The Pillar of Horns

Chapter Five

The rain had finally come, bearing down on the island in waves, crashing across its hillsides. The night had ushered away the brief sunshine, prompting the clouds to droop and sag, before unleashing their barrage. Elspeth clutched her umbrella, her knuckles white from her tight grip. The umbrella was struggling against the wind, proving almost useless against the deluge. Coin ill-spent in the local pound shop, the small folding apparatus being a poor match for actual weather.

Night. Elspeth hated it. It seemed like nearly all her time was spent trudging around in the darkness. Fumbling along looking for something that was normally doing its best to remain hidden. No, sunlight, that she liked. Summers spent lounging on the beach. Budget trips to Spain. That was more here speed. This night and its constant pestering rain were killing her mood. Whilst it was a typical Scottish June, something about the small island made everything closed in, even the weather. The heavy rain forming thick walls of water around her. Gregor was ahead of her, only visible by the light of his torch.

They were searching the hillside, headed to the other side of the island. Whilst small, the islands only road ran around the outside in a ring. Where they were headed lay off that, and with no vehicle available to them they had set out across what had been lush green grass, before the night had come bringing its rain. Now it was thick slippery mud that wormed its way up trouser legs and into socks, squelching between toes before taking up its final home within boots. They had considered getting the islands sole taxi driver to take them as close as possible, before discounting that. The island's population was so small, so tight night, that their suspect could be anyone.

The light that signified Gregor reached the crest of the hill. He turned, the torchlight hitting Elspeth's eyes, forcing her to close them momentarily. When she reopened them, she could see Gregor more clearly, the clouds had parted for a moment, silhouetting him against the moon. Gregor was waving to her, torch still clutched in hand. In the other, he held an umbrella. He had sprung for a more expensive model, the large kind used for golf. It was holding up considerably better than Elspeth's.

She stepped up the hill slowly, boots sinking into the mud. More than once she slid back, losing progress on her climb. Eventually, she reached the top, panting a little. Gregor manoeuvred his larger umbrella to cover them both. He had given his opinion at the time they had bought them that Elspeth was making a mistake. Now, he was wordlessly signalling his triumph.

"This is the place I guess," Gregor said, shining his torch down the other side of the hill. "You never really think of places like this. I mean, they must have existed sure, but way up here? I wonder why?"

"Remote ain't it. Someone escapes up here, what damage are they going to do? You Ken?"

"Fair point." Gregor nodded, his lips pursed. "Ok, so, down we go then?"

"Fuck me, let me get my breath first. Not everyone lives in the fucking gym like you."

"Aye fair play, you've put a shift in tonight I'll give you that." Gregor cracked a grim smile. "Five minutes then, and we'll head down," he said, his colleague responding with a roll of her eyes.

Below them was Raasay's dirty secret, a collection of abandoned buildings surrounded by collapsing rusted fencing, remnants of barbed wire hanging limply from them. Some seventy-five years before it had been filled with men, captured prisoners of war, shipped from the mainland to the remote Scottish island. The German soldiers had been well treated, but the rows of small wooden huts, walls collapsed, stone foundations exposed, were given a wide berth by the locals. They whispered amongst themselves, about fleeting sightings, strange lights and furtive whispers on the wind.