by Tim Flanagan
But then something changed. Every member of the queen’s army began to look older and move slowly and more sluggishly, almost like the energy had been drained from them. This was the sign they had been waiting for. The queen’s power was weakening and had given them the chance to even the odds and fight back once again. Every stroke of the sword meant death to another member of the queen’s army and very soon there had been none that remained.
Victory was theirs.
Freedom was finally theirs.
From the cloud of dust around the remains of the Twisted Tower a terrifying roar cut through the air. A red horned dragon burst through, flapping its great leathery wings, beating the dust into swirls beneath it. In one claw an injured wolf was lightly held, whilst in the other a young boy that looked slightly confused by all that was happening. On the back of the dragon sat a lady dressed in green, her hair flying behind her as the dragon swooped into the sky towards the battlefield. Behind her sat a white bearded man, a woman and two more children clinging to the body of the dragon as best they could.
It took a long time to gather up their dead. Prince Chiron’s body was carried on a bed of moss and laid to rest beneath an ancient oak within the forest. Lord Clayden; some ground dwellers and hill dwarfs, carried the body of Lord Kullwrath back to his tent; he was to be burnt so that his ashes could once again live within the ground. King Conroy had also taken some wounds, but was alive, whilst Martin Bayard had somehow managed to remain in his saddle despite the injury he already had in his leg.
That night, amongst the great pyres that had been lit for the fallen men, Edgar, Joe, Scarlet and Peter sat and looked into the flames of the dead. They spent the evening telling Peter the story of how they found him as well as what was happening in Parsley Bottom.
‘Did you really think that the queen would have helped us?' Joe asked Edgar.
‘I suppose not,’ he replied.
‘Without her help our planet is still in danger.’
‘Yes,’ Edgar replied with a sigh, ‘but at least we found Peter.’
‘What do you think our world will look like when we go back?' Peter asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Edgar replied. 'But,' he continued after a short pause, 'from the chaos we saw as we escaped Parsley Bottom we have to be prepared for anything.'
The green figure of Lady Flora approached them; the dragon who had plucked them from the rubble of the tower had flown to the granite mountains to seek out others of his kind, so she was now on her own.
‘Sir Edgar, I said that I would help you once our war was over,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid King Conroy is not strong enough to help, but I stand by my word. I will follow you through the portal and into your world.’
‘Thank you, Lady Flora.’
‘You better not go without me too,’ said a familiar voice from behind her.
‘Max!’ shouted the children jumping up to hug their friend.
‘This brave young man is the unicorn rider who tried to destroy the queen's tower whilst you were inside,’ Lady Flora laughed.
‘Sorry about that,’ said Max awkwardly.
The familiar figure of Ralphina emerged from amongst the smoke, followed slowly by Raelyn, part of his body wrapped in bandages.
'In the morning I leave for the northern territories to try and unite my Caniard brothers and sisters together with my cousin Wolfram,' Ralphina said. 'I am their princess and they need a leader. Goodbye knight of King Arthur, I know you are keen to return to your world too. If the human race shows the courage that you and your young friends have done here, it will always survive, no matter what you have to battle against.'
Raelyn nuzzled his head into Scarlet's chest as they exchanged a private thought conversation that would continue their bond despite the separation of the two worlds.
The fires of the dead, although sad, were also a sign of hope for the future. The Underworld had a chance for all its creatures, magical or not, to live together in peace and without fear.
As the rest of the camp celebrated and mourned at the same time, a knight, a lady and four children walked away from the orange glow of the fires and the battlefield and onto the
Shadow Road ready to leave the Underworld. Their departure was only noticed by one figure that followed at a distance, a shape in the darkness that moved from tree to tree, hiding itself when they looked back. Time was essential. They didn’t know what had happened in their world since they had left and needed to get back as soon as possible.
The
Shadow Road was quiet during the night. Only the moon shone to illuminate their path home, an omen for what awaited them. When Joe and Scarlet had been studying the maps with Symen inside the Rocks of Goran, they had identified a small town off the Shadow Road that could be the site of a portal. After a short walk they approached the old trading town of Little Ingleton that was nestled in the woodland beside the road. A wooden archway bridged across the track that joined the road to a deserted town made up of several small simple houses with straw roofs, their occupants left in fear that the war would engulf them.
‘How do we know where the portal is?' asked Lady Flora.
‘It’s over there,’ said Peter smiling, knowing he was the only one who could see it. He pointed to a gap between two stone columns at the front of a larger building.
‘Joe, you need to open the portal so that we can all go through,’ instructed Edgar, drawing his sword from his belt, unsure what would be waiting for them on the other side.
After watching what had happened to the queen when she held the Silver Bough, Joe still felt nervous and scared about holding and using it, but he lifted it to his mouth and began to blow.
As it had in the faerie ring on the hillside back in Parsley Bottom, the sound of bells and vibrations filled the air and a shimmering pool of vertical water formed between the two stone columns.
They all held hands and stepped forward as one into the portal. Behind them a grey shadow waited a short time then ran towards the portal, jumping through just before it closed.
THE END
1. Tension and Mistrust
It was silent in Butterwick Hall.
On the landing above a grand staircase, a wooden floorboard creaked slightly as weight was loaded onto it, followed by another a few seconds later a little further along the corridor. There was a gentle breathing sound in the air, nervous and broken. Somewhere the safety catch of a gun clicked back disturbing the silence that made the breathing sound suddenly stop.
A heavy silence once again filled the old building.
The corridor at the top of the staircase was poorly lit with rooms either side blocking any natural light except from a small window at the end of the corridor, but as the morning sun had not yet reached that side of the house, the daylight that shone through was poor.
Something moved along one of the corridor walls. A dark shadow within a shadow, only a silhouette of a shape moving against the wall, crouched down and cautious.
In one of the bedrooms that led off the corridor, Tracker stood with his back flat up against the wall behind the door. He was familiar with the sounds of the old building and had heard the faint noise in the corridor. He waited, shotgun in both hands, index finger poised over the trigger waiting.
The door to the bedroom nudged open slightly.
Tracker held his breath, knowing that he was about to have company. The hinges gave little resistance as they silently allowed the door to open wider.
In the corridor the large square of daylight where the door had been, threw out more light illuminating an old framed painting on the opposite wall of a ghostly figure holding his white head in the same pose as Edvard Munch's "The Scream". To the left of the door the square of light was broken as a shape took a cautious look into the room.
Tracker waited patiently. He instinctively knew that something had taken a step inside the room. He sensed he wasn’t alone and only two inches of wood now separated them. He was nervous. He had left Steven and Geor
gia in the kitchen gathering food and weapons, whilst he had gone to his bedroom to gather blankets and clothing as well as backpacks ready for their journey to London.
Since they had woken that morning there had been no further sounds of creatures attacking the house. He assumed he would be relatively safe to venture further into the house, but, maybe he had been wrong. Maybe the creatures had managed to get inside the house and were waiting for one of the humans to show themselves before attacking.
His hand tightened around the trigger. He could feel the narrow strip of metal pressing into the soft flesh of his finger.
An unusual shiny shape suddenly appeared round the side of the door. Reflected in the shape, an eye looked back at him. Reacting instinctively, Tracker squeezed his finger and an explosion of shot pellet erupted from his gun, splintering the edge of the door and leaving a clear circular mark in it as if a giant had bitten it away with uneven teeth. The explosion echoed loudly within the small room then changed into a high pitched tinkle as shattered glass fell from the window.
'Tracker!' shouted Steven from behind the door.
A mixture of relief and confusion swept over the gamekeeper as he realised it had been Steven he had heard approaching the room. That relief immediately turned to dread as he realised that he had just shot him. Peeling himself from the wall he quickly pulled the door back so he could see if Steven was alright.
Sitting on the floor, with splinters of wood covering his legs, was Steven. 'That was close,' he said.
'I thought you were one of the creatures,' replied Tracker. 'Sorry. Are you hurt?'
'No. I was just being cautious.' Steven picked up the now shortened and splintered remains of what appeared to be a broom handle. 'While I was downstairs, I strapped a silver tray to the end of a broom so I could look round corners easily, but I think I'll need another one.' Steven pointed to the twisted piece of metal which now lay in the corner of the room, punctured by shot pellet.
'I came to see if you needed any help,' Steven continued.
Tracker held out his hand to help lift Steven off the floor. 'I've found a couple of extra cases to put things in. The journey could be a long one. We don’t know what state the rest of the country is in.'
Tracker swung a bag over each shoulder, whilst Steven lifted an empty suitcase and together they made their way back down the staircase towards the servants' quarters and the kitchen.
'It’s a strange place this,' Steven casually said to Tracker.
'What do you mean?'
'Well, where is everyone else? You're the gamekeeper here so where are the owners? Or the cook or cleaners? There's no sign that anyone lives here apart from you.'
'The owners left for New York last week,' Tracker replied rather too quickly.
'And the only person they leave to look after the place is the gamekeeper?' Steven asked suspiciously as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
'I'm an old family friend. They trust me.'
Tracker raised the latch on the thick kitchen door, pushed it open and waited for Steven to enter.
Steven paused before going through.
'They must think very highly of you to give you such a nice room,' he said. 'I take it that was your bedroom?'
'There are thirty-six rooms in this building and at least twenty of them can be used as bedrooms, although not all are as habitable as the one we were in. There are plenty of bedrooms to choose from. Like I said - I'm a family friend.'
'There you are,' said Georgia as she stood from the kitchen table and looked over to the two men. A gun rested next to her hand. 'I heard a gunshot - is everything alright?'
'Just Tracker taking a pot shot at me,' replied Steven jokingly, breaking eye contact with Tracker and moving into the room. Steven felt like there was something not quite right about Tracker, but for now they needed to stick together and work as a team if they wanted to survive against the greater threat of the creatures that had attacked last night.
They packed as many weapons from the gun cabinet as they could carry and loaded each one ready for immediate use. Tracker stuffed extra cartridges and boxes of bullets into his hold-all whilst the suitcase was filled with more primitive weapons like the antique swords and shields they had collected from the other rooms in the house. Steven carried the bag that still had the antibiotics Coldred and Seward had given to them in the room at the pub, and swung it over his shoulder.
Silently they followed Tracker as he walked lightly up the stone steps out of the kitchen and away from the back of the house and into a hallway with a high ceiling. Around them gold gilt framed paintings followed the rise of the staircase up to the first floor, covering so much of the walls that the paisley patterned wallpaper hardly got chance to be seen. They stood quietly at the centre of an elaborate parquet floor that was the grand entrance to Butterwick Hall, straining to see if they could hear anything outside.
Apart from their own nervous breathing, there were no sounds coming from either inside the house, or out. Daylight streamed down through a high circular window that lit patterns of dust that glittered in its beam. Tracker gently walked over to a window that was partly covered by a thick blackout blind and cautiously moved it aside with one finger.
Outside the sun was shining and the sky was blue. Scattered on the gravel were fragments of roof tiles, but it seemed that the old building had withstood the attack from the alien creatures with very little damage. Of the creatures themselves there was no sign. Tracker squinted, attempting to see into the trees, but there were no unusual dark shadows waiting for them. He let the blind fall back into place.
'I think they've gone,' he whispered to Steven and Georgia with a casual smile on his face.
'We should still be cautious,' Steven replied, noticing Georgia and Tracker lowering their weapons as they relaxed. 'It only takes one of the creatures to see us to put us back in danger.' He paused, thinking back to the information he had been told about the bacteria by Coldred and Seward back at MI6. It felt like such a long time ago.
'They react to sunlight,' he continued. 'Or at least they used to.'
'What do you mean?' asked Tracker.
'The creatures are evolving so rapidly there's no telling how long they will remain vulnerable to sunlight.'
'How do you know so much about these things? Who exactly are you?' This time it was Tracker's turn to be suspicious of his companion.
Before Steven got chance to answer they were interrupted by three loud knocks on the entrance door. All three instinctively raised their weapons and aimed them towards the door.
The thick brass knocker swung against the outside of the door once again releasing three more, slightly louder, knocks.
2. Back to Parsley Bottom
Bemused, Tracker put the key into the thick door, unlocked the latch and pulled it open just wide enough so that he could see out. The morning appeared normal, the sun shone, a gentle breeze played amongst the leaves of the trees and a delivery man dressed in a brown uniform was standing on the top step of the entrance to Butterwick Hall with a slim cardboard parcel in his hand. The delivery man was young, unshaven and had thin white wires hanging down from his ears. Even through the small gap in the door Tracker could hear the tinny sound of music from the delivery man's headphones. For a brief moment Tracker thought he must have dreamt the previous night's adventure. The presence of the delivery man made everything appear totally normal, as if nothing had truly happened.
The delivery man passed a black electronic device to Tracker who opened the door wider. 'Sign here.'
Tracker did as he was told. He propped the shotgun against the door-frame, passed Steven his handgun and signed the delivery man's device. The man looked slightly confused and nervous at the sight of all the guns, but nodded politely to Steven. As soon as he had a signature, he ran down the porch steps and jumped into the open door of his van.
'Wait!' shouted Georgia. 'It's not safe out there.'
The man over-revved his engine, spun the van round th
e fountain, kicking up loose gravel as it went, before rapidly turning out of the entrance.
'Well, at least we know we're not the only survivors,' said Tracker joking. He placed the parcel on the floor inside the entrance hall, knowing its arrival was irrelevant to their future survival, and picked up his shotgun.
'But he doesn’t know what danger he's in,' said Georgia.
'Maybe it's not as bad as we think. Maybe the creatures only attacked certain areas. There could be groups of people in the countryside that are totally unaware of the chaos.'
'We can't do anything about him. Let's make our way to London as planned,' said Steven. He waited as the other two began to edge their way out of the front door, cautiously checking above them for any signs of creatures that might be waiting on the roof. As Steven passed the parcel that Tracker had left on the floor, he stooped down to look at the address label.
'Mr James Hallington,' he read to himself in a whisper before moving out under the porch.
They continually scanned the sky checking for any sign of danger. A hissing sound erupted from amongst the plants at the side of the building as the wind momentary increased. They all nervously levelled their guns towards the trees waiting for an attack. Realising there was no imminent threat they dashed across the gravel to the right of the house towards an old stable block. Tracker found the key and unlocked the wide doors whilst the other two continued to watch the sky for any sign of movement. Once the stable doors were open they dashed inside and headed towards a black Range Rover. With a flash of orange lights Tracker unlocked the car. They quickly unloaded everything they were carrying into the back before jumping in and locking the doors.
'So far so good,' said Tracker who seemed to be in good spirits considering the danger they were in. 'While it's quiet, why don’t we go back into the house and take anything else we can find? We don’t know how long the trip to London might take us.'
