‘What’s going on?’ asked Camelin, as he skipped in through the half-open patio door.
The members of the Night Guard and Flying Squad stood to attention. Raggs held out his crystal for Camelin to see.
‘Jack’s made protectors to keep us safe tonight.’
Camelin humphed loudly.
‘Well I won’t need one because I’ll be co-ordinating the distribution of the evacuees in Steaple Lacy.’
Nora laughed.
‘That’s what Elan and I will be doing.’
‘I’ll guard the house then. I’ve got a great view from my loft and if there’s a problem I can raise the alarm.’
Camelin threw back his head but before he could make the call of the Raven-owl, Nora slipped one of the crystals around his neck.
‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to help in Newton Gill like everyone else tonight.’
‘Is Jack helping?’
‘Jack has done more than enough already.’
Camelin glowered at Jack before nodding towards the small crystal left on the table.
‘Who’s that one for? Don’t tell me it’s for Timmery! What would a very brave bat need that for?’
Nora picked up the small crystal.
‘I want you all to be safe, and that includes brave little bats. Which reminds me, you’d better go and let him know we’re ready to start the evacuation. It’s time you were going too, Jack. We’ll start the evacuation when Timmery arrives.’
Camelin mumbled to himself as he shuffled towards the door. He waited for Jack to put his backpack on.
‘I’ll see you all tomorrow,’ said Jack as he opened the door.
‘Not too early,’ replied Camelin. ‘Some of us have got a long night’s work ahead.’
‘After lunch, then?’ said Jack.
Nora nodded.
‘After lunch will be fine.’
As soon as Jack opened the back door at Brenin House, he was engulfed by an enticing aroma coming from the pot bubbling on the stove. It was the unmistakable smell of lamb stew. Jack smiled when he saw the flour and suet on the table. They’d be having dumplings too, not something he’d be telling Camelin about.
‘You’re just in time,’ said Grandad, as Jack hung up his coat.
‘Smells good enough to eat,’ said Jack.
Grandad laughed.
‘It should, it’s a very old Brenin family recipe, been passed down from one generation to another. Even your dad knows how to make it.’
While they ate their dinner, Grandad told Jack all about the stew. It was a detailed and lengthy explanation and Jack hoped Grandad didn’t expect him to remember it all. He was finding it hard to concentrate on the recipe, as his thoughts kept returning to the evacuation. He desperately wanted to know how it was going. He wondered how long it was going to take and if the crystals he’d materialised would give everyone the protection they needed. It was quite a relief when they’d finished the washing up and Grandad told Jack to go and pack the bag he’d be taking with him for his stay at Ewell House.
‘You can always come back if you forget anything,’ Grandad told him. ‘I’ll pull you some root vegetables to take with you, but don’t you go telling Nora our Brenin family recipe.’
Jack laughed as Grandad winked and rubbed his belly.
‘I won’t,’ he promised. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
He took the stairs to his room two at a time. He was out of breath as he shut his bedroom door but he didn’t put the light on. He could see Orin on the windowsill, peering out into the darkness. He went over and joined her.
‘They’ve all gone to Newton Gill Forest,’ he told her.
‘I know. The Dorysk called.’
‘Did he leave me a message?’
‘He came to read me a proclamation, inviting me to your coronation, and to tell you not to worry. He said everything was going to be fine. He was in a bit of a hurry. He said he still had a lot to do before Friday.’
‘Were the Dragonettes with him?’
‘No, but they might have been outside. He had to come in through the keyhole.’
‘They won’t be going to help at Newton Gill if they’re still on official business.’
Jack peered into the darkness.
‘It’s a shame we can’t see either wood from here. Has anything happened?’
Orin shook her head.
‘Nothing. I’ve been here since you came back. I saw the lights at Ewell House go out and it’s been like that ever since. No one’s back yet.’
‘I’ve got to pack my bag for tomorrow before bedtime. I’ll pull the curtain so you’ll still be able to keep watch. Call me if you see anything.’
Jack turned on his bedside light and hurried to gather all his things together. He packed his Hallowe’en costume on top of the clothes he needed to wear on his return to Annwn. When he’d finished, he went and joined Orin at the window. Ewell House was still in darkness.
‘The evacuation could take all night, you know.’
‘I don’t mind keeping watch. I’ll wake you up if anything happens.’
Jack stroked Orin’s soft white fur. She held her head to one side so he could scratch behind her ears, but she didn’t take her eyes away from the window. Jack knew she was worried. He went over to her cage, found her favourite cushion and put it beside her on the windowsill. She snuggled down and made herself comfortable. Jack gave the back of her head one last scratch before closing the curtains. He felt worried too, but more than that, he felt frustrated because he’d not been able to help with the evacuation.
Jack made one final check that he’d packed everything before he climbed into bed. He whispered goodnight to Orin and turned off his bedside light. He lay very still and tried to visualise the evacuatio, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the lamb stew they’d had for supper. He wondered how many generations of Brenins had used the same recipe. A sudden thought struck him. Apart from his dad and grandad, he didn’t know any of his ancestors’ names. He wondered if they were the only three Brenins left in the world. He’d have to ask Grandad in the morning.
Jack knew he was dreaming. He could see himself, in his pyjamas, standing inside Nora’s dimly lit library. He couldn’t feel the cold stone floor under his bare feet, nor could he smell the leather-bound books that filled the bookshelves. He watched himself cup his palms together and make a ball of light. Once it was glowing brightly he released it. The room slowly lit up. He saw himself walk over to one of the tall bookshelves, next to which stood a wide cylindrical pot. There were rolls of parchment inside the pot and, without hesitation, he lifted one out and took it over to the table. As soon as the long scroll touched the flat surface, it unfurled.
Although Jack was watching himself he could very clearly hear his own thoughts. He could see his name had been written, in Nora’s neat capital letters, at the bottom of the scroll. Above that she’d written ARTHUR, his dad’s name, and SAMUEL above that. The long list of names that preceded Grandad’s had to be those of his ancestors. It wasn’t the usual kind of family tree. Jack had never seen anything like it before. He followed the long list of names upwards. At the top of the parchment a large heading had been written.
THE BRENIN LINEAGE TREE
A lineage tree?
As soon as he’d asked himself the question, he knew the answer. The names on the list, above his own, were of all the Brenins who had ever lived. Every one had been a potential king, yet he’d been the one to find the torc. In a few days’ time he was to be crowned King of Annwn. Jack looked at the first name.
ALINDYNE
He could hear himself reading it aloud. It wasn’t a name he’d ever heard before. It sounded unfamiliar but he somehow knew this was his ancestor who was buried inside the Mound on Glasruhen Hill. This was the King of the Festivals, the one who’d chosen mortality to enable the lost torc to be found. Jack’s gaze travelled down the long list of names again until he reached his own. His finger reached out and touched the scroll. H
e felt a sudden jolt and seemed to leap into his own body. He was no longer watching himself; now he could smell the leather books, feel the cold floor beneath his feet and his heart pounding in his chest. The sudden realisation of how many Brenins had lived before him made him catch his breath. He exhaled slowly as the enormity of everything he’d been through struck him. His head filled with questions. Did he have the qualities to be a good king? Would the people of Annwn accept him? When he’d agreed to help Arrana, he’d had no idea where his journey would lead. A lot of people had put their trust in him. Could he face Velindur and be strong? He wished he knew the answers and he wished he could speak with Alindyne and ask his advice.
Jack suddenly felt dizzy. The room spun and the soft glowing light grew brighter. He gripped the table to steady himself and closed his eyes. To his relief, the dizziness subsided quickly. He opened his eyes a fraction but there was only blackness. He tried opening them fully but it didn’t help; he was in total darkness.
He couldn’t make out any familiar shapes. Was he in his bedroom? He didn’t think so. Jack cupped his hands and made the ball of light again. When he released it, he could see he was no longer inside the library, nor was he back in his room.
The light glowed and hovered before him. There was darkness ahead, but the arched walls that surrounded him were unmistakably those of a tunnel, one he’d never been in before. He could feel soft earth beneath his bare feet and when he reached out and touched the walls they felt cold. In the soft light he could see carvings on either side of the passage. His fingers traced one of the designs. It was similar to something he’d seen inside Silver Hill. Was that where he was? Was he in danger? A sudden rush of realisation gave Jack his answer… seconds ago, he’d wished he could speak to Alindyne. He wasn’t anywhere near Silver Hill. Somehow he’d managed to transport himself to Glasruhen, to the Mound of his ancestor. Should he go on or should he wish himself back in bed?
THE MOUND
Jack took a deep breath and decided that he would follow the passage and enter the tomb. If at any time he felt he’d made the wrong choice, he knew he could wish himself back to the safety of his bed. He suddenly remembered what he was wearing and, before taking another step, he visualised his black tracksuit and trainers. He didn’t think it would be appropriate to enter the tomb of his ancestor in his pyjamas.
The light he’d created floated a little way ahead of him, illuminating the carvings on either side of the tunnel. It wasn’t long before the intricate designs were replaced by images of a dense forest. Dryads in flowing robes flitted in and around the stone trees. Jack was able to identify the slender birch, the smooth trunk of the beech and, behind them all, tall ash trees. Finally he found himself walking between majestic oaks. When Jack stopped in front of the last tree, the light stopped too. There was something strange about the carving to his right. He felt as if he were being watched. When he peered more closely at the branches, he could see the face of a man looking back at him. It wasn’t like anything Jack had ever seen before. The expressionless carved face had leaves for hair and seemed to be breathing long leafy stems out of its mouth, each of which bore curled tendrils. Jack felt the urge to touch one. He traced one of the coils back to the main stem, which formed an intricate pattern, similar to the one at the entrance. It twisted and turned under his fingertips. Apart from the soft glowing light, the rest of the passage was shrouded in darkness. Jack had no sense of time passing. Even though he was sure what was happening was real, it also felt dreamlike.
The tendril Jack was tracing ended at a large wooden door. The light rose upwards towards the tunnel roof. Jack could see the door was arched. In the stone above it, words had been carved:
No one may ever pass through here,
Except at Samhain every year.
There were four more days to go before this door would be opened for his coronation, but Jack didn’t want to pass through the tomb into Annwn, he only wanted to enter and speak with his ancestor. There seemed no point in crystal magic bringing him here unless the door would open for him. He tried a gentle push, then a harder one, but the door remained closed. Should he wish to go inside or try to open it with magic? He decided on the latter. Jack raised both arms and spoke the word that he knew opened the hedge at Ewell House:
‘Cardea.’
Soundlessly the door swung inwards. The light flitted through the opening and Jack followed. He was still in a passage but this one didn’t have carved walls or an earthen floor. Huge oblong blocks of cut stone lined the walls, while more slabs rested on top of them to create a low ceiling. Jack could see that smaller blocks of the same stone formed the floor. This had to be the final passage that led inside the mound to Alindyne’s tomb. Jack had never been inside any kind of tomb or burial mound before. The space inside the passage seemed to envelop him. His heartbeat quickened, not through fear but from anticipation. He felt solemn rather than scared. Would he really be able to speak with Alindyne? Stranger things had already happened to Jack since he’d come to live at Brenin House. He straightened his back, stood as tall as he could and followed the light.
When Jack stepped out of the passage, he knew he was inside a larger space, even though he couldn’t see much. It felt airy and strangely still. Jack wished he could see the whole chamber. As soon as this thought formed, the light before him grew brighter. It rose higher and higher and illuminated a circular chamber. A tunnel entrance, like the one he’d just come through, was directly opposite him. The walls curved upwards to a domed roof. In the centre was a simple stone coffin. The base was oblong but the top had two curved ends. The carved figure of a man lay on top, his head resting on one rounded end and his feet on the other. Jack approached slowly. The closer he got to the tomb, the smaller he felt. What should he say? He remembered the conversation he’d had with Arrana when he’d first met her. She’d told him to speak with his heart and not to be afraid. Jack wasn’t frightened, he knew nothing was going to harm him, but he’d no idea how he should address Alindyne. He climbed up the small step onto the plinth that surrounded the tomb, stood on tiptoe and peeped at the carved figure. He had a kind face and his hair flowed over his shoulders onto a tunic that was similar to those Jack had worn the last time he’d been in Annwn. Most of the man’s clothes were hidden by a shield, which had been placed on top of the carving. It was a real shield, made of metal with rounded corners. It had a knotwork design embossed on its surface and there was a raised dome in the middle. Jack could see his distorted reflection in the polished metal. He walked slowly around the plinth. On the other side, by the figure’s left arm, lay a long sword. This too was real. It was in a scabbard, which had been imprinted with the same interlaced designs as were used on the shield. As Jack turned the corner, he glanced at the curved stone where his ancestor’s head lay. Jack was left in no doubt as to who was inside the tomb when he read the inscription:
ALINDYNE BRENIN
RESTS HERE
WORTHY MORTAL
BUT NEVER CROWNED
‘Who speaks my name?’
Jack slipped off the plinth as a deep voice boomed inside his head. He stood up straight and climbed back onto it, but before he could reply the voice spoke again.
‘Who has woken me from my rest and speaks my name?’
‘Jack Brenin, Raven-Boy, Friend to All, Freeman of Annwn…’ Jack hesitated. He didn’t know if it would be polite to complete the names he’d already been given. The decision was made for him when the voice completed the list.
‘… King of the Forest and the Rightful King of Annwn. Am I correct?’
Jack nodded and then realised his action might not have been seen.
‘Yes, you are right… and you are my ancestor, Alindyne, King of the Festival, Uncrowned King of Annwn.’
‘You missed out Worthy Mortal, which is why I lie here. Long have I awaited this moment, when my descendant would stand before my tomb and seek my counsel.’
‘I have questions and concerns.’
�
�But what you really want to know is… are you worthy to wear the crown of Annwn?’
‘I am only a boy. I’m not a man and I’m not tall or strong.’
‘And yet I feel the qualities of kingship are already within you.’
‘I don’t know what they are. I don’t want to disappoint those who have put their faith in me.’
‘If you have come this far, Jack Brenin, and hold the fine array of titles bestowed upon you, that alone makes you worthy. If you stand before me you must be on the eve of your coronation, you must have found the lost treasure of Annwn and remade the torc of kingship. Anyone who has travelled that journey is worthy to wear the torc and be called King.’
‘This isn’t the eve of my coronation, there are four more days left before I should have entered the Mound.’
‘Then something pressing must be troubling you.’
‘It is. There is someone who would take the torc from me, someone who believes they should be King. He now has a weapon, but I don’t know how he intends to use it. I’m afraid he will do everything in his power to prevent me from being crowned.’
‘And who would this someone be?’
‘His name is Velindur.’
‘Ah! I know the man of whom you speak. As I remember, he was an ambitious man who enjoyed wielding power. He sought to have authority over this fair land but was never worthy to be its king.’
‘It’s a long story, but he thinks the torc is his rightful inheritance. He has the Book of Sorrows in his possession.’
‘You are certain he has the Druid’s book?’
‘I’m certain. I was shown Velindur brandishing a book when I looked into the Stone of Destiny and since then everyone has been searching to discover which book he has. It’s definitely the Book of Sorrows.’
‘I expect you know this book contains all the trials and tribulations, sorrows and sufferings, endured by generations of Druids.’
‘Yes, but we don’t know what he’s going to do with it.’
The Oak Lord Page 5