by Glen L. Hall
Then he was thrown into a new darkness and being propelled down a new corridor.
‘We cannot leave my brother!’
Ahead, the only answer from Breth and Kiltrevern was the pounding of their feet as they ran.
Behind, Ezru snarled impatiently. ‘He is no longer your brother! The Shadows have him – do not expect him to return.’
‘No, no, no!’
In the dark twisting corridor Brennus heard a voice rising in anguish and realised it was his own.
The Grim-Witch
Sam had returned to his bedroom in the annexe that Kenrick’s family had made their home. He lay there looking out of the window and the blackness of the Northumberland night stared back. The room felt safe. The wood, the gardens and even the house felt homely. His stomach knotted at the thought of leaving this place. The road to Holy Island would not be easy, let alone in the dark. He also knew that somewhere beyond the edge of the woods and the burn the Grim-Witch and crow-men would be waiting. Could he really take Emily with him and expose her to being seized by them?
Again, he reflected, it all depended on whether Oscar could throw light on why the Grim-Witch was searching for her. If there was something about Emily that none of the Keepers knew, something that Oscar had kept secret from everyone, then removing her from the safety of Howick could be disastrous. But would Oscar tell him if he had kept it secret?
Then there was the traitor. Did they exist or was this part of the paradox? The same one that stopped him from working out who had delivered the original message… Had it come from Oscar to him or from him to Oscar?
The thoughts kept on coming late into the night, but in a way Sam was glad they were keeping him awake. Eventually he realised he hadn’t heard a door creak for some time, signalling the house was finally at rest and it was time to wake Emily. He stood, walked to the big Georgian window that looked out across the wood and leaned against the frame in the dark, watching the fluttering fires that were sprinkled through the wood like fireflies. He would have to be careful not to stumble over a sleeping Reiver.
His nerves suddenly jangled as the heavy bedroom door creaked open. He stood for a second, waiting to see who it was, and was relieved to see Emily enter.
‘Just making sure you don’t leave without me.’
‘I was just coming to get you.’
Emily carefully made her way across the dark room and stood next to Sam. ‘Uncle Jarl will be watching your every move. He won’t let me go.’
‘I know.’
Sam jumped as Emily placed her hand on his arm. ‘Why won’t you wait for the meeting?’ she asked.
‘We need to wrong-step the traitor.’
‘Won’t they be watching too?’
Sam took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know.’ Once again Emily had put her finger on the flaw in the plan.
She was looking worried. ‘I can’t bring myself to think what might happen if the crow-men catch us miles from anywhere, miles from our friends. And what if Oscar tells you something you don’t like?’
That was another awkward question. Sam turned to look back out at the flickering light of the Reivers’ fires.
‘Let’s see what Oscar has to say.’
He turned back to Emily and just for a second they looked at each other and said nothing.
Then Sam felt he had to reassure her.
‘Emily,’ he said softly, ‘you know, before Alnmouth I had only seen whispers of the flow, but that night was different. It was as if I’d woken to a world where there was no colour other than light and darkness.’
Even though he’d spoken quietly, his voice seemed to travel from the room and echo through the hallway.
Emily was standing still, her eyes fixed on him, trying to understand.
‘The light and dark were moving,’ Sam continued. ‘They came in great rivulets and from every direction. Even though you weren’t in the boat, I could still see you.’
‘See me?’ repeated Emily.
‘There was an intense white light glowing in the dark water – a light so bright that the strands of darkness could not touch it. That light was coming from you.’
Emily shook her head and stepped back from him. ‘You’ve got it wrong.’
‘No, believe me, I saw it. It was brighter even than the light I saw coming from Oscar. I think the Shadow let me live at the gates of Magdalen so it could follow me to you. And of course I led it straight to you. I’m sorry, Emily.’
‘But why would it be coming for me?’ There was a desperate note in Emily’s voice. ‘That’s what I don’t understand.’
‘That is why I must speak to Oscar. He owes us the truth.’
* * * * * *
As Sam walked down the hallway of the annexe, his stomach started to knot. The floorboards creaked beneath their feet no matter how much they tiptoed. But it seemed that everyone in Kenrick’s living quarters was asleep.
Sam took a deep breath as he reached the outer door and slid the bolts back, stopping several times as the metal began cutting the silence with a rustic squeak. He was glad when the last bolt was back and he was able to pull the door open.
As it clicked shut behind them and they entered Kenrick’s private garden, a cold wind enveloped them. The gate between the garden and hall was standing open. They were about to go through when suddenly Sam pulled Emily back.
‘What is it?’ she whispered.
Sam shook his head.
‘I hate it when you do that!’ she retorted.
This time Sam put his finger to his lips. High above them came the caw of a single crow.
‘Quickly!’
Sam grabbed Emily’s hand and led her swiftly through the gate. Several distant caws were answering the first. Things were beginning to move.
‘Is that the crow-men?’ asked Emily, her voice low and shaky.
Sam shrugged, but he knew there was something wrong. The caws were shrill and far harsher than usual, and he’d had quite a few opportunities in the last week to know the difference.
He and Emily edged around the hall’s western wall until they came to the double doors. If they were locked, their plan would be in tatters. At first they didn’t budge, but with a little persuasion they yielded.
Sam and Emily entered the hall and carefully closed the doors behind them, leaving the cold breeze and the cawing outside.
In the dark silence a stale smell hit their noses. Sam knew upstairs the wounded Forest Reivers were being cared for and he hoped there would be no one downstairs. He didn’t wait long before moving across the circular entrance towards the first set of internal doors. He opened them and found the corridor also in total darkness. He and Emily were quickly down it and through the second set of double doors. They came to the final set. They were now shut.
By now Emily was panicking. ‘Oh, Sam, what if Oscar tells us something we really don’t want to hear?’
‘I still want to hear it,’ he said, though he was battling his own fears.
The double doors and the door to the reading room all opened easily enough. Sam stepped inside and drew a breath. High above them the night sky shone black through the domed roof and the room seemed to stare back at them.
Sam took another step into the room, followed by Emily, who suddenly grabbed hold of his arm.
‘Can’t we do this in the day?’ she whispered.
‘No.’
‘Then at least let’s have some light.’
‘No!’ Emily was reaching for the light switch, but Sam grabbed her wrist. ‘They’ll see it.’ His voice sounded shaky.
Already their eyes were beginning to adjust to the gloom and it wasn’t difficult to get a feel for the room’s layout. They had seen it only the day before and it had been exactly like the room at the Seven Stories. There was a round table in the middle, in complete symmetry with the do
me high above, whilst on the far wall Sam knew the tapestry was waiting for him.
He edged forwards into the middle of the room, though he could feel Emily almost pulling him back. Nerves were fluttering around his stomach, his breathing was quick and his thoughts were beginning to whirl. What if he couldn’t get the tapestry to work? He still didn’t know how it had worked in the Seven Stories and now Eagan had told him it was a difficult thing to do, he felt his confidence spiralling away.
‘Sam, please hurry up!’ Emily whispered.
Sam looked at the tapestry, trying to recall what he’d actually done at the Seven Stories to make that one flicker into life. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the light and dark strands he’d seen that night. He tried to focus on the crackling energy that had coursed through the reading room four days before. He could even see the light exploding across its rippling surface. But when he opened his eyes, the room was still dark, the tapestry unmoving.
‘Sam, quickly, I don’t like any of this!’ called Emily urgently. ‘Let’s go.’
‘I can’t do it.’
The room swallowed up his words.
‘Oh!’ Emily jumped. Far above them, claws were landing on the glass. ‘Sam,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘get moving. This is a bad idea.’
Far above they could hear the pitter-patter of clawed feet on glass. Then came a scratching sound like nails slowly being drawn down a chalk board.
Sam ignored it. He moved closer to the tapestry, searching for the flow in the gloom, but there was nothing.
‘Come on,’ he said to himself, as he stopped directly in front of it. ‘Where are you?’
Frustration and fear were beginning to merge. He was fed up and frightened. He hadn’t wanted any of this. First his quiet life in Oxford had been brought to an end, then the haven of his home in Gosforth. He was tired and just wanted to go back to his studies and walk in the Fellows’ Garden and spend time with Emily. He felt anger flowing through him and then he saw Emily’s frightened eyes in the darkness.
The music was subtle and eloquent and he both feared it and was in awe of it.
‘Can you hear it?’
‘Hear what?’ came Emily’s alarmed answer, but Sam had already turned back to the tapestry.
Fireflies erupted all around him, crackling with electricity, leaping from deep within his mind. Just like the night in Oxford, he heard what he had taken to be the Magdalen choir, but this time he thought he could hear their long-forgotten words and he was on the edge of understanding them. The fireflies were joined suddenly by a hundred invisible humming birds that throbbed and whirred around his head until the room was filled with a wild orchestra of vibrating light and darkness that he could see, hear and feel.
He reached out and touched the tapestry, and it came to life, its woven strands unravelling in a blur of movement. In his mind’s eye the fireflies and humming birds broke up into a thousand vibrating shades of moving colour exploding against the darkness in a pixelated shower of light and shadow. Just like the night at the Seven Stories, a mesmerising flow of images lit up the Way-curve, and just for a second Sam thought he was back there.
In the writhing streams of light, the castle from the Seven Stories appeared, ebbing and flowing with each turn of the swirling fireflies. Unlike the fuzzy images from the bookshop, this time it was clear. Sam could see the colour of the stone walls sitting atop a daunting cliff face, could even feel their rough texture. But this time the scene continued and there were creatures flying high above the crumbling towers. A long snaking wall glimmered from out of the dark canvas and figures in blazing armour stood there, whilst below, out of the darkness came creatures that made him recoil in horror.
In an instant the colours rippled and for a second he thought he was back in the Fellows’ Garden – or was it the Garden of Druids? – because he could see moonlight glinting on a pond. But this time there was an iron gate there, with the symbol of the circle with the unknown tree burning white on the dark metal, preventing him from entering. He felt himself reaching out to touch the gate and instantly a new vibration ran through him, a cold resonance that hummed and flickered in his mind’s eye. Fear froze his mind and sent a deep chill into his body.
‘You are not strong enough to open that gate alone.’
In the clamour of the kaleidoscopic sea, the voice anchored his feet to the floor and he remembered who and where he was.
‘Oscar!’ he called.
‘Sam, you know the Way-curves are no longer safe. You must be quick.’
The words fizzed and popped in his head. Unlike the Oscar in the Seven Stories, this Oscar was more like Jack, Ronald and Charles the evening in the Eagle and Child. He seemed real, although his form shimmered and his face seemed forever out of focus.
Sam felt a little dazed, but he knew he had to seize his chance. He opened his mouth, but his words were already there in the weaving streams of colour.
‘We met you in the Garden of Druids. You could not remember our conversation in Oxford. It appears that I could well have brought the message to you.’
Oscar seemed startled. ‘What? How can that be possible? I cannot have met you in the Garden of Druids. It is not for the living. It stands in the Otherland, in the place they call the Darkhart. It stands beyond time and forever captures the moment of the Fall’s creation.’
‘You fought the Shadow in the Garden.’
‘Really?!’
Sam could feel Oscar’s shock course through his own body. ‘Yes,’ he persisted. ‘It’s how you came to Oxford and gave me the message.’
‘But I have not met you yet, Sam. The Keepers said that we would meet when the time was right. In fact I am not entirely sure how I recognise you.’
Sam’s frustration was replaced by panic. Would this Oscar be able to tell him anything?
‘However, the Keepers came to Alnmouth many years ago,’ Oscar continued, ‘and gave me two letters. One was for you.’
‘Yes, I know, but—’ interrupted Sam.
‘They said I would know the right time to give it to you.’
‘The right time?! That letter is out of time. It seems to know the future. It changes every time I read it!’ cried Sam.
He could no longer look at the fluctuating image of Oscar.
‘Listen,’ he went on, panic rising, ‘I met Alice in Alnmouth and she told me that you had raised a fellowship that had crossed the Dead Water.’
‘Sam,’ said Oscar quickly, ‘you should not be telling me all this. If you tell me too much about the future, it will reach back into the past and that future could be lost. Be careful.’
‘But I want to know—’
‘Sam!’ This time Oscar’s voice was loud and stern.
‘Please listen—’
Suddenly the tapestry seemed to be on fire and Sam’s skin was prickling with electricity. A second figure was appearing at Oscar’s side. Sam’s eyes watered as he tried to bring it into focus. Just like the night at the Eagle and Child, the reading room now seemed split between darkness and light.
‘Who is there?’ he called out.
‘Sam, it’s Brennus. This is not Oscar. This is not Oscar – run!’ called the faint voice of Brennus.
‘Sam! Sam!’
Someone else was screaming his name. In all of this he had forgotten about Emily.
Suddenly the colour and light drained out of the tapestry and in the blink of an eye it went black. Sam felt the pressure in the room drop. For a moment he didn’t know which way was up or down. Darkness swirled around him and he was back in the river Cherwell, cold and afraid. Oscar had gone, but something else was taking shape. A place he did not recognise flickered out of the tapestry weave. A single figure was hunched there in the gloom. It had its back to him, but Sam knew what it was before its image had fully formed. It had heard Brennus’s words and was standing slow
ly, a black-hearted stalker reaching out for him through time and space.
A single word came to him, spilled black against the streaming darkness: ‘Druidae.’
Then the whole reading room was dark, he was lying on the floor drenched in sweat and Emily was standing over him.
Disorientated, sick and terrified, all he could do was close his eyes. But he could still see that dark shape reaching out for him.
‘What happened?’ Emily’s voice was strained.
Opening his eyes, Sam found the room swirling. He grabbed hold of Emily to steady himself.
‘The Shadow knows we are here,’ he gasped.
‘What? How? Sam!’ Emily was shaking him. ‘How do you know?
‘Didn’t you see anything?’
‘No!’ Emily’s eyes were wide with fear. ‘You touched the tapestry and then a second later you fell and you were wailing.’
‘Oh, Emily, I should never have used the Way-curve!’ Sam was frantic. ‘I’ve brought great danger here.’
‘Just tell me what you saw!’
‘I thought I was speaking to Oscar and then Brennus was there.’ Sam swallowed hard, trying to get his thoughts together.
‘What did they say? Oh!’
They both jumped as a beak hit the glass dome high above them. They froze, looking up. Just as in the bookshop, crows were gathering on the glass.
‘We should go and tell Uncle Jarl.’
‘No.’ Sam was shaking his head. ‘We have to leave.’
‘Now?’
‘Now. If we stay, the Shadow will bring devastation to everyone here.’
‘But where can we go? It will take us more than a day to get to Holy Island, and listen to that.’ Beaks were beginning to thud against the glass. ‘I really don’t think they’re friendly at all.’
Sam’s thoughts were elsewhere. ‘Brennus was using a Way-curve – he must be at Bamburgh. We’ll head there first.’
‘I thought the letter said Brennus and Drust wouldn’t return.’