Chapter 1 The Cloaked Visitor Any input much appreciated!

Chapter 1 The Cloaked Visitor

A small wooden rowboat was being battered by the waves of a rough and unforgiving sea. A flash of lightning revealed a solitary figure in the boat, clad in a dark cloak and rowing furiously, but for all his trouble making very slow progress toward the shore of the island.

He looked over his shoulder at the black mass of land rising out of the menacing sea and glimpsed a lone cottage in the shadows, a flickering orange glow in one of the windows making it visible. He turned back to the task in hand, the urgency of his mission making him double his efforts, and he pressed on, rowing even harder than before.

He had made this journey only three times, but never in a storm such as this and under a sky so black. The rain drove hard into his face, making it difficult to see, but it was at least pushing him in the right direction, closer to the island.

He eventually felt the pressure of the sea ease as he reached the shelter of the bay he was heading for. He rowed a little further and then slowed, peering at the hills on either side of him, the boat bobbing on the swell. He was looking for something in particular; on the top of the hill to the left there was a huge mound of rocks, large enough to be visible from the sea, and there was an identical stack on the hill to the right. He continued slowly, and when these were aligned and the cottage was almost directly in front of the boat, he stopped rowing and scanned the choppy surface for what he was searching for. He wiped the spray from his face as he looked frantically at the sea around the boat. He gripped on to the side, examining the sea before him, but not finding what he was looking for, moved over to the other side, almost capsizing the boat in his haste. He mopped the water from his face again, cursing the futility of his search when out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed what he was looking for.

In the dark and the rain he had misjudged the distance and was further off course than he thought. He rowed towards what appeared to be a small mound of rocks, rising above the surface of the sea. As he approached, he slowed. He moved the oars into the boat and reached his arms out towards the black mass and grabbed hold of it. It was nothing more than a large buoy, anchored in the bay and he fumbled underneath it for the cable to attach to his boat, not an easy task in the conditions but he managed. The boat knocked against the buoy as he ran his hands over the outside of the slimy wet surface, his fingers looking for a small button that would release the latch on the door of a hidden compartment. He felt it click open and he moved his hand in to the small space.

Inside was a smooth black stone, small enough to sit in the palm of his hand and almost perfectly cuboidal in shape. In one of its six sides was a small, recessed circle, barely noticeable to the touch of his nearly numb fingers. He reached beneath his cloak into a securely fastened pocket and removed a ring; a small, unobtrusive silver ring in which a blue gemstone was set. He brought the ring closer to the black cube and the gemstone started to glow, illuminating the water around the boat. He pushed the ring into the stone and a luminescence began to glow faintly beneath the surface of the sea, increasing in brightness, and lighting a glowing path towards the shore. He replaced the stone, pushed the small door closed and began to row the short distance to the island. The wind was still strong but he was careful to keep within the boundaries of the light.

When he reached the sandy beach, he jumped out into the water and dragged the boat as far up the sands as he could, the rain still lashing him from all sides. Satisfied the boat was safe from the tide he set off up the dunes through the long beach grasses to find the old flagstone path to the cottage.

The path was slick with rain and treacherous underfoot, so he trod carefully as he made his way along it. A large iron door knocker was set in the heavy wooden door to the cottage and he rapped it loudly three times. Without waiting very long, he pushed on the door and went inside, immediately feeling the warmth from within.

He shouted out a breathless hello as he removed his sodden cape and hung it on a hook by the door. He had entered a small hallway with a doorway to his left and another to his right and a set of narrow stairs leading straight up in front of him.

He was a tall man and had to stoop to go through the doorway to his left. It led to a small but comfortably furnished living room in which the embers of a fire still glowed in the hearth.

One wall was lined floor to ceiling with bookcases, a nod to the resident’s academic history. The other walls were covered in framed photographs, some sepia toned, some black and white, some colour; a visual library of the man’s close acquaintances from a time long ago, before he began this life of isolation. The visitor looked from picture to picture in awe of the honours this man’s knowledge had awarded him. There were photos of him with world leaders, renowned thinkers and scientists, and in all of them, they were the ones looking at the Professor in admiration. Photographs of his family featured heavily too, here was a man very proud of his legacy. The visitor’s lips formed a thin grimace at this thought.

He turned to the two armchairs in front of the fireplace and went to sit in the nearest one to wait. As he turned to sit down, he was suddenly face to face with Professor Adley, the man whom he had come so far and taken such efforts to reach.

He started with surprise; Professor Adley was staring blankly into the fireplace, his eyes unmoving. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth down his chin and had dripped on to the collar of his white shirt.

The Professor was dead. The visitor’s mission had now changed.