The Pillar of Horns

Chapter Six

Moonlight cascaded through the glass of the visitor centre. The building seemed to absorb the light, a seething black void nestled in the heart of the town. It was the opposite of how it appeared during the day, the gleaming modern construction transforming into something dark and terrible. It was stark, monolithic, like some ancient tribute to a long-forgotten god. Within its midnight void, something moved, a shadow barely discernible with the tomb-like building.

The shadow took up its place amongst the others. They stood around the main hall of the centre, the exhibits moved to the side to make room. All except one. That relic had been lovingly placed in the centre of the circle, removed from its glass case and sat gently on the floor. It was a perfect pillar, cast from perfectly interlocked horns and antlers. It gleamed, seemingly sucking in the moonlight that had been trapped in its glass prison.

One of the shadows stepped forward into the low light. It was cloaked in a heavy robe, the large hood concealing its face. It clutched a bushel of dried plants in his hands, a mixture of browned reeds and desiccated herbs. The robed figure knelt, placing the plants gently around the pillar, pushing them tight against its base. It stood back up, and stepped backwards, taking its place in the circle.

"Good evening brothers and sisters," said one of the robed figures, a mans voice booming across the hall. "Things are moving as we planned. Our prayers have not gone unheard, and two sacrifices have been collected."

"Cernunnos acts quickly it would seem," said another of the figures, this time a woman.

"It has been effective, certainly," said a third voice. "I am concerned about the...visibility of our actions. We don't need some detectives snooping around, not now of all times."

The crowd seemed to nod in unison, a wave of agreement bubbling around the circle.

"It is, unfortunate," the first man said, "Cernunnos collects his bounty how he sees fit. It is a shame that it has drawn attention, though I suppose considering his choice it is to be expected. Ours is not to question a god, however. What do these detectives know?"

"Little I would imagine," the woman's voice said. "They're looking for a human killer. How can they possibly suspect a god? They don't know what they chase. How could they?"

"They are from London, some specialist unit," said another of the figures.

The woman snorted. "More English fucks telling us what to do? Nothing new there. I wouldn't worry about them. Last I heard they were headed to the old-world war two camp. They haven't got a clue."

"Still, it might be best to get them off the island. At least until the harvest is complete." The first speaker stepped forward towards the pillar. "Now, let us at least proceed with tonight's ritual."

Brian spread out on his hostel bed, his legs aching. He had been exploring the island, seeking out its nooks and crannies, its hidden grottos and glens. He had been on the island a week and despite the tiny size still hadn't experienced everything had to offer. It had been a pleasant surprise. He still couldn't quite articulate why had chosen Raasay for his holiday. Everyone else at his university had laughed, taking his precious time off from studying travelling to a rural Scottish island. Something is Brian's gut had resonated when he had seen the advertisements online. Some unseen hand guiding his clicks.

He didn't regret it now. Brian had always loved hill walking. He had spent time as a child in the boy scouts combing the lake district. It had been put the wayside as he had gotten older, cast aside for cooler pastimes like drinking and girls. He was enjoying the resurgence of his old hobby, though his legs were now complaining.

He pulled his thin sheet over himself, trying desperately to keep out the cold. The hostel was cheap, and it showed. It's only heating an old oil-filled radiator that whistled and rattled whilst it was on, fighting against any attempt at actually outputting heat. Brian shivered. It was colder tonight than previous nights. He could hear the heavy rain slamming against the window of the room he shared with a much older man Brian hadn't seen much of. He gripped the sheet tightly, and closed his eyes, trying vainly to get to sleep.