Tom's Inheritance

by T J Green

  The black shape wheeled overhead in ever-decreasing circles, until the Queen landed with a shake of her immense wings.

  The moonlight cast the Queen’s features into sharp lines. Her long oval face was framed by straight black hair that swept past her shoulders and down her back. She was semi-human in form, her legs ending in talons that clattered on the floor, her arms at her side, a cruel jagged knife in one hand. Wings spread from either shoulder, spanning at least five metres, raising and flexing as she strode forward towards her shattered throne. Her eyes were dark black beads that glittered in the half light.

  “Brenna,” her voice rasped, “it’s been too long. I’m so glad you’re back. I’ve been searching for you, and the others. They think they can hide from me, but they can’t hide forever. Come into the light, I want to see you.”

  Brenna moved forward, as if under a spell. Her feet dragged and she clenched her fists, but she was drawn irresistibly onwards until she stepped out of the shadows of the pillars and into a bright patch of moonlight.

  “Did you really think you could come here, and that I would allow you to leave?” asked the Queen.

  “What did you do to them?” Brenna said, her voice hoarse. “Did you do all this? Did you kill your own people? Your family?”

  “They betrayed me! They refused to do as I asked and then tried to depose me. How could I tolerate that?” Her voice rose higher as her anger increased. “Then they abandoned me and the palace. They left me. Me! Fled into the forest. They all left me!” She paused, and stepped forward into the light, her voice now low and dangerous, “And you. You left me years ago, without asking permission.”

  “You betrayed me, remember? You killed my parents.”

  “It was a fit punishment for the crime. Treason is an ugly thing.”

  Arthur remained in the shadows, but his voice rang out. “And you know all about treason, don’t you?”

  The Queen turned abruptly, trying to find the source of the voice. “Who is that?”

  “But I’m so upset. You don’t recognise me? I know you. I would recognise that voice anywhere.”

  She paused, bewildered. “I know who you sound like, but you can’t possibly be …”

  Arthur had circled behind her, and he called out, “Oh, but I can.”

  She whirled round in an effort to see him. “But you are dead. You fell in battle.”

  “As should you be, Morgan. You live well beyond your lifespan.”

  She gave a cackling laugh. “This world offers many benefits. I could not stay in our world. Others came looking for me. So I made the crossing permanently, to my other home.”

  Arthur continued to hide in the blackest shadows, pacing silently out of view, leading her away from Brenna.

  “So while I have been sleeping,” he said, “you have been meddling and destroying – again.”

  Her claws clattered on the stone as she stepped towards his voice. “I was going to live quietly here in the forest, but … you know me, Arthur.”

  “Yes I do.”

  Arthur remained stubbornly hidden from view, fighting for time.

  “And you?” she asked. “How are you here?”

  “Vivian wished it. But enough of me. You look different. What happened?”

  She flexed her wings self-consciously, and for a second Tom sensed regret in her tone. “I had hoped my change in appearance would help me fit in, but things were not as I intended. Magic can be tricky.” She tilted her head to one side and looked across to where Finnlugh was slumped with the jewel pulsing softly in his hands.

  “I think you’ve done enough damage here.” Arthur stepped out of the shadows, unexpectedly close to the Queen, and with a flash plunged Excalibur deep into her side.

  She screeched and moved swiftly, hurling Arthur backwards with her wing. “You aren’t stronger than me any more, Arthur,” she said, laughing. “Although Vivian obviously thinks so.”

  With barely a pause, Arthur rolled forward, slashing Excalibur towards her legs. Taking advantage of the distraction, Woodsmoke released a volley of arrows and the guards rushed in with their swords raised. The arrows bounced off the Queen’s wings and onto the floor, and as the guards stepped within her reach she slashed at one with her jagged knife and smashed the other with her powerful wings. The first guard collapsed in a pool of blood and the other was swept over the parapet into the void below. As if to taunt them, she then rose effortlessly out of reach. The wound in her side poured with blood, but it didn’t seem to be holding her back.

  She landed close to Brenna, calling out, “Try as hard as you like, you can’t save Brenna!”

  All this time Tom had remained stranded halfway down the throne room, unable to move, where the Duke’s blast had thrown him. Beansprout had tried to help Brenna, but the Queen’s magic was preventing Brenna from moving.

  The Queen was not far from Tom now. He could make out her sharp cruel features and powerful form, and her evil seemed to fill the air.

  At some unheard command, Brenna screamed and fell to her knees, her shoulders beginning to tear as wings forced their way out. The air became thick and sticky.

  Tom was aware of movement beyond Brenna, and hoped Finnlugh was doing something. Arrows winged through the air, but fell short of the Queen. Brenna continued her terrifying screams as Arthur ran towards the Queen, his sword raised, but with a wave of her hand the air around him seemed to solidify and he stopped as if turned to stone.

  The Queen turned back to Brenna. “I shall put you on these walls; a fine decoration for my hall. And then I shall put Arthur next to you.”

  Tom couldn’t let this happen. But the Queen was so powerful – what could he possibly do? As water lapped gently in the pool in front of him, he remembered the small shell the Emperor had pressed on him before leaving. He pulled it from his pocket and tried to remember what he was supposed do with it. Something about throwing it in water in times of trouble? That seemed too easy. But with Brenna now writhing on the floor and the Queen advancing, he needed to act, not think.

  The Queen was standing close to the pool. He threw the shell, and it landed with a splash in the water, ripples spreading outwards. But instead of becoming weaker, the ripples grew stronger, gaining in height and intensity until they broke across the floor of the hall. The Queen hesitated as the water started to froth and boil, and as she paused, thick grasping tentacles whipped upwards out of the pool, followed by a large horny head covered in dozens of round flat eyes. The tentacles grabbed the Queen, enveloping her in their suckered grasp. She screeched and tried to pull free, but the beast had already crushed her wings.

  Tom saw her knife rise and fall, but it slashed uselessly. He heard her wings tear as she struggled, and her screams filled the air.

  Brenna had now collapsed, seemingly unconscious. Arthur, released from the spell, ran towards the Queen, slashing and parrying, but the tentacles lashing and whipping the air prevented him from reaching her.

  Woodsmoke and Beansprout raced to Brenna’s side and dragged her to safety.

  Tom was too close to the Queen and the tentacled creature. He pushed backwards, hoping to bury himself in the shale. Incredibly, the wounded Queen seemed to be freeing herself. Arthur was caught by a flailing tentacle and thrown against the wall opposite Tom. They could only watch in horror as the Queen wrestled with increasing strength.

  Finnlugh rose to his feet. He looked exhausted, but stepping over his brother he strode purposefully to the edge of the pool. He raised his hand and released the power of the jewel. Again its light grew and expanded, and this time Finnlugh grew with it until he was as tall as the pillars, blazing with an unearthly brilliance.

  “Hold on tight!” Finnlugh shouted as lightning whipped from the jewel and across the hall.

  With an immense crack, a huge rent opened in the sky above the throne room. Tom felt as if he’d been plunged into the centre of the universe. He could see galaxies and planets swirling in reds, greens and blues. They hung above him like fr
uit; it was as if he could pluck one and take a bite; as if he could step right off this planet and onto one of them. He could almost taste the cosmic dust that glittered in swathes in the vastness of space. Then, with a stab of fear, he realised he couldn’t breathe. His lungs heaved and he started to rise into the air. He lunged at the closest pillar and gripped tightly, willing himself not to pass out. He saw Arthur do the same before he was blocked from view.

  The tentacled creature was wrapped tightly around the Queen, and together they rose into the air. Still writhing, they were sucked into the immensity of the universe. Light seemed to be leaking from their every pore, and Tom’s last glimpse of the Queen was of one wing breaking free, every tiny feather illuminated by the light beyond it. There was a roar and a shriek, and then silence. The night sky returned and Tom could breathe again.

  Tom released the pillar and slumped back to the floor. Finnlugh shrank and collapsed. Tom looked beyond him and realised with a jolt that the Duke had disappeared. He sat up. “Finnlugh, your brother, he’s …”

  But before he could finish his sentence, Arthur interrupted. “Tom,” he said, shaking his head and pointing upwards.

  “You mean–” Tom couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “Yes.”

  Tom sighed and looked over at Finnlugh, lying where he’d fallen. After all that, his brother was gone.

  He roused himself. What of Beansprout, Woodsmoke and Brenna? How were they? He was about to launch himself to his feet when he saw the doors to the throne room open and Woodsmoke peering through. “All right in there?”

  “Just about,” Tom said. But he really wasn’t sure if any of them would be, ever again.

  19 Legacies and Choices

  It was a long night for Tom and the others, perched high above the forest. They crossed to the far side of the bridge and made themselves comfortable in the rooms around the stairway. Arthur gathered wood and made a fire at the start of each bridge, to keep away anything else that might have been lurking in the dark. The flames burned bright and high and took the chill off the air. They gathered blankets and sat round the lower fire, not wanting to peer across to the battered throne room.

  There were large bleeding wounds on Brenna’s shoulders, caused by the forced expansion of her wings, and an exhausted Finnlugh used the jewel to heal them. The scars were red and sore, but her pain was eased.

  Nobody felt like talking, and they lay by the fire and fell into a light sleep, Tom haunted by dreams of death.

  The next morning they walked out of the palace and down the ridged cliff face, pausing frequently to rest. The thick syrupy air of strong magic had gone, but the forest still seemed to bristle around them with a watchful intensity. Their mood was grim and they mostly walked in silence. When they entered the camp it was with an air of mourning.

  “Well thank the Gods, you’re all still alive! It’s been a horrible night,” Jack said, welcoming them with relief.

  “You should thank Finnlugh, he was the one who saved us. It was nothing to do with Gods,” Tom said.

  Jack carried on regardless. “That smell caused by the Duchess’s spell was so awful I thought I’d be sick. The wolves came and howled round us for hours, which really upset the horses, and then we saw the lightning shoot from the top of that rock and I nearly had a heart attack.”

  “I think we all nearly had a heart attack, Granddad,” Tom sighed. “At least the smell’s gone now,” he added reassuringly.

  Jack rolled his eyes. “She lifted it at sunrise,” he said. “She’s a funny old bird, Tom!”

  “Not half as bad as the funny old bird we met,” Tom grumbled.

  Jack burst out laughing. “Good to see you still have your sense of humour.”

  Tom turned to Finnlugh. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

  Finnlugh sighed. “I was furious with him, but I didn’t want that to happen.”

  Tom hesitated, wondering what else to say, but Beansprout interrupted. “Well, you shouldn’t blame yourself. You did the only thing you could. You saved everyone else.”

  Finnlugh smiled and patted her arm. “Probably the most good I’ve done in a long time. However, I do seem to have deprived the forest of its Queen.”

  “I have the feeling they’re not going to miss her much.”

  “But they need someone,” he said.

  Woodsmoke interrupted them. “You fancy the job, Finnlugh?”

  “Why? Do you?”

  “Always so funny,” Woodsmoke muttered.

  “But shouldn’t it be a surviving member of the royal family? As in someone related to Queen Gavina, or Morgan, or whatever her name is? Was?” Beansprout asked.

  Woodsmoke and Finnlugh looked at each other and then over at Brenna, who stood grooming her horse, her movements stiff and awkward.

  “Is she related? I mean really related?” Finnlugh asked, the ghost of a smile crossing his face.

  “You should probably ask her yourself,” Woodsmoke said.

  Tom sat facing the fire, staring into its roaring heart as if the answer to every question could be found there. Arthur sat next to him and started to polish his sword. “You look deep in thought, Tom.”

  “I’m wondering what will happen now.”

  “What do you want to happen?”

  “I have no idea. I suppose I should go home, back to the real world.”

  “This is a real world.”

  “Now you sound like Beansprout.”

  “Really? I’ve always thought she talked a lot of sense.”

  Tom sighed. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I have no idea. I might go travelling. I want to see more of this new world I’m living in.”

  “I forgot that you didn’t come from here. You’re such a legend it seems impossible that you ever really existed in our world. In fact there’s nothing to prove you did. It’s all just stories.”

  The light glinted along Excalibur as Arthur cleaned it. “Well I can assure you it was very real. I lived a whole lifetime. It was only yesterday to me, Tom. One day I died and then you woke me here, albeit a younger version of myself than when I died.”

  “Do you actually remember dying?” asked Tom. “Sorry, is that a gruesome question?” he added, stricken.

  Fortunately, Arthur laughed. “No. I remember being injured and feeling this searing pain, like fire, through my side.” He gripped his left side as if to remind himself. “I’d been fighting, and I knew it would probably be my last fight, but even so …” He paused and his voice dropped. “There was smoke everywhere, thick and choking as if the camp were on fire, and beneath that was the smell of blood. Sweat was stinging my eyes so that I could hardly see, and I was absolutely bone weary and full of sorrow and regret. And there was a lot of shouting, and the horses were screaming; I remember the thudding of their hooves.”

  For a second Tom was lost in Arthur’s memories, as if he could see it all unfolding around him. “And then?”

  “Blackness. Nothingness. No – sometimes there were strange dreams, like being at the bottom of a pool looking up through the murky depths. But I think those came later. Oh, I don’t know. Mostly nothing, until you woke me and I rolled out onto the floor of that cave, wondering where I was.”

  “Did you know about Merlin’s deal? That you wouldn’t die?”

  “Not really. I knew there was something, but not what, and to be honest I didn’t care. I had other worries. And I trusted Merlin.”

  “Do you wish I hadn’t woken you?”

  “And miss all this? Not many people get two lives, Tom. I should enjoy it while it lasts.”

  It was evening, and they were all seated around the fire talking quietly when there was a flurry of activity at the edge of the camp. Finnlugh’s guards shouted, and they heard muffled responses. Finnlugh and Arthur leapt to their feet, but Brenna was quickest. She ran to the guards, and after a brief explanation they drew back to let a small group of men and women enter the camp. Brenna hugged them all, and after a few br
ief words they followed her to the fire.

  “They are members of the court,” she explained. “Old friends I feared were dead.” She turned to them. “Come and join us, have some food.”

  They were an assortment of the young and old, and all looked weary, although they smiled with relief once they had sat and examined everyone – as closely as everyone looked at them.

  “So tell me, are others alive?” asked Brenna, sitting close to them.

  “Yes, we are not the only ones. We’ve been hiding in remote parts of Aeriken for months, some longer than others. But first, is it true? Is she dead?”

  “Yes, Finnlugh came to the rescue,” Brenna said, pointing him out. “He blasted her out into the universe.”

  “Indeed,” Finnlugh said. “She’s somewhere up there, wrestling with a giant sea creature until the end of time.”

  “That’s quite some trick,” said one of the younger women, looking worried.

  “Don’t worry, it exhausts me too much to do it often. But it is impressive,” he smirked. The Starlight Jewel was now on a long silver chain around his neck, although buried beneath his clothes, out of sight.

  Tom half listened as he gazed into the fire, hearing about others who had fled the Queen’s wrath, and her increasing insanity. He was thinking of going to bed when a question grabbed his attention. “So will you stay, Brenna, and help us to bury our dead? And lead us?”

  Everyone fell quiet, waiting for Brenna’s response. She stared into the fire for a long time, and eventually Woodsmoke said softly, “Brenna?”

  She looked at him and then at the others. “I’ll stay to help bury our dead, but then I leave. I cannot stay here. It is a place of death. I’ll rejoin Woodsmoke and live there. That’s my home now.”

  The oldest man in the group spoke. “But the whole court should move. We would follow you.”

  “No! I don’t want that.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way I feel. And actually, I really don’t think you need a king or a queen. But I will stay for a while.”