Tom's Inheritance

by T J Green

  A long wailing cry echoed in the air, and Tom halted in alarm. “What the hell was that?”

  They turned quickly, looking in all directions, but the hall was empty.

  “I heard that earlier, on the lake,” said Tom. “This place is freaky. Let’s find an exit, quickly!”

  Another wail punctuated the silence.

  “Tom.”

  “Yes,” he answered impatiently.

  “Look down.”

  Tom did so, and saw water lapping gently across the floor.

  “The cave roof must have collapsed. The cavern’s flooding.”

  “Vivian doesn’t like to make life too easy, does she?” Arthur muttered angrily.

  They ran along corridors and sloshed through rooms while the water continued to rise, until eventually they came to a broad set of stone stairs ascending to another level.

  “This will buy us some time,” Tom said, relieved.

  On the next level they saw rooms stretching away on either side, but the stairs continued to climb. Carrying on upwards, they came to a sealed circular space.

  “There are no doors here,” Arthur said.

  “There has to be some way out,” Tom said. “Start looking.”

  They examined the walls closely, feeling along the cracks, hoping to find a hidden opening or some sort of mechanism, but with no success.

  “Let’s try the floor, Tom,” said Arthur. “Look, there’s an interesting pattern right in the middle, and maybe …” He broke off as he pressed a small depression in one of the centre stones.

  With a rumble and a grating sound that set Tom’s teeth on edge, stones started to shoot up around them.

  Arthur looked at him and grinned. “Exactly as I thought.”

  The floor formed itself into a series of steps that joined up with steps descending from above. Blue sky winked through an opening in the roof, and Tom sighed with relief. Neither of them could get up the stairs fast enough.

  They emerged in the centre of the standing stones. The sun was dropping towards the horizon and the stones’ shadows fell long and dark across the moor.

  Brenna stood at the edge of the circle, grinning broadly, while Woodsmoke, Beansprout, Fahey and Jack raced over the moor, almost colliding with Brenna. Woodsmoke looked relieved and Beansprout rushed over to hug Tom, but Fahey, although pleased, looked far more interested in the gaping hole beneath them.

  “Tom, you’re back! You did it!” whooped Jack, grabbing Tom in a bear hug.

  Tom grinned broadly at them. “I guess I did. Let me introduce you to Arthur.”

  Arthur stepped forward, greeting them each in turn. Beansprout blushed as Arthur took her hand and kissed it. The myth had become a man.

  As they stood shaking hands, Tom glanced beyond them puzzled, “Who’s that?”

  They all turned and groaned, except for Beansprout, who was extremely curious to meet the much talked of and mysterious Royal Houses. The setting sun fell on the approaching Prince and his group; their silver armour flashed, the horses’ black coats gleamed, and their pennants fluttered in the wind as they raced across the moor towards them.

  “Prince Finnlugh, Bringer of Starfall and Chaos, and a few friends …” Brenna explained, her eyebrows raised and a smile playing across her lips.

  “He came?” Tom asked.

  “So much for trying to hide,” Woodsmoke groaned.

  Fahey looked at the hole, then at Tom. “So where did you come from, Tom?”

  “You won’t believe what’s down there,” he said.

  “I bet I will,” said Fahey, smirking.

  Woodsmoke ignored them all and walked to the edge of the standing stones, Brenna at his side, watching the approaching riders. The Prince and his party drew closer in a swirl of wind and thundering hooves. Coming to a stop, the Prince jumped down and strode quickly towards Tom and Arthur. Before he could get close, however, Woodsmoke stopped him, stepping directly into his path.

  “What do you want here, Prince Finnlugh?”

  “I was invited,” he replied, looking past Woodsmoke towards Brenna and Tom, his eyes finally coming to rest on Arthur. “I wanted to know if it was true.” He looked at Woodsmoke. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

  “Then you are welcome,” said Brenna, and she led the way to the others.

  It was a strange company that gathered that night on the edge of the moor, the brooding wall of mist on the lake marking the edge of the visible world. Several camp fires had been lit, and the Prince and the Duchess had magically erected enormous pavilions for shelter, grown from the heathers and small bushes that lay thickly around them.

  Before darkness had fallen, Fahey and several of the Prince’s party had been unable to resist descending the great stone steps leading to the underground palace. Not that they could explore far – the water continued to rise and the lower floor was now completely submerged.

  Tom lounged on a couch, revelling in his moment of glory. He tried to work out how deep he had been and how far he’d travelled, but time and distance had lost all meaning. He was amazed to find that only two days had passed – it felt more like a week. He looked across to where Arthur sat by the fire, surrounded by people pressing him with questions. Fahey was gazing at him gleefully, unable to get enough of this unexpected figure from the past. Tom felt he should be more awed than he actually was, but he was so exhausted from the pace of the previous days that he couldn’t properly take anything in. It was too unreal.

  He was more curious about the oddities of the Prince’s party. The Duchess of Cloy had a towering mass of hair like an enormous wedding cake piled on her head. At least, he thought it was hair, but it looked like petals. She wore a pendant around her neck, on which hung a large green stone mounted on gold – but the stone rested at the back of her neck rather than at her throat. He was unnerved when it blinked like an eye, and even more unnerved when the Duchess turned around and gazed at him for long seconds. He could smell violets, sweet and overpowering, and then as she turned away the smell vanished, leaving him feeling giddy and sick.

  They were all odder than Woodsmoke, Brenna and Fahey. He hadn’t realised how much he’d grown used to his friends’ otherness. But the people, or rather the fey, from the Royal Houses were very strange. Some had peach-like skin, soft and furry; others had skin as smooth as cream, or skin covered with whiskers. Their hair was like silk, or balls of cotton candy, coloured like rainbows or as white as snow. They were draped in magic; it crackled over them like static electricity.

  Beansprout sat next to him. “You all right? You’re very quiet.”

  “I’m exhausted. The rescuing business is hard work.”

  She laughed. Tom had related how he’d woken Arthur, and the mad dash through the tunnel and onto the underground lake.

  “I think Woodsmoke is feeling happier about the Prince.” They looked to where Woodsmoke and the Prince sat next to the fire, speaking earnestly. “I wonder what happens now?”

  “Back home I guess,” Tom said.

  Beansprout took a deep breath. “I don’t want to go back, Tom.”

  “What? Are you kidding me?”

  “No. I love it here. I have room to think. I’m not going, and you can’t make me.”

  “You can’t not go home. What would your mum say? She’d freak out.”

  Beansprout shrugged. “It’s just the way I feel.”

  “You might feel it now, but you won’t forever. What will you do? You’re being crazy. This isn’t real,” he said, gesturing at everything around them.

  “Of course it’s real. It’s just a different real.”

  “But you don’t belong here.”

  “But I could,” she said stubbornly. Getting up, she left him and walked back towards Woodsmoke. Sighing, and getting to his feet with difficulty, Tom followed.

  The Prince was gazing at Arthur’s sword. It glinted in the firelight, which illuminated the rich and fantastical engravings along its polished blade and hilt. “Merlin was a powerful
man to negotiate that for you, Arthur,” he said admiringly.

  Arthur laughed. “Merlin liked to get his own way, and generally did. Until his luck ran out.” He sighed deeply, his laughter gone, and he gazed back to the fire. “It’s because of that sword that I’m here, honouring his bargain, when I should be dust by now.”

  “You have a purpose, Arthur.”

  “It seems so. The Lady has decided I must stop the Queen.”

  “And I must stop my brother. We can help each other.”

  “How?”

  “Travel together, into Aeriken. I think they are working together; why shouldn’t we?”

  “You don’t need me. I don’t have powerful magic.”

  “Neither do I at the moment. I am weakened by the loss of my jewel. But you have Excalibur; it is a talisman, forged by faeries and full of protection. And besides, Vivian seems to think differently. She woke you especially for this reason. And I can help you!”

  Woodsmoke and Brenna were watching this exchange with interest. And no wonder, thought Tom. A Prince who had isolated himself and his retinue in his under-palace for years, and an ancient King of Britain, far from home, brought back from the dead.

  The Prince turned to them. “I’d like your help, too.”

  “How could I possibly help you?” asked Woodsmoke. “I have less magic than you, and I don’t have an all-powerful sword.”

  “But you are a hunter and a tracker. If anyone can help find my brother, it should be you! And I bet you know Aeriken better than anyone here, except for perhaps … you my dear,” he said, turning to Brenna. “You can fly, and therefore must be of the Aerikeen, ruled by our beloved murderous Queen Gavina. Therefore you can help us in other ways.”

  Brenna’s face drained of colour and she turned away abruptly.

  “Oh come now, Brenna. You must want to stop her. She’s hurting your people! Here’s your chance,” Finnlugh said in his most persuasive tones.

  16 Aeriken Forest

  The trees of Aeriken Forest grew closely together, as if trying to repel newcomers. The thick green canopy was suffocating, the branches forming a tight tangled knot overhead, and the forest interior was dim and soupy.

  The track was narrow, forcing the band of travellers into a strung out, winding line.

  They had been in the forest for several days now, but there was still no sign of the Duke of Craven. Woodsmoke had led them to an area the sprites had lived in, but it had obviously been deserted for some time. He told them he hadn’t hunted there for years, and much had changed, but said the deeper they moved into the forest, the more dangerous it would become. They would start seeing wolves and satyrs soon. Already the wolves’ howls echoed through the night, sending prickles up their necks. The horses were becoming spooked, skittering nervously in the darkness, and everyone was jumpy, thinking they were seeing things in the murky gloom.

  Beansprout was by now quite at home on horseback. “I think we’re being watched,” she said, riding beside Tom.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Can’t you feel it? It’s like there’s a million eyes on us.”

  “It’s just this place, the Otherworld. I feel like that all the time.”

  “No, this forest is different. It’s brooding, wondering what we’re doing here.”

  Occasionally a figure would materialise out of a tree trunk and stand watching from a distance, barely visible, dark eyed and green skinned, before melting back into the shadows. Fahey whispered that they were dryads – spirits of the trees and guardians of the forest.

  By nightfall they had changed their plan. Brenna would lead them to the Aerie, a palace built into the crags of a steep cliff deep in the forest. It seemed inevitable that the Duke would head there – if he dared risk it.

  “Of course my brother will risk it. He’s desperate to use the Jewel.” Prince Finnlugh looked as if he was beginning to regret this march into the forest. “And we have to find him quickly, before he learns to harness its destructive powers.”

  “So,” said Arthur, “you have brought us into the forest, but we seem to have moved no further forward. May I ask your plan? We will not succeed without one. Travelling to the palace on a whim is foolhardy.”

  “Good question,” Woodsmoke said. “Steal back the jewel? Kill the Queen? Save her subjects and restore order to the forest?”

  “I don’t need sarcasm, thank you.” Finnlugh turned to Arthur. “Do you have a better idea, Sir?”

  “Not really.” The King shook his head thoughtfully. “I feel a little unprepared. Vivian seems to think that I shall know what to do, but frankly I have no idea. I know nothing of this Queen, or what she is accused of. As you know, I have been in an enchanted sleep for a very long time. Perhaps someone can explain to me what it is she has done. Who is she?”

  “She walked out of the forest and into our palace hundreds of years ago,” Brenna said. “She was lost, hungry, exhausted, and needed help. I wasn’t born then, but we all know the tale. She looked fragile and seemed kind, and quickly our King fell in love. His wife had died and he was lonely.

  “She wasn’t one of us, but he didn’t care, and neither did we. They were happy, and had children and then grandchildren. But as the years went on we began to see a different side to her. She was quick-tempered, manipulative and sly. But the King couldn’t see it. And then the King died and we mourned. And although his firstborn son should have become King, the Queen continued to rule.

  “Slowly but surely things started to change for the worse, and when she was challenged, those who had dared to question started to disappear, particularly the heirs to the throne. And so we left, drifting away to hidden parts of Aeriken where we could not be found. Some left the forest altogether, as I did.

  “And it seems she is now worse; that she has turned on even those whom she trusted.”

  “But how did she gain so much control?” Arthur asked.

  “She tricked us with her magic, until it was too late to stop her. This had never happened to us before; we were innocent and trusting. And if we couldn’t stop her then, I’m not sure we can now. She seems to have gone mad.”

  “Her whole court may be dead, if she has been ‘hunting her own’,” Woodsmoke said. “I’m just not sure what she wants with your brother, Finnlugh, or what your brother wants from her.”

  They were crouched around a small fire, the horses snickering quietly, tethered to the trees. Tonight the Prince and Duchess had raised elaborate three-sided tents, protecting their backs from the cold dark eyes of the forest. Their lack of progress was beginning to annoy everyone, and the forest’s atmosphere twisted their thoughts.

  “And,” Brenna added, “the forest has changed. There’s no one here. It’s as if all the forest creatures are hiding. Something is very wrong.”

  “I think she wants the Starlight Jewel,” Finnlugh said thoughtfully. “It could greatly increase her power. Why else would the Duke be coming here?”

  “Well, in that case,” Arthur said quietly, “we must head to the palace.”

  Towering above them was the steep wall of the cliff. The top was hidden from view, shielded by clouds and mist. Despite its height, it had been impossible to see from the forest as the trees were so dense and the canopy so thick. It felt like it had taken weeks to reach it.

  Mosses covered the floor, disguising fallen trees, and they stumbled along making slow progress. It didn’t help that the paths to the Aerie were hidden from outsiders, and Brenna had difficulty finding them again.

  The feeling of gloom had grown ever stronger, until they were barely sleeping, their dreams filled with strange images. They had taken their mind off things by sword-fighting with each other. Beansprout and Tom were given swords suitable for learning with, and Arthur taught them, saying he needed to practise too.

  For the past few nights, wolves had surrounded the camp. It had taken several volleys of arrows before they’d retreated, their teeth flashing in the firelight, their eyes glinting yellow.


  And then a group of dryads had appeared out of the shadows, silent and solemn, barely visible in the fire’s glow. Those sitting round the fire had leapt to their feet, wondering how the dryads could have passed the guards. A dryad stepped forward asking, “What do you want here?”

  Finnlugh answered, “The Queen and my brother. Nothing else.”

  “She will kill you. We hide from her now; everyone hides from her now. Beware your fire.” And then they had vanished.

  Finnlugh had put out the fire, and they had fallen silent in the dark.

  At the base of the crag, they searched for hours before finding the narrow stony path to the top. They decided to leave the horses at the bottom with some of Finnlugh’s Royal Guard.

  There had been another argument. “You should stay here, help protect the horses,” Finnlugh said to the Duchess. “I can feel very strong strange magic. Something is very wrong here.”

  “I did not journey all this way to look after horses,” she hissed in reply.

  “If and when we escape from the palace, we’ll need the horses to return. And I don’t want anyone following us up that hill. I have no wish to be trapped.”

  Jack joined in. “Actually, there’s no way I can get up there without a horse. I’ll stay, and so should you,” he said to Tom and Beansprout.

  “Not a chance,” they answered at the same time.

  “You have no idea how dangerous it may be!” argued Jack.

  “And that’s why I’m going,” answered Tom. Despite weeks of moaning, he now realised he had no wish to be left out of anything.

  “And don’t think you’ll change my mind!” Beansprout said.

  Fahey looked at Jack. “I’ll stay. My knees will never manage that climb, unfortunately. And they’re right. They should go. I feel they’re part of this.”

  Jack looked as if he was going to protest, but then sighed and fell silent.

  “See!” Finnlugh said to the Duchess. “You need to protect them too.”

  She stared at him, frowning.

  “You know I’m right, dear Duchess. You can feel it too.”

  The eye in her pendant blinked slowly, and she stroked the necklace absentmindedly, as if listening to something. “All right. But if you’re not back in three days, I leave you here.”