by Glen L. Hall
The wind was burning their throats and clinging to their faces, but the further they went, the more it was clear to Brennus that Drust was somehow regaining his strength. He was still leaning on him, but he could feel his weight less and less. Reassured, he pressed on.
Finally they were breaking out of the dark wood with its choking mist and clinging roots, and ahead of them Brennus could see the mountain pass. In the gloom the mountain appeared like a threatening giant waiting to snare the weary traveller, but they found the broad ledge without incident and then the narrower one leading over the pass.
They began to ascend in single file, watching every step. The path grew steeper as they moved further up the mountainside and a steep drop opened up beside them.
Drust knew this place belonged to no one. And down below he could still feel it watching and listening to their echoing footfalls. It reminded him of the wall. These places not only existed in different moments in time, but also in different locations.
At the highest and narrowest point of the pass they suddenly saw flashes of light shooting through the dark valley far below. Then seconds later a deep rumble filled the pass. The very ground seemed to shake and they flattened themselves against the reassuring black rock face.
‘What’s going on down there?’ Brennus gasped.
‘I don’t know, but I do know that if the Faeries lose, you can expect the beginning of the end.’
They stood there for long moments, pressed against the dark rock, whilst below the lights continued to dance. The rumbles turned to booms that reverberated through the darkness, seeming to burst in their ears and making them clutch at the sheer rock face.
Then silence fell.
‘What now?’ Brennus whispered.
They waited.
‘Listen, Drust, the old man says there is a talisman that will get us into the Darkhart, a staff that was taken from the unknown tree and placed in Oscar’s keeping. It’s on Holy Island. I think we should press on there as quickly as we can.’
‘A staff? Really? And Oscar never mentioned it to Sam?’
Though he could barely see his brother’s face in the darkness, Brennus shook his head.
‘It would have been a lot easier if we’d known about it earlier,’ Drust commented.
‘I know. I don’t understand either. Oscar never said anything to me.’
Brennus could sense his brother’s eyes searching for his in the dark. ‘Oscar never said enough, in my opinion,’ Drust said bitterly.
‘I know. I think he was just traumatised by what happened on the shores of the Dead Water.’
‘Ha!’ Drust laughed. ‘As well he might be! No, he never said much, but Braden’s father did, didn’t he? His memory was never as short as Oscar’s, or as scrambled. And he said Culluhin left James on the shores of the Dead Water, at the gates of the Darkhart. And I have never heard of the Staff of the Druids.’
He turned away.
‘Well, we must just make the best of things now,’ said Brennus soothingly.
Drust did not answer. He was staring blindly into the chasm.
‘What is it?’ Brennus could barely see his brother’s face.
‘The Fall is gone from this place.’
The words sent a chill through Brennus. ‘Are you sure?’ he faltered.
‘Yes! The Dead Water is lost. It won’t be long before the spirits of those who fought against the Druids find a way into the Mid-land. What hope do we have? There is no Fellowship of Druidae to be had.’
‘We have to warn the others.’
‘Then what? Wait until every last one of us is dead? I felt the Shadow’s potency. There is nothing that can stop it.’
‘We have to resurrect the fellowship and go into the Otherland.’
Drust laughed. ‘You can’t get any sort of fellowship going in the Mid-land. Look at the families in Warkworth – it’s civil war all over again. And you’re thinking of going to the Otherland?! You aren’t Oscar, brother! And would you want to be? Remember what happened to his fellowship.’
He paused and pressed his cheek against the dark wall.
‘And if Sam isn’t the last Druid, then what? The Shadow won’t be fooled a second time.’
Brennus took a deep breath.
‘Then what would you have us do?’
Drust turned and looked down into the abyss.
‘Nothing can stop what is unfolding before our very eyes. There is an inevitability about all that you do and say. Don’t you know it? But history doesn’t have to repeat itself. The Shadow is not without awareness.’
‘What are you saying?’ began Brennus. He was stopped by the sudden flash of cards in his brother’s hands.
‘The Shadow spoke to me.’
‘Spoke to you?’
‘Words I did not understand at first, but they are becoming clearer in my mind.’
Brennus watched as his brother began flicking the cards from hand to hand, slithers of light in the darkness.
‘I think we have to keep our hearts and minds open,’ Drust continued. ‘We know a little of Oscar’s story. But what do we know about the doomed Fellowship of Druidae? We don’t even know the names of all those who went. We only know that few returned.’
Brennus shivered. ‘There’s no time to talk about it now. We have to get off this mountain pass and away from this place.’
‘All is not what it seems, brother. I think we have held the Druids in high regard without questioning who they were, where they came from and what part they had to play in the creation of the Fall.’
‘They stopped the Ruin from finding its way into the Mid-land, didn’t they? They sacrificed themselves. What more could you have asked of them?’
Brennus didn’t like the look in his brother’s eyes. The cards were moving from hand to hand more quickly.
‘We don’t really know what happened – we only have fragments of the story. Let’s hope those fragments do not come back to bite us,’ Drust warned.
Down in the dark valley, lights were flashing again and there were further rumbles.
‘I’m just glad we’re back together to fight another day,’ Brennus said firmly. ‘Now we should move on from this place and stand against the enemy. We owe it to the memory of the earlier Keepers and to Sam.’
Drust didn’t move. ‘And if we are wrong?’
‘Without the Fall, the servants of the Ruin will be unstoppable. We are all vulnerable. We must stand together.’
‘But we aren’t asking why – why this is all happening!’ Drust eyes flashed as he held his brother’s gaze.
‘Why—?’
With a rush of wings, a vague and fast-moving outline swept out of the night. Drust reeled, feeling a penetrating power surge through him. For a moment he thought he would fall. Then he felt his brother’s arm holding him against the wall.
The chasm became a thousand beating wings as a vast murder of crows poured out of the Dead Water.
Brennus and Drust pressed themselves against the rock once more, clinging on as the noise grew fainter. Behind them the lights had gone out and silence was again falling across the valley.
Brennus let go of his brother. ‘What was that?’
‘The Grim-Witch and her horde.’
‘No! I thought she was a myth.’
‘That wasn’t a myth, was it?! I didn’t see her fully, but I saw her resonance in the flow. A powerful Faerie – though she has been under a spell in the Underland for many long years.’
‘A dark Faerie,’ Brennus corrected.
‘Dark? If you think there’s a difference between her and the old man, think—’
A deafening roar came from the night-filled valley.
‘Let us leave arguments for better times,’ said Brennus, shuddering. ‘It serves no purpose to be caught on this ledge with whatever mad
e that noise.’
And with that he edged past Drust and began the last bit of the climb.
* * * * * *
They arrived at the top of the valley breathless and thirsty. Brennus paused for a moment, looking down into the darkness, hoping that he would never set foot in the Dead Water again. Resolutely, he turned his back on it. Ahead the hills of Northumberland rolled out like giant waves, but something was wrong. He was trying to put his finger on it when he felt Drust move alongside him.
‘Where is the storm?’ Drust asked, looking round him.
‘I don’t know – how long have we been at the Dead Water? But Kielder Forest should be to the east and we need food and water before making our way to Holy Island, so we should go and seek Braden’s clan and see whether we can borrow horses. We need to travel with all speed.’
‘The Scaup Burn will take us to Catcleugh Reservoir and from there it is only a short walk to Ravens Knowe.’
‘No, we will take the horses through the Blind and Barrow burns.’
‘Those are strange places at the best of times, Brennus. You will be going through the heart of the Underland.’
‘But to circumnavigate the Cheviots would take days – days we no longer have.’
Drust didn’t look convinced.
* * * * * *
They left the valley wrapped in a weary darkness. Brennus was feeling the strain of the last few days and couldn’t go as quickly as he would have liked. As they left the fell and followed the rocky ground down a steep incline, he felt his thoughts scatter. Relief at seeing Drust alive had quickly been replaced by new streams of apprehension. What did losing the Dead Water mean? Remembering the Grim-Witch and her horde, he was filled with fear. What else might come through? The Shadow Ruins? He dreaded to think what would happen when they reached the shore. How had Drust known what they were?
As he walked on, his legs aching, he couldn’t help but feel inadequate. Drust was right. Where would he find a fellowship able to combat those beings if the Faeries couldn’t stand against them? Who would be part of the fellowship? He could of course guess, but how could they be assembled? He suspected that it would be only a shadow of the fellowship Oscar had assembled anyway. And as for Sam, they had watched over him for years, and yet when it really mattered they had let him down.
Remembering Sam’s eager face back in Oxford, waiting for his exam results, Brennus regretted he hadn’t told him more about his history then. But who could have guessed they would find themselves in such a situation? It almost seemed like a dream. Were they really expecting a teenager to travel into the Otherland in search of the Darkhart? How were they supposed to get there? Why had he never heard of the Staff of the Druids?
Brennus sighed. If only he could talk to Oscar. Or the Keepers. He guessed the Way-curves were still closed. Who knew where the Shadow was?
Drust cut across his thoughts: ‘We are being followed.’
‘The Shadow?’
‘No.’
‘The creatures from the Dead Water?’
‘Perhaps. We cannot stay in the open – we need cover. We need to reach the forest.’
They went as quickly as their tired bodies could go. The ground rose again and soon they were walking across an open hilltop.
Brennus kept looking south. ‘We should be able to see the lights of Yarrow or Kielder by now,’ he said. ‘I have never known a night as black as this.’
‘There is more to this night than meets the eye,’ Drust replied thoughtfully. ‘That storm that came from the north couldn’t have come and gone as quickly as this. And does this feel like an autumn night to you?’
‘There is definitely a wintry chill in the air,’ Brennus agreed.
They walked on for an hour in anxious silence. Every so often there would be a call in the night that brought light flickering through Drust’s fingers and made Brennus wish he still had his short sword, but whatever was following them never showed itself.
‘They have been sent to track us,’ Drust concluded, ‘or they would have attacked by now.’
They arrived at the Scaup Burn without incident. Its frothy waters flashed white as they tumbled towards Kielder, hugging a steep hill that ascended sharply towards the Northumberland sky. With the rush of the Scaup in their ears, they stood surveying the way they had come, but there was nothing to see but the rolling emptiness of hills and mounds.
Drust turned to Brennus. ‘The river runs north and then sweeps northeast. We’ll be going into the wilds, brother. There is an easier path that runs south. I don’t understand your insistence that we go through the Blindburn. It’s a foul and treacherous place.’
‘The Shadow will be far ahead of us,’ Brennus explained. ‘We don’t know if Jarl has taken my message to Braden, or whether Sam is safe. The old man said that when he met him he was searching for the Garden of Druids. He will need our help if we are ever to establish this fellowship.’
‘Fellowship?!’ Drust laughed. ‘Brennus, it’s a fool’s errand!’
‘The old man—’ Then Brennus stopped. ‘I think we no longer have a choice,’ he finished simply.
‘And if Sam isn’t safe?’ Drust smiled and raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘Besides, I thought the Garden of Druids was now hidden to all but the Druids.’
‘Well,’ Brennus said uneasily, ‘he is the heir of the Druidae, after all.’
‘Is he? Are you convinced of that? Still?’
‘Of course. Why?’
‘And where does Emily come into all this?’
‘Emily? I don’t understand.’
‘She looks nothing like her mother or father,’ Drust reminded him with an impish smile, ‘and she’s been chased all over the place as well. I could be wrong, but don’t be surprised if the Shadow is searching for her and not Sam.’
‘No!’ Trying to think it through, Brennus felt confused, and for a second he thought the burning poison was back in his body. Then he pushed the problem out of his mind. ‘Either way, we need to catch up with them. That’s why we’re going through the Blindburn. It cuts right through the Cheviots and will be the quickest way to Holy Island.’
‘It will also bring us within a stone’s throw of the Underland.’
‘That’s a chance I’m willing to take,’ said Brennus, walking on and leaving his brother to catch up.
Ezru
They marched on, keeping the Scaup on their right, Brennus taking the lead. Once or twice a sudden guttural bark would rise above the surge of the stream’s fizzing water, but whatever was following them never showed itself. Still they could not shake off the sense of pursuit. Silently, they pressed on.
Soon the stream turned east again and the hills on either side became more jagged. The landscape turned from green to grey, with flecks of brown. The burn was beginning to wind its way through a stark and wild place and to narrow as it cut through the rocks.
Brennus could feel the tiredness in his legs. Looking up, he couldn’t distinguish where the tops of the hills met the sky. He had never known such darkness. At his side, Drust was struggling now, grunting and stopping every so often so he could get his breath. Brennus felt guilty, but he knew the urgency of their mission and that behind them the Dead Water was now an open door.
They came to a place where the Scaup broke up into a number of forks. Some disappeared underground, whilst others became nothing more than dried-up scars. Brennus knelt beside the now gentle stream, scooping several cold handfuls of water, and Drust sat down, looking back the way they had come.
‘Tell me what happened, Drust.’
‘You know. We needed to be sure the Shadow followed us. Followed me. It did. The plan worked perfectly.’
Brennus was silenced.
Then Drust laughed – an open, friendly laugh. ‘Don’t look so stricken! I agreed to it, remember?’
‘I remember all to
o well. I should never have asked it of you. I know that now. I’m so relieved you’ve come through it all. That’s why I want to know what happened. I want to know how you survived the Shadow.’
‘I don’t think I did.’
‘What?! What do you mean?’ Brennus was shocked.
‘I won’t lie to you, brother. I feel its touch on my soul. If the Faerie hadn’t come for me, it would have searched those cold dark waters until it found me.’
Brennus shivered.
‘But even as it sought to extinguish my life,’ Drust went on with sudden intensity, ‘there was an anguish there – an awareness that only flickered for a second, but it was there, and I felt it. I think it was once one of us – that it was once human.’
‘Can that be true?’ Brennus breathed.
Drust nodded. ‘I’m sure of it.’
‘How could it have happened?’ Brennus’s mind was spinning. ‘Could it have been one of the fellowship? Was that why Oscar barely spoke about it? Why we don’t even know the names of half of them, let alone what they actually did in the Darkhart?’
He let his hand trail in the cold waters. When he looked up, his eyes were troubled.
‘Drust, is it safe to take you back with me?’
This time it was Drust who looked surprised. Then he seemed to recover himself, but there was still a glint of pain in his eyes as he replied, ‘I cannot answer that, not yet, it is too early, but you are right to fear it, for I fear it.’
Suddenly Brennus felt very alone. ‘When we get to Bamburgh, we should use its Way-curve and speak to the Keepers.’
‘I thought we’d agreed the Way-curves were no longer safe. Isn’t there a traitor in our midst – one who may be listening to our conversations?’
Brennus stood and stretched before helping Drust to his feet.
‘I’m not sure. I’m just keen to get to Bamburgh.’
* * * * * *
Brennus decided to choose a path through the myriad forks of the stream that was every bit as difficult as the way they had come. He knew just beyond the ridge of hills would be the Catcleugh Reservoir and after perhaps a couple of hours they would be in the Forest Reivers’ homeland. But when they reached the ridge, they were stunned by what they saw.
