should try it.”

 “Be sure to ask what’s in it before you order it,” Patrick cautioned with a smile.

“I disagree, Patrick,”  Michael laughed, “It’s really best to taste haggis the first time without knowing the ingredients.  You tend to enjoy it more.”

That, of course, brought an immediate demand from the women at the table that Michael reveal the ingredients of Haggis.

Finally surrendering, he explained, “To make haggis, they grind up a sheep's heart, liver and lungs, mince it with onion, oatmeal, and spices, then stuff it all into the sheep’s stomach, and boil it for several hours.  It has an excellent, nutty texture and is really quite delicious.”

Seeing the expressions on the women’s faces, Holmes couldn’t help laughing out loud.  Lys, in particular, looked like she was going to be sick.  Screwing up her face, she said, “Now I know why they always serve it with whiskey.  I think I would need to down a good many of those drams before I could force myself to put
that
in my mouth.”

While only Michael ordered the haggis, they loved the Scottish food, and thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere of Aidan’s, talking and laughing long after the plates had been cleared away.

They left the pub a little after nine, crossed Aird’s Crescent and turned north on George Street.  Being the height of the tourist season, the sidewalks were crowded, even at nine at night.  They walked slowly, enjoying the evening.  The time at Aidan’s had given them a chance to relax from the stress of the trip, and for a brief moment they were able to put out of their minds their reason for coming. 

As the group continued down George Street, Erin suddenly grabbed Lys’s arm and pulled her back into the shadows.  Lys glimpsed the look of horror on her face. 

“Erin, what is it?”

“Look, over there,” Erin whispered, “in front of that pub… just across the street.” 

Turning to look, Lys saw four men just exiting a small pub.  All four were dressed in blue jeans, western shirts, and cowboy boots, and definitely looked out of place in the Scottish Highlands.   All four were drunk.  They staggered along the sidewalk, loudly cursing, and roughly shoving each other and anyone else that got too close.

Lys had never seen the men before, but their presence made her blood run cold.  “Who are they?”

Erin leaned close and, in a faltering voice, whispered, “The three shorter ones are the thugs that manhandled me at the ranch.  The tall one leading the way is my
husband
, Rex Vanderberg.”

Lys nudged Erin further into the shadow and tried to shelter Erin with her body, hoping the men would not look in their direction.  Neither had any doubt that the men would kill Erin there on the street if they saw her.

But the four men continued to stagger down the sidewalk, shouting and cursing, oblivious to Erin’s presence.

Grat turned and leered as two young girls in short skirts walked past, then glanced at Rex, “Hey, Rex… you think your
wife
will show up tomorrow?”

 “Hell, Grat,” came the reply, “I don’t even give a damn!  With the Irin gone, she’s dead meat, no matter where she tries to hide.  We’ll get that traitorous bitch sooner or later, and next time we’ll have some fun with her.”  They all laughed.

Grat started to turn in at the next pub, but Rex grabbed him by the shoulder and roughly swung him around.  “That’s enough for tonight, Grat,” he barked.  “Time to bed down.  The Archons want us on board the ferry at seven in the morning.”

As the men disappeared around the corner on Argyle Street, Lys enfolded Erin in her arms and held her close.  Erin’s body was trembling, and tears were streaming down her face.  With one hand she still clenched Lys’s arm in a vice-like grip. 

None of the others had noticed the incident and had continued down the street, turning left on Queen’s Park Place, heading back to the hotel.

Lys held Erin close for a few moments more, then gently tugged on her arm.  “Come on, Erin, let’s get back to the hotel.”

Just before ten, they gathered on the open promenade next to the quay, just across the street from the hotel—an area once known as the Queen’s Park.  Oban Harbor lay quiet in the cool night air.  The tourists were still laughing and talking in the busy pubs and restaurants along George Street, but here the darkened fishing boats gently bobbed in the swells while the lights of the north pier shimmered and danced across the water. 

Lys and Piper stood close to Erin, who was still visibly shaken, while the others talked quietly, pondering this most recent development. 

And then Eliel was there.  No one had seen her coming.  She was simply standing in their midst.  The group quickly huddled around her while Piper described the evening’s events.

“The Archons recognize the importance of the battle ahead,” Eliel responded, “and have gathered many forces.  We’ve now entered a desperate time.

 “Individually, we Irin are much stronger than the Archons, but their numbers have overwhelmed us.  Over the last few years, many portals have been opened between the earth and Hades, bringing hundreds of thousands of the Archons into this realm.

“There are many thousands of Irin waiting in
Basilea,
ready to come to our aid, but they can’t come without a portal.  Our only hope is to re-open the Iona portal, and only
you
can open it.  You must get to Iona as soon as possible.

“A vast army of Archons now surrounds Iona,” she continued.  “All Irin have been called to the island to defend it until you get there, but we can’t hold it for long.  I must leave now to join them.

“Make every effort to get to Iona quickly.  All of you.  The enemy will have a plan to keep you away, so be on guard.  Make use of your gifts, as much as you’re able.  I won’t see you again until you get to Iona.” 

And with that, Eliel simply faded from view and was gone.

Holmes paused a moment, then looked around at the group.  “We leave for Iona in the morning.  Rest well tonight.  If Rex and his thugs are taking the first ferry, we’ll take the second.  No need asking for trouble.  The second ferry leaves at 9:50.  Let’s meet in the lobby at 8:45.  We want to be on board by nine-fifteen.”

Chapter Twenty:  The Search

THE CITY OF OBAN, ARGYLE, SCOTLAND

On Wednesday morning, Holmes’ cell phone rang at 8:15 AM.  It was Erin, and she was frantic.

 “Dr. Holmes?”

“Yes, Erin, what is it?”

“I just went to Lys’s room.  She’s gone!”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Holmes answered, “She’s probably just gone down to breakfast.”

“No. I checked the dining room,” Erin came back.  “In fact, I’ve looked all over the hotel and even outside on the promenade.  She’s not here.  Anywhere.  She’s
gone!”

“Where are you now?”  Holmes asked.

“I’m downstairs, in the lobby.”

“Stay there.  I’ll call the others.  We’ll meet you there in five minutes.” 

Holmes hung up the phone and turned to Piper.  “Lys is gone.”

“Are you sure?” Piper said.  “Erin’s still not herself, you know, especially after last night.”

“Even allowing for Erin’s panic, it’s not like Lys to leave and not tell anyone where she’s gone.”

Holmes quickly called the other members of the group and asked them meet in the lobby.  After a brief consultation, they split up and searched the hotel.