by TJ Green
They stepped through together, and instantly Tom felt a sensation similar to that he’d experienced in the portals, although it was over more quickly. The feeling had barely registered before he found himself on a large platform facing a walled city. Arthur and Woodsmoke stood next to him.
Tom looked down and let out an involuntary yelp. “I can see through the floor!”
Far below were the Sky Meadows, a small patch of green amongst the mountain ridges. He clutched his stomach. “I feel sick. Is the floor safe?” he asked, tentatively stretching out a toe.
Woodsmoke took a few paces and looked back at Tom, grinning. “I think we’re good, Tom.”
“So this is the Realm of Air,” Arthur said, looking impressed.
The city was a white-walled vision. It stretched ahead of them, the curve of its walls disappearing into drifting clouds at either side. But more impressive was its height. A multitude of buildings soared high above them, disappearing into the clouds. Every now and then the clouds drifted away, and Tom could see towers glittering in rays of sunshine.
They headed to the city gates and were met by a sylph carrying a long silver spear. He was far taller than them, and his body-length wings were tucked behind him. Unnervingly he was dressed for combat, wearing a breastplate and armguards, and he had the hardened face of the battle-ready. He was pale and blonde, and Tom felt he was in the presence of an angel.
“Welcome to the Realm of Air. What do you seek here?”
“We seek Merlin,” Arthur said. “We believe he was brought here.”
“And you are?”
Arthur introduced them all. “We were with him at Ceridwen’s Cauldron.”
The sylph looked at them thoughtfully. “Yes, we who guard the city have been warned to expect you.”
“Warned?” Arthur asked cautiously. “We are his friends. We helped resurrect him. Can you take us to him?”
“No. You are to go to Adalyn, Commander of the City Guard. She wishes to see you first. Follow me.”
He led them up a series of stairs built into the walls, until finally they emerged into a circular tower looking out across the city. The broad windows were open and a chill breeze drifted into the room. Seated at a central table was an older white-haired sylph. She lifted her head from the papers in front of her as they entered, and Tom was shocked to see a large scar that began on her right cheek and continued across where her right eye should have been. It was rare to see disfigurement in the fey.
“Adalyn. Merlin’s companions from the Cauldron are here.”
She sighed. “You have come. We weren’t sure you would.” She turned to the sylph. “You may go.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Arthur asked, bristling with annoyance as the door shut behind them. “My reunion with Merlin was interrupted. I thought I’d try again.”
She stood up, towering over all of them. “I do not apologise for rescuing Merlin when he summoned us. He felt vulnerable with the witch Nimue in your company.”
“Nimue was not with us,” Arthur retorted angrily.
Adalyn held her hand up to stop Arthur. “I do not accuse you of betraying him,” she said softly. “All those who are twice born feel weak on awakening. Her presence was an unpleasant reminder of his imprisonment.”
Tom took a deep breath of relief as the tension in the room seemed to dissipate, and sensed Arthur also taking a moment to gather himself.
“So, we can see him?” he continued. “We have travelled a long way.”
“What is your intent?” she asked, moving around the table.
“Just to see him. I want to make sure he is all right, and then we leave. That’s all.”
“You are?”
“Arthur, King of the Britons. Merlin’s very old friend,” he added, a little defiantly.
“Yes, of course.” She smiled, looking far less severe. “He has talked of you recently. Where is the witch now?”
They shuffled nervously as Arthur answered, “In Dragons’ Hollow, defending the city and rebuilding the spell.”
Adalyn looked confused. “Why does she need to rebuild the spell?”
Crap. Tom glanced at the other two, who like him were trying to look as innocent as possible.
“Because Raghnall has died, and therefore the spell has ceased to work,” Arthur said vaguely.
Arthur looked the most uncomfortable Tom had ever seen him, and they must all be wondering the same things. How well did the sylphs get on with Raghnall? Would they be upset at his death? And how much trouble would they be in if they knew Arthur had killed him?
But all Adalyn said was, “So the passage to the Sky Meadows may close again.” She shrugged. “It does not concern us. I shall escort you to Merlin’s house.”
As they followed her to the top of the city walls, where the winds were strong and cold, Tom sensed her shrug of indifference was not quite what it seemed.
Adalyn pointed to where towers pinnacled into the sky and the sylphs flew, their wings catching the light. “Merlin’s house is on the edge of the city, where there are roads. For those without wings, the inner city is impossible to access.”
She was right, Tom noted uneasily, he couldn’t see a single road or staircase.
Adalyn led them down the length of the wall to where a bridge, which seemed to made of gossamer-thin glass, spanned the drop below. Crossing it, they came to a tower of smoky white glass. She led them up another spiral staircase until they reached an arched doorway.
“I’ll leave you here,” she said. “I presume you can make your own way back.” Without waiting for an answer, she went over to an archway in the wall and stepped out, expanding her wings as she dropped, before soaring not to the city walls, Tom noticed, but over them to the Sky Meadows below.
Arthur was already knocking on the door, but Tom looked at Woodsmoke. “Did you see that?”
“No, what?”
“She flew down to the Sky Meadows. I think we’re in trouble.”
Before he could explain further, the door flew open and an irate Merlin stood before them. “Why are you disturbing me?” He fell silent as he registered who they were, and then said in shock, “Arthur, I didn’t think you’d come.” He stepped forward and grabbed him tightly.
Merlin ushered them into his room, and Tom immediately noticed its resemblance to the tower in the spell. It was full of tables and books, rocks, herbs, and gemstones, and on the far side was a large messy bed. But this room was much bigger, and its walls and ceiling were made of smoky glass that dimmed the dazzling light from outside, casting strange shadows in the room.
Merlin was as Tom remembered him. His hair was long, grey and tangled, and his beard grew thick and strong, halfway down his chest. But now his expression was full of life and vigour, and he seemed none the worse for his long imprisonment and death.
He looked at Tom and Woodsmoke, his face creasing into wrinkles as he smiled. “And who are these?”
“Woodsmoke is a good friend from the Realm of Earth,” Arthur said, squeezing Woodsmoke’s shoulder. Woodsmoke nodded and shook Merlin’s hand, and Tom felt relieved that his anger with Arthur seemed long forgotten.
Then Arthur turned to Tom. “And Tom is a long-distance descendant of mine. He woke me from my long sleep. I’m sure you remember that bargain, Merlin?”
Merlin’s piercing blue eyes fixed on Tom like a bird of prey. “Of course I remember.”
Tom almost stuttered as he said hello.
“It seems Tom has a knack for breaking long sleeps,” Arthur added. “He helped break Nimue’s spell, too.”
“I really didn’t,” Tom repeated, for what felt like the millionth time. “Herne broke the spell, not me.”
“But you helped! The shaman said so,” Arthur insisted.
“Herne was involved? How?” Merlin asked.
“The Cervini summoned him.”
“Herne,” Merlin repeated, “and the Cervini. Names I have not heard in a long time. The Cervini were there when Nimue’s spell was bro
ken?”
Arthur nodded. For a few seconds, Merlin was lost in thought, then he turned to Tom. “How did you help?”
“I used your spell books, actually.” He shrugged. “I was desperate.”
“And Vivian still lives? She summoned you here to wake Arthur?”
“Sort of, in a very indirect way,” Tom said, trying not to say something mean about Vivian.
Merlin took a deep breath as if steeling himself for bad news. “And Nimue, where is she now?”
“In Dragon’s Hollow. She will not harm you further, Merlin,” Arthur reassured him.
“I do not fear Nimue – except for those few seconds when I awoke. I was so confused,” he said. “So much noise, so much light. It was too much. I cast the first spell I could think of to take me to the securest place I knew.” He gestured around him. “As for Nimue, everything she did, I let her do. Even while I was teaching her the spell, I knew she would turn it against me. I almost welcomed it.” His eyes lost their intensity for a moment as he stared back into the past.
“Do you remember it all? The imprisonment, I mean?” Tom asked.
“It was like a beautiful dream,” Merlin said softly.
“Come,” Arthur insisted, “I want to hear about everything that’s happened.”
They sat before the fireplace, and while they talked Tom drifted over to the smoked glass walls, peering through to the city beyond. Of all the places he’d been so far, this felt the most alien. The sylphs were very different to the other fey, both in appearance and demeanour. Their appearance at the Cauldron had been swift, aggressive and unnerving, and they had seemed so pale they shimmered. Now he was here he had a feeling they shouldn’t have come.
Woodsmoke joined him. “Why do you think we’re in trouble, Tom?”
“Arthur killed Raghnall,” Tom said quietly. “What if this breaks some sort of deal they had with him? You said it yourself, they are a warrior race. Warriors need weapons. What better place to get them than from the Hollow?”
Woodsmoke looked thoughtful. “Didn’t Raghnall say the meeting he was going to was something to do with trade agreements with the sylphs? Trade with them would be very lucrative, even if the sylphs got their weapons for better prices than everyone else.”
“If the city falls, the sylphs’ main source of weapons will be gone,” Tom said, his worry doubling. “They’ll be very angry.”
“But now Nimue is the key to protecting the city, and Arthur is surely protected by Merlin.”
They talked quietly for a while, discussing the possibilities, and then Merlin called them over. “Come, you must join us.”
Merlin had placed food and drink on the table in front of the fire, and Tom realised he hadn’t eaten for hours.
“If you’re sure we aren’t interrupting you,” Tom said, lowering himself into a chair and reaching for a glass.
They talked for hours, Merlin asking them all sorts of questions about the other realms and the other Earth. It was obvious that Arthur and Merlin had real affection for each other, and for a time, Tom’s worry disappeared. They were finally interrupted when long shadows flashed across the room, and the door flew open.
Adalyn stepped into the room with three sylphs behind her, and glared at Arthur, Tom and Woodsmoke.
Merlin stood. “What’s going on, Adalyn?”
“Arthur and Woodsmoke, you are under arrest for the murder of Raghnall, Sorcerer of Dragon’s Hollow. Tom, you are arrested for the death of Grindan, Raghnall’s servant.”
Tom and Woodsmoke sat momentarily stunned, while Arthur leapt to his feet and unsheathed Excalibur. But Merlin stepped in front of him, his face thunderous. “How dare you arrest Arthur! And here, in my home!”
Adalyn advanced, her face rigid with anger. “Raghnall is dead, Merlin. Killed by Arthur.”
Arthur squared up to her. “Because he was trying to kill all of us! For this,” he said, brandishing Excalibur. “Do you think I would stand there and let him?”
Adalyn briefly looked at Excalibur, then said icily, “And Nimue stands in his place to protect the city! It seems you have divided loyalties, Arthur. She is currently under guard while she completes the spell, and then she will come here to answer to us. In the meantime you will be locked away until the trial.”
29 Tower of Winds
“You are making a mistake Adalyn. You don’t need to lock them up, let them stay here while you investigate,” Merlin said.
“So that you can engineer their escape? I don’t think so.”
“Then don’t make it worse by using the tower in the city. I would like to visit them; they are entitled to support. Or are you so eager for a conviction that you don’t respect your own laws any more?” he said scornfully.
“How quickly you insult us, Merlin,” Adalyn sneered. “Do not presume too much on our hospitality. Whilst some are happy to have you returned to us, there are others for whom you are only a memory and a story. Since then many new alliances have been forged which surpass your importance to the Realm of Air.”
“See it as a request from an old man who pleads for his friends,” he said, clearly trying to control his temper. “If I can remind you, I am here because they rescued me. That deserves some leniency, surely. I think Galen would see it that way.”
She narrowed her eyes at the mention of that name. “Use the Tower of Winds,” she said to those behind her.
“And I will speak to the city elders.” Merlin turned to Arthur. “Trust me, Arthur, I will get you out of this. Have patience.” He pressed Arthur’s hand.
Woodsmoke nodded in agreement, and Arthur reluctantly sheathed Excalibur. Woodsmoke then said quietly to Tom, “This is not the time to pick a fight, Tom. Our chance will come.”
They were unceremoniously escorted to a high tower at a place far along the city walls, and an hour later they sat looking out over clouds. Their prison was a series of small rooms with hard beds, plain chairs and a central room with one big table. On their way to the top floor they had passed at least five other levels with secure doors, but all the doors stood wide, and the prison tower was clearly empty except for them.
Tom was relieved they weren’t locked up in separate rooms, and as the door slammed shut behind them, they stared bleakly at each other.
“What now?” Tom asked.
“We wait,” Arthur said. “We’ll see what Merlin can do, but if he doesn’t succeed ...” he shrugged, “we may have to fight our way out.”
Woodsmoke stood by the window, surveying their surroundings. There weren’t any bars, and the windows could open, which wasn’t really surprising. Where would they go? “I wonder if Brenna and Beansprout will be arrested.”
“They haven’t done anything. I’m more worried about Nimue and what she may do,” Arthur said.
Tom remembered his conversation with Nimue in the spell. “She said she always liked to be underestimated. I think that will work in our favour.”
Arthur nodded. “She’s resourceful, I’ll give her that. She always surprised me — and not always in a good way.”
They passed the next few hours playing cards, but none of them were really paying attention. Night was falling when they were disturbed by a large black bird rapping its beak on the windows.
Woodsmoke grinned. “Brenna!” He let her in and she flew in and changed form, scanning the room.
“So you couldn’t go five minutes without getting into trouble!” she said, exasperated.
Arthur looked sheepish. “We didn’t do anything! Except kill Raghnall and his servant. I must admit I didn’t consider this might happen.”
“It took some time to track you down. I checked out the highest, most-isolated towers. There’s a lot of them.”
“What’s happening in Dragon’s Hollow?” Woodsmoke asked. “Has Nimue worked the spell?”
“Not quite. The sylphs’ arrival has delayed things. As soon as they arrived, I knew we were in trouble. They searched the house and interrogated us. I thought they were going to
arrest all of us,” she said, looking tired and frustrated. “We tried to explain what had happened but they didn’t want explanations. They were going to arrest Nimue as soon as they arrived, but then realised that would be incredibly stupid. They were attacked by dragons as they flew in.”
“Is the city burning?” Tom asked. “We saw the dragon attack from the ridge.”
“A couple of buildings were partially destroyed, but some of the fey have magic strong enough to slow fire.” She sighed. “But they keep attacking. Only the dragon guard and the crossbows are slowing them down. They’re ripping away all the gold and jewels from the highest buildings. And with each success they grow bolder.”
“Is Beansprout all right?” Arthur asked. “Have they threatened to arrest her?”
“No, they haven’t – or me. She’s helping Nimue, and is doing very well. She seems quite interested in magic.”
Tom wondered whether to say anything about their previous argument, but decided not to. Beansprout might be right about Nimue. He did think of something else though. “Do you think Nimue might resist arrest, like she did with the Cervini?”
“Oh no. In fact she’s looking forward to coming here. I think she has a plan.”
Brenna stayed with them a while longer before swooping back to the Hollow, promising to return with more news.
Their next visitor was Merlin, who arrived breathless and grumpy.
“Galen is not as sympathetic as I thought. He insists you be tried before the high court. All of you.”
“Who is this Galen?” Arthur asked.
“A very old friend. One of the few who was alive in my time. He sits at the head of the Council of Judgement. There are six of them, and the others are younger. They don’t know me at all. Galen is under pressure to serve justice. There aren’t any kings, queens, princes or princesses here. The Council rules on everything and their power is absolute.”
“What could the consequences be?” Woodsmoke asked, his usual relaxed demeanour replaced with an alert watchfulness.
“A guilty charge could be anything from banishment or imprisonment to death.”
“Death?” Tom said, alarmed. “Don’t we get a lawyer or something?” he asked, thinking of how justice worked at home.
