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Balfour was standing on the balcony of his private apartments in the west tower of the monastery. He gazed out into the darkness of the night, his hands spread on the balustrade. The sky was clear and the merest slither of the waning moon was visible as it helped the stars bathe the snow-covered land in an eerie light that sparkled on the crisp snow and shimmered in the gently flowing river. Above, the arched tunnel from where the river flowed an immense portcullis secured the entrance to the castle.
When the brotherhood was there, the gate was always open to welcome weary travellers, but now it was only opened to allow the gord soldiers and guardians passage, then immediately closed again afterwards. On the other side of the portcullis was a large pontoon with two drawbridges opening to each side of the river, also only lowered for access.
These, along with the high, six-foot thick walls, made invasion from the front impossible, and where the monastery was built into, or to be more accurate, carved out of the mountain, attack from the side and rear was equally unfeasible.
The security measures were built into the monastery by the Ancient ones who, back in the depths of history fought the war against evil and, though it was a war that was never won, it did manage to push the darkness back and keep it at bay, for a while at least.
“Excellency, the troops will be ready to leave before dawn,” said Cox, coming out into the crisp cold air.
“Good, good,” said Balfour.
“Are you sure you want to send so many, Master? It will leave you very little protection here.”
“You forget, Cox, the power I already have at my fingertips. I am quite capable of protecting the monastery,” Balfour replied calmly, still looking out into the night.
“Of course sir,”
“Your task is of the greatest importance,” Balfour stressed. “You must find the cavern and that which lies therein. And Cox, you must find it quickly. Then I will use the power contained within the Tome to master it and use it to conquer this entire world before transferring my throne to Earth. You, my loyal Cox, will rule here as my regent.”
“Thank you, Master,” Cox said, bowing. “And what of the key?”
“The key will give me the power to accomplish my plan, without it, I will fail,” Balfour said. “And Cox, I will not fail.
“They have crossed the river and are, as we speak, preparing to rest for the night.”
“Impressive. How did they get past the river guardians?” Cox asked.
“That damned Ferryman,” Balfour spat. “He will not be such a thorn in my side soon. When I have my key, he will be crushed, as will anyone who opposes me.”
Balfour picked up an earthenware jar from the ledge beside him and carefully removed the cork stopper. As soon as the stopper was out, a milky white light shone from within. Carefully, Balfour poured the contents of the pot into his hand. It flowed slowly from the jar and swirled with the consistency of honey into his palm where it shimmered and gave off its eerie white light. When the jar was empty, Balfour placed it back on the ledge, his eyes sparkling with the reflected light. He whispered an incantation to the glowing goo, and it began to shape itself into a ball the size of an orange and, when just the right shape, he spun it and let go. The ball of light hung in the air, lighting up the balcony and the two men who watched.
“It’s Moonglow,” Balfour told his intrigued subordinate. “The essence of a full moon. Very hard to distil, extremely rare and quite priceless.” He ushered the glowing ball into the air and watched as it flew off into the night. “Now let’s see if we can give them a restless night.”
“Sir, if they are killed, how will you find the key?” Cox asked.
“I still have the orb,” Balfour answered, unconcerned. “I know it is in this world and it is close. The orb will lead me to it, and I will take it from the bearer’s body myself.”
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THE ROARING FIRE IN the centre of the camp was filling the air with the wonderful woody smoke that made Tom think of Bonfire Night. Despite its size and the heat it produced, it was impossible to get your whole body warm at the same time. Either your knees were scorching, and your shoulders were cold, or vice versa; there was no happy medium.
Thanks to Dan, the self-appointed wood gatherer, a large pile of fuel was ready to be added to the fire, which, as the temperature dropped, was becoming larger all the time.
By the time they had eaten their meal and cleared everything away, the night was deepening. The most incredible array of stars Tom had ever seen lit up the sky. It was the first clear night since he had arrived and to see the sky free from the light pollution of the town was incredible. The stars looked closer and brighter here, nothing like the skies at home.
Tom found himself thinking of his family again, and for the first time, he could imagine himself separated from them. Till now, he had never really considered a life apart from them and not going home to noisy family life at the end of the day. Tom thought of Jack and Ollie and how the three of them were almost inseparable. He wondered if they were worried about him, too. He smiled as he remembered how they had ribbed him about Kelly. Oh, and Kelly, she really was so cute. Tom reached inside his jacket for the Christmas card she had given him at Sam’s. She had signed it ‘Love Kelly’, not ‘Luv’ like girls usually did to their friends. The ‘o’ was heart-shaped, and her name was followed by three kisses.
But what about Maya? He definitely felt something when he looked at her. Oh, this was so confusing. Why did all this have to happen at once? Why did he have to get pulled through a portal into this weird place? Why couldn’t he just get Christmas over with, then go and have a laugh with his friends?
Maya came over to where Tom stood by the river, “Are you alright?” she asked. “I could feel your confusion from over by the campfire.”
“Yeah,” Tom replied, putting the card and his dilemma away.
“What are you looking at?” she asked.
“The stars,” he replied softly. “They are so different here. Albert told me about them when I first got here, but I had no idea they could be so beautiful.”
“How are they so different in your world?” she asked.
“They’re so big and bright here, and there are so many. It’s magical.”
“The Great Dragon took magic to the stars, she’s up there somewhere now,” Maya said, moving closer.
“Do you believe in the Great Dragon?” Tom asked.
“Completely,” she affirmed. “How else could such a diversity of life have come together in one place and lived for so many centuries in peace, had it not been for that unseen force that flows through everything? It was born in the dragon, and she brought it with her when she came from the infernos.”
“I think I have always believed in magic, even in my world. I knew that there was something else, something I couldn’t see but connected everything to everything else. I could feel it.”
“That is magic,” she said. “It makes us one with everything. It brings together those who should be together, even if they are physically apart.”
“I guess it brought us together,” Tom said. “All of us, I mean.”
Maya said nothing. Tom looked at her and again felt the butterflies in his belly. She sensed his feeling and turned. He was startled by the tears rolling down her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she turned to go back to the tent.
“I’m sorry,” Tom said, catching hold of her arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You haven’t,” she said. “It’s just,” she wiped her eyes with her hand. “Everything was so nice here before. Like I said, everyone lived in peace. Then Balfour came and brought with him the darkness, and it is infectious. It breeds bad in good people and leaves nothing but despair. You are so nice, but there is a veil of darkness between us.”
“It is going to be alright," Tom reassured her. “We will get rid of Balfour. Once we get the book away from him and back to my world, his power will fade, and things will get back to normal again. It says so in the Ancient’s prophecy.”
“Prophecies are not written in stone. If they are correctly interpreted, they can be prepared for. It may come true in a way which causes consequences that make the entire situation completely different from how it was expected to be. It’s like looking through a hollow tube at a lamb, scampering around in the sunshine. But when you take the tube away and see the whole picture, you realise that the scene is quite different because the lamb is surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves ready to pounce.”
“That’s not going to happen here. We will get the book, and we will send that tyrant packing. Trust me,” Tom said, smiling.
Maya looked into his eyes. “Then you will go back to your world...” she paused, confused by her vision of the two of them. “... forever.”
Tom hadn’t thought of that. Once he went home, there would be no way back to this world. He let go of her and looked at his shoes. “That’s not necessarily the case. Val and Rita, the witch, seem to think that the darkness I’m supposed to save you all from hasn’t got here yet. If that is true, I’ll be back.”
Despite the threat of more trouble, Maya felt cheered a little and smiled. “I’d like you to come back one day,” she said.
They turned back for a last look at the starlight glistening off the river, and as he did so, Tom saw something move in the darkness. It was in the sky, very small and bright, like a shooting star, only much slower. “Look,” he said. “Stars don’t move like that where I come from.”
Maya looked to where he pointed. “I don’t think that is a star,” she said, wiping her eyes. “It’s getting nearer.”
The light in the sky was definitely heading their way and growing in size as it came.
“Come on,” Tom said. “I think we’d better warn the others.”
Maya and Tom hurried back to the campfire where their companions were trying to keep warm.
“Hello,” said Lyca as they approached. “What you two been up to in the dark?”
Tom ignored her taunt. “There’s something in the sky, and it’s coming this way.”
They all jumped up, ready to defend the camp against the approaching threat. Garren grabbed his staff. Lyca took off her gloves to reveal a set of razor-sharp claws on each hand. The sight of them caught Tom off guard. But that was nothing compared to the sudden transformation of Valcris, who stood next to the werewolf. His face changed in a second. The thin, slightly gaunt human face seemed to grow more muscular. Long sharp fangs emerged from his lips, his eyes glowed red, and as he lifted his arms slightly from his sides, he rose silently into the air.
“I see it,” he said. It is a small ball of light, just coming over the river.”
“Where’s Dan?” asked Tom seeing his empty seat.
“Gone for more firewood,” Garren said.
The Ferryman pulled down the flap of his little tent muttering to himself as he retreated to wait for the trouble to pass. “Nothing to do with me,” he mumbled.
The ball of light crossed the river and hovered over the water for a time as if looking for them before heading towards the fire. The campers had retreated to the shelter of the trees and watched as the ball settled itself high above their tent and did... nothing. It simply hung there.
“What is it?” Tom whispered to Garren. He and Maya were hiding in the same bush as the cleric.
“I don’t know,” Garren replied. “I haven’t seen anything like this before.”
They all stayed where they were, watching the ball of light, then after a while, Valcris came out from behind the tree where he and Lyca were waiting. He again raised his arms and levitated towards the strange light.
Nothing happened. The vampire came close enough to touch it, and, as he reached out his hand...
“NOOOO!”
He spun in the air to find Lyca on the ground near the tree where they had both taken refuge. He immediately dropped to the ground and ran over to her. Garren joined him while Tom and Maya stood at the edge of the bushes, ready to retreat if need be.
“It’s moonglow,” cried Lyca. “It’s the essence of a full moon.”
“Tom, get the rope from my pack,” Garren barked.
Tom raced to the tent and retrieved the long coil of thin rope from Garren’s pack. As he got to the cleric, he stopped, stunned by what he was seeing.
“Give me the rope quickly!” Garren shouted.
Tom approached and handed the coil to the man. In front of him, Lyca was on her knees on the ground. Valcris used all his vampire strength to hold her hands flat on the ground, while Garren tried to bind her wrists with the rope. Tom watched as the claws on her hands grew to almost three times their original length. If Valcris could not keep them away from Garren as he worked, he would be infected and become a werewolf himself; if he survived.
Lyca’s back was arched. She threw her head back and glared with jet black eyes at the ball of moonlight. Fur began to grow on her neck and face, and she screamed as every bone and muscle in her slim body began to change shape. Her nose and mouth pushed forward as her head became elongated to form her muzzle. Her drooling mouth widened as it was ripped back by the bone pushing through. Her teeth spread as the gums were stretched around the enlarged mouth, but they too began to grow. In a slow minute, the gaps were taken up with massive sharp teeth and long threatening fangs. The screams became snarls. Clothes ripped as the muscular body of the wolf forced its way through.
The transformation was complete when she threw back her head and gave an ear-splitting howl at the moonlight. Her back legs began to kick and buck as she tried to free herself from Val’s grip. As she struggled and fought, she brought her head up under Valcris’ chin with such force that it knocked him backwards, stunned. As soon as her front legs were able to move, she reared up, pushing Garren aside. With a single bite of her immensely powerful jaws, the rope was shredded, and her paws were free.
“Tom! Run!” Garren shouted as the enormous creature reared up again and howled at the ball of light.
The shock subsided, and the self-preservation impulse took over. Tom dodged a blow from a huge paw and ran.
The old Ferryman lifted the flap of his tent to complain about the noise. As Tom ran past he pushed the old man back into the tent, “Later,” he shouted.
The wolf bounded after Tom, clearing the campfire in a single leap. She stopped at the tent and sniffed. The old man peered out of the flap again and looked straight into the jaws of the werewolf. The man and the wolf stared at each other for a moment, then the wolf growled and stepped back a couple of paces, not taking its untrusting eyes of him. Charon merely sat in his tent and stared back, no sign of fear on his face at all.
With a slight whimper, the wolf took another pace back with head bowed before turning and bounding off after the boy. Garren, having recovered himself, watched the wolf’s reaction to the old man in astonishment. It was no wonder Balfour had given up trying to dispose of him if he could frighten a fully grown werewolf. Garren caught the ferryman’s eye for a moment before snatching up his staff and running off after Tom and Lyca.
Tom was a fast runner, and he had the benefit of the wolf’s encounter with the Ferryman to give him the lead, but still, he was no match for the speed of the creature that hunted him. He was in the woods now, and the only light came from the stars, filtered by the canopy above. His foot struck a root sticking out of the path, and he flew through the air, landing hard on his hands and knees. The frightened boy knew he hadn’t got the time to bother about his grazed hands and glancing over his shoulder, he tried to get up. But it was too late. The wolf was upon him. He turned on to his back to face the imminent attack, scrambling backwards as fast as he could to delay the inevitable. His head struck the trunk of an old oak, and he staggered up, half standing, half leaning against the rough bark, cornered.
The young man knew that any moment he would either be slashed to bits by those razor-sharp claws or have his throat torn out by the long pointed fangs. The wolf paced closer, choosing the best position from which to pounce.
Garren raced along the path using the light from his staff to guide him. He arrived on the scene, ready to send a hex against his transformed friend. But he was too late. The wolf pounced before he could do anything. She sprang from her powerful back legs and soared through the air towards the terrified boy. He was convinced he was going to die and turned his face away from his attacker, eyes closed. As his head turned, the glow from his crystal illuminated his neck with bright yellow light. Instead of feeling the teeth ripping through his flesh, he felt himself fall backwards.
Valcris landed next to Garren, and the two of them watched in amazement as Tom became almost transparent before their eyes. He fell backwards, passing through the trunk of the enormous oak tree, emerging on the other side and gambolling over before coming to a stop on the ground, his appearance returning to normal.
Lyca was in mid-air as this happened and was unable to stop herself now her prey had disappeared. Unable in her current state to grasp what had happened, she looked around to see where her supper had gone, and so distracted failed to save herself from flying headfirst into the solid trunk of the tree where the boy had been just a moment before. She fell to the ground.
Tom opened his eyes, surprised, firstly that he was still alive and secondly that he was lying on the ground several yards away from the tree and the unconscious werewolf.
“Thanks for that?” he said shakily, assuming Garren had saved him.
“It wasn’t me,” Garren replied. “You did it. Your gem was shining like the sun.”
“How did I do that?” Tom said, scrambling to his feet.
“I haven’t got the faintest idea,” Garren said. “But I’m very glad you did.
“It would seem that the closer you get to the monastery and the Tome, the stronger your magic becomes. I must confess that I am at a loss to know why, but I am intrigued to see what happens when we get the two of you together.”
Valcris flew back to the camp and collected the remainder of the rope and a blanket. They tied Lyca’s legs together and fashioned a muzzle to bind her powerful jaws. They covered her with a blanket and Garren explained that she would remain a wolf until dawn, but when she returned to her human form she would need the blanket, not just for warmth, but to preserve her dignity. Her clothes were in shreds back at the camp where she transformed. Valcris would remain with her throughout the night to ensure she did not escape.
Tom and Garren returned to the camp where they found Maya tending to a pot of spiced mead on the fire. Val had filled her in on what had happened and reassured her that everyone was safe. She already knew Tom was safe. She had experienced both his terror and his relief right along with him. The ball of moonlight had faded and was gone now. It had served its purpose.
“What’s been going on here?” Dan said, emerging from the bushes.
“Where have you been?” Tom asked.
“Collecting wood,” Dan said, defensively. “I took the wrong path.”
“How can someone who comes from the woods, keep getting lost in the woods?”
“All those paths and bushes and trees look so bloomin’ alike," Dan said. He dropped the wood and plopped down on one of the seats. Garren and Tom filled him in on recent events, and together they tried to figure out how they came about.
“Well, you don’t have to be an alchemist to work it out,” Dan said. “His Gitship in the castle sent the moonlight, didn’t he?”
“I think we can pretty much take that as read,” said Tom. “But how did he know where we were?”
“That’s obvious too,” Dan said. “The old feller told him.”
“No, I didn’t,” came a voice from the shabby little tent. “Don’t you go a blamin’ me.”
The debate continued for a little while longer then Tom and Maya went into the big tent and climbed into their hammocks, exhausted. Shortly after Garren joined them, leaving Dan to build up the fire with more of his precious wood.
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AN HOUR BEFORE DAWN, Garren silently crept out of the tent and put the remaining fuel on the dying embers of the fire, taking care not to wake the snoring Dan, who had not made it as far as the tent but crashed out on the hard ground in the warmth of the fire. Garren then quietly left the camp and headed into the wood to find Valcris.
Val was alert and heard Garren approach; he was up and ready in case it was foe instead of friend. Lyca, still wolf-shaped growled through her tied muzzle when she saw him.
“I thought I had better relieve you so you can find some food before first light,” Garren said.
“Thank you, I am ravenous,” Val replied, stretching away his stiffness. “I think Lyca has got a headache, judging by the lump on her head and her poor spirits.”
“Yes, either that or she’s upset at being trussed up and left on the hard ground all night,” Garren grinned.
“No doubt she will be thankful when she regains her senses,” Val said. “I will return before dawn.” He lifted his arms and ascended into the leafy canopy. Garren made himself comfortable on the ground with Lyca’s rucksack beside him, which he brought from the camp so that she might dress before rejoining the company.
Valcris was happy to be able to glide through the cold, clear sky. The freezing winter temperature meant little after experiencing the icy coldness of death. Silently he skimmed the tops of the trees looking for a warm meal, a sheep or goat for preference, but any warm-blooded mammal would suffice. He wouldn’t take enough blood to kill the creature, just put it in a mild trance and take a little. The animal would never know it had been a donor, the only side effects being a slight state of confusion and a sore neck.
Within ten minutes the vampire had located a nice respectable looking woodland pony, standing under a tree snoozing. ‘Ah, nothing quite like the fresh taste of the free-range produce of nature.’ Valcris descended, landing without a sound right in front of the morphic mare and rapped three times on the bridge of its long nose.
The disturbed dobbin snorted, opened its eyes and before it could say ‘giddy up,’ stared right into the mesmerising gaze of the voracious vampire. Instantly the pony went rigid, which, given its nature, was no great change. Valcris located the jugular and started his day with a good healthy breakfast.
A few minutes later, after polishing his fangs with a napkin, and thinking that the horsehair would be stuck between his teeth all day, Valcris took off with all the contented grace of a ballet dancer, leaving the entranced equine leaning against the tree.
With a good twenty minutes before the first rays of morning sun spoilt the skyline, Valcris decided to enjoy his short-lived freedom before returning to the ground and the shelter of the hot, heavy cloak. He swam through the air, doing the backstroke, in the direction of the mountain and the monastery nestling at its base.
As he reached the very edge of the wood, he heard the rumble of footsteps. Many footsteps. Alighting on the upper branches of a prickly pine tree, the vampire watched as hordes of yellow-skinned, horn-nosed foot soldiers marched out of the open archway and over the drawbridge leading to the opposite side of the river. At their head, in a gig pulled by the powerful lion’s body of a gryphon, its eagle wings clipped and a bit in its beak, was Cox, the P.A. to the tyrant in residence.
The small army trooped out of the monastery and continued to the east. Wherever they were going, at least the town would remain safe, lying as it did, south of the mountain.
Valcris had little time left before sunrise. The sky was already beginning to lighten. He left his vantage point and sped back to the camp where he found everyone huddling around the newly rekindled fire breakfasting. Lyca was there too, back in her usual, scrawny girl form, but with the addition of a few bruises and a bucket load of shame.
“We need to find out what they are up to,” Garren said after Val had informed him of the marching hordes.
“Does it matter?” Dan asked. “If we get hold of that old book and get it and the boy back to the other world, Balfour will lose his power and be at the mercy of the hungry villagers. Mind you, with all those yellow chappies in there, that would explain why he took all the grub.”
“The book is only part of his power,” Garren said. “He was a formidable sorcerer before he arrived here, or he would never have been able to take the monastery. No, he has other plans.”
“I had heard a little rumour in the pound that he was searching for things to make him more powerful,” said Lyca quietly.
Garren and Tom exchanged glances, both thinking she must be referring to the key. “Do you think he has gone looking for it in that direction, Garren?” Tom asked.
“No,” Garren replied. “He has been getting very close up to now. He would not shoot off in the wrong direction at this stage.”
“Hello,” said Dan standing up. “You two know something we don’t.”
“Keeping secrets isn’t very nice,” Lyca chipped in.
“Come on, out with it! If we’re putting our lives at risk, we want to know the whole story,” Dan insisted.
Garren and Tom again looked at each other.
“You’re right,” Garren sighed. “The reason we know that Tom is the child in the prophecy is because he is the key bearer.”
“The what?” Lyca said.
“The key was hidden in Tom’s world by the Ancients and entrusted to a human, the bearer, who passed it down from generation to generation. Tom is the current bearer. Balfour managed to track the key to the old world, and Tom became caught in the gateway when he returned and was pulled along as well,” Garren explained.
“Bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?” Dan said. “Out of all the people in that world, the one that should happen to get caught in the portal is the key bearer, the one that needs to stay well away from that wretched book.”
“No, I don’t think it was a coincidence,” Garren mused. “The key belongs with the book. Balfour knew he was close to the key, but couldn’t find it. It must have been so frustrating.”
“Poor Balfour,” said Lyca sarcastically.
“When the portal opened so close to Tom, I believe he was attracted to it like a magnet. Anyone else would have been able to escape,” Garren went on.
“Where is it now?” Dan asked.
“Tom has it,” Garren said. “He is the bearer. He can only be separated from it by death.”
“You are not serious!” Dan exclaimed. “Why have you brought him here? He should be hidden somewhere safe while we get the book.”
“We had to make sure it was safe.”
“Safe!” Dan shouted. “We are taking it right into the middle of Balfour’s fortress. We are handing him the thing he most wants.”
“He doesn’t know the boy has it,” said the cleric.
“It won’t be long before he finds out.”
“We will have to make sure he doesn’t get it. We have to get in and out with the Tome as quickly as possible and get it back to the old world.”
“And what if we are caught?” Dan argued.
“I believe we will be safe enough,” the cleric answered. He looked at Tom, “I think we, or at least Tom, will surprise him.”
There was silence for a very long uncomfortable moment in which everyone looked at Tom.
“I understand your reason for keeping this from us,” Valcris said. “But, old friend, you should have trusted us.”
“I’m sorry,” said Garren.
“What about this army?” Val asked. “You said they were not after the key.”
“Balfour believes that the key is in the other world, so why send his army east looking for it?”
“In the pound, they said he was looking for more than one artefact of power. He’s been poring over the ancient texts ever since he has been at the monastery,” Lyca said. “Maybe he has a lead on another.”
“We need to find out, what they are doing,” Garren said. “It must be important indeed to drag Cox away from his Master’s side.”
“S’pose I could follow them and see what they are up to,” Dan said. “Never much cared for the idea of breaking into the monastery, anyway. I like it even less now.”
“Yes,” Garren agreed. “I think we have no choice.”
“Well you can’t let him go on his own,” Lyca argued. “He gets lost in his own woods. I’ll go with him, I’m almost as fast - when I’m not so bruised,” she added, rubbing her shoulder.
“Alright,” Garren said decisively. “You two go back with the Ferryman and find out what Cox is doing. We’ll carry on to the tunnels.”
With their plans amended, they packed up and removed all signs of their camp. Garren paid the Ferryman to take Lyca back across the river, and the party wished each other well as they parted, not knowing if they would ever see each other again.