by Glen L. Hall
‘Row, Sam!’ he shouted, as the Celtic Flow hit a large breaker and for a second seemed to be heading back towards the beach.
He could see the milky eyes of the figures as they hurled themselves into the sea, but then he felt the boat begin slipping through the dark waters as Sam found his stroke.
The Celtic Flow pulled away from the shore, but Eagan remained standing, keeping his eyes fixed on the dark figures in the water until he saw four of them floating as the sea crashed over them, rolling their helpless bodies back towards the beach. There was one missing – where was it?
‘I need more speed!’ he called to Sam, looking for any sign of movement in the water, but there was nothing but the rolling waves.
He stayed there, looking back towards Howick Bay, until the sounds of the battle finally began to recede. He thought he saw shapes in the sky and now and then flashes of light, but it was a moonless night and everything had converged into a dark tangle. Finally, without saying a word, he took the oars from Sam and began turning the boat north.
Emily was shivering. ‘What were those things? They looked like crow-men, but different somehow. Those eyes…’
‘They were the unliving,’ Sam said bluntly.
‘What?’
‘Beings brought back from the dead by a darkness that keeps them alive – the Dark Light. Isn’t that what the Grim-Witch said, Eagan?’
Eagan nodded. ‘There are Druids, too, filled with that light, Druids whose power has been twisted by the darkness. Shadow Ruins.’
Emily shivered. ‘You’ve both been talking to the Grim-Witch? What else did she say? Sam?’
Without saying another word, Sam was making his way to the stern.
Eagan stopped rowing.
‘What is it?’ asked Emily her voice full of anxiety.
‘I thought I saw something. Perhaps not.’ Standing there, Sam could still hear the faint sounds of the battle, although the beach was now lost in the darkness.
They waited.
‘It must have been a trick of the light,’ Sam said.
Eagan started rowing again.
Emily was frowning. ‘So is that what the Shadow is? Sam? Talk to me!’
‘I don’t want to speak about it now,’ Sam said, still looking towards the stern. ‘The Grim-Witch told me a lot more and I’ve got to figure it all out.’
‘Eagan?’
‘I’m not sure I heard it all, Emily. The main thing she told me was to get you away. Fast.’
‘Hmph. Well, you needn’t have been so rough about it,’ Emily complained. ‘You hurt my shoulder.’
‘You hurt mine – have you any idea how heavy you are? I just can’t row anymore. Sam?’
Sam took the oars and Eagan sank to the bottom of the boat in a heap.
‘Where are we?’ asked Emily, feeling slightly guilty.
‘We’re southwest of Craster,’ Eagan muttered.
‘I’m sorry. This is my fault,’ said Sam, as he rowed grimly on.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Eagan, sitting up and pushing his hair from his face.
‘I used the Way-curve at the hall and the Shadow saw where I was.’
‘So that worked out well then,’ said Eagan, lying back down. ‘We must remember not to try that one again.’
Sam grit his teeth and concentrated on pulling the Celtic Flow through a sea that had begun to rise and fall more aggressively.
Suddenly there was a loud snap as a piece of the boat’s bow disappeared into the night. Eagan leapt to his feet as freezing water gushed into the boat. ‘No! It hasn’t held after all!’
He quickly replaced Sam and swung the boat around in the direction of the shore.
Sam and Emily sat together miserably in the stern, expecting to have to swim for it again, but the tide was with them and soon the dark basaltic coastline of Craster was within reach.
Eagan tried to ground the boat on the rocks, but the waves were too strong, and it slipped back into the water again. They all scrambled out onto the treacherous rocks, leaving the boat spinning and bumping against them.
Emily slipped almost at once and fell to her knees. Sam was putting out a hand to help her back up when he froze.
‘What’s that?’
Something was clinging to the stern of the boat, looking at them with milky eyes.
Eagan drew a long knife which, at that moment, felt as though it was made out of lead. ‘I wondered where that one went,’ he said wearily.
Emily was scrabbling away from the boat. ‘How long has that been there?’
They stood watching the creature, but it just hung there, making no attempt to leave the boat, even when it was caught between the hull and the jagged rocks.
‘Eagan,’ said Emily, uncertainly, looking up at him. ‘Can you…?’ But then the boat was pushed up against the rocks once more and she heard a noise that made her almost sick.
They left the creature clinging to the boat with one arm, the rest of its body clearly shattered. They did not want to know how it could have survived in the water for so long.
* * * * * *
They had come ashore between the village of Craster and Dunstanburgh Castle. Behind them they could just make out the village rooftops whilst ahead Sam could already imagine the ruined towers of Dunstanburgh Castle waiting for them. He had always found this stretch of coastline menacing, even on a clear summer’s day. To his right the waves were splintering against rocks that stood like shadowy statues, watchful, unmoving and forever looking out to sea, whilst to his left there was open grassland.
‘Why didn’t the creature attack us?’ asked Emily, sounding thoroughly fed up.
‘It wanted to know where we were going,’ answered Eagan.
‘And where are we going?’
‘The Grim-Witch said to take you to Holy Island,’ said Sam.
‘So she doesn’t want me, after all?’ Emily sounded relieved.
Sam hesitated. But he had to be honest. ‘I think she’ll meet us there.’
‘I hate this,’ said Emily. ‘We should have stayed at the hall.’
In the distance the broken and jagged towers of Dunstanburgh Castle rose up, silhouetted against the landscape. The castle stood atop a small hill with its main gate and towers looking south whilst its walls sat on the edge of a cliff face, taking advantage of what had once been an Iron Age fort.
It took several minutes before they were standing before the shattered front towers. At night the castle looked sinister, as if it were waiting to snatch weary travellers who had come too close.
‘I’m not sure if I like this place.’
Emily sounded tense and Sam didn’t blame her. He didn’t like it either. Eagan had said very little, but they both noticed that he had a long knife in each hand.
‘The path takes us through the castle,’ he said. ‘Let’s keep going.’
Sam followed him up the short path, feeling both afraid and guilty. He knew now he should never have attempted to use the Way-curve. He had shown himself to the Shadow – how long before it caught up with them? This time there would be no Forest Reivers to help them. He was almost overcome with hopelessness and yet at the same time he could feel a fire burning deep inside him, a reminder that he could touch the fire of the flow.
The gateway sat resolute between two crumbling towers, their tops jagged and broken relics. Sam, Emily and Eagan passed through into what would once have been the bailey, but now was a circular hill with a path forking left and right. In the gloom they could still make out the outer wall.
Eagan went right, skipping down a cobbled causeway, light flashing off his long knives as he ran.
Emily span round, grabbing Sam by the arm. ‘Did you hear that?’ she asked in a frightened voice.
‘What?’
Sam could only hear the wind as it came whistling
through the castle’s crumbling walls. But as if in answer, there came distant caws.
‘Eagan!’
‘I hear them. Follow me.’
Quickly Eagan took them up a number of stone steps that brought them to the top of the outer wall. From here they could see where the sea met the land, crashing against the dark rocks. They huddled together, trying to hear the caws above the wind that was rattling through the ancient stones. It seemed the crows were drawing closer.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Emily, her voice strained, but Eagan seemed not to hear her. He was looking over the wall in horror.
Sam took a look and spotted what Eagan had already seen. From the direction of Howick, a dark cloud was bearing down on them.
‘What is it?’ Emily looked over the wall too.
For a moment, no one knew what to say.
Then Eagan spoke. ‘I think we should head to the far tower. We cannot hope to defend ourselves in the open against such numbers.’
‘We won’t make it to the tower,’ said Emily, almost sobbing.
Eagan looked at Sam. ‘Take Emily and head for the tower. I will give you what time I can.’
‘No! You will be killed!’ sobbed Emily, her face in her hands.
‘We go together or not at all,’ Sam cried.
Eagan starred at Sam, shaking his head in wonder, then, without saying another word, they all jumped down from the wall and made for the path that ran diagonally across the hill.
* * * * * *
Braden, Jarl, Ged, Jolan and Bretta could do nothing to stop Sam stepping into the hideous throng of crow-men. Just for a second Jarl could neither move nor shout. He watched in mute horror as Sam was swallowed up by the horde, their feathered bodies closing in all around him.
More Forest Reivers were arriving on the beach, but their battle cries were soon trailing off as they realised something strange was happening. The silent crow-men’s bizarre beaked faces were turning south and from the coastal path the night was surging towards them, filled with stars. Then Jarl realised they were in fact thousands of milky eyes.
The Reivers watched, helpless, as a hideous battle erupted along the horde’s southern flank. Two ferocious black tides came together in a catastrophic explosion that rippled across the beach like an invisible serpent.
‘What terror is this?’ Jarl heard himself shouting.
‘The dead of the King’s Seat!’
Ged’s answer brought fear to all those who heard it. The Reivers were stunned to see the horde of the Grim-Witch, the enemy they had fought only days ago, sweeping around to meet this new and terrifying threat. They stood on the beach, holding their swords, fear and bewilderment on their faces.
Then Jarl was calling them back to the trees and burn.
He was met by Erin Dun-Rig and a wall of defenders, their long spears dug into the ground.
‘What’s going on?’
Jarl shook his head. ‘There’s no time to explain. Get me our fastest horses!’
Without a word, Erin started back up the tree-lined avenue.
The Reivers were squeezing passed the deadly spears and assembling by the burn. Soon Kenrick was weaving through the throng and finding Jarl and Braden trying to bring order to the chaos.
‘Where’s Sam?’ Kenrick’s voice was thick with panic and concern. He swung Jarl round until they were face to face. ‘Where’s Emily?’
Jarl hung his head. ‘The crow-men have them. And Eagan.’
‘How is that possible?’
Kenrick turned towards the Howick sands, where the sickening noise of battle had contorted into a thousand caws of hatred.
‘We have to get them back before it’s too late. Jarl, Braden, Jolan, how have you let this happen?’
‘We had no choice,’ Braden answered. ‘They made their escape in a sandstorm.’
Kenrick’s anger turned to the weapons master, who was watching the battle. ‘What happened, Ged? How could it have happened?’
‘The Grim-Witch allowed Sam, Emily and Eagan to escape.’
‘Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go after them!’
‘I’ve sent Erin back for our fastest horses,’ Jarl told him. ‘Eagan will know to take them to Bamburgh.’
‘What about the sick at Howick?’ asked Jolan.
‘They aren’t after our sick and wounded,’ Jarl said. ‘They’ve come for Sam and Emily.’
Erin was returning with the horses.
‘Listen!’ shouted Jarl above the tumult. ‘Don’t follow us. This storm will pass. When you are ready, come and find us at Holy Island.’
Jarl, Braden, Jolan, Ged and Bretta were mounting five graceful Reiver horses.
‘You must find them!’ yelled Kenrick, his white hair flat against his forehead.
‘We will!’ called Jarl as he settled himself in the saddle and turned his horse, waiting for the Reivers to let them through the long spears.
Jolan came alongside Bretta. ‘Are you well enough to ride?’
‘Yes.’ Since coming to Howick Hall, his sister had made a remarkable recovery from the poison of the crow-men. It had been the same for all those who had been poisoned. This had come as no surprise to Kenrick, who believed there was an ancient magic in the trees surrounding the hall.
The wood was now thick with Forest Reivers shoring up their defences. Ged could feel their fear. Just ahead he watched Braden and Jarl as they turned their horses towards the beach, the Reivers having now opened a corridor wide enough for them to pass through.
Jarl took a deep breath and a final look at Kenrick, who tried to give him an encouraging nod.
‘I will come and find you at Holy Island.’
Jarl felt his mouth run dry at the fear in Kenrick’s voice. He could only muster a brief nod in reply before gripping the reins. Beneath his legs, the horse reacted instantly to his command, almost leaping through the spears and out onto the beach.
The others followed, then the Forest Reivers quickly closed their defences and watched the horses disappear into the night.
As they galloped across the beach, the roar of battle rattled their bones and it took the riders every ounce of skill not to be unseated. Ged and Braden took the lead, expertly clearing a path through the carnage and crashing their swords through any creature, alive or dead, that got in their way. Jarl was just behind, with Jolan and Bretta bent over their horses, trying to soothe their terrified steeds.
Once they were across the beach, they quickly made their way up a steep bank leading to a continuation of the coastal path. Though the battle was now behind them, it took some time before they allowed themselves to canter.
‘The path takes us through Craster and Newton by the Sea,’ explained Jarl.
‘What about our people at Howick?’ asked Braden. ‘I am worried about them.’
‘I tell you, those dead crow-men aren’t interested in our people,’ replied Ged.
‘How can you be so certain?’ asked Braden, a glint of anger in his eyes.
‘You already know the answer to that.’
‘Do we?’ asked Jolan, glancing at Bretta, whose eyes were fixed on the weapons master.
‘Now is not the time for mistrust,’ called Jarl. ‘We have to reach my son before the dead reach him first.’
High above the sea they climbed, and they came to a place where in the darkness below the soft sand turned to thrusting black rock. The sea churned white against its sharp edges, and as the Reivers moved along the exposed path, no longer sheltered from the raw wind, they could feel the sting of the sea air.
Soon Craster’s glimmering harbour lights could be seen, a reassuring sign in the vast Northumberland night.
Jarl had travelled the length of the coastal path many times over the years. It turned west, bypassing the fishing village of Craster and then moving north through
Dunstanburgh Castle. The five horses passed along it like wraiths in the night.
They were approaching the long winding path to Dunstanburgh when Ged raised his hand and in one fluid movement dismounted, signalling to the others to follow. He led them into the shelter of several trees that clung to the edge of the path.
‘What is it?’ asked Bretta.
‘Hush. Do you hear that?’
The five gathered in the darkness beneath the trees, listening. In the distance they heard caws carried on the wind. They looked at each other, instinctively drawing their weapons.
‘It’s them,’ said Ged simply.
‘The dead from the King’s Seat?’ asked Jarl.
‘Yes.’
‘They will catch Eagan, Sam and Emily in the open if we don’t do something,’ said Jarl.
Even as he spoke, a giant murder of crows filled the night sky, and in the darkness they seemed to be flying through a storm of dancing fireflies. Then, with dread, the Reivers realised it was the crows’ eyes shining white against their black bodies. Flattening themselves against the tree trunks, they pulled in the horses, who were whinnying and stamping in fear, and waited until the last of the crows had passed.
‘They are landing south of Dunstanburgh.’ Ged was squinting off into the night.
‘How can you see that? One minute you know the mind of the Grim-Witch and then the next you can see in the dark!’
Ged ignored Braden’s words. ‘They are marching on the castle,’ he said.
Then he was racing into the night, leaving those gathered looking into the gloom that was rolling around them.
Jarl urged his horse after him. Fear surged through his mind as the path opened up, with crashing waves to his right and open land to his left. His steed was big and powerful and it took all his strength to stay mounted, but he hung on. He could not bear to think of Eagan, Emily and Sam facing such horror alone.
Braden’s anger swept through him as he followed Jarl. He could think of nothing more than taking his revenge on those who had killed his people.
Jolan could not shake his terror of what he had seen at the orchard. He knew what they were about to face and he feared for his sister, who was riding beside him like the wind.
