Prince Edwin raised his sword, the pointed shaft glinting in the sunlight as he roared a command to his troops.
“The outer wall is breached. The enemy is at our mercy. Chaaaaaaarge!”
Prince Edwin stirred his horse into a gallop. With an answering cheer, his brave knights followed their leader towards the grey stone castle.
It was a glorious sight, a spectacle sure to be recounted in feasting halls and fireside gatherings for centuries to come. Prince Edwin’s knights flew like the wind, polished armour shimmering, orange banners streaming behind them like flames.
“My liege.” A shrill voice sounded in Prince Edwin’s left ear. “Do you think a frontal assault is a wise move?”
Prince Edwin glanced at the small brown mouse perched on his shoulder. “I appreciate your counsel, Squire Stubby. But the enemy is in disarray. It is the ideal time to launch an attack.”
“It could be a trap,” ventured Squire Stubby. “You know how devious your opponent can be.”
“I am well aware of her treachery,” said Prince Edwin. “It has been a long war against my mortal foe. There have been many defeats, many setbacks. But this day the tide has turned. This day will see me triumph over the Black Queen.”
But despite his words, Prince Edwin knew the fight was far from over. The castle had been breached, but the enemy still lurked within…
The lowered drawbridge trembled with thundering hooves as Prince Edwin and his knights swarmed through the shattered portcullis. A wall of black armoured knights stood waiting for them in the castle yard; these were the elite guards, the most able of the Black Queen’s forces. They were committed to the service of their mistress, and would never surrender. Prince Edwin knew this would be a fight to the death.
“There are too many,” trilled Squire Stubby. “And in the narrow confines of this courtyard our mounted knights will be at a disadvantage. Sire, I propose a tactical withdrawal.”
“I shall never retreat.” Prince Edwin snarled his disgust at the suggestion. “This day I shall lead my troops to glory.”
With a roar of fury, Prince Edwin crashed his horse into the enemy ranks. The black knights tried to stand their ground, but the Prince’s steed knocked them aside with a nod of his armoured head.
“Onward!” Prince Edwin ploughed his mount through the sea of black armour. “We must reach the tower!”
Exhaling a loyal cheer, Prince Edwin’s troops charged as one. The black knights fought back, and the castle yard echoed with a clattering symphony of steel on steel.
A black knight swung an axe at Prince Edwin. The Prince leaned back in his saddle to avoid the arcing blade, but lost his balance to go tumbling from his horse.
Prince Edwin hit the ground with a jolt that knocked his sword from his grasp. Seeing his enemy downed and defenceless, the black knight raised his axe again. Most men would have cringed in the face of certain death, but Prince Edwin was not most men.
The Prince raised his right hand, a beam of orange light lancing from his fingertip to strike the black knight. There was a bright flash, then the axe clattered to the ground as the black knight crumbled into dust.
Prince Edwin retrieved his trusted sword, and dispatched another of the enemy before taking stock of the situation.
The ranks of black knights were thinning; his troops had gained the advantage. It was only a matter of time before the courtyard was taken. But he still had to find a way into the tower.
And then he saw it, glimpsed through the broiling sea of battling bodies: an opened door at the foot of the squat stone keep.
“The entrance to the tower.” Prince Edwin pointed with his sword. “A way to the throne room, the heart of my enemy.”
“I plead caution Sire,” said Squire Stubby. “Why would a door be left open? I fear more trickery from the Black Queen.”
“You fear too much,” growled Prince Edwin. “This is a day for the brave.”
With no thought for his personal safety, Prince Edwin dashed across the courtyard and through the doorway to the castle keep. Two waiting black guards lunged at him, but a single lash of the Prince’s sword turned them both to dust. He hared down a passageway, dispatching more guards before reaching a steep spiral staircase.
Prince Edwin ascended, his armoured feet clanging on the steps as he raced towards victory.
A trio of black knights stood guard at the top of the stairs, but scarcely had time to raise their swords before the Prince obliterated them with a wave of his finger.
The entrance to the throne room now lay unguarded before him. Prince Edwin raised his hand, and the doors blew apart in an explosion of splintered wood.
Keeping his sword unsheathed, Prince Edwin entered the lair of the Black Queen.
The heart of his enemy’s domain was a vast, cathedral like chamber. The throne itself stood at the far end on a raised dais, the chair and its occupant shrouded in dark silk hangings.
Prince Edwin strode towards the throne, but froze when he heard a shrill squeak in his ear.
“To the rear, Sire!”
The Prince wheeled round to see a figure behind him. Instinctively he brought his sword up, but the figure remained as still as a statue. Lowering his sword, Prince Edwin afforded himself a smile when he realised that’s just what it was…
“A statue. Of the Black Queen herself.” Prince Edwin shook his head. “So typical of her vanity to keep such an object in her throne room.”
“It is very lifelike.” Squire Stubby nodded approvingly as he studied the statue. “They’ve certainly captured her sense of brooding tyranny.”
“Lifelike indeed, but nothing to be scared of.” Prince Edwin turned back and marched to within a step of the shrouded throne. “Your castle is taken,” he told the Black Queen. “I call upon you to surrender.”
There was no reply from the Black Queen.
The Prince edged forwards. “The battle is over. Order your troops to yield.”
Silence greeted Prince Edwin’s demand. He leaned forwards, using the tip of his sword to part the folds of dark silk obscuring the throne…
And gasped when he saw the royal seat was empty.
“A trick!” squealed Squire Stubby. “I did warn you, Sire.”
But the Prince didn’t have long to ponder the whereabouts of his enemy.
Something cold and sharp pricked the back of his neck.
Prince Edwin twisted round, and saw the statue of the Black Queen now standing behind him, pointing a jewelled sceptre as his throat.
Whilst Prince Edwin stared helplessly, the stone figure transformed into flesh and bone, its lips creasing into that all too familiar smirk.
“It is you who must yield,” said the Black Queen. “For I win. Again!”
Chapter 3- A Drink Problem
“I win,” repeated Bryony, keeping her crayon levelled at Edwin’s throat. “I win yet again.”
“That’s not fair.” Edwin lowered his feather duster, fixing his stepsister with an accusing glare. “You cheated.”
The ornate surroundings of the throne room had dissolved around them, and the children were now back in the lounge of their cottage home.
“I used magic.” Bryony emphasised her words with repeated thrusts of the crayon. “That’s the point of the game. That’s why it’s called ‘Magic Chess’.”
“I’m afraid she’s right,” said Stubby, still perched on Edwin’s shoulder. “Using magic in Magic Chess does not constitute cheating.”
“See.” Bryony nodded at Edwin. “Even your underling says I didn’t cheat.”
“I am not his underling,” protested Stubby. “I was only playing such a role for the purposes of the game. And if he’d listened to my advice he wouldn’t have lost again.”
“I didn’t lose,” snorted Edwin. “Bryony cheated. I demand to consult the umpire.”
The carved wooden face above the fireplace came to life. “The Young Mistress did not break the rules of the game,” decreed Inglenook, Keeper of the Ancient W
isdom. “Although perhaps she might have stretched them a little. The main point is that you are both learning to use magic more effectively.”
“But some are learning quicker than others.” That smirk returned to Bryony’s lips as she turned back to Edwin. “Fancy another match, little stepbrother?”
“I’m bored of Magic Chess,” grumbled Edwin. “Can we play something else?”
“Whatever you want,” agreed Bryony. “Makes no difference, seeing as I’ll beat you again.”
Edwin bit his tongue. Bryony had a point. So far she had beaten him at every magic game. Magic Chess, Magic Draughts, Magic Dominos, even Magic Tiddlywinks. Although he wouldn’t admit it to his stepsister, it was obvious that Bryony was getting the hang of magic much faster than he was.
“How about a game that doesn’t involve magic?” he suggested. “Like good old fashioned Snakes and Ladders?”
Bryony pulled a face. “Sounds a bit dull.”
“We can make it more interesting.” Edwin had been thinking about changing the rules of his favourite game for some time. “We could go up the snakes instead of down them?”
“Wow.” Bryony threw her hands in the air in a gesture of mock excitement. “Let’s live life on the edge, huh?”
“Or…” Edwin decided to play his trump card. “How about using cheese instead of dice? And the loser has to eat it afterwards.”
Wrinkling her nose, Bryony looked Edwin up and down. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” said Stubby. “And I volunteer to eat it on the boy’s behalf.”
“That’s only if I lose,” pointed out Edwin.
“You’ll lose,” predicted Stubby. “The only thing more certain is that you’ll never be a Prince. You couldn’t rule a straight line, let alone a country.”
“Then let’s not bother. I’m sick of silly games anyhow.” Edwin turned his back on Bryony and stared out of the window. Rain drummed against the diamond leaded panes, pounding out a monotonous beat that had continued non-stop for three whole weeks.
“It’s supposed to be the summer holidays.” Edwin sighed as he stared at the sullen grey sky. “Time to go places, do stuff. Not to be stuck indoors.”
“You should consider yourself fortunate, Young Master.” There was a reprimanding edge to Inglenook’s normally cheery voice. “These storms have caused far greater disruption to other people in this country and all across the world. Towns have been flooded, homes destroyed.”
“I know.” Edwin had seen all the TV footage of weather chaos around the globe. That is until the wind had blown down their aerial last weekend. “It’s just that I’m sick of playing dumb magic games with Her Royal Slyness.”
Inglenook’s wooden faced creased into an uncharacteristic scowl. “Magic Chess is not merely a game, Young Master. The Wise Ones developed such pursuits to hone their magic skills.”
“Don’t worry about Edwin,” Bryony told Inglenook. “He’s just sulking because I’m better than him at magic.”
“You are not better than me.” Edwin wheeled round and glared at Bryony. “We’re both Guardians of Wychetts, so we’re as good as each other. Isn’t that right, Inglenook?”
“Well…” Inglenook hesitated, but the lounge door opened before he could reply.
“So that’s where it got to.” Edwin’s mother Jane swiped the feather duster from her son’s grasp. “I wish you wouldn’t play with my household items. You could have someone’s eye out.”
Edwin said nothing. His mother didn’t know about their magic games.
“Anyway,” continued Jane, “I just came to let you know that supper will be late because Bill hasn’t come home yet.”
The children had lost track of time whilst playing magic games, and didn’t realise how late it was.
“I wouldn’t be too worried.” Noting the concerned look on Jane’s face, Bryony gave her stepmother a reassuring smile. “You know how devoted he is to his new job.”
She wouldn’t admit it to his face, but Bryony was rather proud of her father these days. For the first time ever he had a steady job. It might not be some high powered role in a top company, but he had a posh company car, leather briefcase and business smart phone. And he was doing well by the sounds of it.
But not everyone was chuffed with Bill’s success. Jane thought he worked too many hours, and was constantly moaning that he was never home in time for tea. Unlike her stepmother, Bryony was prepared to forgo her father’s company if it meant more money coming in. The problem was he hadn’t been paid yet because of an ‘administrative issue’. It was Bryony’s birthday in a couple of weeks, and she hoped her dad would be paid in time to buy her a decent present for a change.
An ominous rumble of thunder sounded. Jane looked up at the sky and shivered. “I do wish it would stop raining.”
“It’s going to be like this for weeks,” said Edwin. “That’s what the forecasters reckon.”
There was another growl of thunder, and the sky lit up with a pulsing flash of silver.
Jane shivered again, her auburn eyebrows arching with concern. “He promised he’d be home in time for supper.”
“Why don’t you call him?” said Bryony. “He loves using that posh company mobile phone of his.”
“I’ve tried five times in the last half hour.” Jane shook her head. “No answer.”
“Then he’s probably in the middle of some crucial sales negotiation,” suggested Bryony.
Jane didn’t look convinced. “I’ll believe that once he brings home some pay. For all I know he could be spending all that money down the pub.”
“My father doesn’t have a drink problem.” Bryony was horrified at the suggestion. “He’s only been drunk once, and that was because the bottle of barley water turned out to be six years past its sell by date.”
“A lot of places are flooded with the rain,” said Edwin. “He might be stuck somewhere, marooned in his posh company car.”
“He’ll be fine,” said Bryony. “It has very comfortable seats with lots of leg room.”
Edwin shrugged. “Can’t float though, can it?”
“Please don’t say things like that.” Jane pointed her duster at Edwin. “Bryony is right. Bill is probably OK. Just putting in a few extra hours, that’s all.”
Another boom of thunder shook the cottage. The windows rattled, and clumps of soot fell down the chimney.
“I’m going to start cooking supper.” Jane lowered her duster. “If he turns up late he’ll just have to eat it cold.”
Jane was halfway to the door when she stopped and turned back to the children. “By the way, have you taken any of my spoons to play with? I had a set of six but they’ve all disappeared.”
Edwin and Bryony professed their innocence. Jane scowled doubtfully as she strode from the room.
“Wouldn’t like to be your dad when he gets home.” Edwin grinned at Bryony. “Or rather, if he gets home.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen,” said Bryony. “My dad will be fine. Won’t he, Inglenook?”
The carved face above the hearth came alive again.
“I am afraid your father is in peril, Young Mistress.”
Bryony’s jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”
“Of course he’s sure,” said Edwin. “Inglenook never gets it wrong.”
“He’s not perfect,” countered Bryony. “All it takes is a bit of rain and his magic goes on the blink.”
Edwin knew what Bryony was referring to, and so did Inglenook.
“It is true that Wychetts’ magic was affected by the elemental imbalance from the Tome Terriblis,” conceded the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom. “But I can assure you that current climatic conditions are having no adverse effects. And I maintain that your father is in danger, Young Mistress.”
Before Bryony could respond, a familiar voice came echoing from the hallway.
“Hi everyone. I’m ho-ooome!”
“Told you.” Bryony poked her tongue out at
Edwin before rushing off to greet her father.
Jane had got there first, and was giving Bill a relieved hug by the time Bryony reached the hallway.
“I’ve been worried sick about you,” crooned Jane, resting her head on Bill’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you made it ba…” Then she withdrew, cupping a hand over her nose and mouth. “What’s that smell?”
“It’s my new aftershave.” Bill grinned. “Don’t you like it?”
“It’s a bit…” Jane took another step backwards. “Fishy.”
Wychetts and the Thunderstone Page 2
