by Glen L. Hall
Eagan didn’t stop to answer, just leaped from the hedge to several stone steps that led into a narrow alleyway. Reaching the house in a matter of seconds, he produced a key and slipped it gently into the lock. With a click, he opened the door.
The house was in near darkness.
‘Alice! Alice!’ Eagan called softly, but there was no answer.
He went into the kitchen, then through into the garden room. With the house in darkness, he could see right across the estuary. He scoured the south bank, but it was too far away to see movement in this light; the sea and river had melded into one. He hoped it would be difficult for anything coming down from Birling Wood to cross.
Behind him in the kitchen, Emily exclaimed, ‘The fire’s out. The ashes are cold.’
‘Can’t be,’ Eagan called back, ‘they stay warm for ages.’
‘Well, this whole place is stone cold. What’s going on?’
‘I don’t know. But I suggest you get a few things together and we leave whilst the tide is with us. There are some spare clothes in the drawers in your room – you get those and I’ll pack some food.’
Sam and Emily quickly went back into the hallway, leaving Eagan opening kitchen cupboards. They went up one flight of stairs, then another, past the large Georgian window, and then turned to go up the final flight.
‘It looks as though the house hasn’t been lived in for ages,’ said Emily, puzzled. ‘Look at all this dust!’
Sam stopped in midstride. ‘I know. These are strange times and they are getter stranger by the day.’
They went quickly up the stairs, into the first room and through the bookcase into the small room where they’d had the best sleep ever, but now their minds were again filled with panic.
‘Emily, hurry up. This feels like Oxford all over again.’
‘All right – I’m coming.’ Emily was shoving clothes almost at random into a rucksack.
They were half running back across the reading room when Sam stopped.
‘The tapestry!’
‘What?’ Emily turned back.
In the room’s soft glow, they looked at it with renewed wonder.
‘It’s the man with the dog!’ said Emily.
‘I know,’ replied Sam in disbelief, ‘the man who came into the Red Lion.’
They had now seen the fifth man for themselves, looking no different than he had in 1960.
‘Sam! Emily! Come on, we haven’t got time to mess around!’
Eagan calling up the stairs startled them both. Without further delay, they left the picture of the five men, pipes in hands, smiling gently into the quiet room.
They found Eagan back in the garden room, watching the now unlit southern bank of the estuary.
‘Can you see them yet?’ asked Sam.
‘I don’t know. I can’t make out the beach,’ he replied anxiously.
Sam felt Emily’s hand touch his arm. They stood almost shoulder to shoulder.
‘I watched them come down from the hills northwest of the wood.’ Eagan’s voice was taut. ‘I’m sure if we stay here one more night, they’ll find a way to cross the river.’
Sam looked out across the estuary. ‘Where are they now?’
‘There – look!’
Sam stared into the distance, his eyes adjusting to the new night until at last he could see a movement, a blurred ripple.
‘Is that really them?’
Eagan nodded.
‘Why don’t they just cross the bridge a mile north of here?’
‘The village is protected. You heard Alice. They won’t cross until there is one amongst them who can break its spell.’
‘The Grim-Witch from the letter,’ Sam breathed.
He felt Emily’s sharp intake of breath. ‘Can she break the spell?’
‘I think so. She’s on her way – I can feel it. I think I’ve already stopped her from finding us.’
‘Stopped?’ Eagan’s eyebrows arched.
‘Yes – don’t ask me how, but listen, the red-headed man from the tapestry upstairs is here in Alnmouth.’
‘What? This is all just crazy, just crazy, you hear?’ Eagan’s face flushed with anger.
‘I know, but it’s true.’
Then Sam felt it again – a tremble, an electric current that passed across his face. Beside him Emily flicked her hand as if to brush something away, and he knew she had felt it too, and Eagan was shaking his head.
‘If we don’t go now, Eagan, the estuary will be closed to us.’
Eagan looked at him and then his anger faded, leaving the pale, almost frail Eagan they had seen that morning.
‘You’re right, Sam. Let’s go.’
Sam reached out for the bag of food and slung it over his shoulder.
‘There’s a boat down by the river,’ he said. ‘I know it’s crazy, but the man from the tapestry really was fixing it this afternoon.’
‘Then it’s meant for us.’
* * * * * *
With Sam leading, they quietly opened the back door, which couldn’t easily be seen from the estuary banks. Eagan took one final look over his shoulder and then closed the door behind them.
As Sam left the safety of the house, he felt a great sense of foreboding passing through his mind and down into his body. With the Shadow, there had never been a sense of awareness, just a cold and mindless pursuit. This was different – it was as if part of him was linked to something he could almost feel moving around him, one minute in his deepest thoughts and then the next passing through him until he could feel its presence in his hands.
Now Eagan led the way, taking them down through the village until they were standing just across from a gated entrance to the estuary’s north bank. The tide had come in with the night and there was a hush right across Alnmouth.
They huddled together, trying to be certain that the danger had yet to cross the river.
‘The boat is just down there,’ Sam whispered. ‘It can’t be more than ten feet from the water.’
Eagan crossed the narrow street, signalling for Sam and Emily to wait for him. Just like Sam, he could sense something. He had always naturally felt the flow and Drust Hood had taught him well. Bent double so as not to be seen from the opposite beach, he moved slowly through the darkness, his long knives again in his hands.
When he saw the boat, his eyes widened in surprise. How had the Celtic Flow turned up in Alnmouth? When he had last seen it, it had been tied up in its usual place by the old school house in Warkworth. And he had been surrounded by crow-men, he reminded himself ruefully. Anything could have happened to the boat since then. The fact that it was here was reassuring, though. It really was meant for them.
Lying flat against the cold wet sand, Eagan edged forwards so that he could look out onto the estuary. The waters were still, but beyond them he knew the horde was waiting. Remembering their poison, he shivered. He had to get Sam and Emily out of there.
He would need Sam’s strength to dislodge the Celtic Flow. He turned back to fetch him and Emily.
When he took them to the boat, they were as astonished as he had been, but there was no time for questions. The three of them had to put their backs into getting the Celtic Flow seaborne.
It took them several long minutes of pushing before anything happened. Then, painstakingly slowly, the boat began to inch towards the water, the bow catching in the wet sand.
Then Sam stopped pushing.
Eagan looked over his shoulder. ‘What’s wrong?’ He had felt a trembling in the air, but Sam was standing there shaking.
‘We don’t have much time!’ he managed to croak before feeling a second huge shudder pass through his body.
‘Your nose is bleeding, Sam.’ Emily leaned forwards and wiped the droplets of blood from Sam’s nose with her sleeve.
Sam felt his s
trength had been momentarily knocked out of him. Unable to speak, he fell to his knees.
‘Emily! We need the boat in the water!’ called Eagan.
Emily left Sam kneeling in the sand and threw her weight against the boat, but without Sam’s strength, it wouldn’t move.
‘Sam! We can’t do this without you!’ Eagan cried out.
But Sam didn’t hear him. He was listening to another sound, one that was echoing in his head. A disembodied voice calling to him, urging him to stand and show himself. It was soft and full of kindness – something he hadn’t felt for what seemed such a long time…
‘She is coming!’ he cried, overjoyed. ‘And means us no harm. Her people are already here. They are waiting for us.’
Eagan stopped pushing. ‘What are you saying? Now come on, we need your help.’
The Celtic Flow was now inches from the water, but Eagan could feel his legs shaking and Emily’s face was a mask of pain and frustration.
‘You don’t understand! She is coming to help!’ Sam cried.
Just as he finished speaking, the Celtic Flow slipped from the shore into the still waters of the estuary. Eagan held onto its side, looking back at Emily, who was regaining her feet, whilst Sam continued to kneel on the sandbank.
‘Sam, quickly! Stop this nonsense. Get in the boat!’
Eagan’s voice died in his throat as a noise came rushing across the estuary and he saw flashes of light on the far shore. He helped Emily into the boat and waded as fast as he could back to the shore, where Sam was struggling to stand.
‘What are you doing? Sam!’
Sam looked dazed. Blood was still oozing from his nostrils. ‘Eagan…?’ he muttered.
Across the estuary tiny flames were flickering and falling to the ground and Eagan knew the attack was underway. He grabbed Sam by the shoulders, half lifting him from the sand and propelling him through the waves.
Emily was already sitting hunched in the boat and jumped as Sam was dumped alongside her.
‘Get down!’ Eagan shouted as he quickly found his rowing seat. His eyes blazed as he placed the oars in the still waters and began to haul the Celtic Flow out into the river.
To his left he could see fluttering flames and it was clear they had been seen. A hiss out broke across the entire southern bank and hundreds of tiny sparks were suddenly falling into the waters.
‘The Fall protects Alnmouth, but she is weak,’ cried Sam from the bottom of the boat. He tried to stand, but Emily pushed him back down.
‘Emily, whoah…’
‘Just stop it this minute and pull yourself—’ Emily broke off as the boat suddenly lurched as if had struck a sandbank. ‘Eagan!’
‘It’s all right,’ Eagan replied through gritted teeth. Then he was pulling the boat back on course. They could hear his grunts of exertion as the Celtic Flow hung almost unmoving in the middle of the estuary.
The flames had been all but extinguished, throwing the south bank into complete darkness.
It was Emily who saw them first – a sea of dark shapes breaking the surface of the waters no more than a hundred feet from them.
‘Look!’ she screamed.
Sam lay in the boat, totally unmoved by her cry, unable to break the spell that was slowly suffocating him.
Eagan looked towards the south bank and saw the horror that was wading into the still waters. Whatever protection Alnmouth had offered them had been broken and the horde from Birling Wood was no longer hiding, but was breaking from the long grass in endless droves.
From the prow Emily watched in horror as the southern estuary became a writhing mass of crow-men desperately throwing themselves into the deep waters. It was clear that most could not swim, and they disappeared beneath the waters, drowning, whilst those behind clambered over their fallen brethren.
‘Eagan, get us out of here before they reach us!’
But the Celtic Flow had now stopped and was being pulled inch by inch towards the south shore, irrespective of Eagan’s efforts to wrest it back. He heaved on the oars and still the boat would not move.
The first claw appearing over the side made Emily recoil in horror, but Eagan was quick. In one swift movement one of his long knives took the claw clean off and the creature fell back into the dark waters. But others were already reaching the marooned boat.
Emily turned to Sam, who was still in the bottom of the boat, a dazed look in his eyes, his T-shirt now covered in blood.
‘Sam, you’ve got to help us!’ She grabbed hold of him, trying to shake him from his stupor. ‘Sam!’
Without warning a thin feathered arm burst out of the water and seized her.
Eagan leaped over Sam in a desperate attempt to save her, his hand outstretched towards hers, but several hooked claws wrapped themselves tightly around her body and dragged her down into the murky waters.
Eagan turned to Sam, horror-stricken. The boat was now being attacked from all sides and he knew it wouldn’t be long before they were both poisoned and helpless. He was putting his hands together, ready to dive in after Emily, when a fiery boom threw him forwards into the bottom of the boat.
‘Emily!’ Sam was standing in the middle of the boat with his left arm ablaze. The first crow-men were slithering over the edge of the boat, their beaked and feathered faces snapping and their clawed hands reaching for him, but they never touched him.
Eagan scrambled to his feet and seized his long knives, ready for one final battle. A voice was bellowing, or it could have been a surging vibration in his head. All around him the crow-men were falling, flapping, then turning into giant black crows, their murderous cries becoming squawks of fear as many drowned, whilst others burst into flames then became nothing more than a wisp of black mist that swirled and disappeared into the night.
Eagan watched as Sam raised his hands and sent the last of those clinging to the boat burning into the darkness. He could feel heat surging around him and for a second thought he heard a chorus of voices rising up across the estuary. Sam’s voice grew ever louder until Eagan thought it echoed in his soul, and the boat lurched forwards, set free from whatever had been holding it.
The waters around the boat began to stir and it was all Eagan could do to hold himself steady. He looked down into the darkness where Emily had disappeared and prepared to dive in once more.
‘Get back!’
Sam’s words seemed to churn through Eagan’s mind and he found himself unable to defy him. He watched dumbstruck as Sam stood at the bow of the Celtic Flow uttering words he did not understand with fire in his hands that reminded him of Drust Hood. Whatever Sam was doing, the river was answering him. Sprays of water were erupting around the boat like hot geysers, soaking him, and still Sam was speakingwords that he could feel pulsing through his veins…
* * * * * *
Emily never even saw the feathered arm that pulled her from the boat. It happened so quickly that she didn’t have time to call out before she hit the cold waters. The last thing she saw was Eagan’s grasping hand. She closed her eyes, unable to look at the dark forms closing in on all sides.
Then their iron grip lessened, a searing pain erupted along the length of her arm and a sudden tug span her around and out of her assailants’ grasp. She opened her eyes to find herself breaking the surface of the water. The hideous forms of the crow-men were erupting into fire and Sam was standing atop the boat with his arms arching above his head and flaming arrows raining down on the estuary’s churning water.
* * * * * *
There was a force running through the boat that Eagan had never felt before. His eyes were streaming from a hot wind that made his eyes and throat dry, a vibration that made his head hurt. There were hundreds of crows floating dead on the river’s surface, when without warning Emily broke through the surging water and he dived in and was beside her in an instant.
A sudden an
d intense silence rang in his ears and the vibration, fire, light and energy were replaced by a sweeping emptiness that threw the blazing figure of Sam into complete darkness.
* * * * * *
Sam stood there, drained and shaking. He had moved the light and colour from his mind to his hands and then he had battled something huge that had propelled the crow-men into the waters. There had been voices and light and this time he had been able to direct them more easily. But now he was spent.
‘Sam!’ Emily called as Eagan pushed her into the boat and then pulled himself up behind her.
Sam was shaking his head, then sitting down suddenly. ‘Eagan, we can’t stay here. The danger has only been delayed. The Grim-Witch – I felt her in the flow. She is coming. The Fall can no longer help. She was protecting the village – I heard her voice – but now she is weak and cannot come to me.’
Eagan and Emily watched as he lowered his head, seemingly grief-stricken.
‘And if we stay,’ he whispered, his voice cracking, ‘then Alice and those who have chosen to remain here will be put in danger.’
As if on cue, he felt the trembling begin again. Whatever he had faced was gathering itself once more.
‘Eagan, help me. You need to get us out of here.’
Eagan sat back on his rowing seat and started pulling on the oars. The Celtic Flow immediately responded, cutting through the sea of dead birds.
Emily was sitting next to Sam, shivering from the damp clothes against her skin. She took a dry jumper from her rucksack, and when she had put it on, Sam placed his arm around her shoulders.
Eagan was rowing as never before, almost snarling with the effort, his legs and arms pushing and pulling, his wet hair flying, his jaw set. Every now and then he would let out a growl of pain. He was trying to steer the boat into the deepest part of the estuary, where the river and sea came together in twisting currents. He knew the north and south banks of the river’s mouth drifted back together and soon they would be at the south bank’s closest point.
Sam kept his arm around Emily, who was watching the tall grasses along the bank. Then he realised what was happening.