The hike down to the shore was in turns exhilarating and terrifying and I could feel my blood zinging through me as I ran and leapt over the land towards the sea. At the bottom, by the water where I skidded to a halt, the old shaman was waiting for me with a wooden canoe pulled up onto the sand behind him.
“Oh great,” I wheezed, fighting to control my breathing, “So you expect me to row out there to look at some bloody stone, do you?”
“Have you ever noticed that you whine a lot?” His smile was razor tight.
“What!” I spluttered.
“The canoe is steady and true, you’ll be over there in no time,” he said as though his last line had never been uttered.
“But…” I tried.
“No time, go. See the obelisk, see the seal.” he said and I found myself walking to the canoe, my mouth flapping like a landed fish.
The whole place throbbed with the same energy I had felt and seen at the stone circles in the forest, the same blue light bathed the area, rippling and flowing off the small landmass and onto the surrounding waves like gently rolling fog.
At first I couldn’t see anything but rock and grass, but a short walk revealed the obelisk led partial buried and obscured by the rise of the land. Kneeling beside it, I could just make out some odd shapes carved into the rock, strange hieroglyphs that seemed to shift in front of my eyes. I had the very distinct feeling they were alive and I marvelled at the skill of the stone mason who had worked such a thing.
Never taking my eyes off the swimming, shimmering shapes, I rooted through my backpack and took out the strange camera it had come with. The snap showed the characters clearly but I still had no idea what they meant. I tucked the picture away and leant forward to run my fingers over them.
The there a strange rushing sound and I felt myself knocked through the air. The world went dark.
To be continued…
(Note: You can read the previous posts here)