The Other Side (Thomas Skinner Book 1)

by S. I. Anderson

“I need to check on something,” he said, his voice assured, the momentary lapse of uncertainty replaced by forced joy and confidence.

  “Can it not wait?”

  “I will be back,” he smiled. “Keep pushing.”

  The old man walked out of the room, down the spiral staircase, and through the corridors and halls that were lit by flaming torches, but eerily dark. He held his hand out, spread his fingers apart, and whispered, “Sensavil.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks and the worry returned to his face. It was a moment before he walked forward again, this time cautiously. He passed a few more doors before he finally came to one that did not open for him. The old man pressed his head against it and listened.

  He stepped back and opened the door. It was there, shrouded in mist and darkness. It moved towards him. He raised both his hands, the door slammed shut. The old man turned and hurried back, all the while looking over his shoulder.

  The sounds of a baby crying greeted him as he entered the room. The woman had given birth, and she held in her arms a baby boy. She smiled proudly as she looked up at him.

  “Isn’t he beautiful?” She held the baby up.

  He sat on the bed with her and held her arms, gently pushing them back towards her chest. “What shall we name him?”

  “Handsome, is he not?”

  “What about Adam?” the old man asked, urgency creeping into his voice.

  “He has your hair.”

  “Zakariyah?”

  “Why the hurry?” She looked up at his serious face.

  “The boy must be named.”

  The woman returned to staring at the boy. “Thomas,” she said.

  “Thomas,” the old man said. “Thomas,” he repeated. “It is a good name.” He leaned down to kiss the boy on both cheeks. “He must go...” he said softly.

  “Go?” the old woman asked absently. “Go where?”

  “It is here.”

  She looked up at him again, puzzlement quickly turning to worry, followed by fear. “Here? Now? How could it have known? Does it know?”

  “It must...” the old man said. “The boy has to go,” he repeated.

  “Where is it?” the woman was frightened. “Where can we go?”

  “It is in the house, coming closer every second. I have put stops, but they are only slowing it down,” the old man said. “The boy must live.”

  “I cannot leave now. I do not have the strength.”

  “I know,” he said gently.

  The woman realised what he meant when he said the boy must go, that the boy must live. It was the boy alone that would live. She nodded at the old man before turning to stare at her boy for one last time. Tears were now running down her cheeks freely.

  “Your mother loves you,” she said. “Your mother loves you so much.” She held the baby close to her face and kissed him. She held his hand, felt his fingers, his toes. She kissed him again. “Where will he go?” she asked.

  “The Other Side,” the old man said. “It is the only place he will truly be safe.”

  “You can do that?”

  “It will not be easy...”

  “But they will find-”

  “They will not know of him,” he interrupted. “I will curb his magic, bind him, give him a chance to grow.”

  “Will that not harm him?”

  “Not permanently. Once he is old enough, once he returns, there are many things that can free him.”

  “How will he come back?”

  “The Great Barrier is not as strong as it used to be. It may come down within his lifetime. It may not.” The old man shook his head sadly. “I do not know. I never thought it would happen like this... not today,” he said bitterly. “The boy must live. There will be hope for as long as there is Zarlock blood.”

  The woman gave the baby one last kiss before she held him out for the man to take. The baby began to cry loudly as the old man moved his hand over him, from its face to its feet. The baby disappeared, the man collapsed on the bed, and the woman wept.

  The man sat up and held his arms out. A crying baby appeared in them.

  “He is back?” the old woman asked cautiously before a cry of horror escaped her lips. “Who is she?”

  The old man spoke without any feeling. “It knows there is a baby. For Thomas to be safe, it must have a baby.”

  “No!” the woman screamed. “This is not right.”

  She reached out to snatch the baby girl from the old man’s arms, to protect it and as she did, the door burst open. The man jumped up and raised his hand. “The wolves, Thomas, beware the-”

  He didn’t finish his sentence. The room darkened, the woman screamed, and the crying baby girl became silent.

  The ball fell from Tom’s hand. The sounds and colours faded as it dropped onto the floor. It made sense now, why he was the heir. Something else did too. Those he had called Mum and Dad all his life, they thought he was going to be a girl.

  “They killed Sarah...”

  Author comments

  Thank you so much for reading! Completing this book has been a very long and sometimes difficult journey. But knowing that, in the end, it is being read, and (sometimes!) enjoyed by people has made the long nights more than worth it!

  I have completed the second book. Keep turning the pages to read the first few chapters!!

  I would love it if you would sign up to my newsletter! That way you will be the first to know when a release date has been set for my new books!

  Click to sign up to my newsletter!

  Also, if you use Facebook, please like my page!

  I would like to thank Jenni Harrison, the editor and Camilla the cover designer (Spiderwize), for their work. I would also like to thank everyone else who has helped me through this long process of writing and rewriting. And rewriting. And then writing some more…

  THOMAS SKINNER

  THE RETURN OF THE WEREWOLVES

  S. I. ANDERSON

  www.sianderson.com

  To my little boy, who sits on my lap, listens to my stories, and asks for more…

  Chapter 1

  The sky was clear and the sun was shining, but it was a cold morning. Standing at the edge of the pier, staring out at the seemingly endless expanse of water, Tom absent-mindedly adjusted his cloak, trying to trap the warmth within.

  He took a deep breath and shivered as his lungs filled with the salty air. Tom had wanted to go home for so long. Yet, standing here now, he felt uneasy. Things had changed. When he thought of his family now, he felt shame. Not for the first time, he wondered if they were his family. Had he lost the right to think of them as such?

  Their daughter is dead because of me.

  Saafir, who stood beside him, extended his foot and pushed down on the small rowing boat tied to the pier. The boat bobbed and miniature waves appeared from beneath.

  “Cindy,” Saafir turned to look up at her. “Are the Other Siders not adequately funded?”

  Cindy stepped onto the pier, three bags floating behind her.

  “Funding is okay, I suppose,” she replied inattentively. “Why do you ask?”

  “This boat,” Saafir nudged it again with his foot, “is really small.”

  With a wave of her hand, Cindy threw the bags onto the boat. They watched as the added weight caused it to rock further.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “Considering it looks absolutely awful,” Jenna said stiffly, “that’s not saying very much.”

  A small smile appeared on Tom’s face. He remembered being as apprehensive the first time he had seen the little rowing boat floating at the edge of an apparently endless stretch of water.

  Saafir and the twins were coming with him to the Land of the Wanderers. If it were under different circumstances, he imagined he would be excited. He was sure Gemma would be unpleasantly surprised by how well the "inferior" Wanderers were doing.

  The smile left his face. They didn’t want him to tell his family. No good would come of it, they
all said. It was probably the first time Saafir had agreed so wholesomely with the twins.

  Tom found he didn’t care what they thought. He would tell them. They had a right to know of their daughter; a right to know that daughter was dead because of him. She had died because of him. It only made it worse when his friends said otherwise. They were in such awe of the Zarlocks, they couldn’t see the wrong in it.

  His jaw tightened as he recalled Jenna saying it had been done for the greater good. Even Saafir seemed to think the life of an innocent was worth sacrificing for a Zarlock, especially, as he kept mentioning, now that war was coming.

  “It’s really not that bad.” Cindy climbed into the boat and turned expectantly. None followed after her. A frown appeared on her face. “Tell them, Thomas.”

  He blinked twice. It was the first time she had called him Thomas and not Lord Zarlock since they found out who he was. Cindy was smiling at him now. He gave her a weak smile back and climbed into the boat. He walked past her and sat down on the bench at the narrow end.

  Still unconvinced, Saafir and the twins reluctantly climbed aboard. The twins held onto the sides, looking mightily afraid. Maybe they couldn't swim. Saafir looked terrified too, but he sat up straight, his hands in his lap. The sea was calm and sparkled blue as it reflected the sunlight. The boat glided forward in a straight line, moving neither an inch to the left nor the right.

  Tom felt a sudden pang of sadness as he took another deep breath. He raised his hands and rubbed his eyes as they showed signs of watering. Was he about to cry?

  “How far is it?” Saafir asked.

  “Not far,” Cindy replied. “Look ahead.”

  “I am. I can’t see anything.”

  Cindy sighed. “You will soon…”

  Tom sniffed quietly as he looked ahead intently, trying to clear his mind. Anger at the Zarlocks, resentment of himself – those were the emotions he had felt most of late. Neither had made him want to cry… so why was he tearing up now? Why was his chest so heavy?

  He blinked, rubbed his eyes, then blinked again. His back straightened, his hand rose and he pointed ahead.

  “…the Great Barrier.”

  He could see the Great Barrier. A thin, translucent barrier of blue, it rose up like a wall, before curving inwards like a bubble and then fading completely as it disappeared into the blue sky above.

  “Where?” Saafir asked excitedly. “I don’t see it. Where am I supposed to be looking?”

  “I can’t see it either.” Jenna sounded annoyed.

  Cindy raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. A moment later, she turned to look at Tom.

  “You can see it?” the words came out a whisper. “What does it look like?”

  The boat had edged its way up to the Great Barrier. Beyond it Tom could see the hazy outline of land, white cliffs rising to meet the overhanging greenery. He raised his hand, his index finger extended. The wall shimmered and, for a second, it seemed to resist his touch.

  And then they passed through it and he felt a slight, damp coldness wash over him.

  “Land!” Saafir pointed.

  Tom looked over his shoulder. It was still there; the Great Barrier, still whole. A slight glimmer covered the spot where they had passed through and the area was now a darker shade of blue.

  Tom looked up as he felt a hand placed on his shoulder. Cindy stared down at him with those red eyes of hers.

  “You can see the barrier?”

  Tom nodded.

  “What does it look like?”

  He looked away from her, his gaze returning to the wall. There was only one way to describe it. The Great Barrier didn’t seem that great. No, it seemed very… thin. Like a bubble ready to pop…

  * * *

  The weekend passed and he didn’t tell them. He wanted to and there were times when he felt it build up inside him, ready to explode out, but, somehow, he had remained silent. Even when Emily had asked him what was wrong, he’d said nothing. And now they were in the car, winding through the narrow country lanes on their way back to Atlantis.

  “Look at this,” Saafir held out his new mobile phone and the video that played on its screen. “It’s an orange. But it talks!”

  A little gold dust converted into a lot of pounds and Saafir had a lot of gold dust. Tom tried to explain that once the battery died, the phone would be useless in Atlantis. And that had made absolutely no sense to Saafir. So he had grabbed hold of the charger and asked where in Atlantis would he find a socket for it?

  Saafir still bought the phone. And a tablet. And a bunch of fully charged batteries.

  Jenna seemed to have enjoyed her time in the Land of the Wanderers, Gemma not so much. She wasn’t keen on phones, or computers, or televisions, or bicycles, or trains. The roaring noise the London Underground made as it pulled into the station truly terrified her.

  She was staring at him warily now. “I don’t like this… car?”

  Tom nodded. Yes, it was a car, he told her for the umpteenth time.

  “I don’t like it,” Gemma said stiffly. “It’s unnatural. If nothing is pulling it, it shouldn’t be moving.”

  Everything was unnatural to her. She had complained a lot over the weekend. If it wasn’t magic that was making the voice come out of the telephone, or making the car move forward, or the television show the images, or even the kettle heat the water, then it was unnatural.

  Tom tried explaining some of the things to her, those he sort of understood, but she didn’t believe him. She had her own theories. He’d heard her whisper one of those to Jenna. Apparently, Wanderers were holding wizards’ hostage somewhere, forcing them to magic everything. The wizards needed to be freed. It was an outrage that they were being held by a less superior –

  It was at that point that Tom forcefully stopped listening to that conversation. He hadn't been intentionally eavesdropping; it was just an unfortunate downside to suddenly having so much better hearing. Suffice to say, he found her very tiresome. He wouldn’t have cared normally, but of late, he found himself to be constantly annoyed.

  The car pulled in beside the cottage. Tom climbed out and slung his bag over his shoulder. He followed the others as they walked past the trees and came to the edge of the cliff. Tom paused with one foot on the wooden step attached to the face of the white cliff. He turned to look back at the little, battered mini and the dirt track that weaved its way through the trees and led back to the Land of the Wanderers. The last time he was here, he knew nothing of Atlantis and what awaited him. He had been excited, maybe a little afraid too. It was different this time. He knew exactly what was waiting for him on the other side.

  A few days after his return to Atlantis, he would be visiting the House of Lords. A session had been arranged to reinstate his house, the House of Zarlock, as the fourteenth house. And after that, he would reclaim Camelot, most of which had been absorbed by two neighbouring lords. Following that, the hunting of his parents’ murderer would begin. They were still no closer to knowing who or what the shadowy beast that killed them was. And after that, there was the small matter of dealing with the wolves and Le Fays, who needed to be repressed, Lord Malik had said.

  There was something about Saafir’s father, Musaffir Malik, the manner in which he spoke, matter-of-factly, as if he were so certain of events and how they would play out. Tom wished he could share that sort of optimism, or confidence. Maybe it was arrogance.

  Cindy had reached the bottom of the cliff. She looked up at him and waved as a gust of wind blew her red hair across her face. Tom gave one last look over his shoulder at the cottage and the car parked beside it. He wondered when he would come back here, or if he ever would. Bad thoughts, he told himself.

  He hurried down the wooden steps. He had to come back. He needed to tell his Wanderer parents about their dead daughter. They had a right to know and the next time he saw them, he would definitely tell them.

  Chapter 2

  Tom sat on a bench in the courtyard at the centre of th
e School of Merlin. Now that he was Lord Zarlock, he had no need to hide in the tree house anymore and he found himself spending more and more time in the school grounds.

  It still amazed him how good his hearing was, how powerful his sight was, how strong his body was. To his left, he could hear the group of girls whispering. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the bench. Lucy, the tall one with the blonde hair, thought he was… he tilted his head in her direction, trying to catch the ending of the sentence. He couldn’t make out the last of the words as the girls surrounding her started giggling. Tom's face reddened slightly. Maybe eavesdropping wasn't such a great idea.

  He hadn’t just improved physically; his magic had come on in leaps and bounds too. He could light the flaming torches with ease and the first time he tried to pull a chair out from under the table with a simple wave of his hand, he ended up breaking the window in Master Elvan’s class. Perhaps he should have practised that one in the treehouse first… Master Elvan hadn’t minded though. No-one minded anymore. Even Madam Stewart was nice to him. She smiled at him the other day. He shivered at the memory. It had been a forced smile and it looked ghastly.

  “Who does he think he is, sitting there like the king of the school?”

  “He’s Lord Zarlock.”

  “I know who he is you idiot.”

  Some things hadn’t changed. Fredrick still hated him, but Tom didn’t find him intimidating anymore. He opened his eyes and turned to his right. Fredrick stood leaning against a pillar, his arms folded across his chest, his brows etched in, his mouth curled in anger.

  Tom stood up and turned towards Fredrick. He stretched his arms, a grin on his face. Fredrick leaned off the pillar, the anger on his face replaced by concern. His friends that stood beside him took a step back, leaving him isolated in the centre.

  They were scared of Tom. They saw him as Lord Zarlock and, if that wasn’t fearsome enough in itself, a rumour had spread that he had singlehandedly defeated the leader of the wolf pack. It was an inaccurate rumour. Artur had fled, fearing Shera, not him, but Tom wasn’t going to go around correcting it. He sat back down again, still smiling. The scowl returned to Fredrick’s face as he resumed his lean on the pillar. His circle of friends took hesitant steps towards him.