The Serpent in the Glass (The Tale of Thomas Farrell) (23 page)

‘I see you found the ol’ climate control,’ Stanwell said, as he jumped down and disappeared into the coach.

He appeared a few moments later. ‘Strange, most do be choosin’ “summer” on nights like this, not the pea-souper. Darn ’ard to see the controls when it be on that settin’.’

Merideah gave Penders a hard stare as the fog dissipated in the coach. Penders mouthed a ‘what?’, but she turned away.

‘Well, no time for chat. We do be late.’ Stanwell closed the coach door and motioned them all to follow him to the entrance of Darkledun Hall. The Club members were nowhere to be seen. They must have rushed inside while Thomas and the other children were trying to find the handle to the coach door.

‘There’s a leaf in your hair,’ Penders said to Merideah before he turned and followed Stanwell.

Inside the vestibule a single and rather small torch fixed to the wall gave out its dim light. Thomas walked into something lying on the floor, lost his footing, and landed hard upon it.

‘Oi! Get off! Get off!’ came a gruff voice from below him.

Realizing that he must have tripped over a small boy in the gloom, Thomas sprang to his feet. There on the floor sat not a child but a very short adult. He must have been an adult, for he’d the most tangled and wiry grey beard Thomas had ever seen.

‘I’m sorry,’ apologized Thomas. ‘I didn’t see you there.’

‘No one ever sees old Dugan!’ the small man protested as he pushed himself up. He barely came past Thomas’s waist in height. ‘Tries to help and just gets big people fall on top of him. What sort of thanks is that?’

‘Well I —’

‘The lad said ’e were sorry, Dugan,’ Stanwell interrupted Thomas in a loud voice. ‘So don’t be gettin’ your beard in a bother over it!’

Dugan scowled. Thomas could see him more clearly now his eyes had adjusted a little to the dimly lit vestibule. A large bulbous nose stuck out from Dugan’s wizened face. Shabby, well-worn clothes of brown leather covered the rest of his scrawny frame.

‘What are you?’ Penders asked. ‘I mean —’ he began to say, not wishing to sound rude, but was cut off before he could finish.

‘’E do be a dwarf,’ Stanwell said. ‘And you need to speak up, as ’e do be as deaf as an ol’ ’itchin’ post!’

‘I’m not a dwarf, and I’m not deaf!’ Dugan blurted out, even more annoyed than before. ‘I am a Dwerugh. How dare you call me a dwarf!’

‘It do be the same thing,’ Stanwell said.

‘It do be not!’ Dugan blustered, mocking the other. Thomas thought the Dwarf — or Dwerugh, or whatever he was — might explode, so red was his face.

‘Dugan Buglebeard ’ere,’ Stanwell said, turning to the children, ‘be the Sleeper in the ‘all.’

‘Keeper of the Hall!’ Dugan corrected indignantly.

Stanwell eyed the little man suspiciously. ‘You were kippin’.’

‘I was having a little rest, is all. Poor old Dugan is worked so hard!’

Stanwell rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, yes. Anyways, these young’ns ’ere do be first-timers, so they’ll need a bit of guidin’.’

Dugan shook his head at Stanwell, and then turned to look at Thomas and the others. ‘I can see that. Come on then, we’d best get you inside. Everyone’s waiting, you know.’

‘Waiting?’ Thomas heard Jessica ask, echoing his own thoughts.

Dugan led them over to the inner door, pulled up a small wooden box from near the wall, stood on it, and opened the door just wide enough for a person to slip through. Inside it looked pitch black.

‘Right, everyone be quiet and link hands so you don’t get lost,’ Dugan instructed.

The children did as Dugan said. Penders had the pleasure of holding Dugan’s dirty, stubby, wrinkled (and very hairy) hand — something he didn’t seem to relish by the look on his face as they left the dim vestibule behind and disappeared into the unlit Hall. Dugan led them through the darkness and someone, presumably Stanwell, closed the door behind them. Thomas heard Penders grunt as he hit something hard.

‘Pay attention,’ Dugan whispered in a voice that carried through the whole room.

Penders muttered something under his breath about dwarfs as they continued, and Thomas hoped Dugan really was a little deaf. He didn’t want to be led into a wall. Thomas could see the dim light of the night sky in the windows now, and although the rest of the Hall lay still and dark, he’d the distinct feeling that they weren’t alone.

‘Here you are. Release hands,’ Dugan eventually said. Thomas heard a chair scrape on the floor and then four more. He then felt a small coarse hand upon his own that guided his hand to the back of the chair beside him. ‘OK,’ Dugan said a few seconds later, his voice low. ‘Everyone sit down.’

Thomas heard the others sit down and then silence fell. After several moments he thought he might risk whispering to Penders, but before he could do so he heard a heavy chair scrape on the floor from somewhere on the other side of the room.

‘Welcome, cadets of Darkledun Grange Academy!’ came a cheery voice that Thomas immediately recognized as belonging to the Headmaster. ‘Welcome to the Feast of Fires!’

As soon as he finished these words, four roaring fires sprung up in the Hall’s large fireplaces, torches ensconced in walls suddenly flared alight, and large orange and white candles upon the table tops flickered into life until the whole room was fair lit by the light of many flames. An enormous cheer went up and Thomas swallowed hard. They were surrounded by about two hundred students — or cadets as Trevelyan called them — seated around three long wooden tables. Most of the cadets were a little older than Thomas, some a lot older. They all wore the same fawn-coloured uniforms, the uniform he now wore. But it wasn’t these that caught his attention. It was the cadets themselves.

They sat together in groups based, as far as Thomas could see, on their appearance. One group of red-haired cadets, all with short hair that stuck up as if it’d been gelled that way, occupied a good part of the table in front of Thomas. Quite a few of the younger ones among them had freckles dotting their face, a bit like his own except theirs were ginger. Blue-eyed, blond-haired cadets sat together on the same table, all with sharp features and pointed ears. Behind Thomas, on the back table, a dozen or so cadets sat to attention, their ears and faces very much like the blond-haired group, except that their hair was jet black as also were their eyes. However, by far the largest group of cadets looked quite normal, except for the fact that they all rather coincidentally (or perhaps not) had brown hair. This group occupied a part of the back table, but mainly the middle table where Thomas, his friends, and the rest of the students from the Manor sat.

As the cheers died down Thomas’s attention shifted to the Headmaster. He stood between Gallowglas — now dressed in a beige tunic and a black cloak — and a slender young woman in a brown dress. It took a few moments for Thomas to realize this woman was Miss Havelock. With her hair and her glasses gone, she looked much younger, if no less stern. About a dozen other adults sat at head table near the wall. Some of them Thomas recognized from the Manor, but others he hadn’t seen before. One fellow, sitting next to a lean man with red hair, reminded Thomas of Gallowglas. Large-boned, he was a little bigger than Gallowglas, but his balding hair marked him as a little older. He had a weathered look to his hard face, as if he’d spent his whole life outdoors doing very rough things.

To the large man’s left, and listening intently to Trevelyan, sat Master Fabula, dressed in the same colourful mismatched robes and large black boots Thomas had seen him wearing on his first visit to the Grange. There were no cadets or adults like him, either in skin colour or choice of clothing.

Trevelyan cast his eyes toward Thomas. ‘Now, I have a special announcement. Tonight we have with us five new cadets, youngest of any to have entered the halls of the Academy from the Otherside. Perhaps I could ask them to stand?’

Jessica and Merideah stood, followed by Thomas and the other two boys. Thomas looked around warily. For some reason he felt a little less nervous here than at the Manor, even though a multitude of strange faces now looked at him.

The High Cap of Darkledun Grange smiled. ‘May I introduce Jessica Westhrop, Merideah Constance Darwood, Treice Montague, Marvin Penderghast — or Penders as he prefers to be known — and Thomas Farrell as honorary cadets of Darkledun Grange? They’ll be joining our younger cadets for one lesson every week. I ask you all to make them especially welcome.’ Trevelyan’s face turned serious. ‘Now, may I remind all cadets, both old and new, to remain within the confines of the grounds, especially now the nights are drawing in; and also to refrain from throwing stones at the Darkledun Guards. They may not feel it, but Master Bellows has to mend the dents. Any cadet caught in the act will receive extra duties at the forge! Now, to happier matters: Let us eat!’

He clapped his hands and immediately a line of green-liveried servants walked in from a small door Thomas hadn’t noticed before and began filling the tables with all manner of wonderful food. A broad smile spread across Penders’ face.

The meal itself, much to Thomas’s pleasure, tasted very nice and wasn’t at all strange. The main course seemed to be some sort of potato and cabbage stew, complemented by barmbrack, a sort of bread. Dessert consisted of a bowl of ice cream, a large toffee apple, roasted pumpkin seeds and bonfire toffee. At about the time that the slower eaters were finishing their dessert, and Penders was finishing his third helping, the High Cap stood and raised his arms for silence.

‘As those who have attended the Feast of Fires before will know, we like to recount the Tale of Avallach at this point every year, so that we do not forget what should not be forgotten.’

Trevelyan paused as if some sorrow was suddenly upon him, but it was soon gone and his normal cheerful smile back upon his rotund face. ‘It is my privilege, therefore, to introduce our teller of tales for this evening’s recounting — Master Fabula!’

And with those last words Master Fabula stood and gave an ostentatious bow to a cacophony of clapping and cheering cadets that continued until he reached the nearest fireplace and stepped up to the small stone dais that fronted it. The final claps fell silent as Master Fabula raised his wide-sleeved arms and all the candles and torches went out, leaving the room lit only by the light of the four fires.

‘Cadets of Darkledun,’ — he shot a look through narrow eyes toward Thomas and the others — ‘it is my great honour and distinct pleasure to present to you this evening, at the Feast of Fires, the tale of Avallach’s very beginnings. Clear your minds, open your ears. Stare into the flames, and let them invoke the memories I will now stir to life in word…’

Thomas looked into the flames of the fire behind Fabula. Being seated near to the dais, he could see the reflections of the fire dancing upon Fabula’s multi-hued robes.

‘Avallach,’ Master Fabula began with a voice that seemed to fill the whole Hall, ‘was a proud Alfarian king’ — Thomas saw some of the blond-haired youth in the room nod their heads in approval — ‘and the last to have known the ways of the De Danann before they withdrew from the land. In the latter days of his reign, when many of the Humbalgogs’ — here Master Fabula indicated toward the large brown-haired group of cadets seated near Thomas — ‘had begun to deny the Old Power, he and his enchanters summoned a great veil of mist and forever divided our world from that of those Humbalgogs who meddled with science and machines. And in later times our world was called Avallach to distinguish it from the Otherside — the World of Men.’

Though too dark to be sure, Thomas thought he felt the eyes of many of the cadets look in their direction as Fabula finished the final sentence.

‘But,’ Master Fabula began again, a sadness now in his voice, ‘King Avallach was not the only one to know the ways of the De Danann, the Everliving Ones, for there dwelt a lord among them, by name Cernunnos, strong in the Old Power, and ruthless.’ At mention of this name there were a few intakes of breath and mutters across the Hall. ‘And he did not withdraw from the land as had the rest of his kind, but rather sought power in Avallach. And he made war with King Avallach and all the Free Peoples. And so began the Great War, and there was a great division among the people. And in that day the Humbalgogs’ — Master Fabula pointed at the brown-haired cadets — ‘and the tall warriors of the Firdheeg,’ — he swept a hand toward the red-haired youths in the room — ‘and the noble Alfar,’ — his hand gestured toward the long, golden-haired cadets — ‘stood against Cernunnos and those who served him: the Fomorfelk, the Dewgs, the Drough, and all the foul creatures dedicated to his cause.’ At this point he didn’t indicate anyone in the room, but Thomas saw a number of the fair-haired cadets cast cold glances toward the group of cadets with black hair. ‘And so that war has continued to this day. And so on this night, every year, we tell the tale and recite the Lay of Avallach in memory of the fallen, and to honour those who still fight the Dread Lord.’

A hush filled the room now as everyone sat entranced by the story. Even Penders looked interested, the toffee apple in his hand forgotten. Master Fabula raised his arms and everyone stood. Thomas and his friends followed. It was then that Thomas noticed that some of the adults and older cadets had swords hanging from their belts. Then the room went black as all the fires went out. After a few moments, Fabula began to recite the Lay, and as he finished each couplet, a fire burst back into life and the cadets echoed the words back to him:

    A Fire to remember the Last King,

Who sundered Avallach and the World of Men;

A Fire to ward off the Horned One’s Power,

To send him back to the Forgotten Tower;

A Fire to mourn the Fallen Lord,

Arghadmon, slain by the Horned One’s sword;

A Fire to bring Hope out of the Dark,

Two Children bearing the Everliving Ones’ Mark.

Master Fabula bowed as the candles and torches suddenly flared alight again. In silence Fabula walked slowly from the dais back to his seat. Everyone sat down, but no one clapped or cheered. Thomas could see all the faces clearly now — faces filled with thoughtfulness, reverence and, here and there, a look of sorrow or loss. What had he walked into when he came through the stones? A war? Was it safe here? He put his hand into the marble bag he’d attached to his belt and his fingers touched the Glass. It was glowing, he could sense it. A warm feeling slowly flooded through his body. His fears fell away like ice melting before the heat of the sun. He was meant to be here. He knew that more than he knew anything, war or no war.