The Fall (The Last Druid Trilogy Book 1)

by Glen L. Hall

  The wood was catching the edge of the storm and the wind was beginning to strengthen. The last of the Reivers’ arrows sank into their targets and the archers quickly descended from their hiding places in the tallest and thickest trees.

  They formed a tight line behind Bretta, whilst the Reiver lancers came galloping out of the trees on both sides of the dark host assembling in the clearing. Their spears did savage work and soon they were pushing the crow-men back to its southerly edge.

  Bretta was signalling to Reivers armed with short swords to move in behind the horses and the long spears. The Forest Reivers were made for fighting. Few were taller than six foot, but most were thick-set and powerful. Bretta felt certain they could drive these beasts from the wood.

  There was a new roar as several hundred Forest Reivers began charging through the clearing, nimbly avoiding the camp fires that had done their job in confusing the enemy. Those on horses were now pulling up their spears and retreating, making way for those on foot, who would sweep the enemy from the hill.

  Bretta reached the first crow-men bodies. Some had been killed by arrows, others by the sharp thrusts of Reiver spears. Gazing at the hideous beasts, she could feel the reek of poison tightening its noose around her throat. The Reivers who had been wounded were now feeling its sting. Weapons were falling from fingers that would no longer do their bidding.

  Without the force of arrow and spear, Bretta felt there was a subtle but noticeable turn in the battle. It was becoming clear that the crow-men were not fearful of dying and this was having a profound effect on the Reivers. On each side Bretta noticed that some had stopped fighting and others were watching in horror as those around them were dropping to the ground in agony. Some were beginning to tend to those who had been wounded.

  With a sinking heart, she knew that she’d called off the cavalry too soon. She’d underestimated the numbers of crow-men still hiding in the wood. Endless waves of crazed animals had been available to replace the fallen.

  ‘Bretta, we cannot keep this hilltop!’ Blarus called, as he turned and struck down one of the crow-men only inches from her face.

  The noise of battle was drowning her senses. The whole line of defenders was waiting for her every command. It was as if she had woken in the middle of a nightmare only to find it real.

  She watched in horror as another swarm of misshapen forms descended from the trees, clambered over their dead and launched themselves forward. She knew they would not stop until each and every one of the Reivers was dead.

  Once more she sent the cavalry sweeping through the hilltop to meet the horde. But some of the horses could bear the terror no longer and were rearing up, hurling their brave riders into the seething mass. Bretta looked down, unable to bear the sight. When she raised her head, the Forest Reivers were dragging the wounded back.

  Someone was shouting, ‘Retreat!’ A hysterical voice in the night, it echoed in her head until she realised it was her own.

  The Reivers began slowly moving back through the fires, whose embers were sparking back into life as the wind was whistling across the clearing. Horses were also returning, many without riders, others with two.

  Every ranger from Kielder in the south to Dun-Rig in the north had travelled to this place. There had been perhaps three hundred in number and now a quarter lay dead or wounded.

  All around Bretta the wounded were being put on horses and taken from the battle. She barked orders to the rangers as they led them away into the murky trees. She hadn’t counted on paying such a heavy price. It would seem the whole of the Underland was here in Birling Wood.

  She wiped the sweat from her eyes and stretched her arms. They felt like lead. She knew they would have to give the wounded time to get away. Beyond this, she could not think. She felt herself shaking from the shock that was settling across her body. She was praying that Jolan would arrive soon. She couldn’t face this a moment longer.

  The horde began to move slowly forward, their wretched voices amplified by the wind. They stretched a mile from end to end, their numbers swelling as more joined them from the wood. The arrows had taken hundreds down, a hundred more had fallen on their spears, and her brave foot soldiers had slaughtered a hundred more, and yet it felt as though they had made no mark on their numbers.

  The twisting mass of strange limbs and feathered snouts had reached the first fires and were extinguishing them one by one. When they reached the last, smothering its flames by their sheer numbers, the clearing was thrown into absolute darkness.

  The Forest Reivers prepared for the final onslaught. Without archers and cavalry, they could not hope to last long. Bretta could feel her people’s fear. Her own was thick around her throat. She did not wait for the attack, but called her people back into the wood.

  Moving as quickly as their legs would carry them, the remaining Forest Reivers melted into the wood. Soon they could hear the horde crashing through the trees behind them, their calls echoing their frustration at losing sight of the fleeing Reivers.

  Bretta urged the Reivers on. If they were caught here, they could not counter such numbers. The wood was now alive with her people weaving through the dense foliage, making sure they kept together, not wanting to leave anyone behind.

  The crow-men’s cries were becoming muffled. They were beginning to fall behind. The Reivers were now catching up with the wounded stragglers who had succumbed to the poison. Many were drooping over their mounts, almost unconscious. Quickly, the Reivers mounted the horses and spurred them forward.

  Bretta knew they could not outrun the horde indefinitely, not with so many wounded. Where could they go? Alnmouth?

  As she moved through the darkness, she wondered what else was happening. Why hadn’t Eagan kept his appointment with them? Had he really sent the girl she had met? And what about the boy? Why was the mysterious Shadow searching for him? Perhaps after speaking to Braden, Jolan would have some answers. But would she ever see her brother again?

  They came out of the tangled wood to find a broken wall ahead of them. Beyond it, they could see long lines of trees.

  ‘The orchard!’ Bretta exclaimed.

  She wondered whether Sam and the girl had found it after all, but there was no time to think about them. The first lines of trees were already full of horses and wounded. Several healers were attending to them and further Reivers were pouring out of the wood on all sides. She called to them to help the wounded over the wall.

  ‘This is it,’ she thought, ‘a last chance to repel the horde.’

  The horses were rounded up and taken deep into the orchard, along with the Reivers who were succumbing to the poison. Where the wall had crumbled into piles of stone, the sturdiest rangers were set to stand guard with their jagged short spears.

  But even as she arranged her forces, doubt was creeping through Bretta. Should they stay here or make for Alnmouth?

  Then faint noises from the wood stopped any thoughts of escape. The crow-men were coming.

  In the darkness Bretta could sense her people’s fear. There were two hundred of the Forest Reivers’ finest there, but they faced an enemy several thousand strong. And the angry calls of the crow-men were rising.

  Suddenly the dark edge of the wood came alive. From east to west, a jeering ocean of feathered bodies and loathsome beaks was crowing in glee at catching the Forest Reivers with nowhere to go.

  Bretta felt Blarus touch her shoulder.

  ‘You will be needed to protect the wounded,’ he said calmly. ‘You must go to them.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Bretta, please, we can ill afford to lose our leader. Go to the rear.’

  Bretta shook her head again. ‘You ask too much, Blarus. I cannot leave my people.’

  As she spoke, it seemed that the hideous cawing was lessening. It died away until the entire hillside was silent. It was strange to be in the middle of such calm when
there had been such tumult only minutes before. The quiet was almost as unsettling as the sea of noise. Bretta gripped the handle of her sword until her knuckles hurt, stopping only when the pain lessened the dread in her heart. What were the crow-men waiting for?

  Then there was a ripple amongst them. It seemed they were parting to make a passage through their ranks. A figure was stepping through.

  A murmur came from the Forest Reivers, but they held their ground. Bretta felt dazzled. She could not make out what they had seen, yet she knew something was out there, surveying the ranks of her people, looking for any weaknesses.

  The woman’s voice took her by surprise. It was the most beguiling music she had ever heard.

  ‘Why do you fight my people?’

  The question was equally unexpected.

  ‘Who amongst you is your leader? Show yourself.’

  Bretta found herself stepping through the broken wall.

  ‘Bretta,’ began Blarus, but his voice gurgled into silence as an icy grip tightened around his throat.

  ‘Who are you, child?’ came the voice, soft and seductive.

  ‘Bretta Raeshaw.’

  ‘Raeshaw…’ repeated the voice thoughtfully. ‘Now, Bretta Raeshaw, I seek a girl who can bring to an end my people’s suffering.’

  Bretta still couldn’t focus on the figure before her, but she could feel it in her head, moving amongst her thoughts, searching for any memories of the girl. She tried to banish it by making her mind blank.

  ‘Where is the girl?’ This time the voice was threatening. The figure moved a step closer.

  Bretta tried to raise her sword arm, but it would not move.

  ‘No, no, I am not your enemy.’ The voice was gentler now, almost falling to a murmur.

  ‘There is magic at work,’ thought Bretta.

  ‘No magic, only the truth,’ came the soft voice in her head.

  Bretta relaxed, beguiled by the voice. The truth … yes … Sam and Emily’s faces and their conversation about the orchard and the Garden of Druids flooded through her mind.

  Then came an icy snigger.

  ‘Know that there is a great darkness coming for them. It is already in the wood. It steals the dead and wages war on the living.’

  The words ran a long claw down the inside of Bretta’s mind, making her stagger backwards. The voice no longer sounded human. In front of her, giant wings were unfolding and taking to the air.

  The black edge of the wood appeared to be breaking up. Bretta found herself crouching down as a seething black mass took off from the trees. The silence was shattered by the flapping of wings and the shrill calls of several thousand crows flying over the heads of the Forest Reivers.

  It was long minutes before the last stragglers disappeared over the dark horizon.

  * * * * * *

  They stepped through the corpses of the crow-men with their swords drawn, half expecting to see the bodies start to twitch.

  ‘There are Forest Reivers among the dead,’ said Braden, as he looked across the clearing.

  ‘Bretta would not have left the fallen if the rest of our people were not in danger,’ said Jolan anxiously.

  ‘We should press on and seek our revenge,’ added Dwarrow, gripping his sword handle more firmly.

  Jolan was crouching down, looking at the ground. ‘Yes, we must relieve the rest of our people,’ he continued. ‘By these tracks, they have moved into the wood, with crow-men after them. But how do we know the crow dead won’t spring to life behind us?’

  ‘We don’t,’ said Braden grimly. ‘But we must get back to our people. I’m afraid we can’t wait here for Ged to return from his scouting trip. Our people are clearly hard pressed. We have to warn them what is coming from the King’s Seat.’

  The companions left the hill with heavy hearts and followed the tracks through the murky wood.

  * * * * * *

  It was Blarus who saw the men emerge from the wood. He instantly recognised Jolan, Braden and Dwarrow, but could not put a name to the fourth man. All along the wall, the battle-weary Forest Reivers let out cheers as they saw their leaders and scrambled back over the wall to greet them.

  Bretta was with the healers and the wounded down by the trees. For a second as she saw the long line of defenders beginning to disappear over the wall she thought they must be under attack, but then she heard the cheers beginning to roll through the night. In an instant she was up and running.

  ‘Jolan!’ She felt her feet leave the ground as her big brother swept her up in his arms. ‘Are you okay?’

  Then she saw Braden Bow.

  ‘Braden, it’s been—’ She stopped, suddenly unable to go on, remembering the stench of the poison.

  ‘I know, Bretta,’ he said quickly. ‘Don’t think about it now. This is Jarl Reign, a friend of my family.’

  Bretta extended her hand. ‘You are Eagan’s father? I am pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jarl with a brief smile. ‘Have you seen him?’

  ‘No, but before we were attacked we came across two teenagers on their way to the orchard. A tall red-headed boy and a dark-haired girl. She said she was Eagan’s cousin.’

  ‘Yes. My niece, Emily. Where are they now?’

  ‘We were attacked so quickly and by such numbers that Blarus and Erin had to leave them at the edge of the wood.’

  ‘We must find them. They cannot stand alone.’

  ‘We have found some tracks which could be theirs, but they vanish some distance into the orchard. It looks as though they met a third person and there was a skirmish.’

  Panic begin to cross Jarl’s lined face. ‘Tracks can’t just vanish. These are dark tidings. Are you sure my son wasn’t with them?’

  ‘Yes. There were only the two of them when we met them.’

  ‘Bretta,’ Braden broke in, ‘listen, we can’t stay here. We were attacked at the King’s Seat. We can’t be sure they won’t come here next. Whilst we have time, gather the wounded and let us make for Bamburgh.’

  ‘Bamburgh!’ Jolan and Dwarrow said together.

  ‘I can’t leave Emily and Sam!’ Jarl cried.

  ‘You aren’t leaving them,’ Braden said calmly. ‘They aren’t here. And you’ve seen what we face. Come with us, Jarl. You can’t stay here alone.’

  ‘I was sent here by Brennus. I must find them – the Hoods have sacrificed enough.’

  ‘My people have paid a heavy price too.’ Dwarrow kept his eyes on the ground as he spoke. ‘Surely nothing more can be expected of us. Let us go to Bamburgh.’

  Jarl drew a deep breath. ‘All I ask is that you show me where those tracks vanish. Then you’re right, no one could expect more.’

  * * * * * *

  Ged Broadflow took a sip of water. He was listening to the eerie silence of the wood. He was dressed in hunting leathers, with long knives strapped to his thigh and his long sword across his back. He had slipped through the twisting roots and knotted branches soundless and unseen.

  He was a loner, happy to volunteer for this scouting mission. He spent winter with the Forest Reivers, spring with the Marcher Lords of Bamburgh and summer travelling the wild coastal routes of his people. He had even ventured into the Underlands, the warren of tunnels that extended deep beneath the Cheviot Hills. And he had never been scared, not until today. Now he wanted to know how the dead could rise.

  There was something else, too. He followed the ways of the weapon masters of old. He could use a bow better than any other Reiver. And yet the people who had helped them at the King’s Seat had been able to use a bow like no one he had ever seen before. Who were they? Where had they come from? And why had they helped them? These were the thoughts running through his mind.

  Crouching against a tree trunk, he looked back down the way they had come. He wanted to know whether they were being followed. I
f they were, then their trail could easily be found. Already the hair on the back of his neck was warning him that something was approaching. Then he felt an icy blade touch his throat.

  ‘Calm.’ It was a woman’s voice. By the way she spoke, the word was alien to her. Then came another word, whispered into his ear, ‘Shadow.’

  Instantly he felt it sweeping through the wood – a feeling, a foreboding that made him want to run – but the knife was pressed against his windpipe. If he moved, he would be dead. An icy chill passed through his body, freezing his thoughts as a slender hand was pressed over his mouth.

  They stayed locked together in the darkness until he felt the knife and the hand release their grip. He turned to find a woman standing watching him. Silvery-white hair flowed down her back and her eyes were grey and clear. He had never seen anyone like her before, but now he noticed that there were others, men and women, just on the edge of his vision.

  ‘Come quickly.’

  It was clear she wanted him to live.

  As he stood, he heard empty wails echoing through the dark wood – the unforgettable cries of the dead crow-men. It was enough to terrorise the hardiest of souls.

  The woman and her ghostly companions didn’t linger a second longer. They moved through the tangled wood with such speed that Ged found it almost impossible to keep up. There were figures moving on all sides of him now. Every now and then they would stop and, in perfect synchrony, fire white-feathered arrows back the way they had come. But no matter how hard they ran, the dead were gaining on them.

  Sweat poured from Ged’s body and once or twice he reached for his long knives as a howl broke nearby, but the strange company still sent their arrows cutting through the darkness and still they ran.

  How strange it was, Ged thought, that their quivers seemed to have a never-ending supply of arrows. But it was also beginning to become clear that the arrows were having no effect. The cries of the dead were now coming from all directions.

  Eventually the woman and her strange fellowship came to a clearing in the wood. Ged could tell a ferocious battle had taken place there and yet there were only the bodies of Forest Reivers lying still. Poison hung in the air and it was clear the crow-men had been here, but someone had removed their bodies.