The Fall (The Last Druid Trilogy Book 1)

by Glen L. Hall

  ‘I found you floating face down in the pond. I’m just glad I was passing.’

  Sam froze. Professor Stuckley was sitting quietly in a leather chair, his trusty pipe in his hand.

  ‘Face down in the pond? That’s impossible!’

  ‘Is it?’ exclaimed the professor, his eyebrows arching. ‘Really? But tell me about Oscar, Samuel, for you’ve been mumbling his name these past few hours.’

  ‘Oscar? Yes … um, I did meet a man called Oscar. Or I thought I did.’

  Sam felt quite embarrassed. Falling into the pond had been bad enough. Now it seemed as though he’d been delirious as well. He felt his face reddening.

  ‘I fell asleep at the pond and I must have started dreaming. That’s all, professor. Although I have to say it felt very real at the time.’

  ‘Tell me about it, and start from the beginning. Leave no stone unturned.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Sam felt just a little perturbed. Why was the professor so insistent?

  ‘Forgive me, this is important. You will have answers to your questions soon enough.’

  ‘But professor, it didn’t make any sort of sense. It was just a weird dream. I really think I just need to go to bed and forget about it.’

  ‘You can’t run away from this so easily!’

  The professor had got to his feet more quickly than Sam had thought possible for a man his age.

  ‘Tell me about Oscar!’ The professor’s voice had raised a notch.

  ‘Look, I’ve told you. I’m sorry, professor, but there’s nothing to tell – it was just a dream.’

  ‘You don’t dream about people you don’t know – real people. I’m sorry, Sam, but Oscar visited you, and he wouldn’t have come without a good reason. What did he want?’

  ‘He wanted to deliver a message to you,’ Sam said slowly. This was getting really strange.

  The professor sank back into his chair, whilst all around the tall bookcases watched silently. ‘What was it?’ he murmured.

  ‘The Circle is broken and a Shadow moves through the Otherland.’

  Sam jumped as the professor’s silver pipe clattered to the wooden floor.

  ‘How can that be possible?!’

  ‘He mentioned something about the Dead Water being lost.’

  The professor turned his face away from Sam, rested his chin on his outstretched hand and closed his eyes.

  ‘Professor?’ Sam started to rise from his chair, but stopped as the professor raised a hand.

  ‘I feel his grief, Sam, that’s all.’ He paused, then added quietly, ‘That was no dream, for Oscar is an old friend from a life I had before taking my seat at Cherwell.’

  Taking a deep breath, he fixed his eyes on Sam.

  ‘Tomorrow we will visit the Eagle and Child as planned. Then you will take the train back home. It will do you no good staying around here when your peers have all left.’

  ‘Oh – so does that mean I’ve passed? But wait—’ Sam broke off. ‘What is the Dead Water? What is the Otherland?’

  As he spoke, the library seemed to fall quiet and the oak bookshelves to tower around him.

  The professor was silent.

  ‘Can’t you tell me what’s going on, professor? Things have been really weird lately – not just Oscar, but our conversation this afternoon. What was all that about? And then I met Professor Whitehart, and he was definitely acting oddly. And while we’re at it, why are Angus and I the only undergraduates to be housed here?’

  ‘I hear what you say, Sam,’ the professor said wearily. ‘I suppose you can have too many riddles in one day. I will try and answer some of them, but let me make us both a brew first.’

  * * * * * *

  When they were both holding a hot cup and the professor was sitting in his favourite chair, his silver pipe once again pressed against his pursed lips, he seemed to have recovered his composure.

  ‘I suppose the Dead Water and the Otherland are places that are more metaphysical than physical,’ he began. ‘They represent how the past, present and future come together as one.’

  ‘So how can they be lost?’

  The professor seemed slightly irked by Sam’s blunt question. He took a sip of his tea before answering, ‘They are the between places, the corridor between one room and another.’

  He took another sip of his tea.

  ‘These places can be lost if you lose faith in them. I think that’s what Oscar meant.’

  ‘But who has lost faith? And how can they act like a corridor when they don’t exist?’

  Sam felt his face burning. Perhaps he was pushing his luck, but he felt he had a right to know what was going on. He watched the professor shift a little uneasily in his chair, passing his intricate pipe from hand to hand.

  ‘These places do exist,’ the professor said quietly. ‘They are representations of those uncertainties.’

  There was a pause. The room was eerily quiet.

  ‘There are those who know how to listen to those uncertainties,’ the professor continued, his gaze falling on Sam, ‘those who can feel their resonance in this world. There are very few left now who can do this, but Oscar is one of them. It worries me that he chose to come here, for the resonances are not only felt by the good.’

  Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He shivered despite the warmth of the room.

  ‘Oscar mentioned the Underland was awake and moving through the Otherland in ever-greater numbers – is that what you mean when you say there are others who can feel these vibrations?’

  The professor lowered his gaze as if a new weight had settled upon him.

  ‘I have already told you too much and the night grows late. I am tired. You should go.’

  ‘In the dream,’ continued Sam doggedly, ‘Oscar mentioned the Three. He said you must seek their help.’

  The professor visibly sagged beneath the impact of the words. ‘I’m sorry, Sam,’ he muttered, ‘but it has been a long day and my bed calls. Let us meet for breakfast in Magdalen and we can discuss this in the light of day.’

  ‘But if it wasn’t a dream, professor, then surely I deserve to understand what is going on!’ Sam’s cheeks were burning with anger. ‘Your explanation is just a physicist’s puzzle! Oscar looked haggard, as if he’d been travelling for days, and he’d been battered and burned, and he came to deliver that message to you. Who is he, professor? How did he get into the garden when there’s only one way in? How did he vanish into thin air?’

  ‘Samuel,’ said the professor firmly, ‘it would seem that Oscar has given us both a lot to think about. I will say that I know him through my travels around Northumberland and that the Dead Water and the Otherland are as real as the atoms that go into creating them – but we both know how elusive atoms can be. After all, if the very small can be in two places at once, then why not something much bigger?’

  He smiled enquiringly at Sam. But Sam looked away, into the dark landscape beyond the great bay window.

  ‘It just feels as though you are being evasive,’ he said bitterly.

  For a moment, there was silence between them, broken only by the distant cawing of many birds circling high above.

  Then Sam remembered something. He pulled Oscar’s letters from his coat pocket.

  ‘Look, he gave me two letters.’

  He read the envelopes, then frowned as he held one out to the professor.

  Professor Stuckley slowly closed his hands over the tattered envelope. ‘What about the other one?’ he asked.

  Sam was looking at it with a puzzled expression. ‘It’s addressed to me. But how can that be? He’d only just met me. What’s going on?’

  ‘Well,’ the professor muttered, ‘whatever it is, I don’t think we should venture back out this evening and find out.’

  ‘What are you afraid of, professor?’


  Sam knew very well he was now pushing his luck. But he had to know.

  The professor sighed and drew thoughtfully on his pipe. ‘Frankly, I’m no longer sure, Sam, and that in itself worries me. You have every right to be perplexed, and believe me, you’re not the only one. You have become caught up in this in a way that I can no longer comprehend. The last person I expected to see in Oxford was Oscar.’

  ‘Caught up in what?’

  This time the professor raised his eyes to meet Sam’s gaze.

  ‘I am afraid that even if I had the answer, I might not be able to tell you.’

  ‘And you expect me to just keep on ignoring things and not have a say in what’s happening?’ Sam was outraged. ‘I’m persuaded to move to a college I’ve never applied to, I’m one of only two undergraduates housed here, I bump into either you or Professor Whitehart no matter where I go, and then today Oscar appears out of thin air and brings a message about circles and shadows, and you say you can’t tell me why!’

  He paused for breath. In the silence the sound of crows could be heard again, calling to one another over the rooftops.

  ‘You know I deserve some answers, professor. I think you know what that Shadow is. And you know who Oscar is. So why was he here?’

  The professor pulled out his fanciful handkerchief and wiped his brow.

  ‘Sam,’ he said wearily, ‘I might not be in a position to give you all the answers, but I can take you to someone who can help you understand a little of what’s going on.’

  Seeing his hurt look, Sam couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty. ‘Thank you,’ he said more quietly. ‘Actually, there’s more to the story too. There’s a tree in the middle of the garden, one that I’ve never seen before.’

  ‘A tree,’ repeated the professor, looking even more uncomfortable.

  ‘Right in the middle of a circle of stone statues.’

  The professor leaned his head on his hand.

  ‘Professor…?’

  With a sigh, the professor shook himself and said, ‘It’s time to get some rest, Sam. In the morning we can talk some more over breakfast, then in the early evening we can catch up with Professor Whitehart at the Eagle and Child.’

  They both rose and stood awkwardly in the dim light of the study, listening to the far-off squawking.

  ‘There were crows sitting on the bridge today,’ Sam remarked. ‘Do you know about Angus’s encounter with them in Edinburgh?’

  Ignoring the question, the professor walked towards the door. ‘Get some sleep, Sam. We’re both tired. I’m only down the corridor, so if you need anything, don’t be afraid to wake me.’

  As he reached the door, he turned back.

  ‘By the way, you passed – well done.’

  And with that he was gone.

  * * * * * *

  ‘What an evening,’ thought Sam, as he sat once again in front of the large bay window in his study bedroom. Whatever was happening, the professor knew more than he was saying – that much was certain. He’d been taken aback by the appearance of Oscar, not to mention his message. And there had even been fear in his eyes at the mention of the Shadow.

  Sam shuddered at the memory of the thing he’d glimpsed across the Coquet. He’d only truly seen it when it had moved. Before then he’d just been aware that something was there, watching and waiting. But if it hadn’t been for the freak wave, it would have reached his side of the river and then he’d have come face to face with it.

  He looked back out into the garden. In the darkness it appeared like a vast sea moving in a gentle wind. He glanced over towards the pond. Was the tree still there? What about Oscar? But all he could really see was his own reflection.

  Suddenly he had an urge to move from the window. Then a caterwaul split the silence from the darkness below.

  Sam fell back into the chair as a chill dread surged over him. He heard his door open and then the light was switched off.

  The next moment, Professor Stuckley was grabbing him and throwing him against the wall before positioning himself on the opposite side of the window and pressing a finger to his lips, silencing Sam before he had the chance to say a word.

  They stood there in the darkness waiting. Then, as Sam’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he noticed someone standing beside them. He tried to shout, but his voice cracked with terror. Only the flashing white cards brought him to his senses.

  Professor Stuckley whispered, ‘Drust, lock the door quickly.’

  Without replying, Professor Whitehart shot towards the door, locked it and slid the top and bottom bolts into place. Then, in response to a nod from Professor Stuckley, he threw his weight against Sam’s heavy oak wardrobe and pushed it firmly against the door.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, quickly glancing at Sam.

  ‘Oscar was here,’ Professor Stuckley replied.

  ‘Oscar! How can that be?’

  Professor Stuckley continued in whispered tones, ‘He gave a message to Sam. There is a Shadow moving through the Otherland.’

  ‘It’s here!’ Sam cried.

  Yet again hideous fear was swamping his senses and he knew without a moment’s hesitation that the Shadow from Warkworth had found its way to the Fellows’ Garden.

  ‘Drust, take Sam to my room, collect what he needs and then meet me at the Eagle and Child. If I am gone more than an hour, don’t come back here, but tell Professor Lawrence to meet us there and—’

  The professor’s words were drowned out as the window shattered and all hell broke loose. In the madness, Professor Whitehart’s voice could be heard booming out as the cards in his hands flew towards the window. Then a flash of light burst across Sam’s vision and for a moment he was blinded.

  Professor Stuckley was grabbing him by the arm, propelling him towards the bookcases. With the light still dazzling him and Professor Whitehart’s voice roaring in his ears, one minute he was standing upright against the wall and the next he was thrown upside down. His head was hitting wood and he was sliding down into darkness.

  Then he landed with a thud and for a moment he lay there stunned, unable to see.

  How far he had slid he couldn’t tell. But from somewhere above there were grinding noises, thuds and raised voices, and every now and then he could tell furniture was being dislodged and turned over.

  The fear was still thick around him, so he knew the Shadow was close by. He scrambled to his feet, feeling a hot pain shooting through his ankle.

  Disorientated, he looked around. He seemed to be in a narrow tunnel. For a moment all he could hear was his own breathing and it dawned on him that the noises from above had stopped.

  He didn’t want to be caught with nowhere to run. He moved tentatively into the murk, hobbling along with his arms outstretched.

  There were other noises coming from above now. Shouts were punctuating the silence, becoming fainter as he shuffled down the passage. He blocked them from his mind. He had no idea who had the upper hand.

  The passage was going down and the walls seemed to be closing in. Sam stopped for a moment, trying to get his breath. Should he go back? Was this an escape route or a trap? For a second he turned, but was stopped in his tracks by a hissing noise starting up in his ears. Or was it in his head? Or behind him? What was it?

  The sense of dread that swelled through the darkness told him he was no longer alone. Something had found the secret tunnel. There was no choice but to go forward.

  Panic swirling now like an angry tide around him, Sam kept on moving, biting his lip to overcome the burning pain in his ankle. The darkness seemed thicker, heavier, and as the corridor grew even smaller, he half expected a shadowy hand to reach out and smother him. He started to run.

  Then a sound spiked through his body, making him reel with nausea. It was a single word, delivered by an inhuman voice: ‘Druidae.’

  A sen
se of dread was rushing down the tunnel to snuff out his existence. In despair Sam threw himself forwards, then fell, letting out a fearful howl as he flailed into empty air.

  Then he was in icy water. There was no up and no down, only water and darkness and the sudden realisation that his lungs were bursting.

  Thrashing with all his strength, he burst above the waterline. Gasping and sobbing with relief, he grabbed hold of something solid.

  As he shook the water from his eyes, a new fear quickly took hold, as he realised that he was holding onto the reeds along the banks of the Cherwell and the tug of the river was already trying to dislodge his grip. Teeth chattering, he pulled himself further into the reed bed.

  He had surfaced just across from the Fellows’ Garden in Bat Willow Meadow. He drove deeper into the reeds, gasping and floundering until he was clinging to the riverbank itself. There he paused for a moment before dragging himself out of the water and collapsing on the grass verge.

  He knew he had to go on. Whatever had been in the tunnel could have found its way into the river. And if he hadn’t been safe in the Fellows’ House, he wouldn’t be safe in the open. As it was, he could see flickers of light like sharp, snapping lightning emanating from behind the Fellows’ Garden, accompanied by the raucous jeers of a murder of crows circling high above the garden walls. He scrambled to his feet. All he could think of was to try and make Magdalen College and hope the gates weren’t shut.

  The sky was clear but moonless. As Sam started to run, the pain in his ankle shot through him and his wet clothes felt icy cold against his skin, but he found Addison’s Walk and took comfort in its familiarity. He was a mile away from the college gates, and he wasn’t certain that he would be safe there, but he couldn’t see an alternative.

  Then out of the night a tree root caught him, sending him sprawling from the top of Addison’s Walk down the short hill into the tall grass of the Water Meadow. He came to rest lying on his back. As he looked up, something moved atop the walk, something darker than the starlit night. His shadowy stalker was hunting him down.