by Glen L. Hall
‘Emily!’ Sam’s frustration and fear exploded.
Emily stepped back from him. ‘I’m scared – stop shouting!’
Sam put his head in his hands. ‘Let’s go. Let’s just go.’
* * * * * *
They left the reading room and went as quickly as they could through all the double doors until they were outside again. Down below them, the wood was in darkness, although the hot embers from the Reiver fires still winked from between the trees like fairy lights. The sky was a blanket of stars and there was a cold wind blowing in from the sea two miles to the east.
Sam waited a few minutes, listening for the crows, trying to discern any movement amongst the trees and to get his bearings. When he was sure the path was clear, he took Emily to the front terraces. Behind them, the large windows of the hall stared at them in silence. They fled hand in hand down the steep steps past the ponds until they reached the edge of the arboretum, where hundreds of Forest Reivers were camping.
‘If anybody asks, we’re just enjoying an evening stroll.’
‘In the middle of the night?! They didn’t believe that the last time! I don’t understand why we can’t wait for Uncle Jarl.’
‘I told you – we have to move now,’ Sam growled. ‘There’s no time to get everyone together. The Shadow is coming.’
Emily could feel the fear emanating from his every fibre.
‘Okay, okay.’
‘We need to talk to Brennus at Bamburgh and then go on to Holy Island.’
‘Yes – oh!’
Emily jumped again as a giant crow landed just behind her. Sam turned to face it and his blood ran cold. On either side of its black beak, two milky eyes were watching him.
‘It’s horrid – get it away from me!’ came Emily’s petrified cry.
Without a word, Sam turned and half dragged her into the wood. Adrenaline racing through every inch of his body, he crashed through the undergrowth, pulling her after him as he ran. He didn’t stop until they were down by Howick Burn and across the little bridge. He finally came to a breathless stop on the tree-lined path, a burning stitch in his side.
Emily bumped into him and stood there panting. ‘This feels so wrong,’ she managed to say.
‘They’ve let us through,’ gasped Sam. ‘Think, Emily! These are rangers who make their homes in the woods of the borderland. We were like two elephants back there. If your uncle doesn’t already know we’re making our escape, he soon will.’
‘That crow looked hideous. What was wrong with its eyes?’ Emily shuddered.
‘Let’s not speak about it now,’ said Sam. ‘We need to get out of here.’
They walked alongside the shallow burn as it meandered through the trees rising high into the night sky, their branches entangled to form an almost perfect archway. Sam was angry with himself. The real Oscar had warned him at the Seven Stories that the Way-curves were no longer safe. How much had he told the imposter? That imposter hadn’t seemed to be fishing for information, though. Had he just been holding him there long enough to track his position? How long did they have before the Shadow actually appeared?
Even as that thought crossed his mind, he froze as he caught sight of a figure that was keeping pace with them through the trees. What was it?
He led Emily swiftly down the walk until he reached a place where the trees were bare and the leaves were thick around his feet. The path took a sweeping bend at that point and Sam lost track of the shadowy figure. He pulled Emily closer to him.
‘What is it?’ she called out.
‘We have company – stay close.’
All around them the trees were dark and unmoving. In the distance they could hear waves crashing on the beach.
‘I think we’re making a mistake,’ Emily whispered, but Sam seemed not to hear her. They kept moving.
It wasn’t long before they reached the entrance to the walkway. A cold dread was now sweeping through Sam, the result of a new idea: what if Brennus had been the imposter? What if this was an elaborate trap? He could barely listen to his own thoughts as he and Emily emerged on the edge of the sands.
‘Sam! Emily! Over here!’
It was a voice they both knew. Morcant was leaning against a large tree, his face in shadow.
The hair on the back of Sam’s neck prickled. ‘Don’t come any closer!’ he warned.
‘Come on, Sam, I need to take you back to Jarl. It’s far too dangerous for you to go out there alone.’
Sam was angry with himself. He had put himself and Emily in this predicament. Here they were, on an empty beach at night with a man he did not trust.
Suddenly a dark shape rushed out of the night. Sam found himself jumping, twisting around in terror.
It was Eagan, his face was a snarling mask of anger. ‘Traitor!’ he shouted as he ran towards them.
Morcant stood unperturbed, seeming to wait for the inevitable clash.
‘No!’ Sam ran forwards to put himself between the pair, but Eagan threw him to one side almost without effort. In a terrifying second, long knives were again in his hands.
‘Eagan! No!’
Instantly recognising the voice, Eagan wheeled round. Other people were breaking from the cover of the trees.
‘We do not fight each other!’ Jarl shouted.
Eagan came to a stop as he was surrounded by Forest Reivers. ‘He is the snake in the camp!’ he yelled back. ‘Why are you protecting the traitor?’
‘He is no traitor,’ said Jarl, his eyes blazing with anger.
Sam watched Eagan lower his knives, but his face was still full of fury.
Emily felt sick with shock; she had to look away from the scene. A cold wind was coming off the sea and she shivered and raised her face to the sky. It was pitch black and for a moment she almost thought it was moving. Then it started breaking up and she realised what it was.
‘Sam! Sam!’
Her screams cut through the shouting match now taking place between Eagan and Jarl, and everyone turned towards her. Barely able to speak, she pointed back towards the sea.
A giant murder of crows was landing just on the edge of the crashing waves, then slowly rising up in the form of dark figures.
‘Bretta, take Sam and Emily back to the hall,’ shouted Jarl, ‘and get help.’
He was trying to remain calm, but he knew he had been foolish. He should have taken them straight on to Bamburgh, where they would have been safe.
Silently the dark figures began to move across the beach. Sam heard the sliding of metal as those around him drew their weapons. A hand rested on his shoulder and when he turned, the woman from Birling Wood was looking at him.
‘Sam, Emily, come with me.’
He was already shaking his head and Emily was staring transfixed at the beach. It was difficult to tell precise numbers in the darkness, but there must have been thousands of crow-men making their way along the shoreline. The sands of Howick Bay were teeming with them. With their strange gait, they shuffled along, then stopped a hundred yards from the entrance to the avenue.
There was an eerie silence.
‘What are they waiting for?’ breathed Bretta.
Sam shook his head again, unable to speak. Staring at the spectacle, he felt overcome with dread. Even when the rest of the rangers joined them, they would be outnumbered ten to one. It would seem the Grim-Witch had finally come for the girl.
She was here already, he was sure of it. Something powerful was out there amongst the hordes on the beach. It was as aware of him as he was aware of it. Of her.
Then he heard her.
‘They are not here to wage war. I wish to speak to you.’
There was something warm and inviting about the voice. It seemed to come from right beside him, but when he turned, he could see only the craggy features of Jarl and the wide, terrified eyes of Emil
y.
‘Come, we have little time to lose.’
This time the voice reached into his mind and soothed his fears. One by one he felt his anxieties begin to lift and all he wanted to do was step forwards.
All around him, rangers were arriving with their short swords drawn. There were archers amongst them and some carried long deadly spears that they quickly placed in the soil to form a curved defensive wall. Sam could hear Jarl and Braden shouting along the line, and all the while the dark, unmoving crow-men watched silently.
‘Come now, step forwards.’
Sam hesitated. He could feel his legs trembling.
‘Bring the girl.’
Sam stepped forwards.
Instantly she was towering above him, an unearthly figure dressed in darkness flecked with flickers of light. She was ancient and powerful, beautiful and terrifying, and he could feel her in the flow, just as he had felt the Fall what seemed like a lifetime ago.
‘Why do you want the girl?’ he whispered.
‘She is in danger. The Shadow Ruins are now in the world of men. Even the Druids cannot stop them. Do you know why?’
The words glimmered hot in Sam’s mind. Dazed, he tried to comprehend them, but the Grim-Witch did not wait for his reply.
‘The Shadow Ruins are the Druids. Druids whose power has been twisted by the darkness, by the Ruin. They are filled with a darkness that keeps them alive – the Dark Light.’
Sam gazed up at her, overcome by a strange desire.
Her voice continued to purr within him. ‘The Dark Light can reanimate the dead. The Ruin can command whole armies of the unliving.’
She paused.
‘It can also sow discord amongst the living. It drew the Elves, men and Trow-Hulda into a civil war in the deepest parts of the Three Kingdoms. The Faeries, the guardians of the Three Kingdoms, called upon those peoples to stop their war and to rise up against the Ruin’s servants. Some of them did so.’
Light and darkness seemed to flicker around her as she spoke.
‘Two thousand years ago, the Dagda and his three daughters raised an army and marched into the heart of darkness. There they found the Ruin and an army of the unliving waiting for them on the edge of time. A great battle was waged and the Ruin’s servants trapped some of the Druids and the Dagda’s most powerful daughter and began to twist them beyond recognition. The Ruin itself put its darkness into them.’
She paused.
‘They would have been destroyed and the war lost if not for three strangers who appeared in the final hour, bringing a gift from the future, the Fall, who froze the Ruin and its servants in time. The Druids used their magic to create a Circle on the edge of time and lock the Ruin from the world. But now the Fall is dying and the Circle is broken. The Ruin’s servants have come forth and they will not be stopped until the last Druid is dead and the cycle is broken. Then the darkness can finally overcome the light.’
The words coiled around Sam, but he was struggling to understand. Standing before her, he could see streams of darkness, but also streams of light. And somewhere in the distance, a lightless tide that was slowly rising.
‘Yes,’ she continued softly, ‘the Shadow Ruins are here now – an army of the unliving is approaching. You cannot defend yourself against them. Quickly, take the girl to Holy Island. My servant Ezru will bring the Keeper of the Druids there. They should be there in four days. Will you do that for me?’
But Sam didn’t answer. He was watching her beauty fade. As she turned her attention away from him, she was transforming into a hideous creature with giant black wings, dressed in scales. She was looking to the south and calling to the crow-men in a language he did not want to understand, guttural caws that filled him with dismay.
Like the parting of a black sea, a crack appeared in the distorted bodies of the crow-men. Within seconds, a long narrow corridor had opened up.
The Grim-Witch looked back at him over a scaly winged shoulder, and suddenly he understood.
A savage wail broke across the beach, followed by an icy wind that bit into their faces. Sam felt something slam against him and for a second he staggered under its weight before strong hands caught him. He looked up into the bloodshot eyes of Eagan.
‘The Grim-Witch!’ Eagan gasped. ‘I saw her in the flow.’
Sam nodded, feeling a trickle of blood escape from his nose. ‘We have to—’
Then he could say no more, for the sandstorm hit them full on. Behind him he could hear the wall of Forest Reivers being thrown into disarray and Emily screaming, but he couldn’t see her through the stinging sand. Next a shuddering blow knocked him to the ground and he lost sight of Eagan too.
Staggering to his feet, he pushed through the ranks of Forest Reivers, looking left and right.
‘Emily!’
Still he couldn’t see her. Sand filled his mouth and terror gripped his mind. His face and hands were raw from what felt like a thousand tiny cuts. Whirling round, he looked towards the sea.
A figure was running towards the ranks of crow-men with Emily across his shoulders. In an instant, they disappeared down the narrow corridor between them.
‘Sam!’ Jarl was swinging him around. ‘What is happening?’
‘What terror is this?’ called Braden.
From the coastal path, the night was racing towards them, full of what looked at first glance like stars, but were in fact thousands of milky eyes.
‘Jarl,’ called Sam, ‘get the Reivers back in the hall!’
Jarl looked around him wildly. ‘Where are Eagan and Emily?’
‘Eagan’s taken her,’ Sam replied. ‘He’s not the traitor – I was wrong about that, I’m sorry. Brennus and Drust will arrive in Holy Island in four days’ time. Meet me there.’
And then he was gone, running towards the crow-men just as the winged storm was beginning to crash down all around them.
The Shadow Ruins
He approached the lines of crow-men with horror and loathing. In the night a thousand black and twisted feathered bodies watched him approach. He was drenched in sweat, his mouth dry. The moment he entered the corridor they had opened up for him, there was a humming in his ears, and with growing terror he realised it was their beaks grinding together. There was a terrible smell to them that burned his nostrils and turned his stomach. Somehow, he realised, each of them was made of several giant crows cruelly fused together. It seemed they were held together by nothing more than the Grim-Witch’s power. If he had reached out to his left or right, he would have touched their feathered bodies – a thought he could not bear.
He almost fell out of the hideous throng to find Eagan and Emily standing on the beach arguing.
When Emily saw him, she turned and tried to kick her cousin before running towards him and flinging herself into his arms.
‘Sam! He grabbed me when we were blinded by the sand! He dragged me through all those awful crow-men! He is the traitor after all!’
Eagan ran forwards too. ‘Emily! You have to believe me. We have to leave now!’
From behind Sam came the terrifying noise they had heard in Birling Wood. The Grim-Witch and her horde were going into battle.
‘Now!’ shouted Eagan.
Sam looked down at Emily. ‘Come on. We have to go.’
Further down the beach they found the Celtic Flow with its newly fixed prow.
‘You need to push!’ Eagan shouted as he turned and pressed his shoulder into the boat and dug his heels into the sand.
Just like in Alnmouth, Sam and Emily put their backs to the hard wood and began pushing.
As the Celtic Flow inched forwards, the noise of the battle seemed to swell and the throng of dark shapes on the beach began to grow closer. It was hard to make out who the crow-men were fighting, but whoever they were, they were pushing them back towards the sea and back towards Sam, Emily a
nd Eagan.
Then a lone figure broke from their ranks and with terrifying speed made directly for them. They saw gleaming white eyes against a broken and twisted face snarling and bearing down on them.
Emily’s scream lit up the night and in a blur Eagan slashed the creature across the face with one of his long knives, opening up a wound that should have killed it instantly, but it did not die, or even drop to the ground, but shook its head and came for them again, with part of its face hanging down.
Emily screamed again and buried her face in Sam’s shoulder, unable to look at the nightmare unfolding before them.
There was a tormented madness to the creature’s movements as it fought on. Eagan landed blow after blow on its head and body, but only when it had been sliced into what looked like several crow-bodies did the creature stop fighting.
When Eagan turned back to Sam, there was a mania about him. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wild. ‘Now we know what the Reivers faced in Birling Wood,’ he said with a wry smile.
With renewed vigour, and with the fighting getting closer, they pushed the Celtic Flow into the cold waters. As soon as it was moving freely, Eagan pulled himself up into the boat, quickly helping Emily and Sam up behind him.
As he settled himself on the rowing seat, Emily gasped.
‘What?’
Wordlessly, Emily pointed to the beach. Several more milky-eyed creatures had broken away from the battle and were heading towards them.
‘Sam, take the oars and get us to deeper water.’ Eagan got up and made his way to the stern. ‘Emily, go and join him.’
He stood there with a knife in each hand and counted five creatures swarming towards them. That was all they needed. The Celtic Flow was struggling through the breakers and freezing cold spray was being thrown across the boat, and he wasn’t sure whether the work he had done to strengthen the prow would hold. The battle with the first creature had taken all his strength and he didn’t think he could hold out against five.
Looking back at the beach, he was overcome by the sheer scale of the contest going on there. The sands were now a rolling sea of shadowy figures locked in deadly combat. There was no going back – the only escape was out to sea.
