Three

-ck.

The instant that seemed to last a lifetime. I had stood up. He stared at me. For the moment we were in limbo. Myriad possibilities stretched before us, crossing the yawning gulf of mere distance that separated us. For some reason, I focused on the silver chain, what little I could see of it, that almost perpetually encircled his neck. Recalling that vivid dream, it seemed to be a harbinger of sorts -- its gleaming links untwisting as if to enmesh me in its sinuous coils. Involuntarily, I almost gasped as I felt this psychosomatic serpent constrict my lungs. Okay, it might sound a smidgen ridiculous now but it felt ever so real back then. A voice dragged me back to the moment. The sunlight glinted off the chain. Kieran spoke.

"Okay then. Let's go and find this tree of ours."

I was slightly astonished by his reply, although I probably shouldn't have been. I was unable to find my voice momentarily.

"You alright, mate?"

"Ummm, yes," I ventured, somewhat hesitantly. "I thought you might just turn tail and leave. Now that I've explained what I know with you being awake and all. I wouldn't blame you if you had -- even though I'm in no position to blame anybody here but myself. You were perfectly entitled to, I mean, it's not as if I gave you much of a choice..." I babbled.

His face creased in a knowing smirk. "I wouldn't have done that. You're my friend and as much as you find it difficult to believe that it counts for much, it does matter to me." A slight pause. "Besides, I had you going there for a moment." And he laughed. Quite heartily, in fact. Too heartily? I don't know. I wouldn't like to say -- it's an uncomfortable thought to think that at so early a stage he was playing me for a fool. I knew that something was slightly amiss and I suspect that he knew that I knew. I'll stop this here before it descends into the ludicrous chains that rest wearily on the shoulders of humour. As to whether there was some unknown reason for his apparent acquiescence, I think even at this stage there is little doubt as to that. I know he's my friend and all but suspicions are difficult to displace once rooted, founded or unfounded as the case may be. Make your own minds up. As far as I was concerned at that time, I was glad that he was accompanying me.

I was amazed. There was no other word for it -- well, yes, there are a multitude of synonyms for 'amazed', I know -- sorry. I looked at him. In the face of his smile, any irritation at his mercurial nature evaporated like the dawn mists. I'm not one for holding long-lasting grudges anyway. There are very few persons against which I harbour anything resembling deep-seated enmity.

I vowed then and there, not to ask Kieran what he was actually thinking about during those fateful seconds. If we were to be pitted against each other in some otherworldly contest -- not that I'm saying we were -- or weren't, for that matter -- I have to keep some element of suspense going now, don't I -- I probably didn't want to know. I have a funny feeling I won't like what he has to say on the matter. As one wise cook once said, "Least said, soonest mended". An aphorism to live by, if ever there was one. I'd keep my own counsel on this. At least, for the time being.

Somewhat buoyed, outwardly if nothing else, by the affirmation of friendship and relieved that he was actually going to accompany me, we set off again, quickly falling back into our usual patterns. But I couldn't entirely shrug off the more sombre feelings I had that something of the nature of our relationship was going to change. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon.

A short while later found the two of us traipsing past yet another likely contender. We had passed many such fields in the past hour and none of them felt right.

"We're nowhere near Selwyn, Rav. We're nowhere near anywhere at all," muttered Kieran at some point.

With my internal anxiety rising steadily, I stopped to take a deep breath and cast a confused gaze around in concession to this point. I needed a break. Despite us not having seen a single soul -- figuratively speaking, of course -- I know you can't 'see' a soul -- unless of course, you're dead -- or psychic -- not that I would count myself in either category despite the assertions to the former from some of my erstwhile schoolyard companions -- sorry -- in our wanderings, the same thought kept nagging me. What if someone else had found whatever it was we were supposed to be looking for? What would happen? Would I miss out on, what could possibly be my only chance at, adventure and/or fame and/or fortune? I hope I can be forgiven for thinking a little too highly of myself, given the circumstances. Probably not, although I daresay that everybody indulges in these sorts of fantasy at some point or another. Don't they? Oh well. This was simply my time, however unfounded or unwarranted it was. One can always dream. Unless one is an insomniac. Sorry. Bad taste that.

It was pondering on questions such as these, which caused me to sigh aloud. There was nothing that I could see that even vaguely indicated where we should try next. Another long sigh, this time of exasperated frustration. Honestly, it didn't seem as if we were going to finish this quest any time soon. By this time, we were out on the outskirts of our sleepy 'city', past sensible habitation to where the observatories and research stations lived in harmony with tested nature.

"Hey Rav! D'ya think it might be down there?" Kieran's words broke through my melancholic reverie. I looked up to see him indicate, with an extended finger, a pathway to the left, leading into and past a copse or small spinney of some sort -- the kind that used to liberally sprout across the carpet of the countryside before urbanisation and modern agrarian culture decided their growth interfered with their own growth. Can you guess who won, kiddies?

Staring yonder to where he pointed, I was sure that my visual surveys of the lie of the land had encompassed that direction and that self-same spinney. It was quite obvious, come to look at it. So why had I not noticed it before? Looking at it now, I would say from my vantage point in the present, that it's simply because I was not meant to see it -- previous objections to predestination notwithstanding. That was Kieran's allotted task -- one of them, at least. Hence, I wouldn't have had much luck in continuing had he departed back at that tense junction. Although that's probably the easy and clichéd way out, such paths are usually the right ways. After all, any other explanation I could give -- apart from, 'I just didn't see it', of course -- would simply sound far less plausible.

But that's not exactly what I was thinking at the time. "Well, it's as good a try as any other, Andy." I was beginning to feel that little bit more upbeat. We might have what constituted an adventure after all. So, with our hearts emboldened by this discovery -- well, I can only speak for myself -- we sallied forth anew.

I really wish we hadn't. It would have been a whole lot easier to leave curiosity unsated, to just turn around and walk back into a life of mediocrity. But, as I've said before, that's an opinion with the benefit of retrospect. At that time, I had little idea that things were not going to proceed as they always had, as much as I would have liked them to change or get more exciting.

As we ventured down the hitherto unseen path, the way forward became dense as we struggled against vicious brambles that threatened to intaglio our limbs with scars, hidden chitterings from the undergrowth put us on tenterhooks and visibility was reduced to the few inches before our eyes.

Okay, I admit it -- not that you probably hadn't already guessed -- that's just the product of my fevered imagination. I really would like to say that it was that way but it wasn't. But enough of these musings, I'm not really advancing the story very fast, am I? Rats. Believe me, things will get better. The scene needs to be fully set before... well, I hope you'll wait around to see. My apologies now, though, for this sluggishness of pace.

The undergrowth was surprisingly thick for the time of year but was not that much of an impediment to progress, just annoying when the occasional frond flicked at the face or a lace snagged on a stray thorn. The odd thing was we had been tramping along for well on five minutes now and there was still no apparent end in sight. "Andy, is it me or should we have exited this copse by now?' I asked with a slight degree of concern.

His slowed his pace as he considered this, darting his gaze around at the trees and the overshadowing canopy above. "Ummm... perhaps," was all he could say. He stopped dead on the track, forcing me to halt as well. "Look. Shall we just chalk this one up as a flight of fancy and head back to town?" He shook his head, as if trying to clear away a musty thought, before turning to look back along the path. "Honestly, I don't know what quite possessed m- you into thinking that we could find this tree."

Now here was something. Was that slip intentional or a covered mistake? Did Kieran have additional information that he was withholding? This sort of thinking is dangerous. Very dangerous. Suspicion is a solvent stronger even than aqua regia. And why had he turned away? Was it that he was, in his mind, vainly attempting to conceal a look of disappointment and/or frustration? That this was not just the merry jaunt of my imagination that he followed whilst it may have proved amusing or enjoyable? Or was I being rather paranoiacally fanciful and reading more into this than was or could ever be there? Was I seeing conspiracy theories -- however vague -- in everything people said and did, a legacy of too many mystery movies and the X-Files?

He started walking back the way we came, not bothering to check and see if I was following. Given what he had said not two hours ago, this was a surprising reversal of attitude. I was somewhat stunned at this ostensible arrogance of his. He was assuming that I would be there at his heels, playing my usual role as his sidekick without objection. Irritation replaced eight letters with another vowel. Screw your courage to the sticking place...

"I think we should continue, Andy." I struggled to keep the words light yet emotionless. I don't think I was entirely successful though. "Don't you want to wait and say 'I told you so' when we can't find it?' I said, trying to appeal to his jovially acidulous personality.

"Not really; I'm hungry. Are you coming or not? Look, I really don't want to leave you here-'

"Then don't."

"I am your friend but this is a wild goose chase at best."

Those were his sole words -- at least the only ones I heard, as I watched him walk away and disappear around the previous curve in the track. So there I was. Alone once more. Standing all by my lonesome in the middle of a perplexing path in an infinite spinney. A ludicrous proposition by anyone's standards, I think you'll agree. Torn between giving up, running after Kieran to salvage what remained between us and continuing to see if I had dragged us out here on some wild-goose chase or not, it was a good few minutes whilst the schizophrenic skirmish waged back and forth. Curiosity, though battered and bruised, emerged the eventual victor. He had turned his back on me, despite the very unsettling feeling of guilt that I was putting my own, selfish desire of inquisitiveness ahead of the welfare of our friendship. He walked out on me.

And then... a thought struck me, providing the proverbial ray of hope to shine. All might not have been lost.

I strained my ears hoping to hear the faintest sounds that Kieran might be returning, that this was just another joke and that any second he would round the corner once again to see if I was worried at his supposed disappearance. But all I heard was the occasional chirrup of an unseen bird. And each call resounded as a mockery of fleeting expectation. So, with a disappointed sigh that can only come from a shattered hope, I turned to resume my journey. I have to say that at that point, my faith in my fellow man -- or more accurately, my so-called friends -- was severely shaken. That may sound like a melodramatic overstatement but it quite accurately summed up the confused state that Kieran's departure caused in me. Be bloody bold and resolute...

Unfortunately, I was feeling anything but. I could very well imagine how the Thane of Cawdor felt on the eve of that fateful night. Now I wasn't exactly contemplating regicide but I was standing on the brink of a decision that may change my life. It may not. But should I let doubt destroy potential? I don't know. I still can't say whether or not I made the right decision to continue. I'm not even entirely sure that I could explain why -- then or now -- why I didn't go back and try to smooth things over. Everything might have been quite different had I gone back to talk to Kieran.

Time to carpe diem.

With resigned trepidation, and not infrequent glances behind, I managed to put one foot in front of the other and walk. You might scoff, but these were the thoughts going through my head. It was difficult for me to really comprehend what was actually happening. A more rational person than I might have taken this opportunity to have a break and more carefully consider the import of any choices and actions. I know it sounds quite ridiculous that Kieran would come so far, after all that happened, and then just turn around for such a, in my opinion, lame excuse as hunger. I have a sneaking suspicion, especially given what was to come, that he had an ulterior motive. I have no proof and the conspiracy paranoia again rears its ugly head. I think that I need to reiterate that this is what actually happened. Perhaps foolishly, I haven't spoken to Kieran concerning these events since the end of the whole damned affair -- pardon the vehemence -- a notion that seemed quite wise at the time lest I jeopardise what we had managed to reconstruct. Perhaps I should try and get his side of the story -- I daresay it might be quite revealing. Although, under the circumstances that might not be the easiest of things to accomplish... but anyway.

Something was most definitely amiss now. It had been ten minutes from my previous position and still the track was the same as it ever was. It wasn't difficult to notice that I was walking in a circular direction. Possibly even a spiral, come to think of it. But what I had walked definitely seemed to contravene whatever preconceived limits were imposed from the primary inspection of this little copse. Well, 'little' no longer seems the appropriate word. If only I had a compass with me. Although I have a niggling suspicion that if I had had one with me, its needle would be spinning indeterminately.

Still no sign of a return from Kieran. A little company would have been good just then. If only to stave off the boredom of walking around in, what felt like, never decreasing circles. I was now fairly certain that I was moving in counter-clockwise spiral fashion but one that was tightening only ever so gently. It could well take me over an hour to reach whatever, if anything, was at the centre of this one-track maze. Of course, there was always the option of leaving the beaten track, as it were, and forging my own path through the trees and undergrowth. I mean, it's not as if they were particularly dense and impenetrable. If I cut through on a straight course, I might save myself a lot of time, despite expending a greater amount of effort on getting there, wherever 'there' was.

I continued to walk the track as I pondered this notion, debating as to whether it was advisable given the conditions -- both physical and emotional -- involved, when, suddenly, the point became moot. It had been about forty minutes now since I had started on this whorled walk and about thirty since Kieran had abandoned me. Oh well...

I probably would have missed it if I hadn't also been paying attention to my surroundings in the hope of finding something that would clarify -- perhaps 'justify' is a better word -- my being here, at this very moment, and prove, one way or another, whether or not I should be sectioned under the Mental Health Act. Although I'm sure that a certain person would be -- actually, make that 'would have been' -- more than happy to give a very definite answer, right about then. Sorry -- that was totally uncalled for. No matter how deserving. No matter how I felt... am feeling at the recollection. Snide remarks are quite unbecoming. As to whom, I'll leave that to your discretion. Back to the matters in hand, however...

I had stopped momentarily to adjust my jacket, a slight breeze having sprung up, when a sparkle from the undergrowth caught my eye. I guess that by now you can imagine the first thoughts that were flashing through my mind at this sight -- the nature and status of my current mindset being fairly easy to discern. Was it some masked gunman, waiting to catch me unawares? Was it a bomb, waiting to blow me to smithereens? Or was it a signal, the play of light across a mirror indicating the presence of the target? Well, as much as my fervid imagination would like to play it up, it was none of those things.

A combined taskforce of sense and curiosity threw caution -- and overblown fancy -- to the wind as I stepped forward for a closer examination. Inspection near-to revealed that it was a golden, spherical object, half-hidden by scrubby foliage. Casting about for a stick or some other item with which to extricate, without actually touching, it -- after all, it could still be some sort of grenade -- a very ornate grenade -- the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, even -- sorry -- but a grenade nonetheless -- I sighted a long, dead branch that would be eminently suitable for the task at hand.

Stooping, I used my new prosthetic limb to gently prod at the gilded globe from the furthest extent of its reach -- just in case it was connected to a proximity motion sensor or something. I'm sure you can forgive me for this sudden display of carefulness. I didn't want to die -- not right then, at any rate -- although, come to think of it, should it turn out to be a mine, grenade or bomb and it detonates, I doubt that the meagre precaution of distance I had taken would be sufficient to keep me from harm.

One prod. A heartbeat's wait...

Two. A second...

Three. No change of state yet... Okay, time to move on. Bringing the branch round in a short sweep, I attempted to knock the gleaming article onto the path. No boom today. Boom tomorrow; there's always boom tomorrow -- the unspoken corollary of a cynical station commander insinuated itself into my thoughts. I slowly let out the breath I held; a short sigh of relief.

Hang on... I was fairly certain that that sigh had not been issued from my lips. I sprang to my feet, trying to ascertain if there was someone else here. Watching me. I shivered at the thought but scanning the trees, there was nothing. Nothing except the movement of the scenery in response to the ministrations of the wind. It's not as if I really expected to find anything, though. Realistically speaking, if there were anyone, it's likely they would use natural movements to conceal their own. Or, more likely, it's just my imagination playing tricks on me given the circumstances. Maybe I wanted to hear something, to indulge my fantasy of the whole situation. Maybe I wanted to find Kieran.

Okay, scratch that -- I did want to find Kieran.

But I couldn't dwell on such thoughts for much longer. I had spent too much time here as it was. No explosion, no flames, nothing. I was still here -- unless this was some particularly elaborate self-delusion -- so I might as well continue. There, sitting on the path in front of me, was a dusty sphere of shining gold. Like the fork before -- which, in the midst of all of this, I had forgotten was still in my pocket -- it looked rather insignificant. I stepped over towards it. For some reason the sight of this orb -- right here, right now -- triggered a memory that shoved the reasonable, sensible thoughts over its presence squarely to the rear. Like -- Who placed it here? Was I supposed to find it? Was it a trap? But somehow I knew. It wasn't dangerous. It would help.

I picked it up. It was the size and weight of a bowl -- the sporting equipment not a piece of crockery -- with some filigree writing.

"Reme-