Chapter Eighteen
OuroborosChapter Eighteen
“So what yer looking for is past over the hills there. Over the road that leads past the brook, just follow the coastal road and you’ll eventually get to the loch. Follow the loch to the west and at the end follow the river to the north along the road. There’s a sign you can’t miss it.”
“Thank you very much.”
The doors to the train closed as the conductor entered it. Sluggishly, like it had no schedule to keep or any place to be, the train picked up speed eventually clearing the platform and disappearing into a similar tunnel of trees and hillside from which it had come from. Slinging her trekking bag over her shoulders and clipping the straps in the front for extra support Irene walked off the platform down the narrow road flanked by trees on either side, leading out of the remote train station.
She had taken an evening flight out of Hong Kong the previous day, an evening that had been filled with extreme anxiety and tension. It had been the moment of truth concerning her fake passport, whether it would work in global travel or not. She had managed to book the tickets under that name and when she checked in at the airport the passport also passed the test. But only once she was sitting inside the plane and it rolled out and took off did Irene feel the first sense of relaxation. For the whole time at the airport she had been looking over her shoulder ready to hide and escape fearing that she had been found out.
However, even after the plane had taken off she wasn’t completely confident that everything was in order. Not until she had landed in Inverness after a layover in London and had passed through the security and passport control was she able to let her mind and body relax. She had made it to Europe, she had made it to Scotland and could soon see the Sisters, her precious allies and friends.
It was early afternoon the day she landed and her first order of business had been to buy a few extra clothes and items for a trek in the Scottish autumn weather, as well as some food and water supplies and books on the region; she wanted a good pretence of appearing as touristy as possible. With her equipment and provision bought and enjoying a heavy and hearty lunch for the road, Irene had boarded the train from Inverness to Fort Williams and from there a second train to the west coast to the station where she had just disembarked off of.
It had taken her four hours to get here and the sun was a little above the horizon at this point, still providing light but soon it would dip below casting the beautiful landscape into the shadows. This in mind Irene had prepared reflectors on her jacket and had both a headlamp and a separate powerful flashlight as the walk to the home castle of Móna, or Mòr as she had been called way back then, from the station was approximately thirty kilometres. It would be close to midnight by the time she reached it.
Finding the road leading south towards her destination Irene trekked along the left side of the road. There was no sidewalk but there was enough clearance to the edge that she could fit there with comfort and didn’t have to walk on the road for long stretches. Luckily for her the weather held out nicely and there were few clouds in the sky, rare for this time of the year or for this region in general.
Half of her walk would be along the coastal road passing some homesteads and very rural little hamlets while the second half the road would dip further inland into a valley before rounding out back to the coast where the castle sat. She had looked up at locations to hopefully cut some of the distance, but by the time she would reach a location to ford the river safely to shorten her trip to the castle, she would already be halfway inland. At that point it would be faster to walk along the road than to try to climb over the rugged untamed mountain topped with a wild forest.
It was a strange feeling walking over these lands. Physically and in reality it had been over seven hundred years since she had stepped on this soil and was last bound for this ancestral castle, in her awakened souls memories however it was only five to six years ago at most. The further along the loch bank and familiar coastlines and highlands she walked the more her mind found itself wandering deeper into her memories of this place, to a turbulent time, and soon Irene was completely lost in thought and her memory of the distant past.
A memory of the time soon after she had met Jannah.
“You’re serious, Mòr of Ruaidhrí is your Sister? Clann Ruaidhrí of Somerled prodigy?”
“Aye, I hardly would’ve believed it myself had I not met her in Cargill a few months ago. Her kinsmen almost had me whipped the peasant I am when I approached her all loving like, had she not interfered.”
“She is one lucky lass I tell ya. Every lifetime born rich as the King of Lydia.”
“Don’t remind me of Lydia…”
“Literally born the cousin of Croesus...”
“I swear Iona, by the arse of the treacherous Edward you’ll be off my cart and walking to Inverlochy if ya keep talking of Lydia!”
“Peace, peace Jean,” Irene smiled earning a smirk from Jean who returned her focus back on the bumpy gravel path leading them to Comyn. Out of all the Sisters it annoyed Jean the most that Mòr was always born into a wealthy family. It probably had something to do with Jean’s own fortunes; she was always born into a poorer lower class family.
“But she really was the daughter of-”
“Off with you!”
Jean pushed Irene hard on her shoulder, the latter failing to catch onto the side of the cart or regain her balance. She tipped over the side of the cart into the soft moist undergrowth of the glen. The cart kept moving forward Jean feigning ignorance and trotting along the road while Irene let out a loud rapid laugh that echoed through the valley as she rolled in the wet grass. Picking herself up after managing to calm herself down, she jogged over next to the moving cart and walked next to it along the road returning the wide smile she received from Jean.
“Have we managed to find everyone?” Irene asked as she caught up.
“I hope so. We’re meeting Seònaid in Inverlochy. We were all told to gather at Mòr’s stronghold by the end of next month. She had duties to attend to by her family, military like duties. Not that I had met anybody else yet anyway so we have the time.”
“The rest of your Sisters?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ve only met you three so far. I’m sure the others have linked up and will find their way,” Jean smiled to Irene before returning her focus on the road ahead.
Irene glanced at Jean from the side as she walked thinking of the risky armed duties that Jean was referencing to. Considering the influence of Mòr’s family she was fairly certain what it involved. “These duties… the English?”
“The English.”
As they rounded the bend opening up to the next valley they felt the first trickles of rain hit them. The already muddy road was going to become even worse and soon both of them would have to walk and lead the horses through the difficult trails.
A large droplet of water landed square into Irene’s eyes and she had to blink rapidly and use her hand to clear the water. Clearing the water and opening her eyes she was brought back, walking along the coast of the Scottish highlands all alone, out of the muddy glen and away from the cart and company of Jean finding herself back in the present back from her memories of several centuries ago.
The sun had already set without her even noticing as the last careful rays fought their way over the horizon to barely illuminate the road. She glanced at her watch; she had been walking for about three hours from the train station, about halfway to the castle. It was drizzling with a constant mist of water flowing down from the heavily clouded sky so she pulled the hood on her jacket up tightening the sides of it before fishing out her headlamp from her backpack and strapping it on her head. She would need the light from the lamp soon enough to see her way along the road and not fall into a ditch, as well as to make sure that cars on the road could see her.
Continuing on along the coast, the road was now taking her inland along the river before she came upon the bridge that crossed it. It was completely dark by now and she could only see the few metres ahead of her that her headlamp illuminated. With the cloud cover above that had brought the rain there was no starlight or moonlight to help illuminate her path making her trek in the darkness of the road even grimmer.
Crossing the bridge she reached the valley that brought her fully inland. It meant that she had a little under twelve kilometres left of her trek, a couple more hours. The sound of rain on the river soon faded behind her and only the patter of rain on the plants, road and hood echoed in her ears interrupted in rhythm by the crunch of her boots against the ground.
The lonely marching continued for a while with the rain slowly picking up its intensity. Like a firefly in the night Irene’s headlamp was the only real source of light on the road or anywhere in the landscape. If any houses existed along the hills of the valley they were all obscured by the trees and brushes everywhere, drowning out what little light could escape the windows.
After some time of trekking quietly along the dark wet road she could hear a buzz from behind her. The buzz turned into a low rumble and grew louder as it closed in on her. It had to be a car. Irene glanced behind her and in the distance could see light growing as a car was approaching the bend slowly illuminating the hillside. Eventually it rounded the bend and the full power of the headlights had Irene look away squinting, trying to avoid the blinding light. Having been walking in almost full darkness for a while now, her eyes were attuned to the low light.
She kept walking at a slow pace forward making sure she was well out of the way off the road as the car neared. To her surprise the low rumble wound down as the car approached her eventually coming to a full stop just a little ahead of her. It was a relatively new and well kept SUV and as Irene approached on the side, the car window to the passenger side opened.
“Evening, ah, can you speak English?” The driver asked the moment he noticed that Irene didn’t appear to be a local as she stepped up to the open window on the passenger side her face now in view of the car’s interior light.
“Yes,” she replied with a clear Korean English accent. Besides the fact that she was trying to appear as a tourist, her modern English language skills were purely learned in this lifetime as a Korean. Whatever English she had spoken seven hundred years ago was so far off from what was spoken today that she needed to rely on her modern school taught English.
“Can I give you a ride? Horrible weather,” the driver said with slow measured and clear English. He was an elderly man probably in his seventies with heavy set smile lines and wrinkles under his eyes, white hair like fresh fallen snow poking underneath his cap. He gestured with his hands pointing out into the wilderness as he spoke.
As Irene was about to reply something within her flipped. Somehow feeling at home and a little cheeky, her eyes brightened and mouth spread into a sly grin as she looked at the driver and replied in pure old Scottish Gaelic. “Sure, if you can take me closer to Castle Tioram.”
The driver blinked a few times in surprise not quite understanding such an old dialect or knowing what to say, but eventually replying with apprehensive Gaelic as his mind pieced together what had been said, “That’s where I’m headed.”
Irene opened the passenger side door and climbed up into the seat as the man closed the window. She took her headlamp and jackets hood off, giving a careful nod to the older gentleman and thanking him.
“So what has you trekking out here in the lonely back roads of the Scottish Highlands speaking some very old Gaelic? There isn’t much at the end of this road,” The man said continuing speaking in Gaelic as Irene strapped herself in.
“I’m from Hong Kong and I study old Scots and Scottish Gaelic in Seoul National University. As a part of my deepening doctorate studies and personal interest I’m doing a study on the Scottish Clan’s heritage and its prevalence and evolution since their popular rise in the 12th century. This is the way to the home of Clann Ruaidhrí right?”
“Aye it is. Nobody has asked after Clann Ruaidhrí in years but we are glad to have guests from so far away,” The old man said looking at Irene curiously, cracking a sideways smile. Switching from Gaelic to Scots the old man introduced himself. “My name is Alec Ronald; it’s a pleasure to meet you in this very Scottish weather.”
“I’m Meilin. Thank you for giving me a ride, saves me a lot of time,” she replied in Scots as well which received an equally surprised but more confused look from the older gentleman. The Scots language had changed too much since her time here seven hundred years ago similarly as English had. Irene quickly repeated the sentence in her English, realizing how difficult the conversation would be if she continued using the old languages.
She had also opted to continue using her fake identification as it was the only passport she held onto. Irene figured it was best to be safe and continue using her new alter ego with everyone she met as revealing her real identity was too big of a risk, a life threatening one. If word got out to any official channels that a Bae Irene was in Scotland it would immediately alert her former twin brother Isaac now turned The Door, Adhabu.
“Aye, we would probably have been asleep by the time you would have arrived on foot,” Alec replied in English back to her. The two had now swapped to English without mentioning it, both knowing this was probably the clearest language for the two to speak with. The truck started back on the dark road, the headlamps being the only source of light in the landscape.
“So you live in the castle?” Irene asked surprised that Alec was already heading to Castle Tioram at this hour. If he was delivering something it was rather late for that so it was reasonable to assume he lived there, or at the very least was visiting.
“We do. With funding help from the National Trust and a fair bit of our own wealth we’ve managed to bring the old family castle back to life. It’s still a work in progress but much has been done,” Alec smiled. “It’s a good retirement project for my wife and me. We can leave a restored family castle to the grandchildren.”
“Are you descendents of Clann Ruaidhrì?” Irene asked.
“I am a distant descendent through the MacDonald branch, or Domhnaill and then Raghnaill clans.”
“It’s amazing to find a family in possession of lands passed down through generations so far back. So often it seems that such possessions rarely last through a few generations.”
“Aye, rare for sure. How long were you planning on staying at Tioram?”
“I was hoping for three to four nights maybe at most, but it is completely up to how long you are willing to put up with me,” Irene flashed a smile, “I can help with any work that needs done and pay for my stay. Help restore the castle.”
“I think we can accommodate that,” Alec replied gently.
With the car ride to the castle her trip was reduced to mere twenty minutes from what would have otherwise been a few hours. Alec inquired about Irene’s past who spun a tale of her studies as Meilin into Scottish clan heritage. Doing a doctorate in Seoul University was not a lie as she had completed her doctorate in biomedical sciences before the beginning of this Cycle, however the topic of her doctorate, her name, and her history in Hong Kong were all fabricated.
Alec was impressed by Irene’s extensive knowledge of ancient Scottish clans, especially on ones around the time of the First War of Scottish Independence and the reign of Robert the Bruce. All of Irene’s knowledge of course was from personal experience seven hundred years ago and to Irene’s good fortune she had ingratiated and integrated herself to the ruling clans and their dealings before the end of that particular Cycle. Back then her survival had depended on knowing the exact interconnected relations of all the Clann’s, now it was useful historical knowledge that although not vital for survival was definitely a boon and a good cover for her new false identity as Meilin.
It was completely dark when they arrived at the edge of the water where the castle stood. It was still raining rather heavily and lights from the few windows that were visible over the parapet could be seen very faintly. Even the outline of the building itself was shrouded in darkness and Irene couldn’t see what the condition of it was from the outside; that would have to wait for tomorrow.
Driving the car as close to the castle as possible on the bank, he parked it where a patch of gravel worked as a parking space. The land bridge that connected the island where the castle stood and the mainland was slightly engulfed by the rain, however, it appeared that the Ronald’s or someone else had built a wooden bridge walkway across the land bridge which would keep their feet dry as they crossed it during this high tide and wet rainy weather.
Wrapping their hoods tight, Alec lead Irene across the bridge in a fairly rapid pace up to the front door of the castle. Quickly ushered inside they crossed the courtyard, up the little steps to the main buildings. It was only now that Irene could see that the main halls of the days yonder had been well expanded, made a lot taller.
They entered the main hall of the castle which was a massive room with a large fireplace stacked with burning wood, illuminating the room with dancing shadows and radiating with strong heat. The walls were lined with bookshelves and banners and clan colours, a thick dark oak dining table fit for ten in the centre. With the fireplace burning the massive hall was rather warm and on the courtyard side wall through the windows she could see the droplets of rain falling down even harsher on the outside. This was a very familiar hall to her.
“Keep your soggy self by the racks before you enter!” Irene heard a shout from somewhere inside the main keep.
“Aye, aye, I won’t be trailing mud,” Alec replied as he began to take his coat off. There was a little alcove at the entrance with a coat and shoe rack and they both removed their wet outerwear and shoes, Alec offering Irene a pair of felt indoor slippers to walk around the house in.
“Eyleen, do we have the secondary guest room available?” Alec called out, ushering Irene to sit down in one of the dining room chairs as he disappeared through a door on the right where light was shining from.
“Are we expecting guests?” Irene heard the voice that Alec had referred to as Eyleen, Alec’s wife.
As the discussion in the other room continued in regular conversation tones that she couldn’t hear, Irene slowly wandered around the room looking at all the artefacts that had been gathered. The main hall was their dining space, but it also seemed to be a place to showcase historical artefacts and their family’s heritage.
Among the various rugs and banners and colours on the wall there were swords and their scabbards hanging off the wall, a dirk and shield right next to it and then various interesting iron implements ranging from the previous century all the way somewhere far back. There were paintings of prominent family members of old hanging next to the rugs on the walls, and then an elevated table with a single old and worn blade and what looked like a wrecked shield boss.
Just as Irene was leaning in closer to observe it she heard her name called.
“Meilin, this is my wife Eyleen,” Alec said as Irene turned around and was introduced to an equally white haired older lady with thick glasses and a bright smile. Her eyes seemed to disappear as she smiled and although probably in her seventies like Alec, she was equally walking around with ease and good posture; they were both in good health.
“Pleased to meet you,” Irene said as she walked over to greet her.
“I hear you’ll be staying with us for a couple of days?” Eyleen asked as Irene arrived to shake her hand.
“Only if it is possible and not a bother.”
“Oh, not at all, we are happy to get guests out here, it’s a rare treat. Even more so one from so far away.”
“I found this one wandering the side of the road in the hills after Ardmolich, in the rain soaked to the bone. She had walked from Lochailort station.”
“That’s twenty kilometers!” Eyleen exclaimed before looking at Irene with sympathetic eyes, “You must be exhausted and hungry.”
“I had a good dinner and food for the road so I’m not too hungry, thank you. But tired and exhausted definitely,” Irene gave a bright smile as she visibly let her shoulders drop; releasing any tension she may have had upon entering this place. Even though she was technically walking into a familiar old hideout of theirs, a temporary home, it had been years since and she didn’t know what or who to expect here.
“Well let me show you to the guest room. It’s finished but has some equipment stored in it if you don’t mind. We weren’t expecting any guests anytime soon.”
“I don’t mind at all, thank you for taking me in.”
“It’s quite alright, lovely to have you,” Eyleen said and began leading Irene up the steps as she bid goodnight to Alec.
Eyleen flew up the two flights of stairs that it took to reach the guest rooms, grabbing fresh bed sheets and pillows on the way. She opened a door to one of the rooms revealing a bed with sheets, a simple table and a drawer cabinet to one end. There were two small windows as was normal for an older building and especially a castle, and to one end there was a section of the wall that bulged out. Additionally, there were a few stacks of unpacked boxes and tools in the room too, clearly being kept for storage out of the way until needed.
“Sorry for the mess dear, we’ll have it cleared up tomorrow for you,” Eyleen said as she let Irene inside having given her the clean sheets and pillow.
“Oh no, you don’t have to do any of that don’t worry. This is more than fine.”
“Well, you must be exhausted so I’ll leave you to it. The bathroom is down the stairs to the ground floor and to the left of the kitchen. If you feel a bit peckish, there is bread in the closed basket on the table top in the kitchen and butter in the fridge.”
“Thank you so much. Goodnight,” Irene said as Eyleen bid her goodnight and left her to herself.
As Eyleen closed the door to her guestroom and her steps echoed further away down the hall and the stone steps downstairs, Irene dropped her bag onto the floor and walked around the room to have a closer look. She touched the bulge at the end of the room in one corner and the stone was warm to the touch. This was the chimney being heated by the fire downstairs or it was coming from the chimney of the kitchen. Either way they were warming up the rooms along the way; a comforting radiant warmth. She noticed modern piping had been added with a radiator under the window, it was clear that the fireplace alone would not be enough to keep the place heated to modern standards.
Finally slumping herself in her bed and changing into some warm pyjamas to sleep in, Irene felt her aching and tired body relax. Ever since her identity had been revealed and exposed the day after her Awakening she had been on constant alert and stress. Finally she could feel the tenseness give way to a sense of relief. She had made it safely out of Korea, then out of Hong Kong all the way to Europe as far away from Adhabu as she could. She had made it to the castle and the old home of one of the Sister’s; of the one that had been called Mòr back when she had lived here.
Even though the Cycle was a terrible burden on them all the one thing Irene did enjoy was finding out what everybody was called in each new life. The diversity of families and backgrounds that everyone grew up in with each successive Cycle was extremely interesting and exciting, as well as the new names they each lived with. It made her wonder what everyone’s names were in this Cycle, as although their souls would recognize each other when their eyes met and they would know in spirit and essence who the person they were looking at was, it didn’t transfer any information about their current life to the other; this would have to be done by talking in person.
As the stress and achy muscles relaxed and her mind found a semblance of peace she began falling asleep. In that feeling of safety she noticed that tears had run down her cheeks without her noticing. It was an overwhelming sense of relief that washed over her and with that relief came the hope that soon she could finally meet the other Eternal Ladies, her family through the ages, her love for eternity.
Greeted by the trickle of sunlight through the thick curtains of the window, Irene woke up when the sun was well up in the sky. It wasn’t raining anymore and it appeared that it would be a beautiful day. Stretching herself across the bed her leg muscles almost began to cramp; they were sore from the twenty odd kilometres of walking she had done the day before. That kind of a distance had not been a huge issue in many of her past lifetimes as daily marches in an army had easily exceeded it and the primary method of transportation had been your own two feet. In this life it had been the subway, bus and taxi; the pinnacle of convenience, a detriment to your fitness.
Changing out of her pyjamas into comfortable outerwear she made her way out of her room and down to the main hall of the building which she had arrived in last night. Connected to it was the kitchen and when she arrived down the stairs to the room she saw that there was a single plate of breakfast left on the table with a note; eat up.
It was a hearty breakfast; eggs, bacon, beans and toast. Some big slices of well matured cheddar cheese, fresh orange juice, fried tomatoes, and in a thermos flask some hot black coffee. In her lonesome she happily ate and munched on the meal and when she was done washed up all her dishes in the kitchen which was a wonderful fusion of old stone and cast iron stoves and table tops as well as stocked with fully modern appliances.
Breakfast consumed and washing done Irene geared herself with some warm outerwear and headed out into the courtyard of the castle. Back when she had last been here seven hundred years ago, the buildings had only been a few stories in height. Now it seemed it had been extended a lot with added towers in the corners with up to five stories in height for the two buildings there. The stable which had sat by the front door was gone however and had yet to be restored, if it would be at all. Much had been fixed up by whoever was repairing it but it was clear the castle had sat abandoned for quite some time before this.
The courtyard of the castle was now a lot more open than it had been back in the day. Back then the stables and the granary had taken up the corners of the place, while the two main buildings had taken a third of the space as they did now. There had only been enough room for paths in front of the buildings, but now it was all open with a little ruined steps where the second line of lower walls and defence had been.
The castle wasn’t massive, only about twenty six by twenty eight metres in size, but it had been large enough to hold a small garrison of cavalry and a healthy band of soldiers during times of war. It had hosted a group of one hundred warriors at one point during her life here but that had been right at the maximum capacity for any semblance of comfort and a lot of the men had camped in tents outside. It was a fortress that guarded the loch and kept it in check, the shallow boats able to dock by the shores and banks of the castle and able to defend the waterways and assert control over them.
Out of the fortress she walked off to the shore of the little island they were in and looked at the sea, the light foam as it hit the shores, the gleaming and glistening pearly wave tops as the sun was shining brightly over everything. The air was fresh and all she could hear was the lapping of the water and a few birds flying and chirping, before they would fly away and escape the coming cold of winter.
She walked along the shore of the island reaching the land bridge and crossed over, beginning to make her way around the mainland shore. Now that she was here all she could do was wait for the others to arrive and until then she could relax, be free.
Looking back across to the castle she noticed the crumbled edges of the walls and the wooden fixings and supports that dotted the rooftops of the place. It was a very different view from what it had been back in the day. The walls were a little higher than she remembered and none of the buildings had stuck out over the walls; all had been hidden and safe behind the tall ten metre walls. The corners with towers lacked their roofs and were flat, and the supporting structures and huts outside the castle were all gone. The castle was a lonely pile of stone sitting atop the cold wet rock of the loch.
The hills and trees out on the mainland called to her and Irene climbed up the rising landscape just beyond the waterfront and sat upon a rock that allowed her a view above the trees, of the castle on its island and the loch that opened up to the sea.
In this bliss she passed her time in private comfortable meditation before she noticed a car further down the road inland making its way towards the castle. It had a trailer behind it stacked with something in it. Curious of what it was Irene made her way down to the beach and back along the coastline towards the castle.
As the car came to a stop in front of the land bridge she recognized the driver to be Alec, the old man of the castle.
“Afternoon Alec!” Irene called a little further out seeing the older man sorting something behind the car around the trailer. The capped white haired head straightened out from behind the car and saw Irene approaching her.
“Good afternoon Meilin. Did you sleep alright?” He asked as he returned back to what he was doing.
“Wonderfully yes,” Irene replied reaching the side of the wagon and saw that there were stacks of lumber planks, some wooden boards with hooks on them and metal piping. “For the restoration of the castle?” She asked waving her arm around the contents of the wagon.
“Yes. We’re getting some help from builders next month again for some of the major more difficult restoration sections before winter comes, but I thought I’d work on some of the sections that I can work on,” he said as he untied the cloth strap that was tied around the planks to keep them from separating and coming loose during the drive.
“Can I help?”
“Oh, certainly if you have time. Here, use these gloves so you don’t get splinters,” Alec said passing over a pair of thick rough yellow working gloves.
Already dressed in good outerwear fit for outdoor activities Irene put on the gloves and helped Alec. They unloaded the trailer of all the timber and carried it in manageable bunches up the gentle slope into the castle taking a total of six trips to get the timber up there. Following this were the pipes and boards. These were parts that could be assembled into construction stands to reach high places in a safe manner without having to risk working at the end of a ladder.
After more than an hour of hard work carrying things both Alec and Irene were tired and took a break for some tea. The trip from the car to the castle and back was approximately a five hundred metre roundtrip, which meant that in total they had walked close to five to six kilometres carrying all of the items. With achy muscles and limp arms the two grabbed a thermos flask of hot water and Alec guided Irene up steps to a section of the parapet that had been fully refurbished and rebuilt, a section of the wall that faced the loch and out to sea.
“I’d still be hauling lumber if it weren’t for your help,” Alec sighed a relief as he sat down on one of the stools that waited for them up on the wall, the Ronald’s couple having brought them up to the walls to sit on. This appeared to be a favoured spot for the two to come look at the scenery and relax.
“It’s the least I could do for you two letting me stay here and for feeding me,” Irene replied taking her first sip of the comforting warmth of her breakfast tea.
“So what got you interested in Old Gaelic and Scots? Doesn’t seem like the usual topic of study for someone in Hong Kong.”
“Well, you might not believe it but I have some very old Scottish ancestry in my family. When I found out about it as a teenager I was fascinated by it. I’ve always been a history buff so it was a rather natural path of education for me,” Irene smiled as she sipped some tea. This was technically true, she really did have at least once if no longer Scottish heritage in her and even now it resided and lived on in her heart.
“You don’t say. How far back? Do you know where in Scotland they were from?”
“She was from Weem belonging to Clann Menzies. She travelled with her father a merchant out to China where she fell in love with one of my great grandfathers sometime in the eighteenth century long ago, which is why I don’t look European, but the genetic record still exists within me.”
“Well that is grand, grand indeed,” Alec smiled. “As a token of my gratitude for the help I’ll let you peruse our ancestral books in the main hall. I know you came here to study the clan’s so I should give you the opportunity to do so for the evening.”
“Thank you very much, that would be lovely.”
“There is also one thing you might be able to make some sense out of as a scholar of Old Gaelic,” Alec said, grunting as he got out of the chair and strolled off along the wall with his tea cup in hand. Irene followed along and by the corner of the wall a few steps down Alec stopped in front of a little section giving some way for Irene to see what he was pointing at.
In the mossy surface of the stone wall, faded and almost illegible she saw a set of Gaelic letters, all in a single row. Reading it however the letters didn’t seem to add up to any sensible text or words and at the end of the segment of letters there was a tiny symbol, one that she recognized well; a simplified symbol of the Eternal Ladies. One of them had written a message into the walls of Mòr’s castle back then. She had to decode it.
“Can you make any sense of it?”
“I’ll have to make a rubbing out of it to see what all the letters are. Doesn’t ring a bell outright.”
“This thing I have however seen before, it’s in some of the clan records,” Alec said pointing at the Eternal Ladies symbol before taking another sip. “Let me know if you find it in any of the books during your study tonight, I would love to remember where I had seen it before.”
“I will certainly,” Irene said as she took her notebook and sketch pencil out placing it against the stone to make a rubbing out of the letters on the wall. Afterwards they finished their tea on the wall before Alec led her into the main hall and explained which books could be found from which shelves. He headed off to continue his construction efforts leaving Irene alone in the hall with the books.
Left to her own devices, Irene gathered a few books that seemed like an interesting read to pass time, and so she could appear to be studying. First however she wanted to see what the old inscription Alec had showed her said. The fact that it had the Eternal Ladies symbol attached to it clued her that it was most likely a coded message and since it was written in Old Gaelic she could assume it used the order number of the Cycle from seven hundred years ago when they lived here.
Diving in Irene took her time decoding the message using the same rules she had used not two days ago to decode the message from the news website hack. Using the Cycle of her life as a Scot as the rotation number, she worked her way happily eventually finishing off the final words and seeing the full sequence that comprised the message.
A maniacal cackle echoed in the main hall as Irene fought hard to stop herself from laughing too hard as she reread the decoded message. Of course it was something like this, what else should she have expected. Managing to stop herself from laughing as it was now hurting her chest and lungs she wiped the tears from her face before Alec or Eyleen could chance upon her and ask what was wrong. Picking up the piece of paper with the original etchings Irene shook her head. Mòr you silly goose.
“The toilet is clogged -Mòr,” Irene read it out loud once more, chuckling again at the message.
Of course Mòr would inscribe something so profound onto her castle walls once her spirit had reawakened during that Cycle and she remembered how to use their secret code. It made Irene wonder just how many more secret messages with silly meanings laid waiting around these ancient halls of Clann Ruaidhri.
With the very important and pressing message decoded and out of the way Irene dove into her books to read. Later in the evening when Eyleen came to the kitchen to make dinner for them all, Irene asked for some disposable rubber gloves so she could look at the oldest books with care and without damaging them.
Passing her time this way reading through the books in the comfort of the main hall and its warm blankets evening arrived and she supped together with Alec and Eyleen, telling them of what she had read so far and what in general she knew about the clans and the time of the First War of Scottish Independence, a time in history that she claimed was her area of expertise. Truthfully, this claim wasn’t too far fetched; she had personally lived through those times after all which made her a first-hand witness.
After dinner each of them rested and calmed for the evening in their own manner, Irene reading further and Eyleen knitting by the fire. Alec went off to weed out the courtyard until it started raining. Lightly at first but soon it picked up in its pace and large drops were pouring down hard like the night before, forcing Alec back inside.
Night arrived without warning as each of them passed their time and Eyleen poked the fire with the poker, trying to break it down into tinier pieces so the embers would die off quicker. As she was about to leave she turned to look at Irene who was comfortably wrapped in a blanket on one of the massive armchairs.
“Remember to kill the fire before you go to sleep.”
“I will. Goodnight,” Irene replied
“Goodnight,” Eyleen said and walked off up the stairs to her bedroom.
Wrapped up in the warmth of the blanket and the radiant heat of the fire, she stared out the window into the rain that poured even harder now. Her eyes were lulling to sleep, the book slowly slipping out of her hand as the clattering of the large droplets against the window and roof reminded her of the sound of heavy longbow arrows hitting the thick muddy grass of the glens, of piercing skin, piercing deep into her memories, into her dreams.
“Caoimhe!”
Irene turned around hearing the shrill scream of Seònaid from her right flank. She saw her run further out the flank towards a downed figure, the body of Caoimhe lying on the ground with an arrow sticking out from her chest.
Glancing back to the front she saw another volley of arrows release from the Welsh longbow men and she picked a shield from a fallen brethren before dashing after Seònaid. “Incoming! Seònaid watch out!”
The arrows landed and Irene had to hunker under her shield. Gleaming from underneath it she saw Seònaid had jumped over Caoimhe to shield her Sister’s body from any arrows and stood above them shielding them both was Kieran, Caoimhe’s brother in this life and Cycle. He had jumped out to protect her sister Caoimhe and Seònaid in the process. She saw an arrow had struck close to the neck of Kieran who withstood his stance until the end of the volley.
As Irene heard the last of the arrows strike the thicket she was back up and running towards the three that lay on the ground. Reaching over she cradled Kieran who was bleeding profusely from his neck. There was no way he would make it for long.
“Save Caoimhe, save my sister. My wee girl...” Kieran spluttered through the blood now streaming from his mouth.
“I promise,” Irene said resting Kieran on the ground where he stood kneeled on one knee, leaning on his spear.
“Now go!” Kieran shouted, pulling himself up to face the oncoming soldiers. He was joined by the few left of their retinue all gravely injured and knowing they weren’t making it out alive, but they would take as many of the English with them as they could.
Irene felt the tug of Seònaid and she looked down to see her teary face asking for help. “Help me carry her.”
Kneeling down to help Seònaid lift Caoimhe off the ground she saw the drooping eyes of Caoimhe and the bleeding wound and cough of blood. Caoimhe saw the worried look in Irene’s eyes and the tears on her Sister Seònaid’s face and gave them a bright red grin, her teeth smeared with blood, the red immediately dripping down her chin. “Don’t worry you two I’m…” a cough of blood spilled on her chest. “I’ll be fine…”
“You’ll be fine,” Irene repeated giving her a weak smile as her and Seònaid quickly carried her from her arms out down the crack in the rocks of the valley. To their relief the sun was setting and they were able to find the shadows of the hills and trees to mask their escape route. The rain that had started at the onset of the battle made the rocks slippery but it also helped hide the trail of blood that followed Caoimhe.
Behind them they heard the cry of Kieran for the last time, one final taunt before an inevitable outcome. “Come at me ya English bastards and have a taste of a real man, ya ninny dog es!”
The clash of arms and armour masked their escape, eventually the clamouring disappearing into the mist of thunder and the heavy fall of rain; for the two it was a blessing in hiding their trail and path out of the battlefield. The two carried Caoimhe non-stop for what felt like a mile before they felt they were far enough to be safe for now and found a nook under a fallen oak tree’s roots at the edge of a rock.
Caoimhe was unconscious but breathing and the arrow had luckily gone through all the way, its tip sticking out the back. Irene prepared some rags from her undershirt, ripping them into strips and washing them to her best ability in the rain water as Seònaid turned Caoimhe to her side. They would break the shaft of the arrow and pull the two sides out.
Irene wrapped her arm with cloth around Caoimhe’s mouth before giving a nod to Seònaid who snapped the shaft in half. The movement of the arrow caused Caoimhe to rouse from her stupor and let out a loud scream of pain muffled by Irene’s arm.
“It’s okay, it’s alright. You’re alright. You’ve had worse before right? This isn’t the first Cycle you’ve had arrows in you,” Irene brushed Caoimhe’s hair the latter looking at Irene with wide eyes of shock and pain as Seònaid pulled the two halves of the arrow shaft cleanly out of the wound. They immediately wrapped the washed cloth around the wounds to prevent the bleeding further.
With her wounds bound Caoimhe began drifting back into unconsciousness calling out for her brother. “Where’s Kieran? Kieran?”
Seònaid brushed Caoimhe’s head soothing her to sleep, her tears intermingled with the heavy rain and caked muddy face. They couldn’t tell Caoimhe that her brother from her family in this Cycle had died, again. They couldn’t tell her now. The three of them waited out the rain in their little nook that provided cover from the downpour, waiting for Caoimhe to regain her strength to move on, the battle earlier and the mile escape carrying Caoimhe weighing on all of them, lulling them to rest.
“Meilin?”
Her eyes shooting open Irene looked to the side feeling the warm touch of Eyleen on her shoulder. Blinking a few times rapidly Irene realized she was no longer huddled in the rain with Caoimhe and Seònaid. It was just a distant memory, a dream.
“You should go sleep in your bed, petal. You’ll have a sore neck in the morn if you sleep here,” Eyleen smiled.
“Oh, yeah of course. I must have dozed off,” Irene replied unfurling herself from her curled position with her blanket on the couch. She looked up at the old clock above the fireplace and saw that it was two in the morning. Eyleen must have come down for something and noticed Irene asleep in the chair.
Bidding Eyleen goodnight a second time Irene got off the chair and looked out the window, listening to the sounds of the outdoors. The rain wasn’t pouring as hard now as it had when she had fallen asleep. The fire was out for the night and Irene smiled in the dark main hall as her first day of safety and comfort had passed pleasantly.
The next few days passed by in the same manner, Irene helping Alec and Eyleen around the house with tasks during the morning and early afternoon before spending her evenings in study. Part of the time she would actually read the books while other times she did her best to write down all the information she could remember on the Cult from their past lives, trying to continue and compound upon the research they had completed in the last Cycle back in Istanbul.
As a couple more days had passed, she felt that she was reaching the appropriate length of her stay with the Ronald's couple. Of course the two elders didn't say anything and maybe they truly didn't mind that she was staying with them to keep company and help around, but Irene herself was beginning to feel restless about infringing upon their hospitality. They didn’t even accept any forms of payment other than the little help she gave them with tasks around the place.
Where were the others? Had they decoded the message?
She had now been at the castle for four days waiting for anyone to arrive but there was no response. Even the package that she had sent to this castle from Hong Kong as a precaution in case she didn't make it had arrived. She was still all alone.
As the evening of her fourth full day approached she was up in the attic space of the main building helping stuff some of the insulation into what would become the ceiling of the room below.
Together with Alec they toiled in the lamplight as the sun disappeared behind the horizon leaving the hills and the loch into darkness. Rain was rattling against the roof as it had been every single night since Irene had arrived. Usually the days had been rather bright without rain, but every evening and night it rained. Today was no exception.
It was surprisingly warm up in the attic even with the cooling autumn weather, and Irene wiped the sweat off her brow as she adjusted her glasses and face mask she was wearing to protect her lungs from the tiny fluffs of insulation that floated around the room. Huffing another sigh she felt that she might as well have been outside in the rain right now, that's how wet from the sweat she was feeling.
Earlier that day a neighbour had ridden to the castle on his horse for some tea and Irene had been delighted to greet the horse and brush its mane. It made her miss all the horses she had owned through the ages, and particularly considering where she was now it made her miss Dealan-dè, her highland pony.
They were hardy horses and Dealan-dè had been a trustworthy and loving old girl, one that had seen her through the thick of battle and strongest of storms. With the rain picking up in intensity and her mind lingering on Dealan-dè, Irene thought back at her memory of the day of her arrival, as her hopes to see the rest of the Eternal Ladies was beginning to wane.
That day it had been raining as hard as it was today.
The rain had poured hard like it had for days. What path had existed along the river was now a muddy waste, slippery enough to risk one falling into the river now all but overflowing over the banks. Riding her horse was out of the question in this weather, it would have guaranteed a quick drowning for her and her horse Dealan-dè.
Poor Dealan-dè, she was reaching the limits of her time as a mount and now she had to follow in this horrible weather and muddy road while braving the storm. Once they got to shelter she would give her a proper wash and brushing to; Dealan-dè deserved it.
She hoped that Seònaid, Caoimhe and Jean were safe after they parted ways; they should be. After Caoimhe had recovered from her arrow wound the three had found out that Jean’s village had been raided and burned to the ground. When they had parted ways with Jean she had said she was going to visit home before meeting them at the castle, before they were ambushed by the war party on the cliffs. Irene prayed Jean hadn’t been at her home village when it was burned.
From Seònaid she had learned that Deòiridh was meeting Wynfreda and Teàrlag, as they were called in this Cycle, in Loch Lomond before making their way up to Mòr’s castle. She prayed they were safely on their way too. If the fates were kind all of the Eternal Ladies would soon be gathered.
Once Caoimhe was well enough to talk she told them she had identified who Adhabu was in this Cycle. Their eyes had met in Glenalmond and she had recognized who he was in this life, while Adhabu only knew Caoimhe’s appearance. Knowing what Caoimhe looked like had been enough though.
The ambush that the three along with Caoimhe’s family retinue were caught up in had been sent by Adhabu to take care of Caoimhe since she had now been identified as one of the Eternal Ladies. It had been fortunate that Irene and Seònaid had just managed to meet Caoimhe before the ambush or she might not have made it out alive. The three of them had been the only ones to survive that ambush.
Irene’s connections to the clans on all sides was strong still, so she had decided to go and confirm this piece of information of Adhabu’s identity. In the hall of Camryn during a feast where the suspected Adhabu was in attendance, Irene had written a short message onto parchment in their ancient mother tongue; Adhabu would be able to read it. Without betraying her identity to a servant she managed to pass the letter on to the suspect during the gathering and could safely gauge his reaction to the letter from where he could not see and meet her eyes to identify Irene.
It had been Adhabu. He had read the message, intensely observed his surroundings with a smug grin on his face upon the revelation of the contents of the letter before rolling the parchment carefully and flinging it in the fireplace.
This had been a week ago and she was close to Tioram to finally be reunited with everyone, to take stock of their situation, find the location of the rift and plan out their next move to bring an end to this Cycle.
“Come on Dealan-dè, just a little further.”
The faint glimmer of light appeared from behind the bend barely visible in the torrential rain and howling wind. Quickly stepping through the brush she urged the horse to follow her quickly as the torrential rain and rising tide would surely swallow the narrow passage over to the island. Reaching the edge of the dark sea, the land bridge was already covered with close to five feet of water.
Tightening the reigns she pulled herself up on Dealan-dè and urged it across the water, Dealan-dè whining in response but slowly forcing herself into the cold water and across the flooded land bridge. Arriving on the other side the hooves clicking on the rough stone of the rocky island alerted the lone guard at the edge of the parapet, who rapidly ran towards the front door to which Irene was headed.
“Who goes there?” The shout of the guard echoed from the top, Irene stopping Dealan-dè and got off her saddle.
“Iona from Clann Menzies.”
“What does a Menzies have business doing wandering our shores?”
“I’m here to see Mòr. I’m here for the Eternal Ladies!”
All went quiet and there was no follow-up to the shout as Irene stood in the darkness and rain with the reigns of Dealan-dè in her hand, waiting for a reply. A few moments of silence passed before she barely heard sounds over the patter of rain. Soon the front gate of the castle opened ten metres further and a cloaked figure hurried out with a lantern in hand to meet Irene.
“I’m so glad you made it safely here, Iona.”
“I’m happy to be here, Mòr,” Irene replied giving a hug to Mòr who then ushered her inside with Dealan-dè, into the warmth of their hall and the arms of the rest of the Eternal Ladies that had gathered so far.
Her mind finding its way back to the present, Irene smiled at the old memory and pulled another sheet of mineral wool and began fitting it into the empty space in the roof.
“I could get used to a life here in a castle like this,” Irene said as she managed to stuff another sheet cleanly in before picking up the next one.
“Aye I bet you would. You look like the sort that would do well here,” Alec replied with a smile. “Have you ever lived out in the countryside or are you a city girl through and through?”
“A city dweller all the way. Childhood and teens in Hong Kong, university and adulthood so far in Seoul. There’s always been people around but,” Irene looked up and out of the window into the darkness of the evening. “It’s nice to sometimes be away from most people, just gathered with a few good people in isolation.”
“Hey, we aren’t that far in the wilderness,” Alec chuckled as he handed another mineral wool to Irene.
She received the sheet from Alec as she was still gazing out into the darkness when there was a small flash of light outside. Alec had noticed this too and walked over closer to the window to have a look, when Irene saw the beams of a car run across the sky and sweep past the ground around the castle coming to a rest across the water.
“It appears we have some guests. It’s rather late to be driving out and about the hills. I wonder who they are,” Alec said as he stood by the window of the attic.
Irene dropped what she was doing and walked over to the window seeing the car on the other side of the narrow land bridge between the mainland and the tiny island the castle sat on. Barely visible in the headlights of the car she saw three figures get out of the car, one of them bouncing happily and immediately trouncing towards the castle as the car lights turned off hiding the three figures into darkness. Irene went running down the stairs.
She rushed across the courtyard to the front door lifting the hinge off its place and unlocking the door. The light from the courtyard flooded out of the door into the darkness out in front of the castle. She took a few steps out into the night air walking towards the edge of the light cast by the open door as the rain drenched her t-shirt.
In a few moments the bouncy steps upon gravel and rock closed in on the castle, rapidly advancing towards her before the silhouette of a woman appeared in the faint light cast behind Irene, stopping just a few metres away from her. Irene’s eyes met with the person and she instantly walked over to the woman sinking into a deep hug.
“I’m so glad you made it safely here, Mòr,” Irene said as she squeezed the woman tightly.
Wanting to sink into the warmhearted hug for the rest of the night and overjoyed with finally meeting one more Eternal Lady, Momo pulled back slightly and smiled brightly.
“I’m happy to be home, Iona.”
-----
30.01.2020 Author’s Note:
Hey guys, so there has been a minor change to the previous chapters, mainly the names that the Eternal Ladies use to describe each other BEFORE they have met one another and reunited in this Cycle.
In the beginning of writing this story this was an oversight on my part, and lately it started bugging me so much that I have gone back in the chapters and changed the names of the Eternal Ladies where appropriate. I did it correctly in Chapter Five where Chaeyoung is called Christine by Agnes her old relative in Salzburg, and in Chapter Twelve when Momo and Jeongyeon correctly introduce themselves as Móna and Jannah to Mustafa. After this however I didn’t follow through with this in all the chapters. This has now been corrected to be similar.
Note, this DOESN’T have any impact on the story events or what has happened, all it does is fix this little oversight where the Eternal Ladies would call each other (or think of them in their memories) by their CURRENT names such as Momo, Tzuyu, Seulgi before seeing or knowing who each other are in this current Cycle. Now instead when they meet for the first time in this Cycle, they call each other by their name from the previous Cycle.
As you probably noticed I already implemented it in this chapter with Irene, as she does not call any of the Eternal Ladies by their current names (and some names from the older Cycle in Scotland). She doesn’t know what the current names of any of the Eternal Ladies are right now until she meets them in this Cycle. I’ve used this method to fix the previous chapters.
Underneath I have included a quick cheat sheet/update log of which chapters had the name changes, and who’s name and what names were mentioned so you don’t have to go back to reread the chapters in case you are curious as to what has changed (unless you want to of course). I’ve also included a simple list of what each Eternal Ladies’ name was in the last Cycle, as by now each name would have been/has been revealed naturally in the story.
Thank you for the continued support and I hope this wasn’t too confusing! If there are any questions regarding this please leave a comment and I’ll do my best to answer without giving spoilers!
The Eternal Ladies last Cycle (1880s Europe) names revealed in the story:
Jeongyeon - Jannah
Momo - Móna
Dahyun - Daria
Chaeyoung - Christine
Seulgi - Sofija
Tzuyu - Trudi
Wendy - Wera
Irene - Iva
Chapters in which names have been changed:
Chapter 2: Wendy mentions Tzuyu as Lady T. Changed Tzuyu to Trudi.
Chapter 4: When Momo and Jeongyeon meet in Istanbul. Changed Momo to Móna and Jeongyeon to Jannah.
Chapter 5: When Alexander Bauerschaft and Tzuyu meet. Changed Tzuyu to Trudi.
Chapter 6: When Dahyun and Chaeyoung meet. Changed Dahyun to Daria and Chaeyoung to Christine.
Chapter 7: Seulgi recalling the past and old memories while recovering from her wounds. Tzuyu, Wendy, Seulgi, Chaeyoung, Irene changed to Trudi, Wera, Sofija, Christine and Iva respectively.
Chapter 8: When Wendy meets Tzuyu in Munich. Changed Tzuyu to Trudi.
Chapter 12: Jeongyeon and Momo talk about their past when they were sacrificed by their Mother. Changed Tzuyu to Trudi and Seulgi to Sofija.
Chapter 13: Tzuyu and Irene mention Momo’s castle as the meet up location. Changed Momo to Móna. Irene mentions Jeongyeon’s poor luck, changed Jeongyeon to Jannah.
Chapter 14: Dahyun mentions Seulgi. Change to Sofija.
Chapter 15: JeongMo mention Wendy as knowledgeable about Cult writing. Changed Wendy to Wera.
Chapter 17: DubChaeng mention Momo and Jeongyeon meeting up being a nightmare case. Changed to Momo to Móna and Jeongyeon to Jannah.
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