by Glen L. Hall
Ezru was looking back the way they had come. ‘This is no place to stop. They are coming.’
Brennus felt his stomach clench.
Breth and Kiltrevern’s faces were set. ‘Only the elders have the authority to open the path through the Underland. We would be expelled from our tribe if we were to show you.’
‘You are being hunted. We must help this man reach my mistress, where he must deliver his message to the Druidae.’
‘Ezru,’ Breth said, ‘no man has walked through the Underland since Oscar and Culluhin.’
‘How do you know of Oscar?’ Brennus’s voice sounded weary.
‘Oscar’s story is well known to my people. We travelled with him as part of the old alliance and only very few returned.’
It seemed to Brennus that the wind took Breth’s words and scattered them over the top of Bloodybush Edge so that he could no longer grasp their meaning. Just as he could no longer grasp what had happened to Oscar’s fellowship.
‘Even the Grim people suffer when they trust men,’ grunted Kiltrevern.
‘The servants of the Bodika have suffered the most out of all of the Three Kingdoms,’ said Ezru matter-of-factly. ‘But the Ruin’s Shadows are only the beginning. If the Fall dies, then its horde will come again until there are only the dead stalking the lands.’
Brennus was listening to his words with horror.
‘If the Ruin’s servants reach the Sea of Souls, all hope is gone,’ Ezru continued. ‘You know that, Kiltrevern. Now, we cannot hope to outrun these creatures. Only on the old paths through the hills can we hope to lose them. And we must close those paths behind us.’
Kitrevern was shaking his head, but Brennus could tell Breth was unsure. He watched the twins walk off together so they would not be overheard.
‘What are these Three Kingdoms you speak of?’ asked Brennus.
Ezru did not answer at first. He was watching the brothers having a fierce argument. Then he said simply, ‘Our homelands.’
‘Where—?’
But the creature carried on speaking, saying, ‘Our forefathers were trapped here. We do not belong here. It is time to go back, but without the Druidae all hope is lost.’
‘He is still a boy.’
Brennus could barely see the Grim-were, but he could feel his eyes suddenly on him.
‘Our hope does not rest with the boy.’
Brennus found himself standing there with his mouth open, shock surging through him. Had Drust been right after all?
A distant horn blast cut through his astonishment and silenced Breth and Kiltrevern’s argument. It was followed by a second call, closer than the first. A third call brought the Grim-were to life.
‘Those calls seem different,’ he commented, looking at the twins.
‘Those are not the calls of the Stone Watch,’ said Breth, and in the darkness Brennus could hear his apprehension.
‘What darkness is this?’ called his brother.
‘The Shadow Ruins will use the fallen to attack,’ Ezru said. ‘You cannot kill the dead, or allow yourself to be caught with nowhere to run. This is an enemy that your axes cannot hope to defeat.’
The twins looked at each other.
‘The gateway to the Underland is beyond Hedgehope,’ said Breth. ‘We will take you there, but know it is against our wishes.’
* * * * * *
The brothers set a harsh pace and started to take it in turns to help Brennus, half carrying him across the hard ground. Ezru walked behind them and from time to time would disappear into the darkness.
The night began to be pierced by several horn blasts, each one coming from a different direction and each one sounding just a little closer than before. It was clear to Brennus that little by little they were being outrun. It was impossible to think that the bearded men who had fallen into the gorge had somehow picked themselves up and regained all the ground they had lost, but they had.
Thinking about the dead bearded men sent a tremor down his spine and he tried to distract himself by trying to understand Ezru’s earlier words. Of course – the Grim-Witch had asked where the girl was travelling. She had not been interested in Sam. And yet the conversations he’d had with the Keepers came flooding back to him. They had not mentioned Emily once. And it was the boy who could summon the flow. Drust had said the moment Sam could understand how to use it, he would be a formidable opponent. So where did this leave Emily? Where did it leave Sam?
The flat ground of Bloodybush Edge came to an end after they had traversed a final stream whose waters had long since been lost and Hedgehope was rising silently to meet them. The horn blasts were more frequent now and the closest was perhaps less than a mile away. With a final desperate push, they made it up the steep bank and found themselves on a flat plateau.
To the north the brooding Cheviots loomed black in the Northumberland night. Ahead there was a new sound rising up above the wind: the roar of water. Brennus quickly realised that Breth was taking them towards Linhope Spout waterfall, which sat between two rugged hills.
Behind, the horn blasts were closer still, and the Grim-were’s agitation was beginning to bubble over. He strode past Brennus, now appearing more scaled than feathered, to ask the bearded brothers whether the gateway was closed. But the question was answered only by grunts as the men pushed themselves forwards.
The open land disappeared as they crashed through a copse of trees. The sound of falling water reverberated through Brennus’s ears and the horn blasts fell silent.
Breth seemed to follow a path that opened up through trees and dense undergrowth until they came to a narrow fast-flowing river whose waters were turning white. Brennus was relieved to feel its cold spray against his face. Within minutes he was enveloped in a light drizzle. Then the trees came to a sudden almost dizzying stop on a stone ledge whilst down below the seething waters shone white as they crashed into the dark pool below Linhope Spout.
‘We cannot linger here.’
It was the first time Brennus had heard the Grim-were’s voice raised in a snarl.
Breth and his brother seemed not to hear the creature above the din of the falling water. They were intent on scrambling down stone steps that were covered in a green haze that made the descent treacherous.
Without waiting a second longer, Brennus followed them into the spray and turmoil. Tremendous fear drove him onwards without thought. His clothes were instantly wet and clung him to him uncomfortably, but he paid no attention. All his efforts were on not slipping from the stone steps into the dark pool below. He was almost immune to the madness around him – and then his feet were gone from under him and he was falling into the rumbling night.
An iron grip caught him almost in midair, but there was no time to turn and thank the Grim-were, for yet again he was slipping and sliding down the stone steps. It was with immense relief that he arrived at the very bottom of the waterfall, where the white waters fell into a deep dark pool before tumbling away into the Northumberland night.
‘Where is the gateway?’
Ezru still sounded fierce, and still the brothers did not have time to answer, as several horn blasts announced the chilling arrival of several figures. There was a gasp of despair from the brothers as they realised these strangers were the bearded men who had been meant to guard Drust.
‘The waterfall!’ shouted Breth, and without warning plunged headlong into the whirlpool, followed by Kiltrevern.
Brennus watched the weight of their axes take them beneath the waters. Then above the roar of the waterfall he heard a new noise that sent a cold blade between his shoulders – a seething roar of inhuman hate rolling down the hillside. Terror made him stagger backwards until once more a powerful clawed hand stopped him from falling.
‘Into the water!’ came the growling voice of the Grim-were.
Brennus looked down into the shadowy d
epths and still hesitated. Then an axe came whizzing out of the night and went hissing past him before embedding itself with a terrible thwack into a tree trunk. With a surge of fear, he plunged headlong into the black pool and felt an electric shock of icy water pass over him. He swam deeper, wanting to keep away from the surface and the creatures that had come to kill him, but it wasn’t long before he felt swirling currents clutching at him. A second later, the waterfall’s maelstrom was taking him down into the cold depths of the pool, where his lungs wanted to burst and he could no longer stop his body from tumbling uncontrollably. A set of claws bit into his arms and he wanted to scream, but there was no time, as he was being pushed through the tornado of waters and back out to the surface.
Coughing hard and with blood running down both arms, he was thrown down on a hard rocky floor. Looking up, he found himself behind the waterfall, in a small cavern that was full of thunder and freezing spray. Breth and Kiltrevern were there, staring at him in shock. But they weren’t looking at him, but the creature behind him.
Brennus turned and recoiled in horror. Where feathers had been there were now scales, and Ezru’s hands had become hooked and vicious claws.
Standing silhouetted against the white roar of the waterfall, he snarled, ‘Open the gateway!’
‘What trickery is this?’ shouted Breth.
‘Is this your game?’ bellowed his brother, his face angry and his axe held before him. ‘To find a way into our heartlands to slaughter us?’
‘He is not your foe!’ Brennus found himself shouting above the roar of the falling water. ‘Show us the gateway!’
He could see no sign of any doorway – it appeared that they were trapped. And that no one was taking any notice of him. There was now a stand-off. The brothers had their heavy axes held out in front of them and Ezru had assumed a slightly crouched position, as if ready to charge them.
The tension was so great Brennus could almost hear it crackling in the air around them. Then he realised the waterfall itself was beginning to twist. He could feel a magic in the air – a magic that he could not identify. It was beginning to distort the water and had stopped the bearded men’s confrontation with the Grim-were dead. Before them there was now an arc of water fifteen feet tall forming a coiling wall that glimmered white in the night.
‘What is this?’ asked Brennus, turning to Breth.
Breth lowered his axe, a look of wonder etched across his face. ‘The power of our elders.’
‘It is Fer Benn,’ announced Ezru, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.
‘No – magic does not always revolve around the flow,’ stated Kiltrevern, glowering at the Grim-were.
‘I do know what it is. It—’
The argument was silenced by a number of loud booms as something shattered against the wall’s twisting waters. Brennus thought he saw several axes fall harmlessly into the dark pool.
‘Our people are outside,’ said Kiltrevern.
‘They are no longer your people,’ warned Ezru.
Brennus thought it could have been a trick of the shimmering water, but the creature no longer looked as fierce as it had done a moment earlier.
Then a figure hurled itself against the frothing waters and its bloodied body was thrown backwards into the dark pool. A moment later, a second shape thudded against the wall.
Behind him Brennus heard gasps of agony as Breth and Kiltrevern recognised the men now desperately trying to come through the wall, whilst before him, the other side of the wall, murderous wails were coming from shredded faces. He felt as though he had been plunged into a nightmare.
The dead came again, slamming themselves against the frothing wall. This time a single bloody arm found its way through, and Brennus could not help but take a step back. The onslaught intensified and there were several more breaches. At one point they watched in mute horror as a bearded face with milky eyes broke through the wall, one side of it crushed and broken. It snarled and tried to force its way through, but a gentle light flickering through the water forced it back.
Amidst the assault, Brennus suddenly heard what sounded like singing. Could this be real or was he falling into madness? He wheeled round and saw that Breth and Kiltrevern had gone to the back of the shallow cave and were kneeling before the dark rock humming. The Grim-were was watching them too, his scales now replaced by small feathers, whilst behind them more dead men thudded against the wall of water.
Then the attack stopped, the terrifying wails died away and only Breth and Kiltrevern’s humming, accompanied by the sound of the dancing water, could be heard.
Ezru slowly approached the wall of water until he was once more silhouetted against the flickering eddies, and stood there looking out. Curious, Brennus came alongside the awkward-looking creature. The Grim-were did not turn to acknowledge him, but kept his eyes fixed on a point beyond the pool.
A chill gust of wind swept through the cave and for a second Breth and Kiltrevern’s voices fell silent. The wall of water seemed to dim just a little and Brennus was acutely aware of his wet clothes against his skin. Through the swirling sheets of water, he could see ice creeping across the dark pool, turning it silver.
‘Can you feel it?’ The Grim-were’s words tumbled into the frosty air.
Brennus could not take his eyes off the pool, now glittering white. The ice had reached the wall of water.
‘The Dark Light.’
He watched Ezru’s words swirl in the freezing air.
‘I don’t understand,’ he replied.
‘It’s what brings the dead back to life,’ the Grim-were explained. ‘Though it is not a life that you would want.’
He looked at Brennus.
‘You must allow our mistress to speak to the past. For only the First Light can stop this.’
All Brennus could do was nod.
Out across the deep pool, it looked like deepest winter. The ice was now beginning to creep up the wall, freezing its waters. Slowly they were coming to a standstill.
‘If the Trow-Hulda do not open the gateway to the Underland, you must do what you can to escape.’
Brennus nodded again.
Fear was in the bitter air and in the ice that was continuing its relentless creep up the waterfall.
Then it reached the top.
‘Move back,’ growled Ezru. ‘They are here.’
Somewhere in the back of Brennus’s mind, he knew the Grim-were’s words should have filled him with dread, but all he felt was numb. The last few days had taken so many bites out of his courage that there was nothing left but emptiness.
A hush had fallen over the little cave. The wall of water that had protected them was silent and still. It seemed as if time had come to a stop and everywhere was glistening white with expectation.
Then through the blankness of his mind, Brennus heard a voice. It was Breth telling him to run, but his legs were numb. He stood there as if frozen.
And then the darkness struck, exploding against the wall of ice in a thunderous rumble that shook him to the floor. Ezru was still standing, but there were shards of ice sticking out of his body and black blood weeping from several wounds. The wall of ice still stood too, but there were now gaping holes in it.
When the second black tempest came bellowing out of the darkness, there was a cracking noise that split the night in two as the wall of ice fell into the frozen pool, shattering whatever magic had kept the dead at bay. And out of the middle of the frozen pool they came, with their axes and angry shrieks that rang pain into the ears of those who heard them.
There was a fire in Brennus that made him stand with the Grim-were, even though he had no weapon. The creature had taken the full force of the blast; he would not leave him there alone and be slaughtered by his own fear.
The first of the dead men scrambled over the remnants of the frozen wall, and as he stood upright, Brennus fe
lt a whooshing noise pass by his ear and watched in horror as an axe almost rent the bearded figure in two, propelling him backwards and down into the dark pool. Yet within seconds, or so it seemed, he was already dragging himself from the freezing waters, his milky eyes still looking at them. It seemed that nothing could stop the dead.
This terrifying realisation was sinking into Brennus when without warning he was lifted from his feet by the Grim-were. The second attack had begun. As if in slow motion, he turned his head and watched as Breth slowly raised his axe. For a split-second he thought the bearded man would throw it directly at the Grim-were, but then the giant blade leapt from Breth’s hands, spinning as if caught in treacle, and he heard it cut through the freezing air, missing him and Ezru by inches, and then a second later the grisly noise as it struck one of the dead directly in the chest.
The man staggered back, but did not fall or reach for the giant axe embedded in his body. Ezru moved with astonishing speed, dropping Brennus and grabbing the axe handle and propelling the wounded man into the one now coming behind him, and for a second Brennus thought the Grim-were’s power and speed would be too much for them. But he was wrong.
From the icy waters two figures were emerging that spiked terror through every fibre of his being. The Grim-wolves had been frightening alive, and now they were dead.
Ezru was falling back into the cave, his hackles raised and his mouth open and snarling.
‘This way!’
This time Brennus could hear Breth’s voice echoing through the cavern. When he turned, the bearded man was standing with his twin before an opening in the rock face.
‘Brennus!’
Brennus whirled around. A figure was dropping out of the dark skies and rolling between him and the Grim-wolves.
‘Drust!’
His brother was smiling, but something was wrong – a paleness that made him stand out in the darkness.
