Plain of the Fourteen Pillars - Book 1, Page 2

The thing is...

  What Billy failed to see during his war games in the woods that bordered his home on that early spring evening in the south of Yorkshire, was that before him as he ran the fog had become particularly concentrated in the very spot where the rabbit disappeared; Billy thought the furry creature had simply got up the gumption and legged it like a cheetah, but he misinterpreted the outcome, the rabbit had in fact vanished.

  Entrapped in the swirling thick mist they had both become. White... Calm... Clean... like cotton wadding. Then darkness... just for a moment, but frightening.

  Where was he..?

  The bullet wound to his shoulder ached, so he swapped the leather strap from that side to the other and removed the pressure from his bruise. With the gun still in his hand Billy leant against the ground and sat upright. He returned his iron to the box and viewed the five spare clips; four were full, thank goodness for that. He had started off with seven all together, but then lost one during the Battle of the Four Dogs six months earlier when he’d first become a soldier, or better still, a military agent. British Intelligence leant on him heavily to get the jobs done that no one else was qualified to do. He was a hero.

  At the time he had been on a reconnaissance assignment in the main centre of town when four stray terriers cornered him in a shadowy lane way. With their tails wagging and their tongues lolling, Billy saw through their ploy and quickly took evasive action. He drew his brand new orange pellet gun, his iron, and fired a spray of pellets into the hides of his murderous attackers. Each one yelped in turn and then circled round to lick its wound; but Billy had emptied the clip, he had discharged every bullet from his iron. That’s when he knew he was in trouble.

  The terriers leered at Billy with disgust and growled their hatred. They threatened to attack, and in that same moment Billy accidently released the clip from its housing in the gun. It fell to the ground and bounced once, the plastic chamber giving out a sharp crack when it made contact with the hard cobblestoned lane way.

  Then Billy ran.

  He was a hero.

  So even heroes feel pain, maybe more pain than anyone else, and that he did. Not only was his shoulder sore, but most of his right side was tender also; like that dull pain one gets after having collided with a plate glass door which just so happens to be devoid of any adhesive lines illustrating that there is a plate glass door in ones path. Normally one would bounce off the door; Billy wondered where he may have bounced to.

  His thoughts returned to the faint swirl of mist now deteriorating before him in the warm, penetrating sunlight. Billy closed the lid on his box and gingerly stood up. The effort brought a single tear to his left eye that he quickly wiped away; there was no disgrace in a soldier crying, but this was neither the time nor the place.

  What made him aware that he had landed somewhere in a different place and a different story was the roughly cut cobblestones he had fallen onto, there was no such place in the woods by his home, only green grass and trees.

  Here the sun draped him in warmth, heating and drying his damp jacket and his drenched hair, defrosting his ears and bathing his goose bumps; it radiated through to his bones and made him glad, glad to be there, glad to be in it. Billy licked at the air and tasted it. It tasted sweet and hot, like golden syrup warmed through with porridge; like a toasted marshmallow, it delighted his senses.

  From his vantage point atop the platform he had landed on, he could see nothing else. Surrounding him were fourteen similarly hewn stones, all stood roughly at a height of ten feet. The platform itself appeared to be round, or oval, and at its very edge was sky.... just sky.

  A few paces behind him, and something he had failed to notice prior to surveying his position, a small white rabbit sat on its haunches with its back to Billy. The animal was licking its front paws and preening its ears, like rabbits do. When it turned around at Billy’s sudden yelp of surprise it appeared to stare at him fiercely, as fierce as a rabbit could possibly achieve which in essence is far from frightening, and then with a mean shake of its ears the rabbit hopped away, across the cobblestones, past the pillars and over the edge; but as it was doing so Billy was almost certain he had heard the creature call him a prat before its departure.

  The thought quickly shrugged off, Billy lifted the leather strap from his shoulder and removed the box from his side, placing it at his feet. He unzipped his jacket, pulled himself free from its hold and tied the arms around his waist; then he returned the box to its rightful place at his side again.

  He felt little pain now; the sun had healed him, all except for the bruising to his shoulder which caused him a faint twang of discomfort, though it was not bad enough to bother him anymore.

  So where did the rabbit disappear to this time?

  Billy walked to the edge of the platform and gazed at the sloping green field beyond. The grass was lush, but bare, all except for the tiny white speck of a rabbit bounding along to, it seemed, nowhere. All around there was nothing beyond the grass other than the horizon, which appeared odd because it was a continual down slope.

  Where did the field go?

  He tested his imagination, used his limited knowledge of geography, geology, physics, art and perspective, his fourteen years of life had not particularly given him much to work with, but there was one thing he was certain of, he still had no clue as to where he was.

  As the sun beamed down on him, and the silence grew heavy, Billy suddenly realised he was not alone. From behind one of the stones to his right emerged a shadow, a sinewy, tall shadow with long fingers and large horns protruding from its head.

  Billy was struck with fear, his body tensed, the thought to reach for his iron not even a reality. He swallowed hard as a rush of bile erupted into his throat; it made him feel sick. No longer could he taste the sweetness in the air, only a lingering bitterness as the shadow grew longer.

  A feeling of dread encompassed him. Sweat coursed down his body and plastered the shirt to his back.

  In a glance the shadow became flesh, the monster emerged and roared.

  Billy screamed....

  CHAPTER THREE