The Serpent in the Glass (The Tale of Thomas Farrell) (28 page)

Nothing else had really changed at the Westhrop home. There were no Christmas presents on Christmas day, except one from Aunt Dorothy of course. This year she’d bought Thomas a gigantic blow-up beach ball with the buy-one-get-one-free label still attached. Thomas wondered what Aunt Dorothy had done with the other one. It hadn’t gone to Jessica. She’d received a purple pair of swimming goggles.

Other than putting up the single strand of tinsel, Mrs Westhrop seemed to have entirely forgotten it was Christmas. Mr Westhrop knew full well it was Christmas and was doing his best to ignore it, despite a large firework display on Christmas Eve launched from the garden of a house not too many doors away. ‘Don’t they know how much they cost!’ Mr Westhrop had complained after the first dozen fireworks scattered their green sparks over his garden. ‘Perhaps one or two on Bonfire Night. Yes, that’s quite enough for any normal person!’ Mr Westhrop had one year calculated the cost of each second of ‘pleasure’ of a firework’s life once lit. Thomas knew because Mr Westhrop had sat him down and told him. He seemed to remember that sparklers were the most cost-effective.

Jessica hadn’t been able to save any pocket money because the Westhrops had stopped it when school began. Thomas, of course, had never received any to start with. So they’d both been broke over the holidays. Even so, they’d made each other home-made Christmas cards so that they had something to open Christmas morning (besides Aunt Dorothy’s presents). Despite all this, Thomas enjoyed Christmas. The world appeared a little more magical at that time of year. But Thomas couldn’t help such thoughts drawing his mind back to the Grange. That was magical too, though in a different way.

The Saturday lessons at Darkledun Grange Academy had been going well. Even the History of Avallach with Miss Havelock had become bearable. Thomas had started helping Thayer with his studies. The Fomorfelk found it hard to pick things up — academic things at least — and this, Thomas had discovered, was one of the reasons Slayne Dretch bullied him. Like Thayer, Thomas especially enjoyed Master Fabula’s lessons. In the last week of term there’d been a story involving a waterfall, and the Hall of Tales had produced the most impressive sound of water falling over rocks. The stories and sounds of Master Fabula’s lessons had sparked memories in him, images that went with the sounds. He’d been careful not to touch the Glass during the stories, so he knew the images he saw were entirely his own. But where they came from, he didn’t know — an overactive imagination, perhaps?

The revelation that neither of his parents — nor any of his ancestors — had any of the blood of the races of Avallach in them perplexed him. He’d thought long into the night about what that could mean. Maybe his father had been a friend to someone in Avallach. Maybe that’s how he came to possess the Glass. There was no way of knowing. Trevelyan knew something more, Thomas was sure, but this mysterious representative of his father’s estate had forbidden the Headmaster from telling him more. Thomas wondered how he could find out who the representative was, but no answer had yet come into his thoughts.

Jessica, despite her initial disappointment, had grown to quite cherish being the only full-blooded human at the Grange, save Thomas. But this brought up other questions: if the purpose of the Manor was to look for Halfkin, then why had he been invited? What possible reason did the school have for accepting his father’s wishes in the first place? And why did his father want him here anyway? These questions had occupied Thomas’s mind both throughout the holiday and as he’d travelled back to the Manor for the start of the new term.

As Thomas walked through the Way Gate and onto Cnocmorandolmen he felt the crisp winter air surround him. Yet it wasn’t as cold as the world he’d just left behind. It was always warmer here, and more untouched in some way. And then there were the enhanced sensations, slight perhaps, but noticeable — the heightened sense of smell, of hearing, of vision. Thomas knew the others who now crowded onto the hill behind him from the Way Gate didn’t feel the same. He’d mentioned the sensation at the end of last term, only to be met with blank stares from his friends. But Thomas couldn’t believe it was just his imagination. He could feel it.

Miles Merlock and Tara Reeves stepped into the edge of his vision, followed by Jessica, Merideah, Penders, Treice and the remainder of the Family History Club. The members of the club had been waiting outside 2B alongside Jessica and Merideah when Thomas, Penders and Treice arrived that morning. He’d no idea why. Perhaps Stanwell had been too busy to take them through last night, or maybe they had a new schedule for the new term.

While he waited for Stanwell to emerge, Thomas wandered from the chatting children over to the Northern Way Gate. It looked the same of course. They were all identical, each bearing the same unknown yet familiar symbols upon their upper reaches. Sometimes their meaning seemed only a sliver away, but then it would slip beyond his reach again. It was as if the symbols were trying to arrange themselves into English letters in his head, but when they were just about to fall into position they would get all muddled and revert to undecipherable glyphs again.

Thomas reached out and touched the grey stone. Unlike the stone of the Way Gate he’d just come through, this one felt cold and still, as if dead — if stones could be dead. Thomas put a hand on the other two Way Gates. They both felt warm and tingled his palm.

‘Thomas!’ Jessica warned.

Thomas looked back and found that Stanwell had just come through the Way Gate with the last of the Club members. He quickly ducked around one of the stones and made his way back to the rear of the group without Stanwell seeing. Stanwell didn’t like cadets going near the other Way Gates. He never said why.

When they reached the carriage, Jessica had Tara and Miles join them in the first coach. ‘How come you’re with us today, anyway?’

‘The Way Gate wasn’t working last night,’ Tara said.

‘Wasn’t working?’ Penders turned toward her. ‘You mean they don’t work all the time?’

‘Obviously,’ Merideah remarked. ‘If it wasn’t working last night.’

Penders shot Merideah an unpleasant look.

‘It happens every now and again, though this is the first time — as far as I know — that it’s taken so many hours to recover,’ Miles explained.

Merideah put a finger to her chin. ‘Interesting.’

Thomas decided to take advantage of the momentary silence. ‘What about the other Way Gates?’

‘Worse from what I hear,’ Miles said. Tara nodded in agreement.

‘Do you know where they lead?’ Thomas asked as the carriage hit a bump in the road. Stanwell cried out something about tree roots.

Miles’s eyes narrowed. ‘If I remember correctly, the East Way Gate leads to the land of the Humbalgogs, Humbalhame, and the West Gate to Alfheim, the land of the Alfar.’

Thomas leant forward on his seat. ‘What about the northern one? Where does that go?’

Miles shook his head and looked at Tara, but she just shrugged.

‘It’s cold,’ Thomas said.

Penders stopped chewing his gum. ‘I can turn the climate control up if you like?’

‘No, Miles better do that,’ Merideah said. ‘He’s nearer, and we don’t want to be plunged into a cloud of fog again.’

‘That wasn’t my fault,’ Penders defended himself. ‘If you hadn’t —’

‘I meant the Northern Way Gate,’ Thomas interrupted before the exchange became a heated one (that wasn’t the sort of warming up they needed). ‘It seems ‘dead’.’

Tara shook her head. ‘Maybe it’s not used anymore. I’ve never heard anyone speak about it.’

‘We could ask Miss Havelock,’ Treice suggested. He sat opposite Jessica, doing his best to avoid her eyes by staring out the window. But Thomas saw the look in his eyes: it was that of a caged animal. Being with two girls was bad enough, but now Treice had to endure three.

Thomas leant back into his seat again. ‘Well, we could, but I think I’ll try Thayer first — he’s more…’

‘Approachable?’ Penders grinned.

Thayer waited as always at the fountain. His dull eyes momentarily lit up when he saw all the Halfkin were with Thomas. He seemed to enjoy the company of the Club members more than the cadets from his own world. Perhaps they treated him better, or perhaps he related to them, there being no other Fomorfelk in the Grange. That must have been hard for him. Thomas knew it was hard enough having no friends at school, let alone feeling and looking so different from everyone else.

‘Did you enjoy the holidays?’ Thomas asked Thayer after they’d greeted one another.

‘Holidays? No holidays in Avallach,’ Thayer said in his usual morose tone.

Thomas immediately felt bad for asking the question. War, of course, had no holidays. ‘Do you know anything about the Northern Way Gate on Cnocmorandolmen?’

‘I have only been to the Hill of Stones once, when I first arrived. I was very young.’ Thayer stared blankly at Thomas. ‘The only cadets, besides the Halfkin, that go to that Hill now are those going to serve in the army. Gallowglas escorts them in and out. Maybe you could ask him? ‘

‘Hmph!’ Penders rolled his eyes. ‘Not much chance he’d tell us.’

They found the rest of the students already seated as they walked into the class. Mistress Havelock had a deep frown on her face as she stared at them. Duncan Avebury briefly explained about the problem with the Way Gate, but she didn’t stop frowning until they’d all taken their places.

Havelock picked up her stick of chalk from the table. ‘Now, who can tell me which came first: the Way Gates or the Great Rift?’

‘What’s the Great Rift?’ Thomas whispered to Thayer.

‘The event that made the Bounding,’ Thayer whispered in a voice that wasn’t quiet enough to escape Mistress Havelock’s keen ears.

‘Was that an answer, Mr Gaul?’ she asked.

Thayer stared back blankly.

‘Think, Thayer!’ Miss Havelock pressed. ‘It’s not hard to work out.’

Thayer shot a pained look at Thomas but Thomas couldn’t help him. ‘Ermm — the Bounding?’

Thomas heard a couple of sniggers in the front row.

Mistress Havelock sighed and flashed a severe glance at the front row before fixing her eyes on Thayer again. ‘You must pay more attention and try to remember. In the summer we learned about King Avallach and his enchanters using the power of the Way Gates to help bring the Bounding into existence.’

Thayer looked deflated. Perhaps out of sympathy, or maybe just plain curiosity, Merideah put her hand up.

Havelock’s gaze shifted to the piercing amber eyes gazing out at her from behind the round spectacles. ‘Yes, Miss Darwood?’

‘What are the stones made of? My father taught me a little geology, but I’ve not seen anything like the Way Gates before. They aren’t cold and seem to vibrate, and then there’s the glowing cavern inside.’

Miss Havelock didn’t know the answer to Merideah’s question, or to the several questions that followed. Neither did she know the answer to Jessica’s questions, not even the one about a Way Gate providing a possible shortcut to some shops. Thomas didn’t like to ask questions in class because everyone stared. Of course, if someone asked lots of questions, then the class would stop looking. This was presently the case as Mistress Havelock dealt with two of the most inquisitive cadets she’d ever encountered within the halls of the Academy. The other cadets stared blankly ahead or down at their desks, no doubt wondering when the lesson would be over.

Maybe it would be safe to ask now? Maybe no one would notice another had joined in? He had to know the answer to his question. The stones fascinated him, felt familiar somehow. But the girls had missed a very important question. Thomas stuck his hand up and ignored Penders’ not-you-too look.

‘Yes, Thomas?’ Havelock asked, seeming relieved to escape the girls’ questions.

Everyone turned around to look, and Thomas swallowed awkwardly. Trying to ignore their faces — which wasn’t easy when some had pointed ears and black eyes — he formed his sentence as best he could: ‘Miss, who built the Way Gates?’

Mistress Havelock paused before answering. ‘The answer to that question isn’t undisputed. Some say it was the Humbalgogs in the days of their power, others the Alfar when they were much stronger in the use of the Old Power. Yet others say the Way Gates were built by a race now long vanished from Avallach. The same race that built the sidhe that surrounds us. A race so mighty in the Old Power that there is none to compare with them today, not even the High Cap himself who is held to be the most powerful Humbalgog enchanter now living.’

Thomas’s hand wrapped around the bag at his belt. ‘What were they called?’

‘The De Danann. But there’s little more I can tell you,’ she replied.

‘They’re just a myth aren’t they, Mistress Havelock?’ came a familiar voice. It was Slayne Dretch. He shot a mocking look at Thomas, a sneer on his pale face.

Havelock fixed the Drough boy in her sights. ‘The sidhe were thought to be a myth not so long ago, yet here we are, Master Dretch, inside of one and, I would hope, quite aware of its peculiarities.’

Miss Havelock didn’t have much time to dwell on the lesson in the end. She taught them how the Alfar had built a great and fair kingdom, and how they were constantly at war with their cousins, the Drough. Thomas listened, but his mind kept coming back to the Way Gates and their creators. The name of that race, the De Danann, sounded so familiar. Fabula had mentioned them at the Feast of Fires, but Thomas felt as if he’d heard the name long before he ever stepped through the stones into Avallach.

Thomas was all too glad when Miss Havelock eventually dismissed the class. Merideah and Jessica chatted to Tara as they walked back toward the Hall. Penders asked Thayer if there was a tuck shop at the Grange. Thomas lagged behind, still thinking upon the Way Gates and the De Danann. Something drew him to them. The Glass was linked with the stones in some way; the book in the library had made that clear enough. And the Way Gates had been constructed by the De Danann, according to legend at least. But how were the three connected, and where did his father fit into it all?

When they reached the end of the East Wing, Tara and Miles left them for their next lesson. Laughter filled their ears as they approached the Hall. Not cheerful, uplifting merry laughter — but mocking, cruel laughter. It wasn’t hard to tell who it belonged to.