The Aebeling: The Casere, #1

By Michael O'Neill

Major (Ret.) Conn MacLeod is no ordinary forty year old – and he has a very long list of achievements to prove it. From his decorated army career, his celebrated status as a world champion in several sports, his acknowledged expertise in history, science, and engineering gained through his numerous university degrees, and his notoriety as a millionaire playboy, he has more notches in his belt and trophies on the wall than ten men combined.

 

Despite living his entire life in a breakneck, carefree and almost suicidal manner, Conn MacLeod has been the proverbial unstoppable force. But they say that all good things must come to an end... has he finally bitten off more than even he can chew?

 

He now plans to go alone to a place that he knows absolutely nothing about – where the risks are unforeseeable and the outcomes inconceivable. Despite any possible preparations, this is not something you do every day – and expect to survive.

 

Conn MacLeod has finally devised a key that will open a portal into a parallel world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael O'Neill
• Release date: Jun 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223816065

Michael O'Neill

Michael O'Neill started working with Richard Ulbrich almost thirty years ago, and together, in 1994, they published his ultimate companion volume for all thoroughbred enthusiasts,  “Richard Ulbrich's Peerage of Racehorses”. Some years later, Michael facilitated and managed the online version of his book, www.ulbrichspeerage.net. With Richard's passing, Michael intends to find a way to keep his work available for all, for time immemorial, as his work is an indispensable resource for all thoroughbred lovers.

Book preview

The New World

The portal that provides Conn MacLeod access to the alternate world takes him to a land called Meshech. Below is a summary of some of its major characteristics. There is no requirement to read this summary, but you may find it useful.

THE PEOPLE OF MESHECH are made up of three tribes: the Ancuman or first born, the Twacuman or second born, and the Priecuman or third born. Each has a very different disposition and view of the world, and their place in it. In appearance, the Ancuman and Twacuman are both African, while the Priecuman are Asian. The Priecuman are divided into four tribes who speak different languages.

The lowest economic unit within Meshech is the manorial fief ruled by a Thane. Living on the fief is the Thane, his bedda (wives), his servants, wiga (soldiers), tacksmen (vassals who rent land from him) and cotters (vassals who are provided a house but no land, and who provided their service to Thane, tacksmen, artisans or merchant in exchange for payment). Townsmen are, by definition, cotters.

Some cotters are also the artisans and utilize their skills in workshops owned by the Thane. Artisans are not formed into Guilds but gain their skills by purchasing an apprenticeship from another Artisans. With the main requirement of any fief being the production of food, artisans mostly apply their craft during the winter season: although spinners and weavers work all year. Cotter ranks are also filled with the sons of tacksmen who lack the financial resources to rent land from the Thane for all their children. Sons of Thanes might find themselves as tacksmen or wiga.

Thanes are vassals of Eaorls and Eaorls are vassals of the Healdend (or Wealdend if the ruler is female). An intermediate level is the Aebeling (Prince) who is the ruler of a fief with a great amount of independence, but still a vassal of a Healdend.

A Thane has a Steward to supervise his fief. A Steward in a large town can have a Sheriff with a squad of wiga, and a Magister to assist him administer security and justice and an Inquisitor to investigate on behalf of the steward. Only an Eaorl or above may appoint a Captain; a Captain being the commander of a platoon of wiga.

The army is composed of platoons of a hundred wiga; composed of five squads of twenty wiga, all led by a Captain. A larger army is led by an Aebeling who has Eaorls and Thanes in his command structure.

Meshechian society is polygamous, and both spouses are referred to as bedda; however, the male is the only one who typically takes a second bedda. Wiga, tacksmen, cotters and artisans are allowed one bedda unless, after three years, the couple remain childless, and the Eaorl agrees that the couple can support the extra mouth. A merchant or captain can have two bedda, a Thane three, an Eaorl four, and a Healdend five. There are also rules about dowries to protect against any possible abuse of the bedda system. The main rule being that the lesser bedda in social standing pays a dowry to the higher – regardless of gender. The other rule is the giver regains the dowry in the event the relationship is dissolved. A dowry is also only required for the primary bedda or the one that will provide the heir to the fief.

At the bottom of society is the theow or slave; a class formed from criminals, captives of war, or those sold into servitude because their family cannot afford to feed them. A Thane will have theow as servants or even take them as lesser bedda. He might also have others to work as labourers. The law requires that theow be paid for their labour, so they can buy their freedom over time.

The religious life of the Meshechian is based on their devotion to a goddess, called a Gyden. Each tribe has a separate Gyden. Gyden have a selected group of followers called folgere, who in the tradition of some ancient religions, perform a role that is a combination of seer and temple prostitute. They also wear gemstones, called haligdoms, which serve as the conduit between them and the Gyden. There are temples located in the major centres, where carved naked statues of the Gyden bear larger versions of the haligdoms. It is the presence of these haligdoms that allow the folgere to truly connect with their Gyden.

Map

For a map to guide yourself around the continent of Meshech (roughly the same size as the state of New South Wales in Australia,) please go to:

thecasere.info

=861, Autumn 22=

*Halani*

The forest was suddenly quiet; some would have said too quiet; and that that was certainly the impression of the man standing beside a golden buckskin stallion in an ancient forest. The man was Connor MacLeod, former Major in the Royal Engineers, British Army. Connor, or Conn as he was mostly called, was not dressed as you might expect him to be – he was in medieval armour – of the type before knights wore shining metal armor and looked like a can of sardines. He was standing, eating a dry lunch, as the stallion nibbled on the browning grass. As he ate, Conn scoured the horizon with his telescope. The sudden quietness had made him nervous.

The forest was very cool, so his clothing now consisted of layers to ward off the cold. To provide protection from a sudden attack, he wore chainmail, under a deep brown brigandine. On his head, he wore a Wolseley type hat for sun protection, but hanging on the side of his horse was a metal kettle helm.

He had three swords as well; a specially designed baldric allowed him to carry two very old swords; a wakizashi on his side and a katana on his back, while a sabre hung on one side of the horse. On the other was a recurve bow in a leather scabbard, a quiver full of bamboo arrows, and a circular shield. Like his clothing, these were also items from the medieval era – or items made in a similar manner.

Everything he brought with him he believed to be the most practical and effective for what he imagined he would face – based on the limited information he had. As for where he was; he didn’t really have a clue. The best he could explain it to himself was that here was in another dimension, possibly on earth but he wasn’t sure. Except to say that here also had only one sun – and the days – as he could judge them, with his large marine six-hour sandglass, were about the same length.

He also concluded that here was medieval, because as ludicrous as it sounded, that was the only possible reason why only medieval items could pass into this dimension. If not, he was very under-armed.

Another reason for that belief was that he discovered – after he had learnt how to use the portal – was that for items to successfully pass through, they had to not only be from his medieval period but had also to be hand-crafted from handmade materials. A three-hundred-year-old hand-crafted sword was fine – while a machine-made pistol would dissolve into the elements. Fibreglass bows shattered; the bamboo bow survived.

That discovery resulted in two years of delays as he needed to remake everything in his travel kit by hand, from his saddle to his medical equipment. His telescope was the most technologically advanced item to make its way through, and it had been a painstaking process handmaking every part of the five-draw brass and mahogany instrument.

Having just arrived the previous day, he was scouting to determine what to do next. He soon discovered that the geography of where he left showed no relationship to where he was now. He left from a small valley in a forest in highland Scotland, and from where he stood, he could see a long way downhill to a huge lake surrounded by dense forest on all sides. It seemed to be a very large valley, and with mountains in all directions, so was probably a very old caldera. This was most definitely not Scotland, and unlike anywhere else he could think of.

Even from so high up, there was no visible sign of humanity – no smoke, nor farms, and no roads anywhere. Whilst he had yet to see any indication of current human settlement, he did find remnants of stone walls, human constructed, that indicated a settlement of some kind. Only small buildings, it may have been a fort of some kind, but had not been used in a very long time. But if there was any human life nearby, and it seemed a big if, it had to be near the lake.

The purpose of his scouting was to determine what to do next, and without any indication that he should head in a different destination, tomorrow he would start his travels downhill, cautiously.

He had noticed that animal life was plentiful – and they were all types that recognised – though he wasn’t sure if they were the same species or not. He had seen, or seen evidence of, deer, foxes, wolves, wild pigs, and bears. As he stood, Conn had noticed deer in the distance, and when a fawn suddenly took fright and scampered to the safety of the herd that just as quickly fled, Conn took greater interest. It was the only sound he had heard for minutes.

After a while he spotted three men riding alongside a long line of donkeys, pack animals. They had once been in the trees and had now moved into the open and were slowly heading down a path to the lake. He watched them for a while before heading slowly heading towards them. He reasoned that if he didn’t surprise them, they wouldn’t respond aggressively. His study of them seemed to indicate that they were only armed with small swords and bows.

It took them some time to notice him, having settled down to have lunch. When they did, they scrambled to their feet, so he waved as he got closer, and rode in slower as the three men stood together gingerly grasping the end of their swords. From a distance they appeared East Asian to him – an elderly gentleman and two younger men – at first glance, very likely his sons. Conn pulled up his horse and nodded and then did what he thought was best.

‘Good morning! You seem to be struggling with the burros...’  He spoke without any expectation of being understood. Their response surprised him.

The elder man looked surprised but quickly answered. ‘Indeed, we are, stranger, we bought them only days ago and they still have a mind of their own.’ He moved forward and bowed respectfully. ‘My name is Abrecan – these are two of my sons - Eggar and Godric. We are simple merchants from Trokia, and we travel throughout regularly, and I must admit having never seen the likes of you before – a golden-haired wiga on giant horse, and certainly not here in Halani. Might I enquire where you are from?’

Conn dismounted. He found that he was at least six inches taller than the three men – and being blond was certainly very different in appearance.

‘My name is Conn. I’m from ...Taransay.’ It was the simplest place name he could thing of – Scotland seemed a big grandiose. ‘

‘Well, Conn il Taransay, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.’ He looked around. ‘Are you travelling alone?’

‘I am – but I do have more horses and supplies an hour ride from here.’

‘I see. And where are you travelling to?’

Conn shrugged. ‘Where the wind blows me. My mother told me to always plan to leave but be prepared not to arrive. I am unsure even where I am – also that I can understand your speech. You also understand when I speak.’

As they talked, they moved together to the fire that had been prepared and with water on the boil.  Soon a mug was passed to him by one of the sons, Eggar. He recognized the flavour immediately, green tea. It was a nice blend, even he had to admit. He thanked them.

‘You are welcome.’ He then smiled. ‘Language? – that is easy to explain; it is called the Gift of the Gyden – so that we all understand each other, even if our native tongue is different. Your language is also unlike anything I have ever heard but because of the Gift, I understand you fully.’

‘Gyden? I know little of them...’ In his head he understood that it meant goddess, but he repeated the local word. It seemed polite.

‘They are hard to explain but I’ve heard it said that these were very powerful beings who once guided humanity by living with us but now no longer do so. They are everywhere and are everything, or so I’m told. It is also said that they still guide us, should you be able to listen and wish to hear.’

Connor smiled thinly. ‘Someone to thank and someone to blame?’

Abrecan laughed in response. ‘Indeed. My journey this year needs sure needs to be someone’s fault. I would not wish to blame myself...’ He paused, ‘So where is this Taransay you say you are from?’

Conn needed a story – and a good one too. As always, parts of the truth were always necessary to create a good lie. ‘It is a small fief in the land of Alba.’ That was true enough. ‘I was travelling with some companions from the castle of my King and during our trip my companions and I were confronted by a huge storm. We were lucky that we found caves to shelter in, but I sheltered alone with a few of my animals while my companions were in a nearby cave with the rest. I have several young stallions and wished to keep them apart.’ Conn paused to see how the story was going. All three didn’t seem like they were going to burst out laughing, so he continued. ‘Anyway, after the storm, the next morning, I left the cave but found the valley covered in a heavy fog, and I was strangely unable to find my friends. When the fog cleared, I found myself here, yesterday, alone, and in these mountains. It is most perplexing.’

Conn considered his story ludicrous, but it was the best he could come up with on the spot. He had surprisingly never considered that he might need to explain his presence.

Abrecan nodded slowly. ‘What you say is beyond my understanding, but I’ve heard that the Gyden could travel from any nation to another like you or I can walk from one house to another, in the same village so it is plausible that you are the result of the Gyden messing with people’s lives.’ He shrugged. ‘We are taught that we live on a planet that is round and floating in something caused space, and that we move around the sun rather than the opposite. None of that makes sense to me either. Tell me, what do you plan to do next?’

Conn was surprised at their astronomical awareness but didn’t stop to ask more.  ‘If it is no inconvenience, I was thinking that I might join with you. I have a way with burros...’

They all stood. Abrecan nodded. ‘I agree that might be wise. I am a friend of the Halani – it would be best if I introduced you formally. I’m surprised that you have not encountered them yet.’

It begged more questions, but Conn was running out of time. ‘I need to collect my belongings. I think I have enough time to return in good time – if I leave now.’

The old man grinned. ‘Hopefully you have some decent food with you; we are running out.’

CONN WAS BARELY OUT of sight of the merchants, traveling slowly back to his horses when the stallion stopped walking, pricked his ears, and snickered softly. Instinctively, Conn moved himself and the stallion back into the shelter of the trees and started looking for the cause, just to be careful. He was just about to give up when he saw a faint movement. He saw five men creeping down between the trees, over a thousand yards away, and he took out his telescope and watched them until they were hidden in the grass verge of a bank of a dry creek bed. Clearly setting a trap for someone, Conn continued to scour the valley below them for their prey.

Eventually he found three people riding slowly up the same creek bed, their figures dipping in and out of trees. They seemed to be heading along the path that the merchants were following, and into the path of those that lay in wait.

Of the three, two seemed large enough to be adults while the third was smaller, perhaps a child. They were almost at the ridge where the assailants waited, and when he looked back towards them, he saw two of the men stand and fire arrows, resulting in one of the figures falling from their horse.

This was not a battle; this was outright murder, and something needed to be done about it. Conn instinctively kicked the stallion into action and reached for his bow. The horse had been trained for just this kind of work and he burst from the trees with a flourish and quickly stretched out into a high-speed gallop. Though not a thoroughbred, the stallion would still cover the distance in minutes.

The path down the ridge was reasonably open and the stallion had little in the way of fallen trees or gullies to impede his progress. Conn could see now that another three men had leapt from their cover of the bank and tackled the two riders, pulling them from their horses.

Conn had spent his life studying martial arts – including both field archery and mounted archery – learning from the Mongols, the Hungarians, and the Japanese. As the stallion galloped, Conn stood in his stirrups and readied his bow. With the sound of his horse now echoing down the valley, the two bowmen suddenly realised they were not alone, and they called out warnings. While turning towards him, they fitted arrows to their bows, but they hadn’t even sighted their bows before feeling the thud of the bamboo arrows deep in their chests, because of the superior distance and power of Conn’s composite bow. With the bowmen failing, the three remaining men quickly retreated behind small shields, and waited. With the stallion snorting as he pulled it to a sudden stop, Conn dismounted in a fluid motion, and landed with a katana in his hand.

They spoke nervously to each other, ‘Who the heck is this? He isn’t an Ancuman or a Twacuman, and he isn’t like any Priecuman I’ve ever seen.’

Conn wasn’t now surprised that he could understand what these men said even though they didn’t look like the same tribe as Abrecan and his sons.

Another answered. ‘True, he is not like any Priecuman that I have seen either. And he wants to be a hero!’ He addressed Conn. ‘So, hero, what are your last words?’

Conn studied them as they circled him; each was armed with a sword about two-foot-long, two-edged for cutting and slashing but also with a tapered point for stabbing. It was a handy weapon – very much like the Roman gladius. They wore leather and brass lamellar breastplates over linen shirts and rough woollen pants. The lamellar wouldn’t withstand the force of his arrows but would be useful against his blades. They were clearly not professional wiga but brigands of some sort.

Giving them the benefit of the doubt, Conn drew his second sword, the shorter wakizashi.

‘I don’t have any last words, and if you have any, I don’t really care to hear them.’

‘He doesn’t speak any Priecuman language from around here either,’ one said as they continued to circle him. ‘And did you see his horse – that’s the most magnificent Ancuman horse I think I’ve seen – it could be worth more than these Twacuman. They will pay a fortune for that stallion.’

‘What about his swords?’ The other asked, as they circled Conn, ‘I’ve never seen their like anywhere. They could be worth a fortune too. We are going to be very rich men.’

‘I wouldn’t be too certain of that,’ Conn advised the three men as they surrounded him. Conn stood still and waited; he was an experienced fighter who was confident in his abilities – he had yet to suffer defeat in any form of hand-to-hand combat, albeit never when the stakes were quite this high. Those weapons were sharp.

Eventually, they thought they had him where they wanted him and all three engaged at the same time. Confident in their superior number, they were let down by their inferior skill. In a flurry of speed, and agility, in less than a moment or two, two of the assailants were gasping their last words as the unseen slash of the katana severed arteries in their necks – the only target left for a quick result. Conn now faced the single survivor whose face showed a range of emotions as he watched his comrades fall to the ground – surprise, shock, fleeting fear, and finally, anger, as he rushed at Conn in a wild but futile attempt to survive.

~o00oo~

As the last man crumbled to the ground, Conn heard a young voice behind him.

‘Well, that was a bit quick.’

Conn turned quickly to see a girl sitting on a bank nonchalantly looking at him and the dead men that lay scattered around. She had somehow escaped her bindings.

‘Could you not have made them suffer a bit more?’ she continued, ‘These were not nice men.’

Not sure how to respond, and still a little stunned by the whole episode, Conn stayed silent as he cleaned his swords and returned them to their scabbards. He saw that the girl was young, perhaps twelve, though it was hard to tell, and before he had a chance to answer, her companion, also female but older, who was cradling her prone comrade, called out.

‘Caewyn, Derryth is still alive.’

Conn walked quickly to his horse, grabbed the medical kit from his saddlebag and headed to the prone warrior.

‘What is your name?’ the girl asked as she followed him.

‘My name is Conn.’ Conn answered. ‘Conn ... il Taransay’. He had used the name before so thought it best to keep using it. This time the girl spoke in a different language from before, but he still understood her. The previous language sounded pleasant and functional – this one was lyrical. She appeared startled that he responded. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you. What’s yours?’

‘My name is Caewyn il Halani. It is unusual that you understand the language of the Twacuman. Normally we speak a Priecuman language to communicate with Priecuman. You are Priecuman, aren’t you?’ she said, as she followed him to the fallen warrior, studying him intensely.

‘It depends on what a Priecuman is – but I think so’. When Conn reached the victim, he asked the woman if he could have a look at the wounds. She was about to refuse when Caewyn interrupted and said, ‘Let him.’ Conn was surprised that the girl seemed to be in charge.

She stood back, bowing slightly to Conn, as her eyes went to Caewyn in confusion.

On inspection, one arrow had stuck high in the shoulder, and as far as Conn could see, it would not be fatal if it was attended to. Another had grazed his arm, leaving a cut that would require stitches. He also had a laceration on his head from when he had been unfortunate enough to land on a rock as he fell. The rock probably saved his life as the attackers had thought him dead. He was sure to have a very bad headache in the morning. As Conn assessed the wound, the prone man regained consciousness, groaning.

Caewyn introduced her companions.

‘Conn il Taransay – that is Derryth,’ pointing to the man on the ground, ‘and that is Elva. We are all of Halani. Please do what you can for Derryth; he will surely die before we can get him back to our village.’

Conn requested boiling water, and Caewyn sent Elva to light a fire. He told Derryth to stay still, as he used his dagger to cut and strip the clothing from around the arrowhead, which luckily had a straight edge. Meanwhile, using bamboo acupuncture needles as pain relief, Conn carefully pulled the arrow from Derryth’s shoulder. A deep flesh wound, there was a tear in the subclavian artery that was causing significant bleeding and needed to be stitched. A trained paramedic, it took almost an hour for Conn to clean, stitch, dress and bandage the wounds. Derryth would make a full recovery, albeit he would not be using that shoulder for some time.

Caewyn had spent the entire time looking over Conn’s shoulder.

‘For a great wiga, you are an excellent medic, Conn il Taransay. If I can judge your work, I would think that Derryth might live.’

‘I believe so too, but he will need to rest for a day at least, so the stitches do not tear. We do not want him to start bleeding again. How far away is your home?’

‘In his condition, over three days. We have been travelling up the valley to find another Priecuman, who is a trader, and a friend to the Twacuman. His name is Abrecan. He was running late this year, so I came to find him. Instead of us finding him, you found us, so it is a strange circle. But I did not expect to encounter the Rakians. I do not understand how they made it into the valley.’

‘Your friend, Abrecan, I just left him. He is less than an hour away. We should rest there – at least for tonight. We can see what he is like in the morning. Anyway, a day is too far with his wounds.’ He paused. ‘You said Rakians?’

‘The men who attacked us are from the south – they are Priecuman from a land called Rakia.’

‘Are they not welcome here?

‘All are welcome, but they must travel in friendship.’ She smiled at him, warm and open. ‘I think you are a traveller like that...’

Conn smiled back. ‘I am indeed.’

With his work complete and Derryth resting, Conn stood, and had his first chance to look at the two females in detail. The Twacuman were clearly human – but they didn’t call themselves that.

As for their ages, he couldn’t really tell – but the woman Elva had to be at least thirty.

Like Abrecan and his sons, they too were a huge contrast to Conn. He found Caewyn studying his face.

‘You have the strangest eyes. They are bright blue – just like the sky or the lake,’ she said, and giggled. ‘Are you sure you can see through them?’

Conn assured her that he could. He was about to return to his horse when Caewyn grabbed his hand. ‘There is something we need to do,’ and she turned him to face Elva. ‘Elva is a wiga.’

Elva sank to one knee and bowed her head. ‘As a wiga, I have a debt for the lives I protect. I have failed this time and to make amends, I need to make a life pledge, as you have done what I cannot. You have my pledge that I will gladly repay my debt with my life.’

Conn had no real idea what a wiga was, but the word warrior appeared in his head. As Conn watched, Elva withdrew a dagger from her waist and cut a small incision on the end of her finger. As the blood oozed out, she held her other hand out to Conn, and he instinctively gave her his hand. She turned it over, and, with the blood, she drew a symbol on his palm.

‘That is the symbol for life – a heart – and you now hold mine in the palm of your hand.’ She let go of his hand and stood as they studied each other.

Conn didn’t really know what to say, so he nodded. ‘I should deal with the bodies.’

Digging a shallow grave, he stripped the corpses of valuables, and buried them in their linens. The men, called Rakians by Caewyn, were shorter than the Twacuman, or at least these five were. Whilst they also had black hair, they had lighter, narrower eyes, and their skin colour, brown, was more Asian than African.

Meanwhile, Elva had found their horses hidden in a nearby thicket – ten in total, five of them pack horses, and she brought them to Conn to load the booty. He then constructed a travois from bamboo and rope, fitted it to the Lusitano, and had Elva help him load Derryth onto the frame. The stallion then calmly headed to camp. It was slow going; the travois by necessity would bump its way over fallen logs and rocks, each jar causing Derryth pain.

AS SOON AS THEY SIGHTED Abrecan and his camp, the girl raced ahead. As they arrived, Abrecan and his sons were ready to assist getting Derryth from the travois into the tent. With Derryth comfortable, Conn explained that he needed to return to his camp.

‘We will go with you,’ Caewyn offered. ‘It is getting late – you will need our help. Derryth is safe with Abrecan.’

‘If you insist.’

She smiled cutely. ‘I do.’

They rode quicker this time, but it was still getting late when they arrived, and although he tried to warn Caewyn about his dogs, she walked straight up to them and didn’t get bitten. They didn’t even growl at her.

Conn had brought a lot of things with him when he passed through the portal; and two of the things he thought might be handy were guardian dogs. They were both white, both female and both pregnant. One was a Maremma, while the other was an Akbash.

Conn was nonplussed. ‘Some guard dogs’, he muttered.

She fussed with the animals. ‘They are so beautiful. Are they a breed of white wolf? They are huge!’

‘A distant cousin perhaps. They are special type of dogs – they are supposed to protect me from strangers. I think they might be a bit too friendly.’

She smiled at him. ‘I have a way with dogs – we have some in the village, but they are a bit smaller than these. These are pregnant – can I have one of the pups?’

‘Of course. You can take first pick.’

She then noticed his horses. ‘You have an Elfina? How is that possible?’

Conn looked confused. ‘What is an Elfina?’

Caewyn didn’t answer but walked forward to one of his horses. Along with the buckskin Lusitano that he was riding, Conn had five pack animals with him, four horses and one donkey: a steel grey Anglo-Arabian stallion, a dappled grey Poitevin-Percheron stallion, a grey Anglo-Akhal-Teke stallion, and a tall pregnant Mammoth donkey mare that was taller even than the young colts. Together, they represented a diverse genetic pool of talent to be exploited. The last was a pregnant Warmblood tobiano mare, just over 15 hands. Her name was Taffy.  The mare stuck her nose out to Caewyn as she arrived, and Caewyn hugged her. She turned back; her face sad.

‘She isn’t an Elfina – but she looks like one.’ She looked at Conn in his confusion. ‘The Elfina is a special horse – said to have been created by the Gyden for the Twacuman. For hundreds of years, we rode them, but they all died out in Halani. Perhaps they have returned.’

‘The Rakians called my stallion an Ancuman horse. What did they mean?’

‘Just as the Elfina is only ridden by Twacuman, the Ancuman have always ridden horses like your stallion – golden horses. According to them, no-one else is permitted to ride them on pain of death, but I doubt that any will be brave enough to ask you to hand over your stallion.’

‘I certainly won’t be doing it of my own free will.’

She laughed. ‘I think not.’

Conn immediately got to work packing his horses. He had brought with him two of the pack animals that the Rakians had kindly donated to him in their wills; and saddled them with the extra pack saddles he had brought with him. He then loaded them with Elva’s help. There was a lot. As well as the two dogs, a dozen chicks clucking away in a little travelling cage, and another special cage with hibernating silk moth pupas. He brought the pupas because, as well as being very useful for military and medicinal purposes, silk is the ultimate luxury item, and very probably, if history was any guide, a significant future income source.

By the time they were finished, it was dusk, and Conn was increasing concerned about find the merchants again. He turned to say that they were reading to leave but Caewyn nowhere in sight.

‘Where is Caewyn?’

‘Caewyn went for a walk into the holtwudu. She should be back in a moment.’

‘Is that safe?’

Elva nodded. ‘No harm will come to her in a holtwudu.’ She saw Conn looking curiously at her, so she continued. ‘A holtwudu is usually home to the feldelfen.’

‘What is a feldelfen?’ Conn felt silly asking simple questions, but he had no choice.

‘It is said that they are Gyden, but they are not...’

‘There is more than one?

She shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Are they worshipped?’

She shook her head. ‘Twacuman do not worship Gyden – we honour them and heed their guidance when they speak, but it is said that the Priecuman and Ancuman are a little devout in their rites and rituals...’

Conn returned to the grove. ‘And a holtwudu is very special...’

She looked back at the grove and nodded. ‘Holtwudu are said to contain the memories of every person ever born – and the feldelfen protect the groves from those that might want to gain access without invitation or cause. Because it is said to hold the experiences of everyone, everywhere, there is much power to be gained from the knowledge inside a holtwudu if you know which questions to ask.’ She paused. ‘It has been a long time since anyone has seen a holtwudu.’

Conn was startled; a young girl just went into something that no one ever goes into.

‘And yet...’

Elva shrugged. ‘Caewyn is Caewyn. She is very special – and she is much older than her years.’

‘How old is she?’

‘She has survived twelve winters.’

Caewyn indeed returned safely a few minutes later and said nothing about her walk, and as Conn expressed a desire to leave quickly as it was getting late, and dark, they soon mounted and rode out, leading a line of seven horses and two dogs.

She smiled again. ‘It matters not. Elva will be able to guide the way. This is our home. We know every rock.’

ELVA DID INDEED LEAD the way, and within an hour they could see the distant fire of Abrecan’s camp. It was now very hard to see, and Conn was impressed with the ability of the wiga to navigate so easily.

As Elva rode ahead, Caewyn rode beside Conn.

‘Why did you choose that place to make your camp?’

‘No particular reason,’ he replied, ‘it provided protection from the wind – and the winds are cold. Have I done something wrong?’

‘Not at all. But you were beside a holtwudu; I have never seen one before, but I have heard of them. They are usually seen for a reason...’ She then paused for a moment. ‘Do you have any questions?’

He did. ‘I do, can you tell me why the Rakians were trying to kidnap you?’

Caewyn shrugged. ‘They were trying to make us theow. I am surprised because it has been some time since Priecuman have tried to do that. I also did not expect to see them here in Halani. Until today, no one has made it over the mountain unnoticed for many years.’

Conn understood that theow was a slave. ‘It is a lot of effort and risk for a ... theow.’

Caewyn answered easily. ‘A Twacuman theow is highly regarded possession and consequently very expensive. If they had been successful, they would have been well rewarded. Elva is beautiful.’

Her nonchalance intrigued Conn. ‘But who would be the purchaser? Surely a theow taken in a raid is illegal.’

She nodded. ‘True, but there is still one place where the laws are ignored, and that is Rakia. Not all things are as they should be. Anything else?’

‘Not for now...’

AS THEY ARRIVED AT Abrecan’s camp, there was much to do; and as Eggar and Godric helped Elva deal with the animals, Conn was sent to cook dinner – after Abrecan confirmed again that he had some real food. He was bored with jerky.

Conn soon had a meal prepared of a corned beef, and fried rice with miso soup and then pancakes for dessert. They all expressed gratitude for the feast – and commented on the new food to them – rice. That didn’t surprise Conn – but that they knew miso, did.

Everyone then retired for the night, moving in beside Derryth in Conn’s larger tent. Conn offered to take first watch; he had too many thoughts running around his head to sleep anyway. His first full day had been surreal. He had killed five people – and yet he didn’t feel bad about it.

He had killed before – as a soldier he was responsible for many deaths in the four military conflicts in which he had been involved, and he had been in backstreet fights since he was ten – just to survive. Later he fought in competitions; boxing, several forms of full contact martial arts and even cage fighting, some of it illegal. All of it designed to test his abilities. Still, this was different; this was very personal.

As night settled, the stillness became eerie. Conn, however, felt strangely comfortable and at home. He had never felt at home anywhere before, so this was very unusual. He patted the dog that sat at his side.

‘You know, old girl, this is all very strange. Here I am sitting in a place I have no right to be in, having just killed five human beings with my bare hands, and yet I feel fine. How bizarre is that?’

AS HE SAT, CONN REFLECTED on his new name. Taransay was a small island off the coast of Scotland in the Outer Hebrides and was one of the ancestral homes of the greater MacLeod clan. Conn’s twelfth great grandfather was one of the last to have connections to Taransay. After the union of 1707 and the following Jacobite wars, his ancestors were, like most of the MacLeods, anti Jacobites, and his tenth grandfather was one of the casualties of the Battle of Inverurie in 1745. He eldest son, Randal, however survived the battle and found his way to India as a soldier in the Bengal European Regiment, where he found action in the Carnatic War, the Oude Campaign, and the Rohilla War. In 1779, he transferred to the MacLeod’s Highlanders, the 71st Foot, who had arrived for the Second Anglo Mysore War.

His younger brother, Donald, was already in India; he had used his highland connections get him into the service of the East India Company, as a Writer. Together they started the family tradition of service in the British and Madras Armies.  Like many other ‘nabobs’ of that time, on his return to Scotland after thirty years of service in the EIC, Donald was a rich man, and he used his riches to purchase a large estate, which he called Tanera, in the Scottish Highlands. The latter eventually become an MP, and finally secure a Baronetage for himself.

However, with no surviving son to succeed him, the title went to his nephew Finlay, a colonel in the Bengal European Regiment, and son of Randal, and in view of the succession, Finlay had even taken his cousin, Eliza as his wife. Eliza was the daughter of Donald and his Indian concubine. The nabob had several illegitimate children – all girls – from his Indian housekeeper.

The second Baron further expanded the fief into one of the largest in western Scotland, with its own large village. He needed that as his inheritance had the stipulation that the fief had to provide a house for every named MacLeod descendant of his grandfather, as well and his own descendants. The fief’s current owner was the 9th Baron MacLeod of Tanera; Sir Stephen, former British Ambassador to Korea, and Conn’s seventh cousin.

With the descendants proliferating over the two hundred years, the village was now large, and filled with ex-soldiers. The house that had belonged to his grandfather was named Taransay. He hadn’t met his grandfather; he had died soon after his son and while Conn was missing. He met his grandmother on his return to England. The only child of an only child, she was more than delighted to have him home. She too was a MacLeod, a distant cousin of her spouse.

His other grandparents, from Sweden, were both alive, and they visited him in Scotland soon after he arrived back, and he then spent as much time in Sweden over the next few years studying the language and getting to know them more. His grandfather was a Baron, and a member of Sweden’s diplomatic corp. An uncle and a cousin were high in the Swedish Army.

As for the house in Tanera, Conn used it as his escape whenever he was ever on leave, and then as his workshop after retirement from the Army. He had also purchased land outside the fief to experiment. Taransay was the closest thing to a home that Conn had ever had, and that was probably why it was the first name that sprang to mind when he was asked. He was now stuck with it.

LIKE HIS FATHER, AND his forefathers before him, Conn had joined the British Army as soon as he was able – at seventeen. He was the seventh generation of men from his direct line to sign up, since Finlay MacLeod joined the British East India company army in the late 18th century. His father, Colonel Ewan MacLeod, GC, also of the Royal Engineers, was a serving member of the British Army who had served with distinction in Africa and the Middle East. It was his story that resulted in Conn becoming missing and why he ended up where he was.

0n leave in Japan and walking alone to his hotel in Tokyo after a night on the town with former colleagues, Ewan MacLeod encountered a group of men attacking two women in the back streets of Roppongi. Intervening, he soon discovered that the two women were foreigners like him – both European and both working as entertainers. The attackers were all gangsters – the Japanese yakuza.

Unfortunately, he was only able to save one of them, a young Swedish girl. With three yakuza down, one who later died, and the second girl dead, Ewan fled the scene with the survivor, with more yakuza in pursuit. Narrowly escaping capture, he hid in the back alleys. He was going to return to his hotel but had lost his passport and hotel key at the scene so knew that would be futile. With a wounded girl, that he would have to carry, and few options that didn’t get them exposed, Ewan contacted another old army friend, someone useful in an emergency, who he has left barely two hours previously.

Colonel Yamanaka arrived sometime later in a black van, and after stabilizing the condition of the girl, they decided that going to a hospital was not an option – or even collecting collect his belongings from his hotel – as they soon discovered that the doorways and surrounds were well attended by lurking Zakuza. They agreed that the best place to recover was somewhere far away, so they quietly fled Tokyo.

In the following days, it soon became clear that he was in even more trouble because news reports indicated that the death of the second girl had been framed on him – though surprisingly, there was no mention of the man he did kill. There was now the local equivalent of an APB out to arrest him.  Knowing that he would not be able to prove his innocence without the help of the second witness, they waited until she recovered, hidden away in a village in the mountains of faraway Kyushu.

Fortunately, she soon made a full recovery, but unfortunately, she did not recover her memory of the event; in fact, a lot of her memories seemed to have been lost due to her injuries. She had taken a hard blow to the head when she had landed on the curb. On first study, they had been surprised that she had lived, so were happy that she had recovered. Given that she was now no help and knowing that if arrested, they would very likely both be killed whilst in custody, despite their foreign citizenships, they waited.

The SDF had served alongside the British Army in the Sudan and in the Middle East, and Colonel Yamanaka, a man he had worked closely with during those operations, was more than happy to continue providing sanctuary to the pair in his family’s historic home, where everyone knew him – or was related – including the local police. Not that they deliberately lied; Ewan was soon provided with fake passports and visas that Yamanaka had been able to secure. Officially he was now a student and teacher at the local Aikido school. 

Over time Ewan and the girl became very close and then intimate, and a few months after the incident, she was pregnant. Her condition made staying hidden even more imperative. After the birth of their baby boy, and without an easier option, they stayed undercover for a further ten years raising their one son. They were content in their isolation until the past inevitably caught up with them, and a series of tragedies struck.

His mother was fond of taking long walks in the forest, and they discovered later, into a neighbouring village, where she had regular contact with the local post office; and very surprisingly, somewhat intimate interactions with the postmaster. This fact was not discovered by Conn until some years later.

It was while she was visiting the post office that she was discovered by the yakuza and was then attacked. In the struggle, she died, murdered, drowning in a local stream. That event was followed almost immediately by the death of his father. Finding her body, he had gone seeking revenge, and albeit successful, he had been fatally wounded in the process. This double debt of honour Conn would repay some twenty years later.

After their sudden and unforeseen death, the ten-year-old Conn not only found himself orphaned without a functioning passport in a foreign land, but also hunted. In a strange twist of fate, his bike had a flat tyre in the very same village his mother was visiting, and as he repaired the tyre, he saw his mother running away from something or someone. Following her, he then witnessed her being surrounded by a group of men and the struggle; but they also spotted him and gave chase. Conn escaped into the forest. He was not caught because he was very fit, very fast, and he knew all the paths – and he also knew a place to hide.

Several hours later, after they had given up looking for him, he returned home; but when he got to his house, his father was gone; believing that both his partner and child had been killed. When his father returned, slowly dying from a deep wound to his side, and with no will to live, Conn held him until the last, vowing revenge.

With his father’s blessing, Colonel Yamanaka decided that there was little to be gained by going to the British Embassy even in secret as there was nowhere that Conn would be safe, even if he made it back in England. Trying to give evidence would have been as much a death sentence as not, so the only answer was to stay hidden until Conn was ready to face his enemies, on his terms.

So Colonel Yamanaka used his vast network of contacts to find a way to make him disappear, and then ensured that he stayed hidden until he was ready.

CONN REAPPEARED, HAVING spent seven years in a mountain village in North Korea, secretly return to England with the help of his cousin, the British Ambassador to South Korea at the time, and then joined the army as Connor Andersson – using his mother’s last name. However, unlike his ancestors who had spent almost their entire working lives serving in the British Army, he then spent only fifteen years – albeit a very busy fifteen years.

Not long after he had returned, Connor received an invitation to visit the Japanese Embassy in London, and there he was handed a package forwarded by Colonel Yamanaka. Inside were several items that Yamanaka indicated were items that belonged to his father and mother. The content quickly demonstrated why they had been sent via diplomatic channels and not by normal courier! Those items included a katana, clearly very old and handmade, eleven different coloured trillion cut gemstones, and a ten-foot-long scroll, elaborately illustrated with what he thought initially was random pictures of historical inventions and people.

For many years, he considered that it was just random items that his mother had collected, but as the only thing of hers of consequence that he had, he treasured them. He had no idea how his mother sourced the gemstones, but it was the scroll that continued to commandeer his thoughts and studies. After some years of study, he discovered that it was not a random collection of sketches but was in fact a very complex and detailed set of instructions. The document was of an unusual construct; very few words, a continuous and complex sketched drawing of historical objects so interwoven that it was like a Where’s Waldo? picture written on a Torah scroll, with inspiration from the Codex Borgianus and the Voynich manuscript – only it was written in black ink on white Japanese washi paper. There was no colour.

Despite that realization, the more time he had spent on it, the more confused he had become. He increasingly got the impression that his mother had in fact drawn it herself – which conflicted with everything he knew of his mother. What he knew was that she was ‘just’ an entertainer who worked in nightclubs – who despite her noble background and corresponding educational opportunities, had spent her youth in dancing, acting, and singing classes, and had never even been to university. Very artistic, she was a wonderful musician with a wonderful singing voice – both skills Conn had inherited. It was also true that she was a gifted artist, but she drew pictures of flowers and animals, not the kind of items found on the scroll.

Illustrations in the scroll demonstrated such complexity and an understanding of history and science that it took Conn five university degrees and fifteen years to fully unravel the knowledge contained in the drawings. One of those degrees gave him the skills to prove that it had indeed been created by his mother. At first, he thought that the scroll contained no words, but in fact there was a single sentence written, he discovered hidden inside other drawings, in Latin using the Ogham script. Not only was it an incredibly unusual choice of script, but the one sentence was in fact a dedication, and it translated as: For my beloved Connor. Search and you will find.

Although he had no real idea what he was supposed to look for, he had dutifully proceeded to decode the images, and, as his knowledge increased, the manuscript begrudgingly revealed its secrets. Everything learnt added to the mystery. The most startling discovery was that the main message contained in the scroll was that there was a doorway – some people would call it a portal – into another world, and that he, and he alone, should pass through. What was on the other side was not clear, but again, it didn’t seem like a suggestion, and from that moment, he had prepared for this trip.

The question of why or how his mother knew anything about portals remained unanswered – or why she used such an elaborate method of informing him about it. Just in case, Conn’s last act before entering the portal was to destroy the scroll. He had stood and watched it burn until it was nothing but dust, and then turned and entered the glimmering doorway.

He was twenty-five when he first discovered the existence of the portal, thirty-five when he knew for a fact that it was really a thing, and forty when he was ready. Although meticulous in his planning, there did not appear to be a need for urgency, which was lucky as Conn had a lot of interruptions to his preparations – like the four wars in which he unintentionally played a significant role.

The key was inevitably the hardest part; the eleven different coloured trillion cut gemstones had to be organized into a hand-carved yew pendant – which was then hung from a tripod built from oak – clearly described on the scroll if you knew what you were looking for. After he had passed through, he tried to retrieve the pendant, but as soon as he did, it dissolved into dust; the gemstones scattering all over the ground. It had taken five years of computing power and a hundred hand-carved and whittled attempts before the alignment of the gems in the pentacle was right, and it was no more. He had hoped that the object that had provided him with his way in would also provide the way out – but it appeared not to be the case.

SOON AFTER PASSING through the portal with his entourage of pack animals, Conn had sought shelter for the evening, as it was clearly late afternoon, and it was Autumn if not winter. Around him were peaks of snow-capped mountains in all directions, indicating that he was in a valley of some kind. To the east, the land sloped down, and as he was not inclined to head for the snow, he elected to follow the path downhill until the light failed, which wouldn’t be long. The sky was a deep, cloudless blue and the sun’s waning light flickered through the tall trees to the forest floor. Everything was remarkably silent, the loudest sounds being the steady stamp of his animals’ hooves through the leaves.

An hour later, Conn had found a defendable position beside an extremely dense clump of trees on a small knoll. The forest was full of trees, but these were almost a grove; so compacted together that neither wind nor light passed through. Despite the eeriness, they would form excellent protection against the bitter wind that had arrived as