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.
Thanks for reading Call of the King. Please make an author happy and leave a review!
Book 2, The Silver Tower is out now. You can buy it here.
Read on for an excerpt!
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