The Shadow Ruins

by Glen L. Hall

  ‘Where are the waters?’ gasped Brennus.

  Where the Catcleugh Reservoir should have been was a small valley with leafless woods on either side. Brennus looked north and could see they were still between Carter Bar in the north and Castle Crag Forest in the south.

  ‘I don’t understand—’

  Drust interrupted him. ‘Look at Crag Forest – it covers the whole of the valley! It was only a wood when I came this way last year.’

  ‘I see what you mean – it stretches off in every direction.’

  ‘At least it will give us some cover.’

  They quickly walked the mile to the edge of the forest. The naked trees now towered over them, imposing and still.

  ‘What are these?’ enquired Drust, reaching out a hand to stroke the bark of the nearest tree. ‘I thought Crag Forest was mostly native woodland. I’ve never seen trees like these in Northumberland.’

  ‘Neither have I. And when did autumn turn to winter?’

  The cold air they had felt since leaving the Dead Water now fell into place.

  ‘How long were we at the Dead Water?’ asked Brennus.

  Drust shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But the real question is what do we do now?’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. Do we go through and see whether we can get to Ravens Knowe or do we track back?’

  ‘If we go back, we’re likely to meet whatever’s been trailing us. And from what I’ve heard of it so far, that could be a very bad idea. Carter Bar is to our north, though, so I’m guessing we’re still within Northumberland.’

  Brennus found himself looking back the way they had come, but he could barely make out anything in the dark night.

  ‘Are you also guessing that this is the…’

  ‘…Otherland?’ They said it together, their eyes growing wide in the night.

  ‘Is this what we can expect with the Fall fading?’ Brennus asked.

  ‘What other explanation can there be?’

  Brennus turned to the trees. ‘This is so strange,’ he said wonderingly. ‘It’s unlike any wood I’ve ever seen. Look at these trees – their trunks, their branches, their roots… It could be my eyes playing tricks in the dark, but they look strangely twisted.’

  ‘The wood is expectant,’ Drust replied.

  ‘We might not find Ravens Knowe on the other side,’ mused Brennus. ‘What then?’

  ‘What now? We either go back and find out what’s following, or we go through and hope it brings us out in the shadow of the Cheviots.’

  Without another word, Drust walked past Brennus and into the wood.

  Brennus was about to follow when he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Quickly he looked over his shoulder. There were shapes coming up from the direction of Scaup Burn. At first he thought they were men bent over, but he quickly realised they were moving on all fours.

  ‘Drust!’

  His brother took a couple of steps back towards him.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Grim-wolves from the Underland. There’s no going back, brother.’

  Drust turned and stepped back into the twisted wood. Brennus followed. Ahead of him, his brother was weaving swiftly between the alien trunks, whilst above the giant branches hung like broken arms and below the forest floor was bare, stripped of all cover apart from a sea of coiling roots entwined around one another.

  At first they made good time, but soon the trees were becoming closer together and the branches were hanging almost to the ground.

  ‘Do you have a sword?’ Brennus asked.

  As he spoke a sigh seemed to run through the forest, yet there was no breeze. Startled, he looked around him.

  Drust caught his arm, leaning into him so he could whisper, ‘Don’t touch the trees. We are being watched.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  Brennus found himself looking into his brother’s eyes and for a split-second did not recognise them. Unnerved, he stepped back and let Drust lead the way deeper into the forest.

  Progress became painstakingly slow as the gaps between the trees continued to close whilst the roots pushed through the ground in ever greater numbers. Behind, a series of muffled snarls broke out, then silence descended again. There was obviously no alternative but to keep winding their way through the maze of trees.

  At first Brennus hadn’t noticed the cold, but soon he could no longer ignore the biting chill. It found its way through his clothes and into his bones, and it wasn’t long before he could feel himself beginning to shake.

  ‘This place is unnatural,’ he whispered. ‘How can it be so cold?’

  Ahead, Drust turned. ‘The flow is strong here. Though I cannot feel the cold.’

  Brennus watched his brother turn back and continue picking his way through the snaking roots. He couldn’t help feeling uneasy. It wasn’t humanly possible not to feel the chill.

  Setting off again, he stumbled over a root and felt a sharp pain against his cheek. When he touched his face, he realised blood was running down it. He stood slowly, shaking off a momentary dizziness.

  Drust was waiting for him, all signs of exhaustion gone.

  ‘Quickly, we can’t afford to lose our way in here. The wood is waking. It will soon be aware of us.’

  Brennus was trying to wrap his collar around his cheek to keep the raw air from the wound. ‘What are you saying?’

  A hint of a smile twisted his brother’s lips. ‘Look at the root that caught your foot – see the fresh earth around it. It seems the trees don’t take kindly to trespassers.’

  Brennus looked down. It was true – the root looked as though it had only recently pushed through the ground. He liked this wood less than the one surrounding the Dead Water. There was now a clear sense of something watching and waiting.

  ‘Should we go back?’

  ‘You know we can’t – there are Grim-wolves back there. Let’s see what this place makes of them and us. I’ve never known the flow so strong before. It’s in the trees, in the air and in the earth. This place is protecting something or someone. I’ve felt that before in the Fellows’ Garden and at the wall. Let’s keep moving.’

  ‘I think it was unwise to set foot in this place,’ Brennus grumbled.

  The trees were hanging over them now and as he walked on, bending and weaving, Brennus was caught by branch after branch until his cheeks and neck were covered in painful scratches. There were several occasions when he stumbled over looping roots, too, and it took him all his skill not to fall.

  ‘This is deliberate,’ he muttered to himself, as from the corner of his eye he saw a root twitch and a branch reach out.

  The wood was alive and hostile, and yet the darkness was lifting. At first he barely noticed, then it slowly dawned on him that he shouldn’t have been able to see Drust so clearly ahead. Eventually he realised the wood had its own light – an indefinite haze. But the trees were now so impossibly close together that their knotted roots and entangled branches were beginning to form an impenetrable wall.

  The chill was also deepening and Brennus felt himself beginning to shiver uncontrollably. Soon his eyes were watering and his hands and face were almost numb.

  ‘I cannot bear this cold!’

  Drust turned and looked back at his brother, clearly baffled and untouched by the chill air.

  ‘We need to keep going.’ He leaned a little closer. ‘The wood is alive. It is shepherding us. We have no choice in the path we are taking. Every time I have tried to turn south or north, the road simply moves from west to east.’

  ‘I thought I saw the branches moving.’

  ‘Yes. I don’t think we should stop.’

  ‘And what of the cold?’ asked Brennus.

  He watched a flicker of a smile cross Drust’s face, one he wasn’t sure he liked.


  ‘I think it’s meant to slow you down. I can already tell that you would struggle if we were attacked. Let’s hope the wood offers safe passage back into Northumberland before that happens.’

  Just as his brother had said, Brennus could feel the chill beginning to affect his movements. Even worse, there came a sudden bark that made him jump and then several answering calls. They seemed to have come from different directions. Brennus looked around, but could see nothing.

  The calls appeared to have gone unnoticed by Drust, who was still slowly making his way between the giant trunks and twisting roots. It wasn’t long, though, before shadows were moving off to the left. Were these what had been following them from the Dead Water?

  Brennus counted three figures, one standing upright and two moving on all fours. Whatever they were, they sent a shiver down his spine that didn’t come from the freezing air.

  To their right stood an impenetrable wall of grasping roots and branches, but ahead the path was clearer. Brennus slowly caught up with Drust, who had come to a complete stop.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I am no longer sure. The flow runs like a river through this place, but stops at the line of trees. I’ve never felt or seen anything like this.’

  In the darkness the line of trees was like the walls of a castle and their roots looked like figures carved from wood. Brennus couldn’t keep his eyes off their intricate shapes.

  ‘What are they? This looks like some form of barrier. Do you think the trees are keeping us out or keeping something else in?’

  He didn’t like the sound of his own question. Neither did Drust apparently, as he didn’t answer it, saying only, ‘I’ve never seen roots thrust so far from the earth. Look, there are faces amongst them.’

  Brennus had already noticed them. The more he stared at them, the more he could pick out knotted features. There was an eye, there a cheekbone, there a wide-open mouth. There was a whole face, seemingly frozen in time… The more he looked, the more he saw. It wasn’t just faces, but entwined bodies. In the darkness, beneath the giant trees, an army was staring back at him.

  ‘Brennus!’ Drust was shaking him gently by the arm. ‘Don’t look at them!’ His voice was low and urgent.

  ‘But who are they? What are they?’

  Drust shook his head. ‘It is not our concern. Let us be gone from this place.’

  They passed by the towering trees, but Brennus couldn’t help but keep glancing at what he could only describe as people carved from twisted roots and earth. When he had first seen them, they had only loosely resembled human form, but the further he and Drust travelled along the mysterious boundary, the more intricate they became, until there was no mistaking their human shape. He was haunted by their contorted faces. There was a horror about them. Had they once been alive? What had happened to them? A dark and freezing fog was beginning to drift into his mind, pulling him back into the distant past. What had they been running from? Who had done this?

  Snarls echoed through the silent wood, breaking the spell of Brennus’s thoughts. With a jolt, he was back in the present.

  ‘Behind you!’ Drust shouted.

  Brennus wheeled round, reaching for the sword that was no longer there.

  Back the way they had come, a single figure was emerging from the trees. Its stooping frame was bigger than that of the crow-men. Instead of black feathers, this creature had scales across its chest, and rather than a beak, it seemed to have more human features. It too was looking at the frozen army woven into the giant roots of the trees.

  Brennus felt Drust move alongside him and was surprised to see his hands glowing as if he had dipped them in fairy dust.

  ‘What do you want?’ Drust called out.

  The creature turned slowly towards them. It lifted its head and seemed to be smelling the air. Through the trees to their right, two further figures were moving, seemingly on all fours, just on the edge of their vision.

  ‘Why are you following us?’ Drust called, his voice steady.

  ‘We mean you no harm,’ came a guttural reply.

  ‘We will be the judge of that – why are you following us?’

  The creature seemed not to hear the question. Instead it was looking again in the direction of the frosted shapes beneath the trees. Brennus could tell it was unsettled. Every now and then it raised its nose into the air and its breath streamed out in icy clouds.

  The creatures to their right were beginning to growl, their pacing becoming exaggerated. Even though Brennus couldn’t see them fully, he could tell that they too were finding this place unbearable. Only Drust seemed to be calm, sending the light from hand to hand. Brennus marvelled at his composure.

  Keeping its face turned towards the fortress of trees, the creature growled, ‘My mistress seeks your counsel.’

  ‘And who is your mistress?’ Drust’s tone was cool.

  ‘She is known to you as the Grim-Witch, but to our people she is the Bodika.’

  The creature turned its head and seemed to look at Brennus for the first time. He was glad he could not fully see its face.

  ‘There is a war coming.’ Its words were slow and deliberate.

  To his right Brennus heard a number of low growls from the pacing creatures.

  ‘That may be true,’ Drust commented. ‘And why does your mistress seek our counsel?’

  ‘Not yours.’ Surprisingly, the creature looked at him contemptuously and turned its attention back to Brennus. ‘She seeks the counsel of the Keepers of the Druids.’

  ‘And what business does she have with these so-called Keepers of the Druids?’ asked Drust.

  The creature gave an angry growl that reverberated in Brennus’s chest. ‘We are not here to be mocked! Our mistress knows that the Fall is perishing. She wishes to speak to the one who will lead the fellowship into the Darkhart. She must speak to those who know the way to the Sea of Souls.’

  Brennus was surprised. He had only ever heard Oscar and the Keepers mention the Sea of Souls before. Where had this creature come from? What did it know?

  Drust, too, seemed perturbed. He shot his brother a quizzical glance before turning back to the creature and saying, ‘We know of the Keepers of the Druids. But tell us about this Sea of Souls.’

  The creature was clearly becoming irritated. ‘No, we do not wish to speak to you.’

  As it spoke, further growls sent torrents of frozen air into the night.

  ‘And this is no place to stop. We must keep going. These places are not for the living.’

  ‘Tell us about the Sea of Souls first.’

  The creature stepped forwards, showing a long line of sharp teeth.

  ‘Well then, I will tell you that it is said that only the Three may find the way to its shores.’

  ‘The Three from Oscar’s message,’ thought Brennus, then jumped as he saw a giant black wolf, its eyes almost white in the darkness, pass between two tree trunks and fade back into the darkness as quickly as it had emerged.

  ‘Why would your mistress have an interest in the Three?’ questioned Drust, ignoring the now almost continuous growls.

  ‘The Three must be protected. Without them, there is no way across the Sea of Souls. Now enough, let us move on.’

  ‘The Three? The Dagda’s daughters?’

  There was a sneering half-laugh as the creature again edged forwards. ‘The Druidae! You should have been protecting and watching them,’ it snarled, glaring at Brennus, ‘but instead you have wasted your time seeking out the Ruad Roshessa, who serves only himself.’

  Brennus was reeling, but Drust instantly suspicious. ‘Why should we trust you and your mistress?’

  The reply was long growl. ‘The Bodika knows the way through the Otherland to the Darkhart. You will need her before this is over. The Ruin’s servant will no longer be denied by your tricks. It will arrive at the Otherlan
d first to reclaim its own servants.’

  ‘And who are these servants?’ asked Drust.

  ‘This is no place to talk of such things. We have to go whilst the wood sleeps. There is much danger here. We have already talked too long.’

  With another low growl, the creature moved past them, quickly joined by the two beasts who had been hiding behind the trees.

  Drust began to follow, but Brennus caught his arm. ‘It could be a trap.’

  ‘We don’t need to trust them, brother. If they can find a way out, great. We can worry about what we do with them later. We know there’s at least some truth in what they say. I don’t think we should test our luck in this place. He’s right – we have to leave before the wood wakes.’

  Drust dropped in behind the three figures, who moved through the ill-lit wood with ease. Brennus tried his best to keep up, but he was almost delirious with cold. Oscar’s message to Sam kept running through his mind: ‘Seek the help of the Three.’ He had been certain the Three had been the old man’s daughters. Oscar couldn’t have meant Sam, Emily and Eagan, could he? Anyway, who could believe the words of a creature from the Underland? He had been led to believe that the Underland was the enemy and that the Grim-Witch had been responsible for the death of Sam’s father. For many years the Underland had been sleeping, and he couldn’t help but wish it wasn’t awake now.

  Slowly the space between the tree trunks was widening. The wall of trees was falling away and the twisted roots with the frozen bodies were fading away into the darkness. Lost in his thoughts, Brennus was no longer sure how far they had walked or what direction they were going in, and it was some time before he realised how much the wood had changed. Looking around him, he saw that the giant trees had all but gone and in their place were the familiar shapes of conifers, while the bare forest floor was softening with bracken, woodrush and trails of honeysuckle and ivy. As the last of the chill left the wood, the smells of autumn returned and the hazy half-light that had accompanied the sterile coldness vanished, to be replaced by the familiar soft darkness of an autumn night.