The Jack Brenin Collection

by Catherine Cooper

‘I bet that’s why the Spriggans had a Draygull. Without a Dragon Screecher they’d never have kept her under control.’

  ‘I imagine it was,’ agreed Nora, ‘and the rest we know. Pyecroft tricked the Spriggans into entering the caves to steal the crystals. All they had to do was to get their Dragon Screecher to sing and Ember would fall asleep. It would have made it easy for them to get past her.’

  Jack felt a shiver run down his spine as he remembered the dark tunnel inside Silver Hill and the Draygull lunging at him.

  ‘This is just speculation,’ said Nora, ‘but even if it’s not the whole story, we think it’s probably accurate. What we do know for certain is that Velindur has the Book of Sorrows. The Stone of Destiny sent us a warning… one we can’t ignore.’

  Jack felt another shiver run down his spine.

  ‘I bet Velindur’s doubly mad with us all now he’s been banished to Elidon.’

  Both Elan and Nora nodded. No one spoke. Jack replayed the memories of their escape from both the Draygull and Velindur. He was lost in thought when a loud rap on the door made him almost jump out of his chair. He was relieved to see it was only Motley, Raggs and the Night Guard. Three noisy starlings followed them. Jack smiled as Crosspatch, Bicker and Dazzle made their way over to Camelin.

  ‘Oh no! Not them,’ grumbled Camelin as he moved away from the starlings.

  Nora stood. She tapped her wand on the table, which wasn’t really necessary as the room was already silent and everyone’s eyes were upon her.

  ‘It’s time to tell you what I found out at Falconrock.’

  She paced up and down the kitchen as she spoke.

  ‘Cloda is an amazing archivist, but finding any reference to the Book of Sorrows was always going to be difficult. Most Druids would only encounter the Book once they’d entered Annwn, and the library at Falconrock only contains the writings of Druids from their time on Earth. We tried searching under all the obvious headings but to no avail. It wasn’t looking hopeful until Cloda remembered a collection of work by Finnik the Delve. He was a chronicler, a collector of ancient stories, rhymes, folklore and traditions. Normally, not being a Druid, he would not have been able to use the library at Falconrock but he was granted special permission. Not everything he wrote about was true, but a lot of legends have their origins in truth and cannot be disregarded. He was well known to the Druids and Bards as he travelled extensively around the countryside. I too have a distant memory of seeing Finnik at festival times. Cloda told me that he’d never completed his work and so it had never been catalogued. We found two volumes of his writing in the store cupboard. Neither mentioned the Book of Sorrows. Those two books had been our last hope, but then Cloda remembered that Finnik would bring the stories he’d collected to the library in a leather satchel. On his last visit he’d been in a hurry and, instead of stopping to copy his latest tales, he’d left the satchel in her care. She thought she must still have it because Finnik had never returned for it. After a long search inside her store cupboard, Cloda appeared with a dusty old bag. When we opened it up we found an old quill, a bottle with some dried ink in the bottom and several rolls of parchment inside. Each scroll was covered in a minute spidery script. It was there we found what we’d been looking for.’

  Nora flicked her wand and a small book appeared on the kitchen table. She put her palm onto the cover and closed her eyes.

  Camelin nudged Jack.

  ‘She’s making a new book. All the information from that scroll will be inside those pages in no time.’

  Elan frowned and held her finger up to her lips for Camelin to be quiet. A burst of light told Jack the transfer had been completed. When Nora opened the book, it was full of her own neat writing. She gave a small cough before starting to read:

  I, Finnik the Delve, do declare that this be the true sequence of events that befell me when I met the Druid Derradin, Guardian of the Westwood Portal.

  On this particular day I was travelling across country towards the Crags of Stonytop Ridge. I was halfway up the steep path that leads to the Ridgeway, when I spied an old Druid coming towards me. His progress was painfully slow, and before taking each step he tapped the ground with his staff. I doffed my cap but the Druid seemed to look straight through me. When I called good morrow, he stopped and tilted his head in my direction. He returned my greeting and enquired who I might be. I told him my name, vocation and the reason why I was on the path. The old Druid requested I bide with him for a while. He asked me to locate a suitable rock on which we might sit, explaining that he needed assistance on account of his blindness.

  Once settled, we exchanged pleasantries and enjoyed the warmth of the sun. Eventually he told me his name and the nature of his journey. He was making his way to the nearest portal as he intended to go into Annwn for the very last time, and enter the Caves of Eternal Rest. He told me he’d been the guardian of a tomb portal in Westwood that was only ever used at Samhain. Visitors wishing to enter Annwn had to be guided to the gateway that lay beyond the tomb, as it was located deep within the hillside. A series of caves had to be negotiated before the inner chamber could be reached.

  He, and his acolyte, lived happily and enjoyed the peace and solitude of Westwood, until the day the Earth shook. Their home, the tunnels and the tomb portal were completely destroyed by the quake. It was the last time he ever saw his acolyte too. For days Derradin had called to him, but no reply ever came. He searched the rubble as best he could. He needed no light, as total darkness was no handicap to him but he had no strength to move the boulders that blocked the tunnels. He was unable to find any trace of his faithful apprentice. Since his reason for being in Westwood had been removed, Derradin decided it was time to make his last journey into Annwn.

  It was a sad tale and I listened politely. I didn’t interrupt the old Druid, but when he’d finished speaking I sensed there was more he wished to impart. I asked if there was anything I could do to help, which prompted Derradin to nod. He sought my arm and gripped it tightly. He told me he’d failed in one of his duties. He knew that at some point in his life, as every Druid was required to do, he had to write down any important knowledge he’d acquired so it could be stored in the library at Falconrock. His blindness and trembling hands had prevented him from doing this and, with his acolyte now dead, he had no means of recording his knowledge for others. He was concerned he might be the only possessor of some important information that had been destroyed by the earthquake. To salve his conscience, he begged me to record an inscription he’d discovered whilst inside the tomb chamber. He’d found it in the darkness with his fingertips. To his knowledge no other had ever beheld it, for it was on the far side of the tomb, hidden from sight. Had he not been blind, he would never have discovered the words that an unknown stonemason had chiselled into the side of the tomb. It was easy for him to read them with his fingertips.

  Although the physical evidence was no longer there, the old Druid had committed the inscription to memory and, since it pertained to the place he was bound, he thought it important some record of it was preserved. I promised Derradin I would write an account of our meeting and add his words to my second volume on my next visit to Falconrock. He waited for me to get out my quill and parchment. When I was ready, he held his staff firmly, pulled himself up, raised his head to the heavens and began to recite clearly and slowly.

  When I’d recorded all his words I offered to accompany him to the next portal, but he refused. He said I’d already done him a great kindness and he could now enter the Caves of Eternal Rest with an easy conscience.

  Not being a Druid, and not having a great deal of knowledge of Annwn, I do not profess to understand the inscription, which seemed to refer to something a man called Gwyddon had fashioned for the Druids. The subject was undoubtedly a book that had somehow been filled with sorrow and despair which, if opened, would unleash doom and disaster. I can understand why Derradin was concerned to preserve this knowledge.

  I am a man of my word and the promise I made
to the old Druid will be kept. I will stow this parchment safely in my bag and at the earliest opportunity I will record our encounter, along with the words Derradin confided to me.

  I, Finnik the Delve, do hereby swear these were the true and unaltered words of the Druid Derradin, Guardian of the Westwood Portal.

  IN THIS TOMB, WITHIN THIS SACRED PLACE, LIE THE MORTAL REMAINS OF GWYDDON, MAN OF KNOWLEDGE, MAGE OF WESTWOOD, AND ARCHITECT OF THE DRUIDS’ REST.

  YE DRUIDS WHO SEEK TO SLEEP IN PEACE ALL TROUBLES FIRST YE MUST RELEASE BEFORE YE ENTER THE MOUNTAINSIDE ALL THY THOUGHTS TO THE BOOK CONFIDE ONCE THY SORROW HAS BEEN DIVEST YE WILL RECEIVE ETERNAL REST

  MANKIND TAKE HEED AND TO ALL BEWARE INSIDE THIS BOOK THERE IS DESPAIR NO MAN MUST EVER DISTURB THIS TOME NOT EVEN THOSE UPON THE THRONE FOR IF IT EVER IS OPENED UP DOOM AND DISASTER WILL ERUPT

  No one spoke.

  Nora closed the book and tapped the cover three times before whispering a single word.

  ‘Custodia.’

  Jack knew this was a protection spell. Anyone trying to steal the Book would find themselves held captive and unable to move. Elan stood. Jack could see her fists were clenched.

  ‘Until we know more, no one is safe,’ she announced. ‘We must bring all the creatures out of Newton Gill without delay. There must be no more disappearances.’

  ‘Can’t Allana help us? Her spirit is inside the new Hamadryad we planted in Newton Gill. Can’t she give the forest some protection?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Unfortunately, Allana isn’t mature enough to help, she’s only strong enough to protect herself at the moment.’

  ‘If we had an Oak Lord there wouldn’t be a problem,’ Camelin mumbled.

  ‘An Oak Lord?’ asked Jack.

  The three starlings twittered noisily and Camelin humphed loudly.

  ‘Aw, Jack! If you’re going to be crowned King, I’d have thought you’d have known all about the Oak Lord.’

  Jack looked at Nora, then Elan.

  ‘Am I an Oak Lord?’

  Nora smiled.

  ‘No, Jack, you were given Arrana’s power, which makes you very special. You are able to bear the title King of the Forest, which means every tree and creature comes under your care. The Oak Lord used to be the guardian of the oaks. He would tend the Hamadryads and protect the Dryads that dwelt within the forest. We’ve not had an Oak Lord on Earth for more years than I care to remember.’

  Elan took up Nora’s explanation.

  ‘As King of Annwn, you’ll have a lot of responsibility but no one expects you to do everything. The first duty of the crowned King is to appoint an Oak Lord for the duration of his reign. Your ancestor was only ever crowned King of the Festival, so the Oak Lord was only ever appointed for a year at a time. When we were trapped on Earth, the Oak Lord was trapped in Annwn. His time as protector of the forest ran out many, many years ago and no other was ever chosen. Nora and I took on the role and tried, as best we could, to protect the forests and help the Hamadryads. Alas, we never had the same kind of power that the King of the Forest, or an Oak Lord, could command. Once you are crowned, you’ll be able to choose an Oak Lord. He will care for and protect the Hamadryads and, in turn, they will protect all who dwell in the forests.’

  ‘I’d like to be an Oak Lord,’ said Camelin.

  Nora frowned.

  ‘Don’t listen to him, Jack. He knows that isn’t possible. The Oak Lord must once have been a man.’

  ‘Once? Do you mean, like a Druid from the Caves of Eternal Rest?’

  ‘No, the Oak Lord must once have been a mortal man, trustworthy and knowledgeable in the ways of the forests, an honorable man, one who now rests.’

  ‘She means he’s got to be dead,’ said Camelin.

  Jack thought for a few moments before speaking again.

  ‘But how can that be? Does that mean whoever I choose to be my Oak Lord will be brought back to life again?’

  ‘Not to life as you know it, but to those who have the sight he would look real enough. Just as you can see the Druid’s acorn, the Dryads and the Water Nymphs, you would also be able to see the Oak Lord. He would not be visible to the rest of humankind, but they would see the results of his work in the forest.’

  Nora went over to the dresser and picked up an acorn that she’d brought back from the woods.

  ‘What’s inside here?’ she asked Jack.

  ‘A nut.’

  ‘And what happens to that nut when it’s planted?’

  ‘It grows into an oak tree.’

  ‘But there’s a lot that could happen to that nut. Not all acorns grow into mighty trees. The Oak Lord would know which nuts had the best chance of survival and he would protect them and help them grow. The other acorns would be given to the creatures as food. If we’d had an Oak Lord to watch over the forests, we’d never have lost Newton Gill.’

  ‘So he’s a bit like Kerne?’

  ‘He is, except Kerne has been in Elidon from the beginning of time and will always be the ruler there. For now, we don’t have an Oak Lord to call upon, not until you’re crowned. It’s going to be our responsibility to resolve this problem. I suggest you consult your Book of Shadows and learn all you can before your coronation. Now, I think I’ve talked long enough, we’ve got important work to do.’

  STEAPLE LACY WOOD

  Elan took her wand down from the dresser.

  ‘Have you got yours, Jack?’

  He held up his wand for her to see.

  ‘What about you, Camelin?’ continued Elan.

  ‘Mine! You mean I’m going to get to use my wand?’

  Elan nodded.

  ‘I did say we’d need your help. There have to be four of us in order to do what I’ve got in mind. We’re going to create a safe haven big enough for all the creatures living in Newton Gill.’

  Camelin looked pleased.

  ‘They’re not all coming here, then?’

  ‘No, not here, we’re going to need somewhere much bigger. We’re going to have to use another wood.’

  ‘A whole wood!’ exclaimed Jack.

  ‘A whole wood,’ confirmed Nora. ‘Once we’ve established an impenetrable boundary, the evacuation can take place. One of my biggest concerns is for the safety of those who’ll be bringing the creatures out of Newton Gill. I’m not sure yet how best to protect everyone.’

  Camelin didn’t wait to hear what else Nora might have to say, and flew out of the window. When he returned with his wand, he looked very annoyed.

  ‘The Flying Squad is in my loft!’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Nora, ‘they’ll be safe there.’

  ‘No, it’s not good,’ grumbled Camelin, ‘it’s my loft.’

  Elan held up her hand.

  ‘We don’t have time for this. If we work together we’ll get things done a lot quicker.’

  Camelin looked disgruntled but didn’t argue.

  Nora picked up her keys.

  ‘We’ll take the car, it will be quicker.’

  ‘Is it far?’ Jack asked, as Nora reversed the car out of the garage.

  ‘No,’ replied Elan, ‘we’re going to Steaple Lacy Wood, where the Hamadryad Hennawin was planted.’

  Jack remembered how rapidly the young Hamadryads had grown before they’d been transferred to the forests and woods. He wondered how tall Hennawin would be now.

  ‘Are we going to visit her?’

  ‘Not today, we’re going to another, even more secluded part of the forest. A place where green magic can be performed.’

  Camelin nudged Jack.

  ‘That’s a special kind of magic an Oak Lord does, only he can do it on his own without any help.’

  Camelin was obviously impressed. Jack was beginning to understand why appointing an Oak Lord would be important, especially if he had so much power. It seemed it was going to take the four of them to do what the Oak Lord could achieve by himself.

  ‘Nearly there,’ said Nora, as she turned left off the main road.

  They travelled along a
quiet lane. Tall yew trees grew on either side of the road; their topmost branches formed a canopy that got lower and lower the further they went. It felt as though they were driving through a green tunnel. They hadn’t gone far before Nora slowed the car to a halt. It was hard to see anything through the thick wall of branches.

  ‘This way,’ said Elan, as she got out of the car and made her way to a gap in the trees. She stopped in front of a most unusual black metal gate. The shape of a horse and groom standing before a group of trees had been wrought into the ironwork. When Jack looked closer he could see other shapes too. There was an old woman sitting with some geese, a cat and four dogs. He expected the gate to be cold to his touch, but it was warm. He got the strangest feeling that the gate was friendly. He looked at Elan.

  ‘It’s not just a gate, is it?’

  ‘No, it’s like the hedge at Ewell House; if it doesn’t like you it won’t let you in. Come on, we need to get to the heart of the wood before the light starts to fade.’

  Nora held out her hand towards Camelin.

  ‘Give me your wand and you can fly on ahead. We’ll take Jack through the secret tunnel, that way we won’t meet anyone.’

  Camelin reluctantly gave Nora his wand and took off. It wasn’t long before he was out of sight. Jack looked around. To his left and right he could see a well trodden path. Stone steps lay ahead and led upwards through a gap in the yew trees. Nora flicked her wand towards the gap at the top of the steps. A mist began to rise from the ground. It billowed down the stone stairs and settled around their feet.

  ‘That should make us invisible to anyone who might be in the woods. Shall we go?’

  Jack and Elan followed Nora as she led the way up the stone steps. The mist swirled as their feet disturbed it. Jack found it difficult climbing up the almost invisible steps. When they reached the top, he could feel the weak afternoon sun on his face, but he couldn’t see anything through the haze.

  ‘This way,’ said Nora, as she held back a branch for Jack to duck under. ‘We’ll take the yew tunnel to the circle.’