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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 bitter chill off the air. They gathered blankets and sat around the lower fire, not wanting to look 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 had eased.
Tom said to Finnlugh, “I’m sorry about your brother.”
Finnlugh sighed, his gaze fixed on the flames. “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.”
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.” His eyes skimmed over her. “Did she hurt you?”
Beansprout shook her head. “I’m a bit battered, but I’ll live. I have the feeling though that the Aerikeen aren’t going to miss her much.”
Brenna answered, her voice weary. “No, we won’t. She was a horrible woman. I should have done something sooner.”
“She would have killed you. It was her scheming that killed me,” Arthur said.
“Was she really your half-sister?” Finnlugh asked.
“Yes. She was older than me, and shared the same mother. She didn’t always resent me,” he said sadly. “At one point we actually liked each other, but then ... I don’t know, she became jealous. She poisoned my nephew against me.”
“What a sorry bunch we are,” Finnlugh observed. “What with your sister and my brother.” He looked at Brenna speculatively. “Who was the Queen to you?”
She didn’t say anything for a while, and Tom wasn’t sure she was going to answer at all, but then she said softly, “The Queen was my grandmother.”
“So, you’re the heir?” Finnlugh asked, starting to smile.
“I suppose I am, but it’s never been a job I’ve wanted.”
“For the record, I think you’d be excellent at it.”
She shook her head. “I think I’d be terrible. I hate affairs of state.”
Arthur roused himself, starting to polish his sword. “So did I. I’d have rather been riding into battle than debating policies and politics. What a boring business that was. I delegated as much as I could.”
“And how do you feel now that you’re here?” Woodsmoke asked him. “Your kingdom has gone.”
“And so have my friends,” Arthur mused, his face bleak. “But life moves on. I shall find a way forward, I suppose. We all will. For example, what about Tom and Beansprout? What will you do now?”
Beansprout answered straight away. “I’m staying here.”
Woodsmoke and Brenna looked startled, and Woodsmoke said, “You are?”
“Yes.” She grinned at him, and her whole face lit up. “This is a whole new world to explore. I love it here!”
Tom didn’t answer, instead staring into the fire’s roaring heart as if the answer to every question could be found there.
“And what will you do, Tom?” Arthur asked, prompting him gently.
“I have no idea. I suppose I should go home, back to the real world.”
“This world is real.”
“I can vouch for that,” Finnlugh said, laughing. “We’re not a figment of your imagination.”
Tom groaned. “I know, but it’s not my world.”
“But it could be,” Arthur pointed out.
Tom glanced resentfully at him. “Now you sound like Beansprout.”
“Really? I’ve always thought she had a lot of sense.”
Beansprout preened. “See, Tom!”
Tom ignored her. “So, what are you going to do, Arthur?”
“I have no idea. I might go travelling. I want to see more of this new world I’m living in. I’m excited by its possibilities.”
“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.”
“Lots of stories, though,” Beansprout added.
Golden 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. One day I died, and then you woke me here, albeit a younger version of myself than I appeared on that fateful day.”
“Do you actually remember dying?” asked Tom. Then stricken, he added, “Sorry, is that a gruesome question?”
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 battle, 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. Actually—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. There was 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 going on, 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 shall enjoy it while it lasts. And so should you.”
Tom looked up to see all his new friends looking at him, and he fell silent again, having no idea what he would do now.
––––––––
The next morning, the group walked out of the palace and down the steep cliff path, 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. They were tired after a poor night’s sleep, and they mostly walked in silence. When they entered the camp, it was with an air of mourning rather than victory.
Jack welcomed them with relief, and hugged Tom and Beansprout. “Well, thank the Gods, you’re all still alive! It’s been a horrible night.”
“You should thank Prince Finnlugh, he was the one who saved us. It was nothing to do with Gods,” Tom said, prying himself out of his granddad’s embrace.
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 around 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. 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 after all of this.”
It was evening, and they quickly settled themselves around the fire, filling their plates with food as they told the rest of the group about what had happened with Morgan and Duke Craven, 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 brief words, they followed her to the fire.
“These 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 sat and examined everyone—as closely as everyone else looked at them. Tom couldn’t help but notice how different they looked from Brenna. Their hair was thick with fine feathers, and markings were clear on their faces, particularly around their eyes, making them look like birds even in their human form.
Brenna sat close to them. “So tell me, are others alive?”
A young man who sat closest to her said, “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, Prince Finnlugh came to the rescue,” Brenna said, pointing him out. “He blasted her out into the universe.”
“Indeed,” Finnlugh agreed. “She’s somewhere up there, wrestling with a giant sea creature until the end of time.”
“That’s quite some trick,” one of the younger women said, looking worried.
“Don’t worry, that trick 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 only 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—as Queen?”
Everyone fell quiet, waiting for Brenna’s response. She stared into the fire for a long time, and eventually Woodsmoke prompted softly, “Brenna?”
She looked at him and then at the others. “I’ll stay to help bury our dead, but then I shall leave. I cannot stay here. It is a place of death. I’ll re-join Woodsmoke and live there. That is my home now.”
The oldest man in the group spoke next. “But the whole court should move, if you do. We must 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.”
“I’ll stay, too,” Woodsmoke offered. “I’ll help however I can.”
Brenna gave him the ghost of a smile. “No. It’s our job, not yours. But thank you.”
Finnlugh frowned at her. “You’re the heir, they need you.”
Her tone was sharp. “I told you, I’m not up to it.”
“Wrong,” the young woman said. “We don’t want anyone else. But you’re grieving, too. So are all of us. Think on it, please.”
Brenna nodded, and they fell to talking amongst themselves.
––––––––
The next day, they all packed up the camp and said goodbye to Brenna and the other Aerikeen.
“Come home when you’re ready,” Fahey said to her. “I’ll miss you.”
“You’re the sweetest man, and I’ll miss you too,” she said, tears in her eyes.
Brenna hugged Tom, Beansprout, and Jack, and even Finnlugh. The Duchess merely nodded. “I wish you luck, my dear,” was her only comment.
Woodsmoke was less sweet. “You’d better not stay here! This place smells of death. And the wood sprites, they’ll be back!”
She shook her head and laughed. “We’ll be fine! Now stop moaning and go. I’ll see you in a few months.” Woodsmoke hesitated, but Brenna persisted. “Go! Please Woodsmoke!”
“You’re a stubborn woman,” he said as he finally relented and got on his horse.
They nudged their mounts and moved off into the forest, and as Tom turned to wave at Brenna, he wondered if he’d ever see her again, and a wave of sadness washed over him.
––––––––
Days later Tom asked Beansprout, “So, what are we going to do?”
They now rode on their own horses. Finnlugh had spares after the deaths of his men, and he was happy that they should use them. They were huge creatures, but intelligent, and easy to control for inexperienced riders.
Beansprout bristled, preparing herself for another argument. “I’ve told you, I’m staying.”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know, Tom! Do I have to have a plan?”
They were now only days away from Woodsmoke’s home, and it seemed as if they had been travelling forever. Aeriken was enormous and ancient, and Tom couldn’t work out how long it had been since they first arrived.
Jack interrupted. “You should both go. You have your whole lives ahead of you. You belong in your own world.”
“You have no right to deliver that speech!” said Tom, rounding on him angrily.
“I have every right—I’m your grandfather!”
“Don’t you want us here?”
“I didn’t think you wanted to be here. Do you know how contrary you are, Tom?” Jack stared angrily back at him. “And of course I want you to stay. It’s nice to have my family here. But I’m not going home,” he added, preventing any further questions on that. “I’m an old man there, and here—well, I’m less old.”
“Don’t you care that Mum and Dad have split up?”
“Of course I care! But my going back wouldn’t change anything. They’d still be split up—it’s been inevitable for years. And you shouldn’t let it affect you. It has nothing to do with you, or what you have or haven’t done. It’s life, and you should get on with yours. Finish school, travel, enjoy yourself.” Jack paused, looking at Tom’s mutinous expression. “Just think about the things you’ve done here. The things you’ve seen! You’re not a child anymore.”
Arthur joined in. “If life is unsatisfactory at home, stay here. It sounds like you’d have as much family here as you did there—including me, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Finnlugh interrupted them all. “You speak as if there’s only one choice. You could stay for as long as you wanted, and then go when you were ready.”
Tom fell silent. What if he left and then realised he’d made a mistake, and found that he could never come back. What then?
A peculiar mood had settled over them all. Although they’d known each other for only a short time, they were reluctant to part. Fahey had been badgering them for information, cheerful in the knowledge that he had great tales to craft and share. He and Jack had already arranged to visit Finnlugh’s Under-Palace. Arthur had accepted an invitation to stay at Vanishing Hall, but was planning to travel onwards after a short stay. Beansprout and Tom had also been invited, and Beansprout had accepted immediately.
Tom was undecided, and it was tormenting him. He loved his new friends. Woodsmoke was easy going, and a calm, reassuring presence, always willing to teach him how to hunt, track, and use a bow. Fahey was friendly and mischievous, like a teenager in an old fey’s body, and Tom now understood why he’d thought that waking King Arthur would be fun. Brenna was cool, and he already missed her. Prince Finnlugh was gracious and entertaining, and ever so slightly reckless, and very grateful for the help in regaining his Starlight Jewel. And of course, there was Arthur.
Tom watched him closely. He’d settled into his new surroundings well, and looked completely at home. He imagined that was because the Otherworld was probably far more like the world he had left than Britain was now. He had an easy grace and humour, and was unfailingly polite and chivalrous to everyone. Beansprout gazed at him, star struck most of the time—as did everyone, actually.
As the days passed, Tom found his original intent to return home waning, and on the night before Finnlugh, the Duchess, and the guards were due to return to the Under-Palace, he had a horribly restless night. They had just passed the huge hawk statues that marked the boundary between Aeriken and Vanishing Wood, and had set up camp together for the final time. Tom had gone to bed late, but couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned and eventually got up and sat by the fire, prodding it back into life, idly watched by one of the guards at the edge of the camp.
Tom sighed as he looked around. What a strange position to be in. He was actually in the Otherworld! A place where fey, dryads, satyrs, and other weird and previously imagined mythical creatures existed. And of course, Arthur and the Lady of the Lake. He couldn’t work out why he should stay, but equally, why should he go back? He was still deep in thought when Arthur roused from beneath his blankets, and came and sat next to him.
“Are you all right, Tom?” he asked softly, his voice low so as not to wake the others.
“I have no idea. It’s ridiculous, really. I’ve never been so undecided in my life! I wish I knew how Beansprout can be so sure.”
“Because she’s following her gut,” he explained. “You’re overcomplicating things.”
“Am I? But there’s so much to consider! My whole life is there.”
Arthur looked at him, puzzled. “What sort of life? Are you married?”
Tom snorted. “I’m sixteen. Too young to be married!”
“Not in my day,” Arthur explained. “We all married young. A woman who wasn’t married before she was twenty was thought to be an old maid.”
“I can assure you it’s very different now!” Tom grimaced, repulsed by the idea of marriage. What a horrible idea. “I haven’t got a girlfriend either, not really.”
Arthur grinned. “Not really?”
Tom shrugged as he thought of Emma at school who he fancied like mad, but only flirted with, badly. “No, definitely not.”
“So you’ll miss your parents? Of course you will, that’s natural.”
Tom paused. “Not really. I hardly see my dad, and my mom lives with my sister. I see them every week or so, but I’m probably closest to Granddad, even with him gone for so long. I really missed him when he left.”
Arthur persisted. “Do you work?”
“No! I’m at school, final year before college.”
“What’s college?”
Tom laughed. “Sorry, I forgot you probably had no such thing in your time. It’s where teenagers go to school to learn more stuff.”
“You like school, then?”
“It’s all right,” he said, shrugging. “I have no idea what I’m going to do there. I like football, though.”
Arthur frowned again. “What’s that?”
“The greatest game in the world. I’ll show you one day.”
“Not if you leave, you won’t. Although,” Arthur said, scratching his head, “I have to be honest—I’m not sure why you’re going back. You don’t appear to be going back to anything you’ll really miss.” Arthur turned away and prodded the fire again, sending a flurry of cinders into the air. “I love fires. They’re the best place in the world to think and dream. I’m hoping my life here will be exciting and interesting, but without the responsibilities of leadership and war, and certainly not politics. I hate politics. All that chatter and rhetoric. Don’t get me wrong, I loved negotiations, and fighting, and feasting. But sometimes, it was all too much. And having my life threatened all the time was tiring. I’m going to enjoy exploring here, but it would be good to have family to share it with it. Unlike you, I know no one.”
“You know us. And I think Granddad and Beansprout are related to you as well, from what Vivian said. And you do know her!”
Arthur rolled his eyes in a very un-kingly manner. “Yes I do. She’s an annoying woman. I must arrange to meet her at some point, and thank her for my awakening.”
As Tom listened to Arthur and his plans, he started to get excited about his own future. Arthur was absolutely right. What the hell was he rushing to go back for? Absolutely nothing. He finally had to admit that if he left now, he’d never forgive himself. He smiled, relieved. “Wow. I think you’re right.”
“Am I? About what?”
“About going back. What a crazy idea! I should stay here.” He looked at Arthur shyly. “Thank you.”
“I have my uses.”
“You must have been a good King. No wonder we still talk about you.”
Arthur laughed. “You must tell me some of the stories sometime.”
“Why don’t you tell me one?” Tom prompted. “I’ve always been a fan, and have read loads of Arthurian legends. I can tell you if they match up to the real thing!”
Arthur laughed again, looking pleased at being the subject of such speculation. He made himself more comfortable, stretching out his long legs towards the fire. “All right, settle in. What about when my kingship really began, when I pulled the sword from the stone?”
Tom grinned. “Awesome!” He wrapped his cloak around him, and turned to watch Arthur relive his glory days.
As the firelight played across the camp, and the cool night air and sounds from the wood lulled his senses, Tom realised he’d just made the best decision of his life.
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Thanks for reading Call of the King. Please make an author happy and leave a review!
Book 2, The Silver Tower is out on the 22nd October 2020. Read on for an excerpt!
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And if you’d like to join my Readers’ Group, you’ll get a free copy of Excalibur Rises, the short story prequel to Call of the King. Join here: https://tjgreen.nz/landing/
Chapter 2: The Hollow Bole
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Tom and the others rode into Holloways Meet on a hot, dusty afternoon.
The road broadened and dipped until they reached a large archway formed by thick, interlaced branches. Beyond that, a few small buildings began to appear, built into the high banks of the road. Within a short distance they could hear a steady hum of voices, shouts, laughter, and music, and the banks fell back to form a large, irregular town square dominated by a central group of trees with other Holloways leading into it. It was filled with an assorted collection of beings, young and old, colourful and drab, and the smell of business.
Wooden buildings threaded through the meeting place, some of them perched precariously in branches, others jostling for position on the fields above them, casting deep shadows onto the activities in the centre.
“This place looks busier than ever,” Brenna murmured.
“What do people do here?” Tom asked, looking around curiously.
“Many things. I have been told you can buy almost anything here. Consequently, a lot of people pass through, so it’s particularly useful for finding out information.”
“I love it!” Beansprout declared, her eyes darting everywhere.
“We’d better find Woodsmoke and Arthur. Woodsmoke said he would try to check into the Quarter Way House,” Brenna told them, and pointed to a big building with balconies on the far side of the square, built against the bank and onto the field at the top. “It’s more expensive than most inns, but it guarantees a clean bed and good food.”
They found Woodsmoke and Arthur sitting in a bar to the side of the main entrance. It was an oasis of calm after the bustle of the square, filled with an assortment of tables and chairs, and screened from the square by thick-limbed climbing plants covered with flowers and a coating of wind-blown dust.
“Well, don’t you two look relaxed!” Brenna said, hands on hips.
“The rest of the deserving after a hard day’s work!” Woodsmoke smirked as he and Arthur stood to greet them. “Tom—you’ve grown.” He walked around the table and grabbed him in a bear hug, before hugging Beansprout and Brenna. “I’ve missed you two, too. Look at you, Brenna!” He held her at arm’s length, taking in her hair.
“Woodsmoke, it’s been only been a few weeks since I last saw you,” Brenna said, protesting weakly.
“I don’t care. It’s good to see you looking like a bird-shifter again!”
Tom had forgotten it had been a while since Woodsmoke had seen Brenna, but he was distracted by Arthur, who crushed him in a hug, too. “You look well, Tom. It’s good to have my great-great-great-something relatives join me on Vivian’s mad quest.” He hugged Beansprout too, lifting her off her feet.
“Are you two drunk?” Beansprout asked, suspicious. “You’re very merry!”
“Can’t I just be pleased to see my friends?” Arthur asked, sitting down at the table and picking up his beer again, and gesturing them to sit, too.
Now that he was reunited with all four of his closest friends in the Otherworld—or anywhere else, really—Tom felt truly at home. Although Tom had grown in the short time they’d been apart, Woodsmoke and Arthur were both still taller than him—Woodsmoke lean and rangy, his longbow propped next to him at the table, and Arthur muscular, Excalibur in its scabbard at his side.
“Let’s get more drinks to celebrate,” Arthur suggested, and called to the barman. “Five pints of Red Earth Thunder Ale, please!”
As they sat, Beansprout asked, “So, how long have you been here?”
“It took us longer to get here than we thought,” Woodsmoke answered. “We wanted to make sure none of the other villages had seen Nimue, so we only arrived here this morning, and decided we needed to recover after our long days on the road.” He paused as their ale arrived, and took a long drink as if to emphasise his need to recuperate.
Arthur nodded. “Yes, I wasn’t entirely sure Vivian had given us accurate information, but it seems for once, she has. And she’s suggested that Nimue stayed at The Hollow Bole—apparently, it’s where she’s stayed before. That’s where I’ll be going soon, to ask a few questions.” He looked at Tom. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes,” Tom said, spluttering his drink in an effort to answer. “But first, tell me what happened with Vivian.”
“Ah!” Arthur said, gazing into his pint, “Vivian. It was very strange to meet her again, after so many years. I felt quite sick seeing that big, bronze, dragon-headed prow gliding out of the mist.” He sighed, trying to organise his story. “I met her by the lake, at her request. I’d wanted to contact her, but didn’t know how. I thought that standing at the lakeside, yelling into the mist probably wouldn’t work. But then I had these images enter my dreams, about the standing stones and the lakeside.”
“Oh, yes,” Tom interrupted. “I’ve experienced those!”
“So I headed to the lake, and within an hour the boat was there, and then almost instantly she was at my side. She looked so old, and yet so young.” He looked up at the others, as if trying to make them see what he had. “I couldn’t believe her hair was white! It used to be a rich dark brown that glinted with red when it caught the sunlight. She had freckles then, all over her nose and cheeks.” He shook himself out of his reverie as his friends watched him, fascinated by what he must be remembering. “She asked me if I remembered her sisters, the other priestesses, particularly Nimue, which I did. Nimue helped me rule when Merlin disappeared. Vivian explained that she had vanished on her way to Dragon’s Hollow to see Raghnall, the dragon enchanter—whoever he is. She was taking her time, visiting various people along the way. The last time Vivian heard from her was when she was here. It’s another week’s travel to Dragon’s Hollow, but she never arrived there.”
“And how does Vivian know she hasn’t arrived?” Beansprout asked.
“Because Raghnall contacted Vivian, by scrying, to find out where Nimue was. Apparently, Vivian has been trying to contact her ever since, also by scrying, which is apparently how they communicate long distance. Now, Vivian thinks she’s being blocked, either by Nimue or someone else.”
“What’s Nimue like?” Tom asked.
“Oh, she’s very different to Vivian. She’s small and dark-haired, like a pixie, very pretty. Merlin was infatuated with her,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “Vivian is worried that something is wrong, so we’ve spent the last few days trying to track her route, but we’ve found nothing of interest. It all seems a wild goose chase,” he said, finishing his pint. “So, Tom, shall we go? Woodsmoke looks too comfortable to move.” He frowned at Woodsmoke, who had his feet up on a chair looking very relaxed.
“It’s been a busy few weeks,” Woodsmoke said, indignant. “And I’m much older than you are, so I deserve to relax. Besides, I also have news to catch up on,” he added, gesturing to Brenna and Beansprout. He waved them off. “Enjoy your afternoon.”
Tom and Arthur set off on a slow, circuitous route.
“I know I’ve been here a few months now, Tom, but I still can’t get used to the place.”
Tom nodded. “I know what you mean. Everything is so odd!”
Strange creatures bustled across the square, some tall, others small, male and female, some part human, part animal. They passed a group of satyrs and felt small by comparison. The satyrs were over seven feet tall, with muscular bodies, their upper half bare-chested, the lower half with the hairy legs of goats. Their hair was thick and coarse, large curling rams’ horns protruded from their heads, and their eyes were a disconcerting yellow that made them look belligerent. Tom and Arthur skirted past them, making their way to a row of buildings at the side of the square. These were a mixture of shops, semi-permanent markets, eating places, and inns, ranging from the small and shabby to the large and less shabby. Smoke from braziers drifted through the still air. They looked at the wooden signs that hung from the entrances, trying to find The Hollow Bole.
The pair had been looking for nearly an hour, taking their time drifting through the warren of buildings, before they had any joy. Walking down the start of one of the Holloways, they saw a vast tree to their left, pressing against the bank at its back. There was a narrow cleft in its trunk, above which a small sign announced The Hollow Bole. Peering upwards through the leaves, they saw small windows scattered along thick and misshapen branches. Ducking to avoid hitting their head on the low entrance, they stepped into a small hall hollowed out of the trunk and followed the narrow, spiralling stairs upwards into the gloom. They emerged into a larger hall built into a broad branch overlooking the Holloway and the edge of the square. There were no straight lines anywhere. Instead, the chairs, tables, and balcony were an organic swirl of living wood.
A dryad, green-skinned and willowy, stepped out of the shadows and asked, “Can I help you?”
Thinking they were alone, Tom jumped. Arthur remained a little more composed and said, “I’m looking for an old friend who passed through here, probably a few weeks ago now. Can you confirm if she stayed here?”
“And what do you want with this friend?” the dryad snapped.
“She hasn’t arrived where she should have, and I want to find out if anything has happened to her,” Arthur replied, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.
The dryad went silent for a moment. “It depends who it is. Her name?”
“Nimue. Our mutual friend, Vivian, asked me to find her. She’s worried.”
The dryad was startled. “Nimue? The witch?” She spat out witch viciously.
Now Arthur was startled. “Yes, Nimue, one of the priestesses of Avalon. Or witch, as you choose to call her.”
“They are all witches on Avalon,” the dryad replied disdainfully. “Yes, she stayed here for a few days. And then she left. I don’t know where she went,” she added, to avoid further questions.
Arthur groaned. “She gave no indication at all of where she might be going?”
“She stays here because we are discreet. We ask no questions of our clients.”
“But you know her well? She stays here often, I believe.”
“Not often. She travels less frequently now. But yes, I think she usually stays here. However, I do not know her well. I do not ask questions.”
Tom was curious about the word now, and clearly Arthur was, too.
“But she used to travel here more frequently? In the past?” Arthur persisted.
The dryad was visibly annoyed at the constant questions. “Yes, many years ago. But, I do not see what that has to do with now—and I was not here then.”
“So if you weren’t here then, how do know she came here?” Arthur asked.
“Her name appears in our past registers. We are an old establishment. And her reputation precedes her.”
Now Arthur was clearly very curious, and he leaned in. “What reputation?”
“As a witch from another world. A meddler in the affairs of others.”
“What affairs?”
“Witches meddle with the natural order of nature!” the dryad snapped, now furious. “As a dryad, I am a natural being, born of the earth and all her darkest mysteries. Witches plunder that knowledge! They have no respect for natural laws. How do you know her?”
Arthur looked uncomfortable, and decided not to answer that. “I am just an old friend who cares for her safety. I am sorry to have taken so much of your time. Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?”
“Nothing.”
“Just one more question. Did she ever stay here with anyone else?”
“Yes. The greatest meddler of them all—Merlin.” With that, she stepped back into the shadows and melted into the tree trunk, becoming invisible and unreachable.
“With Merlin?” Arthur turned to Tom dumbfounded, his face pale at this unexpected news.
Tom felt a thrill run through him at the mention of Merlin, but why was Arthur so upset? Before he could ask, Arthur turned and raced down the stairs. Tom raced after him. Maybe it was because Merlin had travelled here, to the Meet, Tom reflected. It was probably quite unexpected.
Arthur was halfway back to the Quarter Way House before Tom caught up with him. “Arthur, what’s the matter?”
“Everything!”
“What do you mean, everything?” Tom asked, even more confused.
Arthur didn’t answer, and instead headed to their inn, ran up the stairs, and banged on what Tom presumed was their shared room door.
“Yes? I’m here and I’m not deaf! Come in, the door’s open.”
But Arthur was already in, throwing the door wide open and striding across the room.
“What’s the matter with you?” Woodsmoke asked, alarmed. He was sitting on a chair on the small balcony overlooking the square.
Tom followed Arthur, closing the door behind him, while Arthur sat agitatedly beside Woodsmoke. “Nimue used to come here with Merlin.”
Looking confused, Woodsmoke asked, “Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur said, confused. “Both? Neither? It’s just odd. It’s a shock, that’s all.”
“But this was a long time ago? She wasn’t here with him recently?” Woodsmoke asked.
“No, no, of course not. He disappeared years ago. Well, not so long ago for me, merely a few years. But even so, it’s a surprise.”
“Why? You said they knew each other.”
“Yes, but to know that they were here! Together! I didn’t think she liked him. She actively avoided him at first, I think.” Arthur looked troubled as he tried to recall the nature of their relationship.
“So, you’re shocked because you didn’t think they knew each other well?” Woodsmoke asked, trying to get to the root of Arthur’s problem, and looking further confused in the process.
“Yes,” Arthur said. “And now it seems they knew each other better than I realised. Merlin had a sort of obsession with Nimue, but she used to keep him at a distance. Of course, he was much older than her at the time, an old man. A very grumpy, unkempt old man. Still powerful, of course. And she was young and very beautiful. I saw her more often than Vivian—she represented Vivian and Avalon at Camelot. It was there that Merlin first met her.” Arthur gazed into the middle distance as he tried to remember the details. “But he could be charming. And he never stopped trying to impress her.”
“So, maybe he finally managed to charm her into friendship.”
“Maybe. I think she was impressed with his powers, if nothing else. Perhaps that’s what swayed her? Maybe they did become good friends?” he mused.
“What powers did Merlin have?” Tom asked. He sat on the floor of the balcony, leaning back against the railing, watching the exchange.
“He was a shape-shifter. He favoured fish and stags, but he could turn into anything he chose. And he had the power of prophecy. But he could perform other magic and spells. I gather he learnt much from travelling here. Obviously, the dryad at The Hollow Bole did not approve of either Merlin or Nimue.”
Woodsmoke looked puzzled. “Why not?”
“She said they meddled in the natural order. She seemed to prize her own natural magical abilities far more highly.”
“Maybe because their magic is acquired. And of course, they are human.”
“Perhaps. Although, I believe Merlin was born with his powers of prophecy and shape-shifting. The rumours were that nobody knew who his father was.” Arthur shrugged. “I don’t know. Merlin always guarded his secrets closely. He didn’t like to share where he was going or what he was doing.”
“Perhaps he bewitched Nimue?” Woodsmoke asked.
Arthur looked up sharply. “No, I find that hard to believe. Although,” he said thoughtfully, “he was not averse to doing things that would benefit him.” He shot off his chair and paced up and down. “You cannot understand how odd this is for me! I have been dead—or asleep, whatever you choose to call it—for hundreds and hundreds of years, but for me that time was only months ago. And yet all of my friends are dead and buried, my kingdom has disappeared, my home is gone, and I am a myth! It’s as if I never existed, as Beansprout and Tom told me.” He gestured vaguely in Tom’s direction. “No evidence that I ever existed at all! As if I am a mere shadow. But then I find that Vivian is still alive, that Morgan was alive, albeit in some other form, and now Nimue! Such unnatural lifespans! And Merlin disappeared hundreds of years ago, but the dryad spoke as if he had just left the room.” Deflated, he sat down again. “I don’t think I will ever get used to this.”
Woodsmoke seemed to take this outburst in his stride, as if he expected it. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I can only imagine how confusing this must be for you. But I thought you liked your chance at another life?”
“I did, and I suppose I still do, most of the time. But today has made me reconsider. However, there isn’t much I can do about it. This is my fate, and I must live with it.”
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The Silver Tower will be released on the 22nd October 2020.
Author’s Note
The Call of the King is a rewrite of Tom’s Inheritance, which was my very first book! I’m very fond of the Tom series, and I’ve rewritten it because I decided that it could be better. I’ve learned a lot since publishing it, and realised it needed smoothing out, and needed a different ending.
The rest of the story hasn’t changed dramatically, but I’m pleased with all the changes I’ve made, and now feel that I’ve done Tom justice.
I decided to rebrand the entire series, so all of the books have new titles, a new series title, and new covers!
As I’ve changed the ending to Call of the King, there are small changes to the beginning of book two. It was called Twice Born, but is now called The Silver Tower. Book three, previously called Galatine’s Curse, is now The Cursed Sword, and the story is completely unchanged.
This book initially took me five years to write, in between working full-time and studying for my English degree. I’m pleased to say that I write much quicker now!
I love the King Arthur tales, and this is my own retelling. It seems natural to have King Arthur awake in the Otherworld, because his stories have always crossed over with fey and dragons, magic and mystery. I hope you’ve enjoyed my spin on them.
Thanks to my fabulous cover designer, Fiona Jayde Media, my first editor, Sue Copsey, who was fantastic in whipping the original into shape, and thanks to Missed Period Editing, who have tidied up this second version.
I owe a big thanks to Jason, my partner, who has been incredibly supportive throughout my career, and was a beta reader. Thanks also to Terri and my mother, my other two beta readers. You’re all awesome.
Finally, thank you to my launch team, who give valuable feedback on typos and are happy to review on release. It’s lovely to hear from them—you know who you are! You’re amazing! I also love hearing from all my readers, so I welcome you to get in touch.
If you’d like to read a bit more background to the stories, please head to my website, where I blog about the books I’ve read and the research I’ve done. I have another series set in Cornwall about witches, called White Haven Witches, so if you love myths and magic, you’ll love that, too. It’s an adult series, not YA.
If you’d like to read more of my writing, please join my mailing list. You can get a free short story called Jack’s Encounter, describing how Jack met Fahey—a longer version of the prologue in The Call of the King—by subscribing to my newsletter. You’ll also get a FREE copy of Excalibur Rises, a short story prequel.
You will also receive free character sheets on all of my main characters in White Haven Witches—exclusive to my email list!
By staying on my mailing list, you’ll receive free excerpts of my new books, as well as short stories and news of giveaways. I’ll also be sharing information about other books in this genre you might enjoy. I also welcome you to join my readers’ group for even more great content, called TJ’s Inner Circle on Facebook. Please answer the questions to join! https://business.facebook.com/groups/696140834516292/
Give me my FREE short stories!
About the Author
I write books about magic, mystery, myths, and legends, and they’re action packed!
My new series is adult urban fantasy, called White Haven Witches. There’s lots of magic, action, and a little bit of romance.
My YA series, Rise of the King, is about a teen named Tom and his discovery that he is a descendant of King Arthur. It’s a fun-filled, clean read with a new twist on the Arthurian tales.
I’ve got loads of ideas for future books in both series, including spin-offs, novellas, and short stories, so if you’d like to be kept up to date, subscribe to my newsletter. You’ll get free short stories, character sheets, and other fun stuff. Interested? Subscribe at www.tjgreen.nz.
I was born in England, in the Black Country, but moved to New Zealand 14 years ago. England is great, but I’m over the traffic! I now live near Wellington with my partner, Jase, and my cats, Sacha and Leia. When I’m not busy writing I read lots, indulge in gardening and shopping, and I love yoga.
Confession time! I’m a Star Trek geek—old and new—and love urban fantasy and detective shows. My secret passion is Columbo! My favourite Star Trek film is The Wrath of Khan, the original! Other top films for me are Predator, the original, and Aliens.
In a previous life, I was a singer in a band, and used to do some acting with a theatre company. On occasions, a few friends and I like to make short films, which begs the question, Where are the book trailers? I’m thinking on it...
For more on me, check out a couple of my blog posts. I’m an old grunge queen, so you can read about my love of that here. For more random news, read this.
Why magic and mystery?
I’ve always loved the weird, the wonderful, and the inexplicable. My favourite stories are those of magic and mystery, set on the edges of the known, particularly tales of folklore, faerie, and legend—all the narratives that try to explain our reality.
The King Arthur stories are fascinating because they sit between reality and myth. They encompass real life concerns, but also cross boundaries with the world of faerie—or the Otherworld, as I call it. There are green knights, witches, wizards, and dragons, and that’s what I find particularly fascinating. They’re stories that have intrigued people for generations, and like many others, I’m adding my own interpretation.
I also love witches and magic, hence my second series set in beautiful Cornwall. There are witches, missing grimoires, supernatural threats, and ghosts, and as the series progresses, even weirder stuff happens.
Have a poke around in my blog posts and you’ll find all sorts of posts about my series and my characters, and quite a few book reviews.
If you’d like to follow me on social media, you’ll find me here:
Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram, BookBub.
Other Titles by TJ Green
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Rise of the King Series
Excalibur Rises - Short Story Prequel
Call of the King
The Silver Tower
The Cursed Sword
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White Haven Witches Series
Buried Magic
Magic Unbound
Magic Unleashed
All Hallows’ Magic
Undying Magic
Crossroads Magic
Crown of Magic
