by Tom Becker
Liam strode to the top of the mound and stamped down through the snow to the hard ground. “Not going to be easy, digging through that,” he said. “Better get started, eh?”
Jamie helped his brother brush the snow away from the mound, piling it up by the trees. When Liam dug down there was a dull thud as the shovel struck something hard. As they cleared the snow and earth away, Jamie’s heartbeat quickened at the sight of a layer of wooden planks beneath.
“Jackpot,” said Liam.
He raised the shovel above his head and brought it down hard. There was a loud crunch as the metal hit the aged wood. Liam brought the shovel down again and again until the wood splintered and broke off, tumbling into the inky depths of the barrow. Jamie took the coiled rope from the rucksack and tied one end around the nearest tree, fastening it in place with several double knots. The other end of the rope he fed down into the barrow.
When he had cleared a large enough space for them to crawl through, Liam stepped back, panting for breath. The hole looked uncomfortably like a creature’s mouth, complete with jagged wooden teeth. Jamie shivered.
“No need for both of us to go down there,” said Liam, eyeing his brother carefully. “Why don’t you stay up top and keep watch?”
Jamie shook his head. Whatever lay in wait for them down in the barrow, they had to find Aldus’s hoard. It was their only chance of escaping from Alderston alive, he knew. Mr Redgrave wouldn’t stop until they were all dead. The sight of his dad lying sprawled out in the snow, blood pouring from his head, was imprinted on Jamie’s brain. He wouldn’t let Sarge down. Not this time.
“If you want a lookout that badly you can stay up here,” Jamie told his brother. “I’m going into the barrow.”
A smile flitted across Liam’s face. “Suit yourself, little bro,” he said, dropping the shovel and strapping on his rucksack. “But I go first.”
He took hold of the rope and eased himself through the hole in the wooden boards. Jamie watched as the darkness swallowed up his brother, until the rope stopped twitching and he heard Liam’s voice waft up from the depths:
“You can come down. It’s safe.”
Gritting his teeth, Jamie took hold of the rope and climbed down into the barrow. With every new handhold he could feel the earth closing in around him, the ground swallowing him up. The air was cold and musty, the exhalation of an ancient spell that had been brewing for a thousand years. Concentrating on his descent, Jamie was surprised when his feet brushed against a solid surface and he could let go of the rope. Liam had already turned on a torch and was examining their surroundings. They were standing in a small circular chamber with a stone floor. Jamie shuddered when the torch picked out a pile of old bones heaped against the wall. Liam crouched down to inspect them.
“Animal bones,” he said. “If this Aldus guy was as important as you said, maybe they buried some of his horses with him. Not much of a hoard, though.”
Jamie pulled out his own torch and began shining it around the chamber. The light landed on a small crawlspace at the bottom of the wall.
“What do we have here?” asked Liam. Crouching down by the entrance to the tunnel, he pulled a face.
“It’s too small,” he said. “I’ll never fit through there.”
Jamie’s heart sank. He could barely squeeze inside the tunnel himself – and there wasn’t enough space for him to turn around if he ran into any problems. It was the darkest black he had ever seen. The last thing on earth Jamie wanted to do was get down on his hands and knees and crawl in. This had all started when Aldus had broken into a barrow and been touched by the curse of the draugr. What if there was a Viking zombie waiting for Jamie on the other side of this tunnel?
“I’ll go,” he said finally.
Liam looked at him. “You sure?”
Jamie nodded, not trusting his voice to stay steady if he spoke. As he got down on his hands and knees, Liam glanced uneasily around the chamber.
“Don’t hang about, eh? This place is giving me the creeps.”
Jamie took a deep breath, and crawled into the darkness. Sharp stones cut into his hands and knees. His breaths came in quick, terrified gasps. In his haste to get through the tunnel he banged his head on the ceiling, and bit back a cry of pain. He felt like a worm slithering through the ground, the weight of the earth pressing in around him. More than that, as he wriggled on, Jamie felt himself travelling deeper through time, moving back through the accumulated centuries that had passed down here in icy solitude since Aldus had passed away, and his remains had been entombed deep beneath the earth.
To his undying relief Jamie saw the tunnel’s end. He emerged from the crawlspace, scrambling to his feet and brushing the dirt from the clothes.
“You OK, bro?” Liam’s disembodied voice echoed down the tunnel after him.
“I think so!” he called back, rubbing his head. “Just let me…”
Flicking on his torch, he found himself standing in another circular chamber, about the same size as the first. But this chamber wasn’t empty: there was a stone coffin in the centre of the room. Hesitantly Jamie went forward and ran a hand over the lid, feeling the cool stone against his palm. Within the coffin, he knew, lay the remains of Aldus the Viking. Here, in this small vault hidden underneath the ground, was the real heart of Alderston.
As Jamie slowly circled the coffin, he saw that it wasn’t the only object in the chamber. The floor was littered with silver treasure – not just coins but rings, necklaces and arm bracelets. A hoard of precious metal, fit for a Viking king. Dropping to his knees, Jamie picked up a handful of coins and let them trickle through his fingers.
Then he went to work.
There hadn’t been enough space in the tunnel to bring a rucksack, so he hurriedly began filling his pockets. As he scooped up a fistful of coins Jamie paused, assailed by a sudden pang of guilt. He had stood watch as Sarge and Liam had stolen from warehouses and railway sidings, but this was the first time he had committed the act himself. The fact that Jamie was stealing from the dead only made it feel even worse. But what choice did he have? He wasn’t stealing to make himself rich; he was trying to save his family from Mr Redgrave. Surely people would understand that?
The shadows in the tomb lengthened as the light from Jamie’s torch wobbled and dimmed. He swore softly. Had Liam checked the batteries before they left the Lodge? Jamie couldn’t remember. Panicking, he took one final glance at Aldus’s coffin before the torch emitted a farewell flicker, and the chamber was plunged into darkness.
Jamie stood frozen to the spot, barely daring to breathe. As an eerie glow cut through the pitch black, he looked across the chamber in horror. Coils of white smoke were seeping out from beneath the lid of Aldus’s coffin, stretching out towards him. Jamie backed away, reaching down to the floor in search of a weapon amongst the silver treasures. When his fingers closed around a short metal blade with a handle, he held it fearfully out in front of him.
“Jamie!” he heard Liam shout from the entrance chamber. “What happened to the torch? You OK?”
His brother’s voice broke the spell. There was nothing here Jamie could fight – he needed to run. Still clutching the blade, he dived back towards the tunnel, coins and rings spilling from his bulging pockets, and began crawling for his life. Ignoring the rocks digging into his elbows and knees, Jamie struggled along the tunnel, desperately trying not to think about the pale tendrils of smoke creeping after him. He kept his eyes firmly fixed ahead, where a narrow beam of light from his brother’s torch was flickering in the entrance chamber. Liam was crouched by the tunnel’s mouth, frantically calling out Jamie’s name and urging him on.
As the white mist swirled around Jamie, his mind no longer felt his own, and his eyes began seeing visions from another time and place. He was a villager in a coastal town, running for his life as Viking raiders descended upon the settlement amid a storm of axe blade
s. He was Aldus in the chieftain’s barrow, doing battle with a lumbering nightmare of the undead. He was looking down over Alderston graveyard in the shocked months after Aldus’s death, as a knot of villagers frantically poured pitch over graves writhing with wormlike fingers. As Jamie looked on, the sound of his own ragged breaths in his ear, one of the villagers stepped forward and dipped a flaming torch against the pitch, engulfing the churchyard in a sheet of roaring flame…
“Come on, Jamie!” Liam shouted, his voice cracking. “Nearly there!”
As Jamie scrabbled closer, his brother reached into the tunnel and grabbed him by the jacket, pulling him free. He dragged Jamie over to the dangling rope.
“Get up there now,” he ordered.
Tucking the metal blade in his belt, Jamie took hold of the rope between his hands. He couldn’t stop his eyes flicking back towards the tunnel. White mist was seeping out of it, taking the shape of a ghostly hand, wraithlike fingers stretching out towards them.
“Hurry, Jamie!” urged Liam.
Jamie’s arms had turned to jelly, and he was struggling to pull himself up the rope. He let out a grunt as he slipped. Beneath him Liam grabbed his body and pushed him upwards with a desperate heave. As the surface neared, Jamie reached out and grabbed hold of one of the shattered planks, ignoring the pain as its jagged teeth bit into his palm. Summoning every last drop of energy, he pulled himself up through the hole and on to solid ground.
Jamie looked back to see the rope twitch wildly, and then Liam’s head appeared, grim determination etched on his face. He scrambled clear of the hole and dived on top of Jamie, sending them both rolling through the snow. Behind them a wisp of icy mist in the shape of a giant hand rose up from the barrow and swiped through the air where Jamie had been standing a second earlier. There was a piercing shriek from deep within the barrow, a centuries-old cry of loss, and then the mist melted away to nothing and the noise died.
Liam waited until he sure the coast was clear before gingerly picking himself up and brushing the snow from his clothes.
“You OK?” he panted.
“Yeah. You?”
“Ask me later. What was that?”
“Aldus, I think,” said Jamie. “His spirit, anyway, trying to protect his treasure.”
Liam looked back towards the shattered remains of the barrow. He blew out his cheeks. “This town,” he muttered.
“Yeah.”
“When I saw your torch go out I got worried. How did you get on in there? Did you find anything?”
Wordlessly Jamie reached into his pockets and began tipping coins into his brother’s outstretched palm. A ghost of a smile appeared on Liam’s face.
“You little beauty,” he said.
After the icy terror of the barrow, even the bleak expanse of Lark Farm held few fears for them now. In the shelter of the barn they carefully collected all the treasure Jamie had gathered from Aldus’s tomb, transferring it to a pocket in Liam’s rucksack.
“Wish Sarge could see this,” said Liam, zipping up the pocket. “He’d be proud, you know.” His teeth flashed white in a grin. “The crazy old crook.”
“You think?” asked Jamie.
“No doubt about it, little bro. You were great back there, absolutely top notch. You wouldn’t have got Sarge crawling through that tunnel, not in a million years. Small spaces freak him out.”
“Really?”
“Don’t tell him I said so, like. He’ll do his nut.”
They left the farm behind them, heading down the hill and along the lane back towards the orange streetlamps of Alderston. As the town grew closer Jamie sensed Liam become preoccupied, his eyes flicking back towards his rucksack pocket.
“How much do you think they’re worth?” Jamie asked.
“Mm?”
“The coins and stuff. How much?”
“Oh, enough,” Liam replied. “Enough to buy our freedom out of this place, at any rate.” He paused. “Makes me wonder if we should take a little percentage for ourselves. Call it a finder’s fee.”
“What about Mr Redgrave?”
“How’s he going to know? I’m not going to tell him. Are you?”
“I don’t know, Liam,” Jamie said dubiously. “Taking from that barrow because Mr Redgrave made us is one thing, but taking some for ourselves, it’s just…” He searched for the right word. “It’s wrong, isn’t it?”
Liam stopped in his tracks.
“It’s wrong?” His voice rang with mocking incredulity. “Have you only just figured that out, Einstein? Stealing’s wrong. Oh, OK. Let’s just forget about the last five years then, because that’s all we’ve been doing.” He poked a finger into Jamie’s chest. “And don’t think you weren’t there helping us, little bro. Too late to play Mr Innocent now.”
“That’s not fair! I didn’t have any choice!”
“Neither did I!” Liam’s voice with hoarse. “You think it was any easier for me? I didn’t have an older brother to do the hard stuff for me. I didn’t have the luxury of being a scared, weak little mummy’s boy. I just did it. I shut my mouth and got on with it. And now I’m holding a bag full of treasure and just a few pieces could help us start over, make a fresh start. But you want me to hand it all over to another thief, because stealing’s wrong.”
Jamie flinched as though he had been hit, tears welling in his eyes. Liam waved a hand dismissively.
“For God’s sake don’t start blubbing,” he said. “You’re not a baby.”
“Remember what happened to the others,” pleaded Jamie. “To Jack, to Kitty Hawkins. They died with Aldus’s treasure on them and they became draugr. Do you want that to happen to other people? Do you want to spread this curse outside of Alderston? Look what it’s done here!”
“I don’t care about Jack Nobody and Kitty What’s-Her-Face,” Liam retorted. “And I don’t care what happens to anyone else as long as we get some money.”
“You don’t mean that, Liam!” pleaded Jamie. “I know you don’t!”
“Oh, shut up with your whining!”
Liam shoved him, hard, sending Jamie toppling into the snow. Jamie stared at up him in a mixture of shock and amazement. Liam’s fists were clenched as though he was ready to follow up with a punch, and he had to physically check himself as Jamie picked himself up from the ground. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Jamie turned and fled.
“Hey, I’m sorry!” Liam called out after him. “Come back!”
Jamie didn’t reply. He ran blindly along the lane into Alderston, not caring where he was going, or if there were draugr waiting in the shadows for him. He ran until his limbs burned and his eyes were dry of tears. Finally, when he couldn’t run any more, Jamie staggered to a halt. He leaned against a shopfront, his breaths coming in great shudders. The anger and the humiliation were starting to fade, replaced by a creeping regret that he had run off. This wasn’t the night to be alone.
Jamie looked around, trying to get his bearings. He was on the street leading away from the clock tower up towards the church. Above the row of terraced shops, a solitary window was lit up. It was the flat over Withershins – Lawrence must still be up, poring over George Rathbone’s diary. The bookshop owner would understand why Jamie didn’t want to keep any of Aldus’s treasure; maybe he could help him persuade Liam. Taking a deep breath, Jamie walked up the street and went to bang on the door of the bookshop. The door swung open at his touch. He frowned. Had Lawrence forgotten to lock up? It seemed unlikely, especially with the threat of the draugr roaming the streets. Jamie crept inside, careful not to disturb the precarious towers of volumes blocking up the aisles. In broad daylight Withershins was a confused jumble; in darkness it was a labyrinth. As Jamie edged deeper into the shop he realized it wasn’t only the atmosphere that had changed. There were no incense sticks smouldering in the pot behind the counter, freeing the air of their c
loyingly sweet fog. It had been replaced by strains of a different, even more unpleasant odour – a stale, acrid waft of rotten meat. Jamie had come across it before, when he had been attacked in his kitchen and when they had saved Sarge from Mathers. It was the smell of death and decay.
It was the smell of the draugr.
“Can I help you?”
Jamie jumped as Lawrence emerged from the shadow of a bookcase by the wall. A moonbeam arrowed in through the window, slanting across the gleaming dome of his bald head. Although the bookshop owner’s tone was courteous, the smile on his face hadn’t reached his eyes.
“A little late for book shopping, isn’t it?” he asked. “Didn’t you see the sign in the window? We’re closed.”
“I’m sorry,” Jamie stammered, edging backwards. “I thought you might still be up. I’ll go.”
Lawrence stepped calmly in front of him, blocking his exit out of the bookshop. “What’s wrong, Jamie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He peered closer. “Have you seen a ghost, Jamie?”
Jamie shook his head.
“Because ignorant people like to laugh at the occult world, but there are things on this earth that they couldn’t begin to explain. Ghosts. Ancient evil. The undead.”
“Draugr?” Jamie said bravely.
“Draugr too,” replied Lawrence. “They’re all too real – real as a blow to your head, or a hand around your throat. You could ask Sarge about that, but I’m not sure he’d be able to reply.”
Jamie tried to dart past him but Lawrence moved like a snake, grabbing hold of his collar and pulling him back. He wasn’t a big man but his grip was surprisingly strong, and no matter how much Jamie wriggled and squirmed he couldn’t break free. He reached down for the dagger in his belt but Lawrence saw what he was trying, and wrenched it from his grasp.
