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Tom staggered back and sank to the floor, leaning against the wall. He was exhausted. He felt the beast within him struggle and thrash around, and then a supernatural mist oozed out of every pore.
As it left him, he felt incredibly weak; his muscles ached and his vision dimmed, making him aware of how powerful his night vision had been. Now all he could see was the big black bulk of the dragon, lit only by the palest fiery glow of lava.
But he had done it. He had lifted the curse. He laughed into the darkness, like a madman.
Now he just had to get out.
The djinn reappeared in front of him, still clutching his side. “You were possessed?” he asked, his eyes lit by the pale flames which burnt within him.
“Yes,” Tom said, staggering to his feet. His legs trembled with weakness. “Ow. That really aches.” He looked warily at the djinn. “Are you going to kill me now?”
“No, why would I do that?”
“Well I did stab you and ruin your life’s mission,” Tom said, trying to suppress the shake in his arm as he held Galatine.
“How many beings do you think have ever injured me?”
“I don’t know. The dragon must have a few times.”
“No-one except you.” The djinn was looking at him curiously. “I’m impressed – even if you were possessed. I have never seen my own blood spilt before in battle. I do not like it.”
“Lucky you,” Tom said. “I’ve seen mine plenty of times – including now.” He looked down at his arms and legs, which were covered in scratches and cuts.
The djinn laughed, although it sounded more like a growl. “We will both live.”
“Will we? Because I’m not sure I’m going to get back to the portal,” Tom said. If he could walk back down the pathways of the underground city, it would be a miracle.
“Come, my friend. I will help.”
Before Tom could protest, the djinn picked him up and bounded down the corridors with loping grace, despite his injury. He leapt across fallen walls, chunks of stone and lava with ease, depositing Tom outside the portal door once more.
Tom felt dazed, and stood swaying, looking around the room at the remnants of equipment and tools, wondering what dark and strange magic Giolladhe would once have woven down here. He looked at the djinn. “Thank you. Where will you go now this is over?”
“Azkrill, the capital of our fair realm, far to the east, in the blazing deserts of Sansarkan. I will speak of Tom, the dragon slayer; slayer of Giolladhe, the Forger of Light, saviour of Filtiarn, beast possessed, djinn-wounding warrior, bearer of Galatine.”
Tom had to admit that sounded quite impressive. Maybe he should adopt it as his title. “And your name?”
“Valaal, Keeper of the Forger of Light.”
Tom smiled, grateful for this crazy experience. “Good to meet you, Valaal.” He gestured towards the workshop. “I guess this will be the last time I see this?”
“Yes. I will seal the portal once you have gone,” Valaal said. “The whole city will collapse soon anyway, ’tis best no-one comes here again.”
Tom felt strangely reluctant to go. “Maybe we will meet again one day.”
“Maybe we will,” Valaal said, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Before I go, will you tell me a little bit more about Giolladhe and why he was turned into a dragon? I really want to know. Everything he did is so mysterious, and so long ago.”
Valaal nodded. “All right. But my heart hurts to think of it.”
And for a little while, Tom ignored the threat of death by lava, and listened to the djinn.
––––––––
For a few seconds Tom thought he was stuck in the portal, the room beyond was so dark, and then he remembered he’d come here with no light to guide him. To his left a faint grey strip leaked into the room, revealing the edge of the doorway. Staggering to his feet, he stumbled through the central room and down the corridor to where the front door hung open, early morning sunshine blazing through.
He shielded his eyes, temporarily blinded by the light. He was halfway down the path when he heard a shout. “He’s here!”
Woodsmoke ran towards him, closely followed by Beansprout. They both looked worried, and if Tom was honest, a bit distracted.
Woodsmoke crushed him in a hug. “Where have you been?”
“And what have you been doing?” Beansprout said, looking shocked. “You’re filthy! And covered in blood. Are you hurt?” She reached out and hugged him, regardless. “Great Herne, you stink. Again. And what’s that weird green stuff on you?”
“Beansprout,” Tom protested, “will you stop asking questions!”
Bloodmoon and Arthur rounded a corner, Bloodmoon looking quite cavalier and not the least bit worried, whereas Arthur was frowning. Bloodmoon grinned as he saw Tom, and then looked a little put out. “I smell sulphur. Someone’s been hunting dragons. Could’ve let me know, Tom.”
Arthur ran forward, pulling Tom into a hug, and then looked at him carefully. “Dragons? Don’t be ridiculous, Bloodmoon. Are you all right, Tom? We’ve been searching for hours. This is the last place we thought we’d find you. Merlin and Nimue are in the passageways beneath the house.”
“Where did you think I’d go?” Tom asked, incredulous.
“I honestly thought you’d gone to sulk, you know how you do sometimes,” Beansprout said, sounding slightly sheepish at her accusation.
Tom was about to complain when, with a whirr of wings, Brenna landed next to them on the path. “Tom! I’ve been searching the forest. I’m so relieved ...” She trailed off as she took in his appearance. “What have you been doing?”
Arthur ploughed on regardless. “We’ve been trying to figure out a plan to get rid of this curse.” His voice was grumpy, now his relief at finding Tom had worn off. “You can’t just go wandering off.”
Tom was tired and starting to get annoyed. Did everyone really think he was so stupid? “I have been fighting a dragon, and getting rid of this curse. What do you think I’ve been doing?”
“Getting rid of the curse?” Arthur said, looking startled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve killed Giolladhe. I thought I would take matters into my own hands.”
“You killed a dragon?” Beansprout said, admiration in her eyes. “Tom! You’re amazing.”
“Yes,” he said smugly, “I am. And now I need a bath and a sleep.”
Arthur looked put out. “You didn’t tell me I was amazing when I killed a dragon.”
“Oh, Arthur,” Beansprout said. “You’re always amazing, you know that.”
Tom pushed through them all, trying to suppress a grin, but they followed him doggedly back to the house, asking question after question, until he reached the door of his room. “All of you, please, leave me in peace! I’ll tell you later.” And he shut his door with a big smile.
Hours later, after a bath and having slept most of the day, Tom headed down to the balcony and found the table glittering with candlelight, silverware and cut glass. The entire household was either gathered around the table, or reclining on chairs looking out over Dragon’s Hollow.
Nimue rose to greet him. She was as dazzling as the silverware. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she wore a deep green silk dress that matched her eyes. “Glad you’re here, Tom. I gather I need to congratulate you.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’m not sure whether you’re crazy or brilliant.”
Tom couldn’t help blushing. “Brilliant, of course.” He thought he’d try and cover his embarrassment through bluffing, and besides, he could see Woodsmoke smirking. Ignoring him, he said, “I’m sorry if I worried everyone. I just knew what I needed to do and got on with it. And I didn’t want to risk anyone else getting hurt.”
“Very noble of you,” Merlin said, coming over to shake his hand. “If a little foolhardy.”
Arthur frowned at Merlin, then pulled a chair out for Tom and pushed a drink into his hands. “Come, sit down, Tom. You’re the guest of honour. We’ve cooked roast suckling pig especially for you.”
“My favourite beer! And my favourite food! Wow, I am being spoiled,” he said, laughing.
Brenna slid into the seat next to him. Her dark eyes looked huge in the candlelight, and the fine feathers around her hairline reflected the light, giving her a dark glow. She gave him a playful punch on his arm. “How did you know the dragon was Giolladhe?”
“Because it spoke to me, and it knew what Galatine was. Who else would know that?” He shrugged. “It bothered me when I was leaving the Realm of Fire the first time, but I was in such a rush to get back, I didn’t really think about it. And then, last night, I just knew.”
“So you found my brother,” Filtiarn said. He looked solemn and sad, and not as relieved as Tom thought he would.
Tom met his eyes across the table, noting how old and frail he looked. After his initial jubilation at the curse being broken, he now looked like an old man again. “I did, and I’m sorry I had to kill him.”
“You had to do it, Tom, or you would have suffered my fate, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I have lost my youth, my life, my love and my children, all for the possibility of my making peace with dragons.” Filtiarn looked puzzled. “And you say he was a dragon, which seems fitting. How did that happen?”
“Valaal, the djinn, told me their magician had transformed him years ago when they found the depth of his betrayal of them. For years Giolladhe had a second workshop in the Realm of Fire. It was beneath the citadel on the edge of the city of Erfann – it’s where the portal led – and he used the fire of the mountains to fuel his more complicated spells. But his experiments caused problems. The mountains of fire erupted, the dragons attacked, and eventually Erfann was destroyed – this was sometime after the dragon wars. Years later, after the sylphs found out Giolladhe had double- crossed them with his so-called gift of protection, he had to flee the Hollow, pretty much as we guessed. Raghnall had refused to stand by him and essentially blamed him for everything. The djinns offered him refuge in Azkrill, their capital city. However, Giolladhe got up to his old tricks, betrayed people, double-crossed them, and eventually ended up endangering Azkrill, so they took him to Erfann where their magician transformed him, and Valaal was appointed his keeper. I felt really sorry for the djinn, and I liked Valaal. And that’s as much as I know – if I’ve remembered it properly.”
Filtiarn was silent for a moment, and then took a long drink. “So much betrayal, so much greed. I feel like I never knew him.”
“You never suspected?” Arthur asked.
“We were very different,” Filtiarn admitted, “but I never suspected him of such deception. It makes me question everything. Every conversation, every interaction. But I wonder where all his wealth went? He lived in a cave. It was plain, unembellished.”
“That is an excellent question,” Bloodmoon said. “I must make enquiries.”
Filtiarn looked at Tom with an almost pleading expression. “Did he say anything about me?”
“Not really,” Tom said, “other than he did it to stop you ruining everything. I’m sorry.”
Filtiarn pushed his plate away, falling silent, and Tom thought he should change the subject. He turned to Beansprout. “It was the djinn’s blood on me earlier – the green stuff.”
“You killed a djinn?” Beansprout said, looking both horrified and impressed.
“No! I injured it. It was trying to protect Giolladhe to prolong the punishment. Anyway, he forgave me, and now we’re friends – sort of.”
“You injured a djinn?” Bloodmoon asked, stopping eating in surprise.
“Yes. Accidentally.”
“Not many can do that, Tom.”
Tom swallowed a mouthful of delicious pork. “That’s what he said, but it was only because that supernatural beast was in me. It gave me superpowers. It was very cool,” he said, thoughtfully, wishing he could have kept the superpowers. “That’s another reason I went there straightaway. I was strong and I knew it, and I didn’t know how long it would last.”
Elan interrupted. “It should have been me. Who was cursed, I mean.” He had been quiet up until now, watching Tom and the others. He seemed very worried.
Tom looked at him, confused. “You mean you should have had the sword?”
“No, I mean as Filtiarn’s relative. You shouldn’t have had to suffer that.”
“Elan, it wasn’t your fault. I activated the sword, not you. It was just the way it was.” Tom really loved Galatine, despite everything that had happened, and he knew Filtiarn didn’t want it – but what if Elan did? What if he thought it was his birthright? “Do you want Galatine? If you do, it’s yours.” He pulled it free from its scabbard and placed it on the table. He had shined and polished it that afternoon, cleaning away every trace of blood and flesh.
Arthur frowned and said, “Tom!” at exactly the same time as Filtiarn said, “Elan!”
Tom stopped them both with a calm look. “It’s OK.”
They watched as Elan picked up the sword and ran his hands along it, the swirling opals quickening at his touch. And then he looked at Tom and smiled. “No, it yours. You’ve earned it. But thanks for asking.”
Tom grinned. “Thanks for not having it. I really like that sword.” And he put it back in its scabbard.
Woodsmoke gave Tom the ghost of a smile, and then turned to Filtiarn, Rahal and Elan. “So what now?”
“Now we go home,” Rahal said, glancing at Filtiarn. “Our family will want to see Filtiarn. I suppose we’ll have a celebration.”
“And I suppose I will die very soon after that,” Filtiarn said, staring into his drink.
“What?” Tom said, almost choking.
Everyone stopped eating and looked at Filtiarn.
“I am dying. I know I am. Ever since the curse has broken I feel my vast age pouring back into me. The beast has taken its toll. I want to make it home, spend my last days there overlooking the ocean, remembering better days. And then you can bury me in the family tomb, next to my love.” He directed this last statement to Rahal and Elan.
“But I wanted you to have many happy years yet,” Rahal said, her eyes starting to fill with tears.
He patted her hands. “My dear, you have nothing to feel sorry for.” He turned to the others and raised his glass. “But tonight we celebrate, because the curse is over.”
There was a resounding clinking of glass and calls of congratulations, and then Nimue turned to Arthur. “And what about you? I suppose you’ll be returning to New Camelot?”
“Of course, with Merlin, Tom and Woodsmoke.”
They nodded in agreement.
“What about you, Bloodmoon?”
“I’ll join Filtiarn in their ride across the moors,” he said, looking at Rahal rather than Filtiarn. Tom grinned and Rahal blushed. “And then, who knows? I’ll go where the adventure takes me.”
“As long as it’s not into trouble,” Woodsmoke said. “I don’t want to have to break you out of prison.”
“It’s good to know that you would, should I ever need it,” Bloodmoon said in all seriousness, leaving Woodsmoke gaping at him.
“I will journey to New Camelot with you, and then return to Aeriken,” Brenna said with a sigh. “There is talk of a coronation.”
“Really?” Beansprout said, excited. “You’ve finally agreed?”
Brenna shrugged. “Sort of. As long as you all come for the ceremony.”
A chorus of agreement ran around the table, and everyone looked excited except Arthur, who seemed a little worried. “You shouldn’t do it unless you’re absolutely sure. It’s a lot of work, you know.”
“I’m already doing the work, I may as well just go ahead. It will make the Aeriken happy.” She glanced around the table and wagged an admonishing finger. “But don’t you dare leave me out of anything!”
“Or me!” Beansprout added. “I’m staying here, of course. I have to continue my training.”
Tom looked around the table, at his friends laughing and talking, and felt excited for his future. He grabbed his drink. “I’d like to propose a toast!” He grinned at them as they raised their glasses. “To friendship!”
Thanks for reading The Cursed Sword. I hope you enjoyed it. All authors love reviews and I’d love it if you’d leave a review. Thanks!
Interested in reading my urban fantasy series, White Haven Witches?
Read on for an excerpt of Buried Magic.
