by Glen L. Hall
Brennus’s blood ran cold. ‘What—’
Then he was seized and bundled through the rent in the rock face.
‘Close the gate,’ said the Grim-were.
* * * * * *
On either side of Brennus freezing water was running down rocky walls, whilst beneath his feet there was an uneven path.
‘Where are we going?’ he found himself shouting.
Ahead, the ragged breathing of Breth and Kiltrevern was their only response.
Behind, black fire was coming at them. Ezru screamed as it caught him and sent him crashing to the ground. The grisly smell of burnt flesh filled the narrow corridor. Brennus turned to help, but the creature pushed him on.
‘Run! They are behind us!’
To think of the Grim-wolves and Breth’s dead companions following them down into the darkness was more than Brennus could bear. He felt as though the tension would suffocate him. And all the time his brother’s face was swimming up out of the darkness in front of him.
The descent quickly ended and they were soon jogging through a wider tunnel with a cobbled road beneath their feet. The darkness around them was so thick it was almost as though someone had placed a blanket over Brennus’s head. He kept his hands outstretched and every now and then he would bump into one of the side walls. He could hear the steady jog of Breth and Kiltrevern ahead and knew that Ezru was following behind, silent now, but every so often the smell of burnt flesh would make Brennus almost retch.
The cobbled tunnel came to an end and Brennus realised their footsteps were beginning to echo. Though he still couldn’t see much, they must have entered a larger space.
He jumped as a hand grabbed his.
‘We need to go in single file,’ called Breth’s voice from ahead.
The hand he was holding must have been Kiltrevern’s. He reached behind him and found the claws of the Grim-were.
In the gloom, with their footsteps continuing to echo, they held hands as they moved into what Brennus guessed was a cavern. They had no option but to go forwards. Behind was a nightmare that would never stop. He could not begin to understand its reasoning. He was tired and scared. He stumbled in the darkness and felt Kiltrevern pull him back to his feet. Ezru seemed not to have noticed.
His brother’s face came to him once more and he felt tears stinging his eyes. Was he now one of the dead? Or something else? Had the journey to the Dead Water really been in vain?
‘Where are we going?’ he whispered to Kiltrevern.
‘The Bridge of Druids.’ The bearded man’s gruff voice echoed in the darkness.
Brennus had never heard of the Bridge of Druids, but then again he had never heard of the Trow-Hulda. He had been led to believe the Underland was a mythical place, a dark land of the enemy. Now he seemed to be entering it. Nothing made sense anymore.
There was no light in the cavern and yet a current of cool air kept washing over them. They continued in single file, still holding hands, and after a while a shimmer from far below made Brennus realise they were now on a bridge. An arched bridge, he reasoned, for as they jogged along, he felt the ground beneath him begin to steepen, and this continued for several minutes until he almost stumbled as the ground began to slope downwards into the darkness. But not quite darkness now, as there was that strange flicker from below.
Behind Ezru was beginning to growl, whether in fear or pain Brennus couldn’t tell, but the noise came from deep within the Grim-were’s wounded body.
‘We are across!’ called Breth from the murk.
It had taken them several long minutes to cross the bridge. Whatever was below it must have been vast.
‘Now we must open a doorway into the Druids’ Way,’ Breth explained. ‘That will take us to Holy Island.’
‘There is no time! The Shadow Ruins have found this place.’ Ezru seemed to be panting heavily.
‘The Bridge of Druids will not let them pass,’ snapped Kiltrevern.
‘Nothing can stop them. We must find a way out.’
With help from the flickering light, Brennus watched Kiltrevern turn and face the Grim-were.
‘Ezru! You have brought darkness into our land. When our elders learn that we have let you into the Druids’ Way, we will be expelled from our family. As it is, our cousins have been slaughtered and we are fighting our own dead.’
‘Kiltrevern! There is no time for this!’ called Breth.
A second later the brothers’ humming filled the darkness with strange music.
Brennus turned and approached the Grim-were, who was standing on what must have been the very edge of the chasm.
‘I will hold them whilst I can,’ Ezru said. ‘You must find a way to allow my mistress to speak to the Keepers. You are the one who controls the Way-curves. If you do not survive, then our connection to the past will be lost, and we will need it if we are ever to defeat the enemy.’
Brennus nodded, too exhausted ask how the Grim people proposed to do that. He felt demoralised. Everyone seemed to know more than he did.
Suddenly he felt the temperature around him drop. He knew it was the chill of the dead even before he heard their clamour on the other side of the bridge.
As the Grim-were’s growls rumbled around the chasm, momentarily blending with Breth and Kiltrevern’s music, Brennus stood waiting for the black flames to engulf them. The same ones that had shattered the waterfall. The same ones that had injured the Grim-were. He hoped the end would be quick. And most of all that it would be the end.
As the seconds lengthened into minutes, the tension grew. The cold swarmed over them all and even the shouts of the dead fell away. And all the while the faint flickering from the depths grew stronger.
With each gleam of light Brennus saw more of the bridge. Within minutes it had been revealed as a huge arched structure that seemed to hang in the air. Whether it had been hewn from the rock or whether giant stones had been rolled there from elsewhere, he could not tell. Had it been built by the Druids themselves? Why had none of the Keepers told him about this place?
The light was no longer flickering. Instead it seemed to be hanging in the middle of what he thought could only be a deep gorge. He couldn’t make out the source of the light, but it caressed the bridge, leaving the gorge in darkness. Soon it was shining directly over the stone structure and Brennus noticed the chilly air had been replaced by warmer currents. Then he realised the light had thrown back the darkness at the other end of the bridge, revealing several unmoving figures.
Without warning, the dead leaped onto the bridge, their howls filling the great cavern with a noise like rolling thunder. Ezru also leaped forwards, turning his back on Brennus, who saw his injuries for the first time and wondered how he was still alive. Most of his back was burnt, his scales and feathers blackened. Brennus found himself setting off after him, unable to let him face his end alone.
As he heaved himself up the steep arch, he saw the Grim-were standing on the highest point of the bridge. The creature had come to a complete standstill. Though the dead were coming closer, he was gazing up at the immense curving roof of the cavern.
Looking up, Brennus saw the hazy light was converging there. He also found himself coming to a complete stop, unable to take his eyes from the glistening light.
The dead came over the brow of the bridge with their axes raised above their heads, their wounds gaping and flesh hanging from their ragged torsos.
Brennus heard a crackle and for a moment felt the air being sucked from his body. The light streamed across the bridge, sweeping the dead from it and tossing them effortlessly into the depths of the gorge. He watched them spiralling into the gloom and heard the last of their howls fading into silence.
There was a magic on the bridge that he had never felt before. Was this the last vestiges of druidic power? Had the Druids left their signature on the waterfall? Was their magic in
the stone beneath his feet? In the light circling above? Was that why the Shadow Ruins did not attack?
They were waiting at the end of the bridge, and with them, standing side by side with them, was his brother. How was it possible that they had let him live?
The light hanging in the air seemed to have grown dimmer and somehow Brennus knew it was waiting. What would happen if his brother stepped onto the bridge? Would he too be tossed into the darkness below like a piece of straw? Would that be a welcome death?
Wrenching his eyes away from the distant figure of his brother, he looked back at the whirling light. Was this the flow? Was this what his brother could see? Was this the light that Sam had described? Who had created the glow that was now stretching the length of the Bridge of Druids? Was this a reflection of the Druids’ true power?
At the exact moment the thought flashed through his mind, the Shadow Ruins moved forwards, and with them came a dark fire that charged over the bridge like monstrous black horses.
Ezru could do nothing more than raise his hands in one final gesture of defiance, whilst Brennus resigned himself to being swept into the chasm below. But the dark flames did not reach them, for the light met the darkness in a thunderous boom that for a second lit up the cavern from end to end.
The blast threw Brennus to the floor. He clung to the cold stone, scrabbling to hold on as the howling winds pushed him towards the edge.
Only Ezru held his ground, standing resolute against the storm that was being unleashed all around them.
Brennus raised his head. Far above them a battle was raging between two unearthly forces. The whole cavern was now alive with booms resounding from the rock and flashes of light and darkness rushing together and then breaking apart in the air.
Slowly Ezru made his way back through the tumult and helped Brennus to his feet. Together they crept back, step by step, across the bridge, whilst above them the onslaught continued unabated. They reached Breth and Kiltrevern, who were rooted to the spot, their eyes wide.
Brennus noticed the open gateway behind them, another impossible rent in the rock face.
‘Breth, let’s go. We can do no more here.’
Almost reluctantly, the brothers dragged their gaze from the spectacle unfolding above them and led the way into another murky passageway.
As he followed, Brennus couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to get just one final glimpse of the battle. The figures were now approaching the highest point of the bridge and it was clear that whatever magic had protected it was beginning to weaken.
‘Brennus!’ It was his brother’s voice.
Brennus froze.
Then he turned.
‘No!’ The Grim-were was blocking his path.
‘Let me just—’
‘It is not your brother. He has been touched by the Ruin’s servants.’
‘Brennus!’ There was now an urgency in the voice.
‘I will not abandon my brother a second time.’
‘We cannot wait for you!’ called Kiltrevern.
‘Ezru is right – it is nothing more than a trap! Come quickly!’ shouted Breth.
Brennus pushed past the Grim-were into the fading light of the cavern. A hundred thoughts were swirling through his mind. He was more afraid than he had ever been in his life, but he knew he had to be there.
He quickly understood why the attack had stopped. On the very top of the arch stood what he hoped was his brother.
‘Brennus.’
‘I am here,’ he heard his own voice answer. He sounded weak and frail.
The situation was almost unbearable. He stood there no longer knowing what to say or do.
‘They wish to speak to you. There is an old power here that will not let them harm you.’
The voice was still that of his brother.
‘If you speak to them, they will let me go.’
Was it true? Brennus looked over at the dark figures further away on the bridge. They did not attempt to rush him or move any closer. Neither did Drust.
Wondering how to answer, he jumped as a figure appeared by his side. Ezru had returned.
The Grim-were’s eyes were fixed on the light shimmering above.
‘I have seen this before.’
‘How can you have seen this before?’ questioned Brennus.
‘I saw it the night we crossed the Dead Water with my mistress and your father.’
‘You were part of the fellowship—!’ began Brennus, but he was silenced by his brother’s voice.
‘They will not let me live a moment longer if you do not speak to them.’
‘Yes,’ Ezru continued calmly. ‘The Ruin’s servants were waiting. They killed several of the fellowship, but the strongest pushed on into the Otherland.’
‘I am in agony, Brennus! Speak to them.’
His brother’s voice was now slow and heavy, as if speaking was almost too much.
‘They sent those they had spiked but not killed to pursue the fellowship,’ Ezru went on. ‘They became husks of their former selves, pleading with the fellowship to turn back from their quest.’
From the bridge a terrible howl broke across the chasm, a sound that shook Brennus to his core. He watched as his brother fell forwards, writhing in agony.
‘It is a trap,’ repeated the Grim-were.
‘Drust! I will speak to them, but they must let you go first!’ Brennus cried.
There was a crushing force on his arm as Ezru spun him around. ‘No!’
Brennus thought the Grim-were was going to break his arm. He looked into his feathered face and found his dark eyes impaling him on their intensity.
‘I cannot leave here without my brother.’
‘If you speak to them, we are all doomed.’
Ezru held Brennus’s gaze a moment longer, then the chasm was again filled with Drust’s screams, an unbearable noise that made the creature release his grip.
Brennus walked unsteadily back to the end of the bridge, where its dark stone met the black rock of the cavern.
‘I will speak to them.’
The moment the words left his mouth, Drust’s screaming stopped. He quickly got back to its feet. One minute tortured, the next minute standing silently.
Then slowly he began to walk towards Brennus.
‘What madness is this?’ Breth was now standing at Brennus’s shoulder.
‘The Shadow Ruins wish to speak to him,’ said the Grim-were.
A second later Kiltrevern joined them, muttering into his long red beard.
Brennus watched as his brother came to meet them. He felt his eyes burn with tears as he saw his pale and frightened face. He was about to step out onto the bridge when he again felt Ezru’s hand on his arm.
Then Drust stopped walking and stood still, a slight and lonely figure. When he looked up, Brennus couldn’t help but take a step forwards.
‘What have they done to you?’ he whispered, his voice cracking.
‘Keeper.’
The word rattled out of Drust and echoed around the chasm. Brennus recoiled in horror. He felt the bearded men take a step back. Only the Grim-were did not move.
‘What have you done to my brother?!’ Somewhere within Brennus a fire was beginning to burn.
‘The First Dark seeks the Druidae.’
Brennus watched helplessly as the voice grated out its words whilst Drust seemed to hang in the air, his mouth strangely contorted, his eyes wide with fear.
It was the Grim-were who answered first. ‘This is the Bridge of Druids. You would do well to remember it.’
There was a snigger followed by a blast of icy air.
‘The First Light is dying. The First Dark grows stronger.’
The voice was hollow, full of hate.
‘Its servant the Shadow has crossed the Sea of Souls
and is amongst the living. The Druids’ time is at an end.’
‘No!’
‘You cannot stop the Shadow.’
The noise that came from Drust was loathsome, as if a giant snake was slithering over loose ground ready to strike. Then there was something that could have been a laugh.
‘You don’t understand, do you?’
Brennus was frozen by fear.
‘It was the Druids who let the unliving into the world. We were on the edge of time – unaware, asleep. If the Fall dies, we go back to our place in the darkness before time.’
The words tumbled over them, leaving a bitter chill in their hearts.
‘A war is coming to the Three Kingdoms and where is your fellowship now?’
No one could reply. Even the Grim-were had fallen silent.
‘The Otherland is already creeping into this world. The Druids’ Way will soon be closed and your connection with the past will be lost.’
Brennus was crushed. He could no longer muster the energy to speak. But it seemed the Grim-were was speaking for him.
‘The Ruin failed in the Garden of Druids,’ he said calmly.
The figure of Drust was silent for a moment, as if the reply had taken him by surprise.
‘It has been stopped before,’ Ezru continued, ‘and it will be stopped again. What message have you brought the Keeper? Our patience wears thin.’
Brennus couldn’t believe the Grim-were’s courage, although he guessed the light that permeated the cavern had something to do with it.
‘We want the child that was taken from the Otherland.’
‘We do not bargain with the dead.’
There was a monstrous roar as the black flames came hurtling across the chasm in answer to the Grim-were. It would have killed them all if the light had not sprung to life. The two met in a deafening explosion, twisting and falling into the chasm and throwing everything into darkness.
‘Brennus! Run!’ It was his brother’s voice.
He could not, for Ezru had already lifted him off his feet and away from the edge of the chasm. But he could twist round in the creature’s arms and look behind him. Thunder was rolling across the cavern and the air was heaving with light and black streams. And through all this, he could tell his brother was looking straight at him.
