by Ben Yallop
Then Sam saw flashing blue lights appear back in the village. If there was a siren it was not audible over the roar of the fire. The men saw it too and as a trio suddenly turned and walked into the woods behind them. In a moment they were gone. Sam sprinted to Valerie and skidded to a stop beside her on his knees.
‘Are you okay? Are you hurt?’ gasped Sam
‘No, not really’ she said, struggling to stand ‘I'm a tough old bird. What happened? I thought you were still in there, and then... and then...I think something must have hit me on the head’. She raised her hand to the back of her skull.
Sam felt anger flash through him. He looked to the gap in the railings where the men had vanished, and he looked ahead to the blue lights. He made a decision. Those men had done something. Patting Valerie's hand, he gave her a smile then turned and ran. He threw himself towards the woods, anger and adrenaline driving him forward. He dived through the gap in the railings and felt the cold darkness of the woods envelop him, shutting out the crash as part of the house collapsed behind him and Valerie called out his name in fear and despair.
Sam blinked furiously, trying to see amongst the black trees. The image of the fire still danced across his vision and he felt even angrier as he wasted valuable seconds waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. The coolness and damp of the leaves around him was welcome though and it wasn't long before he dashed forwards towards the broken road, ears and eyes straining for any sign of the men who, he was sure, had taken everything from him. He felt, before he saw, the buckled tarmac under his feet and he pressed forwards, turning his head from side to side, his throat still raw from the smoke. It felt like he was trying to swallow razor blades. He thought that he could see someone moving up ahead and he quickened his pace.
All of a sudden a heavy weight hit him around the waist and he was thrown into the bushes to one side. He landed heavily, face down, mud and leaves bitter in his mouth. The weight rolled with him and he wrestled with it, trying to throw it off, until he realised that it was moving. Someone was holding him down. He had been caught.
Chapter Five
A voice hissed in Sam's ear.
‘Stop struggling you bloody fool. You’ll get us both killed.’
Sam squirmed and wrestled himself onto his back. Immediately a slim but strong arm pressed itself across his neck and Sam felt a horrible pressure on his windpipe. He couldn't even swallow. He stopped his struggle and gave up finally looking up at the man sitting astride him, his face pressed close to his own. Sam couldn't see much. It was still dark and they were under trees and bushes where little moonlight penetrated.
‘That's better.’ whispered the voice, ‘What in Rivenrok did you think you were going to be able to do?’ The pressure on his neck eased slightly and Sam took a gasping breath.
‘Geroff me.’ he managed, the effect of the smoke and the assault making his throat feel like it was lined with sandpaper and filled with golf-balls.
The figure astride him leant back, taking his forearm off Sam's neck completely. For the first time Sam was able to get a good look at him as the man leant back into a patch of moonlight. His attacker was younger than he had presumed, perhaps only a couple of years older than Sam himself. His blonde hair fell across his eyes in a way that Sam had never managed with his own. He was lean and strong, toned muscles evident under a close fitting shirt. Sam had a brief flash of deja vu. This person was familiar in some way that he couldn't place. As he tried to grab at the thought it moved away like smoke in the wind.
The young man was watching the shadows, his attention elsewhere. He seemed to have forgotten Sam entirely. Then without warning he swung a leg over Sam's chest, almost catching him in the face. Sam flinched knocking the back of his head on the hard floor. The young man stood up, and moved stealthily into the shadow of a tree where he peered into the darkness in the direction that Sam had been running.
Sam rubbed at his throat. ‘Who are you?’ he croaked. He had been intending to continue his pursuit but this new figure had taken the wind from his sails and although he felt irritated by the newcomer his desire to catch three dangerous men and take them on single-handedly was being quickly overtaken by common-sense.
The figure didn't even turn to acknowledge Sam's question.
‘I said, who are you?’ asked Sam more crossly.
‘Keep the noise down.’ the youth whispered, finally looking around but only for a moment. ‘Name's Hadan.’
‘Why did you stop me?’ Sam allowed the anger to remain in his voice.
‘I stopped you because you were about to get yourself killed. The Riven want you dead. But I don’t think you want to die just yet, do you Sam?’
‘How did you know my name is Sam, and … wait a minute, someone, someone wants me dead? What's going on?’
‘You’re lucky to be alive’, said Hadan, ‘I should have realised that you were in danger tonight. I could have got you out sooner. I'll tell you more, but you have to come with me. Weewalk will want to meet you and its not safe here. We should have come back for you earlier, after Ferus followed you into the woods.’
‘Who?’ Sam shook his head. ‘Look, it doesn't matter. I should go back and check on Valerie. Thanks to you I'll never catch those men. I'll need to go and talk to the police.’ He wanted to get away. This Hadan person was clearly odd and probably dangerous.
‘I wouldn't recommend going back.’ said Hadan, finally turning to give Sam his full attention, ‘As soon as they realise you survived that fire they’ll be back to finish you off and next time they might not bother trying to make it look like an accident. You want to make sure no-one else gets hurt, you’d better stay away from them. Everything changes tonight. We’ve got places to go, you and me.’ Hadan smirked ‘Nice shoes by the way!’
Sam looked at the pink fluffy slippers that he was still wearing and then to the column of smoke above the trees, lit orange by the fire underneath. Blue lights flashed in the darkness, just visible between the trees, and there were faint calls and shouts from those who battled the flames.
‘What are you talking about? Who are they?’ said Sam feeling cross again. He had been so full off rage and had been determined to catch the men who had struck Valerie but this person had completely pulled the rug from under his feet and Sam felt disorientated and frustrated and not a little frightened. But what could he have done? He couldn't fight one boy roughly his own age, let alone three men. He shook his head; his mind was unable to process everything that had happened. He clambered to his feet, feeling a little shaky.
‘Come with me’ said Hadan and he began to cross the road towards the woods, looking carefully towards the way where the figures in black had gone. ‘It's important.’
Sam stood for a moment, stunned by everything that had just happened. Everything he owned was gone.
‘I can't just follow you. I can't just leave the scene of a fire.’ Sam turned back towards the fire, which was just visible in the darkness and began to jog back towards the remains of his house.
Hadan swore and called after him ‘Sam, come back. I need to tell you why you're in danger.’ but Sam continued through the trees. He looked back once but by then the road behind him was empty. If the strange young man had ever been there, he had completely vanished.
Sam opened his eyes and winced as he swallowed. His throat was still raw. The paramedics had said that he would be feeling the effects of the smoke for some time. If it hadn’t been for the pain in his neck and the way his entire body, and especially his head, ached then he might have thought it had all been some terrible nightmare. But here he was in Valerie's house. He had never reached his own home, or what was left of it. He had run across a policeman as he was jogging back through the trees and he had been ushered into an ambulance that was waiting well away from where the firemen were losing the battle to bring the flames under control. After the cut on his head had been cleaned and the ambulance staff had reassured themselves that a trip to hospital wasn't needed, they had let him
go into Valerie's house where the policeman had questioned him at length about the night's events. Sam had told him everything, even about the strange young man Hadan, although he wasn't entirely sure that his conversation with the youth had actually taken place.
Eventually, satisfied that he wasn't going to do anything stupid, Sam had been ushered up to bed by Valerie. He had only slept for a few hours but now it all seemed distant, like the fire had taken place in some other reality.
Sam sat on the bed in Valerie's spare room for a few minutes, checking his various injuries. He had some particularly impressive scratches along one arm to add to the scabbed cut above his eye. Then he pulled on the dressing gown that had been given to him last night and he walked gingerly down the stairs. At the bottom Valerie appeared and threw her arms around him.
‘Oh Sam, I was so worried about you.’
Sam returned the embrace a little awkwardly.
‘I'm just glad that you weren’t hurt too badly by those men I saw behind you.’ he said. ‘Who were they?’
‘I have no idea. Perhaps they’re people that your grandfather was involved with in some way. Perhaps he owed them money or something. The police said to keep an eye out and that we should report anything suspicious.’
Sam looked at the floor. ‘I need to go and see the house.’
‘There's no point, Sam. There's nothing left. Nothing to see. I'm so sorry.’ Valerie began to cry.
‘Even so, I need to look for myself.’
‘Sam, I can't stop you but please don’t try to go too close. It's not safe. I've washed and dried your clothes as best I could whilst you were asleep. We’ll have to buy more. I think there are some old trainers by the back door which might fit you.’
Once he was dressed Sam stepped out onto the street. It was colder today and a steady rain was falling, a hundred thousand concentric circles at his feet. He pulled a scarf from his rucksack. The contents of that bag were the only things he had managed to save from the fire. Everything else was gone. He took a deep breath. The faint smell of smoke still seemed to hang in the air. He started walking along the pavement, parallel to the woods when he heard a noise. It sounded as though someone had opened a bottle of fizzy drink. He looked around trying to see where it had come from. The noise came again. Hissss. Looking to the woods Sam saw a face looking at him from within some undergrowth. As soon as he looked the face disappeared.
Curious, he stepped off the pavement and towards the woods. As he neared the thick bushes he heard a low voice.
‘Don’t go back. It's not safe.’
‘Who's there?’ Sam asked, trying to peer into the bushes. ‘Who are you?’
‘Come with me. Quick. Quick. They’re coming!’
The bushes rustled and moved but still Sam could not see the source of the agitated voice but such was the urgency in the voice that he squeezed through a gap and entered the woods. He just had time to see someone moving away from him through the thick leaves.
‘Hey!’ called Sam ‘Come back!’ and he hurried to catch up. He saw snatches of someone here and there, someone short he thought, wearing yellow but he could see no more. Then, as Sam crashed through some branches, he almost fell into a small clearing and finally, there, he saw who he had been chasing.
For the first time Sam was able to get a good look at the man, if he could properly be called a man. Large round eyes peered out from a hairy face, a bushy reddish-brown beard covered most of the features below straight and sleek brown hair. A bulbous nose protruded above the bushy moustache. But the thing that took Sam most by surprise was the man's size. He was tiny, less than four feet tall, but stocky, slightly hunched and with large hands. He wore an extremely odd assortment of clothes, the most noteworthy of which was a yellow, tattered and dirty child-sized dress which showed knobbly knees briefly before they disappeared into large, creased and rather muddy and battered leather boots.
‘Who are you?’ Sam said trying not to stare too hard. He had always been taught not to embarrass people who were different, his grandfather had been very clear about that. And now Sam looked more closely this person looked similar to his grandfather's carvings. Very similar. There was a carving in the centre of the mantelpiece in the lounge that looked very much like this small man. That piece of wood would now be nothing more than ashes. Sam felt a sadness crash over him. The small man smiled a large and friendly grin showing white teeth.
‘Keep the noise down.’ he whispered looking around. ‘Name's Weewalk.’ He bowed. ‘Weewalk Pukwudgie at your service. I believe you met my friend Hadan here last night?’
Sam remained silent.
‘Look, we need to get you away from here. The fire last night was no accident. Hadan and I can protect you. We need to protect you.'
The little man looked at Sam carefully. Underneath his bushy beard his mouth twitched and he opened it to say something else. Then he closed it again and chewed his lip briefly before giving a huge sigh.
‘Please,’ he said ‘I need to get you away from here. At least come with me so that I can show you something. Please, follow me.’ and he stumped between the trees opposite, deeper into the woods. Sam hesitated for a moment and then followed, visions of his grandfather's craftsmanship echoing in his mind's eye.
They passed beneath the dark wet trees, Weewalk easily moving between the dripping limbs and branches that poked Sam as he tried to keep up. Weewalk seemed to whisper to himself as he moved, occasionally looking back and fixing Sam with a stare from those big eyes. Sam had never seen such a strange person. He had met someone with dwarfism before. His grandfather had had a friend who was less than four feet tall. She had even appeared in films because of her height. But Weewalk was something else entirely. He was less in proportion somehow. And why on earth was he wearing a grubby and tattered yellow spotted dress? Sam was burning with questions but he kept his distance from Weewalk and moved cautiously, ready to bolt back the way he had come if he sensed danger. As they walked Sam realised that they were heading towards the haunted tunnels which he was usually so keen to avoid. Suddenly doubtful he whispered urgently at Weewalk's small but broad back.
‘Hey, where are we going?’
Weewalk looked over his shoulder. ‘Dragsholm eventually. We have a hidden safe house there.’ he said. ‘We're best away from here.’
None the wiser, Sam continued to follow at what he judged was a safe distance.
They arrived at the building that housed the entrance to the tunnels and Weewalk ducked through a hole in the brickwork.
Sam hesitated. ‘I don’t think we should go in there.’ he called.
Weewalk stuck his head back through the hole ‘Why not?’
‘It's sealed off for a reason. They don’t lead anywhere.’
‘Oh, don’t they? You seem pretty sure of that. You can get all the way to the London Underground if you know the way. They were connected during a huge war.’
Sam sighed, ‘I have a friend who went in and he said that he heard things, further down. Strange noises. Bangs and thumps from places where there shouldn’t have been any noises. And he saw, he thought he saw a ghost.’
‘And do you believe him? Do you believe in ghosts?’
‘Sort of.’ said Sam carefully ‘It's complicated. I mean I'm not sure but my house was pretty strange at times. Bumps and noises at night, cold patches, that sort of thing. I'm not saying it was ghosts, perhaps there's a more scientific explanation but there is, was, definitely something odd about it. These tunnels must run pretty close underneath it.’
‘Well.’ said Weewalk with a laugh ‘I promise you have nothing to fear in here. And perhaps I can shed some light on your hauntings.’
Sam had to squeeze through on his stomach. The cold empty room beyond was pitch black but a match sparked into life before him and he saw Weewalk had produced a candle which he lit quickly and raised above his head.
‘This way.’ he said, and walked through a doorway, over pale grey dust and rubble into another room. Th
is room was just as bare as the first. There were no windows and only one other doorway. The one opposite that which they had just entered led to a passageway and then down a slope and into even greater darkness. The light of the candle could not penetrate it.
‘Sit here a minute.’ said Weewalk ‘I think we need to discuss a few things before we go any further. It's going to get a little... strange down there.’
‘It's already pretty bloody strange up here.’ said Sam ruefully. ‘Who are you? Why did you bring me here?’
‘Please sit.’ said the little man.
They sat with their backs against one wall. Sam was horribly aware of the gaping mouth of the tunnels to the side of him. Deathly cold air seemed to leak from the doorway like the breath of some malevolent phantom and he pulled his scarf more closely around his neck. Every now and then a sound seemed to echo up from the depths, indistinct clunks and ticks. Once Sam thought he heard a sad moan escape the maw of the open doorway, but it could have been his imagination. He strained his hearing but did not hear the sound again, although he felt no less comfortable to be near the door for all that.
Weewalk dripped a little wax from the candle into the well of a crumbling red housebrick and set the rest of the candle into it, placing the brick on the floor where the candle guttered and spat in the cold wind.