by Tim Flanagan
‘Lupa, is that you?' she asked hopefully into the darkness of the cell.
The light cast by the two torches illuminated more of the cell and in the far corner. Wrapped tightly in a blanket sat a frightened figure, hair messy and straw-like and covering part of its face.
The sadness in the prisoner’s eyes seemed to change into confusion as they studied the shape and lines on Edgar’s face.
‘I’ve seen you before,’ the prisoner’s voice sounded surprised, despite being muffled from beneath the blanket. ‘I don’t know where, but I know I’ve seen you.’
‘Peter, is that you?' said Joe who had also joined Edgar.
‘Joe, what are you doing here?’ The frightened and fragile looking figure stood up and walked nearer to the bars of the cell, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. A child no older than Joe stood on the straw floor squinting through his glasses.
‘It’s a long story, Peter, but we’re here to take you home,’ replied Joe. ‘Where are the keys to the cell?’
‘Over in the jailor’s room,’ Peter pointed a bony finger towards a room opposite which, although it was another cell, had the comforts of additional candles, rugs, food crates and wine. Edgar walked over to the room and stepped inside. On a small table in the centre was a greasy leg of chicken; trails of heat made their way off the bird and into the air. Beside it was a cup of wine half drunk. Edgar felt uneasy, if the jailor’s food was still hot, it was likely that he was somewhere nearby. Quickly scanning the room, he saw a large ring of long keys hanging from a hook beside the straw bed. He grabbed them and rushed back to Peter’s cell.
‘We must be quick,’ Edgar said as he began trying the first key in the lock. ‘Where did the jailor go?' he asked Peter.
‘I don’t know. The place has been deserted, only the jailor remained. He ran off when he heard the loud bangs coming from outside. What’s happening out there?’
‘You are in the middle of a war,’ replied Joe.
They stood watching Edgar work methodically through each of the keys.
‘Have there been any other prisoners?' Ralphina asked hopefully.
‘There was another, with a wolf like yours. I used to hear the wolf crying and whimpering like a dog, but since she was taken to the queen a few days ago, I haven’t heard the wolf crying.’
Raelyn brushed himself up against Ralphina’s legs, both of them understanding why they could not feel the presence of Princess Lupa or her wolf.
From behind them Bothelgrit took a sudden intake of breath, making them turn around. His face stared back at them, as if he was ready to say something, but the shirt covering his chest appeared to be growing darker in the limited light. The metal point of a sword glistening wet with blood stuck out from between two of his ribs. Without the two torches on the wall, there were now larger shadows in the corridor. From behind Bothelgrit a fat jailor emerged from the darkness with a grin on his face. He kicked the body of the ground dweller off his sword and advanced towards the rest of them. The jailor was as tall as Edgar but twice as wide. He jabbed with a curved blade at Scarlet who was the nearest to him, but she managed to leap to the side unharmed. In two strides Raelyn had reached the jailor and leapt at his throat, jaws wide and teeth biting into the saggy flesh beneath his chin. The jailor dropped his sword and grabbed at the wolf, trying desperately to pull him off, but Raelyn’s jaws were tightly clamped around his throat. The jailor quickly reached for a short dagger he kept around his belt and drove it deep into the thigh of the wolf. Ralphina let out a cry of pain as Raelyn released the jailor and fell to the ground. Ralphina leapt over to her wolf brother and removed the dagger from his thigh. As the jailor gasped for air Ralphina drove the dagger into his stomach, knocking him backwards to land on the cold black stone of the corridor floor. The last of the breath that remained in his lungs rattled between the bloody tatters of his throat as it escaped from his body.
Ralphina and Scarlet were kneeling over Raelyn, talking to the wolf with their minds, reassuring him that he would be alright. Edgar checked Bothelgrit, but knew that he was already dead. Ralphina went into the jailor’s room and brought out the cup of wine together with a cloth and blanket. She poured the wine into Raelyn’s wound to clean it, then bound his leg up in strips of cloth. She then placed the blanket over the wolf, who wearily stood and staggered, balancing his weight on three legs.
‘Will he be alright?' Scarlet asked Ralphina.
‘I think so. The knife has damaged muscle. If Raelyn’s fur and skin had not been so thick it could have penetrated deeper and caused more damage.’
Edgar methodically worked his way through the keys until the lock clicked and the gate swung open. Peter was free.
‘We need to find the queen,’ Edgar said to Ralphina. ‘Take Raelyn and get out of the castle. Take Peter too. He is too weak to stand against the queen.’
She nodded and watched the tall figure of King Arthur’s knight leap up the stone staircase with Joe and Scarlet close behind, to meet the queen and decide the fate of the Underworld.
37. The Faerie Queen
The Twisted Tower shook as another ball flew from the fire elves' cannon into the area of the Arenadra Plain between the fighting and the queen’s tower. The advancing army of orcs and hobgoblins had been bombarded with the cannon fire until those that were left had fled into the surrounding woodland. All that remained were the two armies that were already fighting. The Rangers, dressed in the battle armour of the fire elves, together with the Green Huntsmen had now swarmed down the ledge from the
Shadow Road to join the battle, sandwiching the queen’s army between themselves and King Conroy’s. The queen was furious.
The battle should have been an easy win. In desperation she decided to use her magic to bring the battle back in her favour. Holding Pendreich's Bane out in front of her she began chanting words of dark magic, her voice echoing loud and clear through the sky above the battlefield. The clouds began changing, moving and gathering into ever increasing dark shapes that tumbled and swirled from the sky towards her enemies like tunnels of mist. To conjure such forces took great power and concentration. These were the souls of the dead, pulled into the Underworld at the queen’s command. But it came at a price, for every soul contained a small fragment of the queen. The dark twisted souls descended on King Conroy’s army. No swords could cut them, nor shields deflect them. One of the dark shapes passed into the chest of a Goranean that was in the middle of a battle with an orc. As the orc did not know what was happening, it paused in the attack, watching the life being drained from his opponent to leave nothing but an aged shell that tumbled lifelessly to the ground. When every dark mist had passed into a soldier, the queen would conjure more and more. As she chanted louder and louder, she clung to Pendreich's Bane for support as the effort took her to her knees, but she couldn’t stop, not now that the army of her enemy was being reduced in numbers so rapidly. For every dark soul the queen created, more fragments of herself joined each new dark shape, making her weaker and more vulnerable.
But now white shapes had joined the sky and were rolling and tumbling in unison with the dark mists, forcing them away from the king’s army and harmlessly back into the clouds. The queen looked out through heavy and tired eyes, chanting louder and louder. She did not know where the white mists were coming from, but it only encouraged her to conjure more of the dark souls, every one taking another piece of her human form, leaving her weaker.
But she had to continue.
She had to win.
Lord Sliptongue turned away from the window, sensing that his queen was beginning to lose the war, but also strangely aware of another presence in the room. Behind them stood a man holding a sword that was white and shimmered as if it were alive. Beside him were two children, one of which was blowing into a pipe that looked like liquid silver beneath his fingers. A sweet harmony of sounds filled the room at the top of the tower, a white cloud obscuring the blackness of the ceiling. But the queen cont
inued to chant and curse unaware of anything else.
Lord Sliptongue bowed to the visitors with a sweeping gesture of his arm as if to welcome them to the queen’s room, recognising that the tower had been invaded and the visitors were the source of the white shapes that were proving too powerful for the queen’s dark souls. From the deep sleeves of his oversized purple robes he pulled a jewel encrusted dagger out and threw it at Joe. Scarlet instinctively searched for the nearest animal her mind could find. A large raven circling amongst the white clouds in the ceiling above, dived down and plucked the dagger from the air in its talons, before sweeping round and hopping onto the floor beside Scarlet. She then found two other Ravens which swept down and flew at Lord Sliptongue, making him step backwards nearer to the ledge desperately trying to avoid their flapping wings. The Ravens circled round then flew once again at him, one of them pecking at the top of his head as it skimmed out of the window, but as Lord Sliptongue reached up to protect himself he lost his footing and tumbled over the ledge.
The queen momentarily lost concentration and curiously watched as Lord Sliptongue clawed desperately at thin air trying to prevent himself from falling to his death on the rubble at the base of the tower. It was then that she heard the enchanting voices coming from the Silver Bough behind her. With her magic no longer controlling the black souls, they disappeared into the dark clouds, leaving the battle to be fought by sword and shield once again.
Grasping hold of her runestaff, her body weak and exhausted, she turned around to face Sir Edgar and the children.
‘I see you have found me, knight of King Arthur,’ she gasped through difficult breaths of air. ‘You are a stranger to this world and do not truly know who you are dealing with. King Conroy lied to you. It is he who makes war against me. I am simply defending my castle.’
‘The donestre make whole villages of people homeless and children into orphans so that you can gain power, land and wealth. You should defend your castle, your highness, the Underworld is rising against you,’ said Edgar ignoring the queen’s lies.
‘The donestre are uncontrollable; what they do they do of their own will, not mine,’ she tried to make excuses.
‘They act under your banner and in your name.’
The queen shuffled away from the window and into the room.
‘So you are here to kill me.’
‘If that’s what it takes to stop you, yes,’ replied Edgar.
‘Why are you here, in this world, why now?’
‘We came looking for a boy who walked through a portal.’
The queen laughed. ‘You mean that odd looking child I have in my dungeon? You mean he has The Sight and I didn’t realise it. Instead of wasting my time on the war outside my window I could have taken my army through to rule Earth. But how could you have got through?’ The queen glanced at the pipe that Joe had stopped blowing into now that the dark souls had retreated. ‘Surely that is not the Silver Bough,’ the queen said in surprise taking another step towards the group with a wheeze. ‘You have taken a big risk bringing the Silver Bough into my tower. Don’t you realise what a powerful weapon that would be in my hands.’
‘A deadly disease is working its way across our planet,’ replied Edgar, trying to appeal to any part of the queen that may help. ‘We came to the Underworld to ask for help to rid our planet of the bacteria. Together we are stronger.’
‘Together we are stronger! Don’t make me laugh. The humans are weak and always have been. Faeries possess magic that you could not possibly imagine. Humans deserve to be dominated by a more worthy race of people.’
‘Is that why you turned Gawain and Belphoebe into stone?' asked Joe, thinking back to the faerie Ring in Parsley Bottom.
‘That was a long time ago, but yes, a marriage between a faerie and a human should never be allowed. Their children would only possess half the magic of their faerie mother. The faerie race would be weakened.’
‘If you look out of the window, you will see how weak non magical folk are,’ said Edgar. ‘Your army is being defeated. Out there are Men, centaurs, dwarfs and ground dwellers all working together side by side for the sake of one cause. That is what happens when different races join and work together, rather than on their own.’
‘Where are the rest of your faeries?' asked Scarlet.
The queen looked uncomfortable, ‘they moved away to live on a distant eastern island. They did not like my laws. I am the last in these parts.’
‘So you are on your own,’ said Scarlet sadly.
The queen walked nearer to them, her head held down.
‘I am never on my own,’ she spat then suddenly grabbed the Silver Bough, snatching it out of Joe’s hands.
Immediately the room was filled with a high pitched scream that made them all reach up and cover their ears, all except for the queen. The white cloud beneath the ceiling of the room turned to grey and as she continued to grasp hold of the Bough; the shadows of faces seemed to move around the room. The screaming continued, cutting through Edgar and the children, who were now doubled up in pain on the floor. The look of power and happiness that the queen thought she had, quickly turned into fear. She shouted at the shadows that tormented and teased her, swinging her runestaff round, trying desperately to push them away, but all the time refusing to let go of the Silver Bough.
‘Leave me,’ she shouted at the air. ‘I am your master now.’
But the shadows swirled around her, the screaming coming from the distorted mouths that twisted in the air and flew towards the queen’s face.
Join us, whispered the voices in the air. Stop the screaming and join us.
‘No,’ she shouted back. ‘You will do as I command.’
She released Pendreich's Bane to fall to the floor and picked up Lord Sliptongue's dagger from the floor, swinging it at the shadows, but making no difference.
Join us. You will never be alone again.
‘How?’ she asked, intrigued by the words.
Release your soul from your body. Become more powerful than your body could ever allow.
‘But,’ stuttered the queen. She had never realised that the Silver Bough could give her more magical powers than she had before. She understood what was being asked of her, but she was scared; to become more powerful she would have to separate herself from her body. But it would give her the power she needed to keep control of the Underworld and together with the Silver Bough she could go through a portal and rule Earth too.
Join us and live forever, tempted the shadows once more.
The faerie queen of the Underworld stopped swinging the dagger at the shadows then plunged it into her chest where her heart was. Instantly she released the Silver Bough, which rolled across the floor back towards Joe, and finally the screaming stopped. Inside the room everything fell silent, everything except for the queen gasping for breath and clutching at the dagger sticking out of her chest.
Edgar knelt down beside her.
‘The voices,’ she muttered weakly. ‘They said I would become even more powerful and live forever.’
‘They lied. They promise what you desire the most to tempt you to join them. They are the lost souls of people who have killed themselves. The Silver Bough can only be used by someone who does not desire anything and is pure of heart.’
‘So it is the boy in the prophecy? He is the human traveller of ancient strength and wisdom, not you?’
Edgar nodded.
‘I feel so old. Death now looks quite appealing.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Edgar replied understanding how the queen must feel. ‘I had hoped you would put aside the ancient disagreements between the two worlds and help, but I see that nothing has changed. The Silver Bough didn’t kill you; you killed yourself when you let the madness for power overcome you.’
The queen coughed. Her soft, young skin became stretched tight across the bones of her skull and her thick black wavy hair suddenly changed into thin dry grey strands. As the life was leaving her body it aged dramatically
in front of Edgar’s eyes until it was nothing more than a pile of dust.
‘Is that how you will die?' asked Scarlet, standing behind Edgar with a hand on his shoulder.
‘I don’t think so,’ replied Edgar, his eyes automatically glanced at the bacteria burn on the back of his hand that was beginning to expand as it followed a vein into his forearm.
‘Do you think the Silver Bough is safe to pick up?' Joe asked as he stood above it, not wishing to hear the voices himself.
‘The Silver Bough chose you, not the queen. It will be safe for you to hold.’
Cautiously Joe leant down and reached out to the Silver Bough, his hand hesitating slightly before grasping it. No voices spun around them and he relaxed.
Edgar picked up Pendreich's Bane and laid it on the heptagon-shaped oak table in the centre of the room. Lifting up Ethera he swung the blade down as hard as he could splitting the runestaff in two in a flash of white light.
‘The rein of the faerie queen is at an end.’
38. Reunited once more
The battlefield was littered with dead bodies of many different types of creatures and races. Wandering amongst them were soldiers from King Conroy’s army, looking for members of their own that might still be alive. At the fortress at Dragonheart Cavern the families of those that hadn’t returned were weeping or hugging the children that had been abandoned.
And there were many.
The arrival of The Rangers and the Green Huntsmen had spurred them on and what remained of the queen's army had become sandwiched between them and slowly they began to overpower them. But after the queen had summoned the black souls, not many of Conroy’s army remained, but what did continued to fight, hoping that the end would be near, whichever end that may be: death or freedom.
From the ridge the white unicorn rider continued to fire at what remained of the queen’s army until they had fled into the forest, abandoning the Twisted Tower. The cannon fired at the Twisted Tower, eventually scoring a direct hit around the base that had caused the tower to cascade and crumble to the ground until it was hidden by a dense cloud of dust.