by Glen L. Hall
As Ged stood there, apprehension washed through him. The woman was talking to her people in a language that he could not identify. She was signalling to him to follow, but as he crossed the clearing he wondered whether they were already too late.
* * * * * *
Jarl could see by the marks on the ground that there had been three people in the orchard. He could also tell there had been a fight of sorts. Someone had been injured, as he could see where they had fallen. Several grey feathers were lying there that he could not place. But that was all. Nothing was making sense. Blarus had been right – it seemed Sam and Emily had disappeared into thin air.
The wounded Reivers were already making their way down through the orchard. Jarl walked the short distance to the wall and joined Braden, who was standing there, staring at the black rim of Birling Wood.
‘I’ve never seen tracks disappear entirely,’ Jarl confessed. ‘I just don’t know what has happened.’
Braden seemed not to hear him.
‘What is it?’ Jarl asked quickly.
Braden was staring into the depths of the wood. ‘I’ve never in all my days known a day like this,’ he sighed. ‘I never thought I would see the dead rise again.’
Jarl remembered the crow-men jerking back to life and shivered. ‘Where are they now?’ he muttered.
‘Out there somewhere. We have to move on from here. Are you ready?’
Jarl nodded.
‘Where are the others?’ Braden looked round.
Bretta and Jolan, followed closely by Dwarrow, were climbing the small slope to join them.
Braden turned back to the forest. ‘There’s something in the wood. I can feel it.’
Jarl thought he felt it too – a niggle, an apprehension that was trickling through his mind.
The Forest Reivers on the wall were falling silent. A hush descended, broken only by the scrape and clink of weapons being drawn. All eyes were on the black unmoving edge of Birling Wood.
A freezing wind started to blow, a sudden penetrating rawness that took them all by surprise.
‘What menace is this?’ growled Braden as he, too, drew his sword.
The freezing wind was building. Heavy branches were beginning to tremble, leaves were raining down. Without warning, a rattling black mist hit the wall’s eastern corner, shattering both flesh and stone. Wails filled the air as the Shadow brought its terror down on the Forest Reivers.
And then it was gone as quickly as it had come and a giant flicker of light lit up the night, showing a scene of devastation, before thunder rolled across the night sky.
Braden was running towards the injured when he heard the cawing of the dead crow-men. He turned to see them stumbling out of the wood, hundreds of blazing eyes filling the night with their hatred. They had already spotted the gaping hole in the wall and were heading towards it. Only dazed and wounded Forest Reivers stood between them and the orchard.
Jarl could hear Bretta, Jolan and Dwarrow rallying the stunned defenders. In his mind, everything was slowing down. How had it come to this – Brennus and Drust lost, Sam, Emily and his own son vanished into thin air? How could they have failed so utterly? All their sacrifices had come to nothing. The Shadow had still found the Garden of Druids. In fact, they had led it to the Garden of Druids.
Chaos broke out across the wall as the dead came to claim the living. The two sides came together in a devastating collision. The sheer ferocity of the heads of the Reiver clans, supported this time by the fighting prowess of their rangers, threw down the crow-men, pushing them from the breach.
Braden knew they could not let the crow-men into the orchard. At the very least they had to let the wounded get away. On he fought, as the snapping beaks and the empty eyes of the dead tried to take his people down.
Jarl was tired, his body burned with fatigue, and yet he fought for his son Eagan and his niece Emily and the person they had all been fighting for: Sam.
Bretta was scared beyond her wits. There was an unnatural strength to these crow-men that she had not seen in the others. She struck them with heavy blows, but she could not kill them. But she was angry too, angry about all the good Reivers who had fallen in the wood and all the wounded who would never recover. She fought for them.
Jolan fought to protect his people and his only sister, bearing down on the grasping claws like a crazed animal himself.
Dwarrow was leading a charge, pushing through the ranks of crow-men and sweeping them aside as if they were made of straw. But a poisonous wound made him stagger. It was quickly followed by a second and third. He dropped to his knees and sank beneath the sea of feathered arms.
* * * * * *
Ahead he could hear battle cries, whilst behind the wails of the dead crow-men showed they were still gaining. By now he was drenched in sweat. He had never run so hard in his life. This ghostly company had almost worn him out.
He had counted no more than two dozen of them, although it was difficult to know their precise numbers, as they had fanned out over some distance. But they had now come together in a tighter formation. He knew they were preparing for battle and yet he could sense no fear about them.
On a signal from their leader, they were moving out of the wood. Ged followed them out from the cover of the trees and reeled. A group of Forest Reivers was making a stand atop a crumbling wall. He almost gasped in horror at the numbers of crow-men before them. But once more a hand covered his mouth.
As she removed it, the woman looked around and gave a brief nod. Silently, the ghostly company drew short swords that glimmered white in the night.
A terrifying force, impossibly quick, they came down upon the dark horde of the dead. Ged would never forget how they danced through them with their weapons shining like beacons of light in the blackness.
* * * * * *
Bretta was praying with all her might when she saw the lights spinning in the darkness. She knew she couldn’t hold on for much longer. She’d taken a wound to the arm and could already feel the poison snaking through her body. But then the lights were flitting from place to place and the horde’s attack was diminishing as the crow-men turned to face the new threat. Perhaps they would be saved after all.
Braden had seen the ghostly company before and had the scar to prove it. He was mesmerised as the dark mass realised it was caught between two foes and began twisting round to defend itself.
To Jarl’s mind, the ghostly company were angels answering the prayers of the desperate defenders, a shining force that was beginning to turn the tide.
But just as hope was returning, a roar burst from the wood and seconds later the enraged horde from the King’s Seat poured onto the battlefield, snarling and shrieking their hatred for those who had evaded them.
* * * * * *
The roar shook Ged to his boots. He was bending over the crumpled forms of Blarus and Dwarrow, who were lying where they had fallen. He stood and looked around him. As far as the eye could see, dead crow-men were bounding towards them on all fours like crazed dogs. They would be caught between thousands of these wild creatures with their grasping claws and frothing maws.
The woman was standing next to him. He met her grey eyes and for the first time saw what he took to be fear. At long last, their luck had run out.
Then she leaned towards him and shouted, ‘Our time is not yet!’
There was no chance of a reply. Without another word, Ged followed the shimmering lights of the woman and her company of strangers as they turned to meet the blind hatred of those from the King’s Seat.
They were hugely outnumbered, but Ged was beginning to see something remarkable unfolding: the company were beheading the crow-men and whatever force had filled them with life was leaving them. He was the best fighter amongst the Forest Reivers and yet those before him were moving amongst the enemy with a deftness that he had thought impossible for a human. B
ut the more he looked at them, the less human they looked. They were like nothing he had ever seen.
* * * * * *
Jarl watched in horror as the grey company was quickly surrounded by a black sea of feathered and twisted bodies. He looked along the length of the wall and knew the Forest Reivers could not survive another onslaught. He could hear Braden rallying his people for one last defence, whilst Jolan fired the last of his arrows into the horde. He watched as the tall blond-haired man slowly put his bow down and went to stand by Bretta, who was learning against the crumbling wall, pale and clutching her arm.
Then there came a sudden flash of light that turned night into day. A tortuous wail broke from the orchard and some of the Reivers fell to their knees, wondering what new terror had come for them. Then it was gone as quickly as it had come.
Stunned, the Reivers watched as the crow-men simply fell where they stood, whilst a dark mist rose from their still bodies and drifted into the darkness.
The entire field of battle changed in an instant. Those on the walls stood motionless, unable to accept the battle was over. They looked down at the grey company, who were standing in a circle, back to back. Then they were breaking out and running through the mounds of unmoving dead, heading towards the breach.
Jarl and Braden stepped over the broken wall and went to meet them. They were surprised to see Ged amongst their number, his short sword still in his hand.
The night was filled with a heavy silence and there was sadness in the air. Some of the Forest Reivers were beginning to tend to the wounded, but others were standing still, transfixed by the unearthly company.
A woman came out of the ghostly ranks, her silver hair shining brightly in the night. She looked first at Braden and then at Jarl, her eyes delving deeply into their hearts.
‘We have come to seek your help.’
Her words took Jarl by surprise. It seemed as if these strange people had come to help them.
‘What help do you need?’ he answered.
‘We seek the help of the Druidae.’
THE GARDEN OF DRUIDS
Eagan was heavy and the going was slow. Every now and then Sam would lean against a tree, mindful that they didn’t want to be caught in the open.
Around them, soft moonlight flowed through leafless trees and glinted off icy trunks. Frost was thick across the orchard floor and Sam could feel the bite of a chill wind. His breath left his mouth in a swirling maelstrom, curling like smoke rings into the icy night, and he could feel himself beginning to shiver. He turned to see Emily looking back the way they had come.
‘It’s so cold. How has autumn turned to winter?’ she asked through chattering teeth.
‘I don’t know.’ Sam watched his words spiral and drift up through the open canopy. ‘Where are we? I can’t feel the Shadow anymore, or hear the battle.’
They paused for a moment, laid Eagan down and looked through the orchard. Where the fruit had been, there were now only bare branches. It was eerily quiet and in the peculiar half-light of the moon it felt for a moment as if time itself had been captured in the silence.
They looked at each other, their faces pinched and cold.
‘What’s happening? My compass is of no use at all.’
Emily watched the needle stubbornly pointing north no matter which way she turned.
She wheeled round. ‘Look, there’s a river.’
Sam stared at it, mesmerised. He had an eerie feeling that he knew where they were.
‘Emily, this way.’
When they rounded the corner and he saw the bridge, he knew for certain. He stopped, his back and arms aching with the effort of carrying Eagan.
‘You’re not going to believe me, but you must.’ He turned so that Emily could see his face. ‘This is the wall round the Fellows’ Garden in Magdalen. Where I met Oscar for the first time. Where it all began.’
Emily looked at him, her eyes wide. ‘How…?’
‘I don’t know.’
Whether it had been there all the time Sam could never quite recall, but there was the thick round oak door leading into the Fellows’ Garden, with the emblem of Cherwell College clear to see. It reminded him of the solid round doors in the old school house and on the seventh floor of the bookshop. Surely he had even seen these doors in his own home?
He was surprised to find himself calm. There was no apprehension, only the knowledge, somehow comforting, that things were not always what they seemed. He reached into his pocket and found the key he had brought all the way from Oxford. Without hesitation, he placed it in the keyhole, turned it gently and heard the lock click back.
* * * * * *
Sam pulled the heavy door open and he and Emily, still carrying Eagan, stepped into a place of absolute stillness. At first Sam couldn’t tell whether it was the Fellows’ Garden or some other place. The moonlight was gone, replaced by a serene darkness. But it wasn’t just the calmness of the place that stole over them, but also its awareness. It was alive with electricity, with consciousness.
As they moved forward, the darkness lifted and Sam saw they were without doubt either in the Fellows’ Garden or an exact replica. Fluttering around him in the half-light was the electricity he had felt at the Eagle and Child and in the reading room looking at the tapestry. He shook his head. It was difficult to focus, but the further they went into the garden, the softer the beat of the hummingbirds’ wings became and the firmer the ground beneath their feet.
He took them up a slight incline and through the circle of ancient trees until they were standing in front of the central pond, ringed by the wooden benches.
‘I don’t recognise any of this,’ said Emily, looking around her.
‘This is where I met Oscar,’ Sam told her. ‘He was sitting on that bench, on a night like this. It feels as though I’ve come full circle. Or am I meant to wake and find this has been nothing more than a nightmare?’
‘I don’t know, Sam. I don’t even know where we are. I’m not sure we’re anywhere.’
Sam knew what she meant. When he looked back the way they’d come, there was a wall of darkness like the tapestry before it had burst with light and colour.
‘You don’t need to be anywhere to understand that this is somewhere,’ said a voice behind them.
Even before Sam turned, he knew who it was.
‘What place is this?’ asked Oscar.
‘It’s the Fellows’ Garden in Oxford. We met there almost seven days ago. You brought a message to me.’
‘Did I? The last time I visited Oxford was in 1960 something or other, I thought, but, as I say, only places matter in this place.’
This wasn’t supposed to happen, thought Sam. He had come here convinced that Oscar would have all the answers and yet he seemed a little befuddled, to say the least.
‘Who is this man you are carrying? Let me see his face.’
‘Eagan Reign,’ said Emily, faintly.
‘Lay him in the waters quickly.’
Sam’s arms were burning with the effort, but he walked heavy-legged to the edge of the pond. He would not let Eagan fall. He stepped into the cold waters and kneeled down, still holding Eagan, who seemed to grow heavier with every second.
‘Culluhin.’
The hair on Sam’s neck prickled as the night moved behind Oscar and Emily and the shadowy figure came into focus. He was tall and dressed in what Sam could only guess was armour, for no light revealed it. He could have come straight out of Arthurian legend. He looked strangely out of place, towering above Oscar and Emily.
Then Sam noticed something shimmering from his head to the ground. It could have been a staff, but it seemed to shift and every now and then a hint of light would cascade down its length. It reminded him a little of Professor Whitehart’s cards.
‘Sam, you must leave Eagan to our friend,’ called Oscar. ‘Already part o
f him is travelling to a place only Culluhin has the skill and strength to find. He may bring him back. Quickly now, for I am guessing we don’t have much time.’
Sam could only watch as the giant man calmly entered the water and took Eagan from him.
Emily reached out a hand and helped Sam to the bank. When he turned back, he saw Culluhin holding Eagan with his left arm whilst in his right he held a staff made of light that glowed like molten rock. He was speaking, but Sam couldn’t catch the words. He would later describe his voice as like a falling mountain. There was a purity in it that moved him to tears. When he turned to Emily, she was also crying.
Then the light danced with the water and gently caressed both Eagan and Culluhin until there was nothing to be seen but fizzing water. The droplets fell back into the pond and the figures were gone.
Oscar looked from Sam to Emily. ‘There is no other way, for the poison of the Grim-were flows through him. Now, whilst we have some time, come along, both of you – tell me why you have brought me here.’
They sat together on a bench. Sam was dazed. Hadn’t Oscar brought him here and not the other way round?
Sitting beside him, he quickly noticed some differences between this Oscar and the Oscar he’d met in the real Fellows’ Garden, though he was no longer certain that that had been any more real than this. But this Oscar had two perfectly good hands and his face and clothes looked unruffled, whilst the Oscar he had met before had definitely looked as though he’d been in a fight. That one had had answers, but this one was looking for them.
‘So tell me,’ he repeated, ‘why you have called me to this place.’
Sam took a deep breath. ‘You brought a message to me that day in Oxford. You asked me to deliver it to Brennus and Drust Hood. You gave me two letters. You said the Circle was broken and a Shadow was moving through the Otherland, that the Dead Water was lost and the Fall was dying. You asked the professors to seek the help of the Three.’
