Eleven
Outside the vacuum of the craft, it turned out that the weather on Vagar Island was bracing. Herbert’s direction had taken them to the central northern village of Eggin, an outcrop of scattered houses flanked by dirt roads and perennial winds. The veracity of the landscape was beyond question: older than lineage, at a greater distance than mythology, yet as close and swallowing as the supernatural.
Conclusive, corroded about its edges.
Benjamin landed the craft at the tip of a bank that overlooked the small house they had come to visit. They checked many times for onlookers before opening the ramp and Herbert chased Derek down it quickly. By the time Benjamin went to catch them up, having left Basil inside the craft, he saw that Herbert was already knocking at the front door.
De
