by Glen L. Hall
‘So what happened to you at the Fellows’ House?’ Sam asked cautiously. ‘And where is Professor Whitehart?’
The professor took a large swig from his pint. Setting it down firmly, he gave Sam a serious look from his good eye.
‘We were attacked, Sam. They came through the window and the door. It was most unexpected. Professor Whitehart took a worse battering than me. He’s resting with a friend.’
Sam kept his voice low, not wanting to be overheard. ‘I nearly drowned in the river after going down that tunnel behind the bookcase, not to mention being pursued all the way from the house to the gates of Magdalen. Whatever broke into my room knew I was there and I am convinced…’
He stopped speaking as two full pints were placed on the table.
‘I think you know what the Shadow is and why it follows me from place to place, and I think it would have done me great harm if it had caught me.’
The professor took another long drink from his glass. ‘Sam,’ he said, ‘it wasn’t the Shadow that attacked the Fellows’ House. We don’t know what they were, not for sure, but yes, it’s clear they were coming for you.’
He kept his gaze on Sam, knowing that with every answer there would be further questions.
‘I am worried,’ he continued slowly, ‘because of Oscar’s message. He is the very last person I would have expected to turn up in the middle of Oxford. I thought that impossible. So tell me more about what you saw last night.’
He leaned forward, his good eye fixed expectantly on Sam.
Sam hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I don’t think I ever really got a good look at it. I glimpsed it at the gates of Magdalen, but this is the problem – it was only when it moved in front of solid objects that I could see anything at all. It was as if the night itself was coming together to form something, but I don’t really know what. I always knew it was there, though – I could feel its hate and emptiness…’
Remembering, he trailed off and took a long drink of his ale.
‘Especially in the house,’ he added. ‘In that tunnel.’
He paused, and it felt for a moment as if they were alone and the world had drifted away. Then the hum of the Eagle and Child broke the silence and they were both glad of it.
The professor sat back on his wooden seat, tapping the rim of his glass, a little flushed from the alcohol.
‘Why didn’t it strike when it had you then?’
Sam shrugged. ‘It did chase me. It was at the gates of Magdalen that it came closest.’
‘Hmmm…’ the professor scowled and looked out of the window.
‘At the gates, professor, I thought I heard the Magdalen choir.’
‘It can’t have been the choir – they aren’t around during the summer months.’
‘But that’s not possible – I heard them that afternoon as well, when I was with you.’
The professor turned back to Sam and put his pint down on the table. ‘The choir breaks for summer. There are literally only me, you, Professor Whitehart and Professor Lawrence left now in the whole of Magdalen.’
‘Then what did I hear?’
‘I don’t know, Sam, I really don’t. You might think I’m just trying to avoid answering your questions, but yesterday changed everything. That attack on the house was a stark warning that things have got out of hand. I am perturbed by what is unfolding, to be perfectly honest with you, and I don’t think you can go back to the Fellows’ House or anywhere near Magdalen. I think you should go back to your home in Newcastle until I understand what we are up against.’
‘I think you do understand what we are up against,’ said Sam quietly.
The professor sighed. ‘Look, just put that to one side for now. I’d like you to come with me later to meet a few old friends. I’ve known them many long years and they may have the answers you’re looking for.’
Sam looked down into his pint. He was sure the professor knew more than he was letting on, but he didn’t have strength to keep confronting him.
The gloom was punctuated by the arrival of two plates, each with two large Oxford sausages poking out of a mountain of creamy mash, surrounded by a stream of thick onion gravy.
Sam felt his mouth begin to water as he smeared English mustard across the whole of his lunch. ‘Come on, Sam,’ he thought, ‘cheer up.’ Here he was in his beloved Eagle and Child, eating his favourite food and looking out on the captivating view of St John’s bathed in crisp afternoon sunshine, and across from him was one of the most mesmerising academics he’d ever met. And they’d both survived the attack on the Fellows’ House.
They ate in silence whilst all around the Eagle and Child ebbed and flowed like a fine kaleidoscopic symphony. But the mingled smells of a hundred dinners and the comforting clinks of raised glasses couldn’t dispel the clouds that were gathering in their minds.
When they had at last finished, it was Sam who spoke first, his cheeks just a little flushed.
‘So, who are these friends you would like me to meet?’
The professor pushed away his empty plate. Looking up, he said, ‘I think you’ll enjoy meeting them. I think it is safe for you to expect the unexpected.’
He drained the last of his ale and surprised Sam by standing up.
‘I’m going to visit Professor Whitehart and make sure he’s on the mend. I don’t need to tell you to stay close to this place. Why don’t you retire to your room and relax?’
Sam wasn’t so sure he liked the idea of being alone with his thoughts. ‘Is Oxford really that dangerous, professor? There is protection here. Someone came to me last night before the gates – a woman calling herself the Fall.’
The sound of the professor’s glass shattering against the stone floor brought a momentary hush to the Eagle’s throng.
‘Does that mean something to you?’
But Professor Stuckley was on his feet, busy demanding the bar staff give him a dustpan and brush so that he could help clean up the shards of glass.
When finally the commotion had subsided and they were again by themselves at the table, he said solemnly, ‘I would suggest, Sam, that you remember a little of what has happened over the last couple of days. Then you will answer your own question. I don’t think it’s safe to go out much past early afternoon. I will return later this evening and then we can both seek some answers.’
Gathering his jacket from the back of his chair, he popped his pipe in his mouth, picked up his long walking stick and clasped Sam’s hand before leaving through the front entrance.
* * * * * *
The Eagle and Child was still busy when Sam retired to his room. The hum of Radio 4 slowed his thoughts, lulling him to a place just on the edge of sleep, a place where time quickens and in the blink of an eye several hours have passed.
When Sam raised his head from the pillow, the light from the window had dimmed, and when he looked down on St Giles, he guessed it was early evening. The room gave him a great vantage point, and although the street in general was a little less busy, across the many lanes he saw a group of people milling outside the Lamb and Flag pub opposite. There, right in the middle of them, his grey hair bobbing, framed against the crimson placard of yet another favourite drinking hole, was Professor Stuckley.
Sam watched as the group slowly broke up. One person walked north, a second turned south and a third turned east and took the path Sam had used, through the passage from Museum Road. Others crossed the road to the Eagle and Child and then turned left and right, disappearing from Sam’s view.
Gathering at the university’s watering holes was a well-known pastime for the older generation of Oxford academics and on an ordinary day seeing the professor with a group of people wouldn’t have surprised Sam, but now he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. This was no ordinary day. His ankle hurt and his body felt as though he’d spent a week doing bac
k-to-back boot camps. It wasn’t just how he felt physically either – his emotions were running wild. He had an unnerving sense of his own vulnerability, along with the growing certainty that he was being kept far too much in the dark.
He waited until the light from the window had faded, and still the professor was absent. By now his thoughts were dancing like burning candles in the darkness. What would happen tonight? Would there be another attack? Who knew he was in the pub? Was he safe?
He woke again to Radio 4 doing a retrospective on the 1950s. Someone had taken the cold soup from his table. Just as he was wondering how much time had passed this time, a knock at the door made him freeze.
This time the door was opened straightaway and the professor came in without an invitation.
‘Quickly, Sam, we don’t have much time. I have asked Professor Whitehart to meet us in the reading room. We only have a short window of opportunity to ask our questions.’
The professor seemed out of breath and excitement was written across his bruised face.
They went quickly down to the main part of the pub, where Sam was a little surprised to find the Eagle and Child preparing to close. One or two stragglers were bent over their pints, but the last of the light was quickly draining from the sky and the large windows now reflected the almost empty interior.
One of the bar staff was blowing smoke rings at a man who was trying to enjoy a last pint.
‘Sam, don’t look, keep going,’ called Professor Stuckley. He hurried Sam past the bar and into the back of the pub.
Sam found himself in a long corridor with bare brick walls. For a moment he was puzzled – hadn’t the décor changed since lunchtime? But then he broke into a huge smile. There, at the far end of the corridor, was the unmistakable figure of Professor Whitehart, the flash of his playing cards cutting through the smoky air.
When they reached him, Sam winced at the sight of the cut on his forehead. It had been freshly stitched. But Professor Whitehart was beaming. Surprisingly, he even gave Sam a hug.
‘It’s really good to see you, Sam. We thought we’d lost you for a time.’
‘That’s quite enough, professor,’ growled Professor Stuckley. ‘Have they called for us yet?’
‘Not yet,’ answered Professor Whitehart, ‘but as you can see from the smoke, they have answered your call.’
Both professors looked tense. Who were they waiting for? Sam quickly glanced back the way they’d come. The Eagle and Child was in darkness, the bar staff and stragglers gone. But they’d been there only seconds earlier.
‘Don’t look back, Sam,’ said Professor Stuckley.
He placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and guided him into the back room of the pub.
Sam could hardly see where he was at first. The room seemed to be filled with thick smoke and there were flickers and movements and faraway voices growing closer by the second. Then the haze dissolved into smoke rings hanging thickly in the air, accompanied by a distinctive cigar smell.
The room was larger than Sam remembered and the coiling waves of smoke were diminishing, revealing figures sitting around a large open fire. Although they were no more than ten feet away, somehow they seemed more distant. They all turned to greet their visitors and Sam thought he recognised them, but a strange flicker, like shimmering heat, stopped him from focusing on them. He strained to see clearly.
There was something else going on that made little sense. The fire had been piled high with wood and yet Sam could feel no heat from it. And what was that sound, like the wings of a hummingbird flitting around his ears? Was it static electricity?
Professor Stuckley moved forward into the firelight and the humming grew louder. Now Sam could taste electricity in his mouth and feel his hair beginning to stand on end.
‘Thank you for coming.’
He couldn’t tell whether the professor had spoken or whether the words had sprung from the air.
One of the figures was standing now. He seemed to be a stout man with a receding hairline, but Sam couldn’t be quite sure.
‘Professor, it’s Jack. I trust you are well. We are trying to adjust to this new way of communicating. I’m not sure whether you can see us all, but we have Ronald and Charles here, both on good form.’
Sam watched as the other two men waved. One was dressed in a tweed suit with a fine waistcoat, the second was taller and possibly wearing wired spectacles.
Sam’s eyes were beginning to water with the strain of trying to bring the men into focus. There was something about their names, too, that was unsettling. He tried to speak, but he was frozen to the spot.
At his side, Professor Whitehart was also motionless, his gaze focused on the men sitting on the opposite side of the reading room.
Professor Stuckley spoke again. ‘I’m sorry about using the Way-curves, gentlemen. I am seeking answers to a riddle that has brought a new danger to Oxford. It appears the Underland is on the move.’
Sam felt his stomach tighten as he remembered Oscar’s message from the night before.
‘That is grave news, professor.’
It was the first man who had spoken.
‘A Shadow has passed through the Otherland, Jack. And into the Mid-land. It entered Magdalen the night before last.’
The men were silent for a long moment.
‘Is the boy safe?’
Sam felt his face burn and his heart beat faster.
‘Yes. I have brought him with me. He sees and hears you.’
Professor Stuckley turned his swollen face to Sam and beckoned him forward.
He moved forward to stand next to Professor Stuckley, but when he looked at the men he was no closer to them. The room seemed split between darkness and light.
The first man spoke again. ‘We have looked forward to meeting you, Sam. We knew the day would come, though we hoped it would be under different circumstances and in a different place.’
His voice seemed to form from the hum and electricity that were flitting from place to place like angry hornets.
Sam felt confused. ‘Who are you?’ he said bluntly.
As he spoke, he could have sworn his words were repeated with a crackle of electric charge. The men were now no more than a few feet away and still he couldn’t focus on their faces. The more he tried, the more the picture broke and bled into a million vibrating pieces.
‘That is a good question, a very good question.’
Sam realised the voices really did come from the thrum of electricity that he could now feel running the full length of his skin.
‘We are the Keepers of the Druids, or the flow of souls, as Ronald once put it. I think, Sam, you know who we are, and that is all that matters.’
There was something uplifting and pure about the words. Sam was no longer hearing them but seeing their resonance dancing in the electromagnetic flow. It seemed to him that they really were far away, not in space but in time. And yet they were here now.
‘We have been called to understand the nature of this Shadow,’ the man was saying, ‘for we always had an inkling about such things. Tell us what you know and in turn we will leave nothing unsaid. You deserve the truth. That is why we are here.’
Taking a deep breath, Sam began. ‘I met a man called Oscar.’ He stopped and closed his eyes so he could focus on what he was saying. ‘I met a man called Oscar who brought a message that frightened me, even though I didn’t fully understand it.’
He could feel the alarm in the buzz of electricity that for a second swarmed around his head like angry bees.
‘He said the Circle was broken and the Shadow was moving through the Otherland.’
Again there were murmurs fizzing like light bulbs ready to pop.
‘He said the Dead Water was lost and the Fall was dying.’
The electricity surged and for an instant Sam thought he could feel the heat of
the fire. He opened his eyes. Professor Stuckley was looking at him and the figures seemed to be too, even though he couldn’t see their eyes.
‘He said the professors had to seek the help of the Three.’
‘The Three!’
The words whistled like a kettle brought to the boil.
‘He said there was a traitor who had done much mischief.’
Suddenly Sam could no longer swallow. It felt as though his mouth was full of sand. He looked down at the floor.
‘Sam.’
He looked up. One of the figures seemed closer.
‘I am Ronald. I knew your father. He would often visit the Eagle and Child.’
He paused, and Sam guessed he was smoking a pipe, as smoke rings were floating up to the ceiling, only to evaporate into thin air.
‘We are mightily surprised to hear that Oscar has visited you here in Oxford. We haven’t seen him for nearly a decade. It seems that he has been led to you somehow and we are guessing that our time to meet him again has come. So, tell us more about this Shadow.’
‘You knew my father?’ Sam was intrigued. He had never known much about him.
The question sent a hundred pulsating dragonflies spinning and the static electricity humming with greater intensity.
‘If time weren’t against us, Sam, we would tell you his tale. But your story must come first. Please, tell us about the Shadow.’
‘All right. The first time I saw it was three hundred miles away in Northumberland, in a place called Warkworth. It tried to cross the river Coquet to get to me and it didn’t manage to reach the shore.’
Sam took a breath. He still couldn’t get a sense of distance between himself and the man called Ronald, and it was making him feel tired. Talking about the Shadow was also making him anxious. Where was it now?
‘Then last night,’ he continued, ‘just after Oscar left, I was with Professor Stuckley when we were attacked. I escaped through a passageway and in the darkness I felt something menacing following me, but I didn’t see anything.’
