Sidon Charm: The Book of Mysteries

By T.H. Williams

From the shadows, a new hero will rise...

When his life takes a sudden turn for the worse, Sidon Charm finds solace in the brotherhood of The Immortal Legion. Along with his friends, Max and Auralia, Sidon must learn to master the art of weaponry, conquer the mystical world of magic, and hone his skills as a leader. But above all, Sidon Charm must come to grips with a power that, if unleashed by those who would wish to see him dead, threatens to send the immortal world spiralling into a new age of darkness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.H. Williams
• Release date: Jun 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9780992517717

T.H. Williams

I have a passion for writing and would like to share with you my own creative stories and my take on finding the best books for teens and young adults. Let's put a little magic back into our world. As parents, as adults, the human race must stand up and tell our children everyday, that anything is possible, any dream or idea is relevant. As long as they can dream it, it is and always will be, possible!

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cottonshire

It’s a rather peculiar story, the story of Sidon Charm, one that starts, like so many stories before it, on a blissfully calm spring afternoon. It had been thirteen years since the night Sidon’s mother had died, and though now very much grown up, Sidon did not and would never — if his father had his way — know the details surrounding his mother’s death. He would never know his mother had been murdered; he would never know the strange magic that had taken her from him or the miracle of god that had brought him back when all appeared lost; and most certainly Sidon Charm would never know the pain his father had held in his heart every day since. No, this story, a story of such unimaginable circumstances, had well and truly been buried. However, in times of science and discovery when the world of yesteryear has drifted into the shadows, magic, when concealed — even for undeniably good reasons — has a very nasty habit of creeping its way to the surface and biting the teller of such untruths firmly on the backside. This, unbeknown to poor Tyrell Charm, was exactly what was about to transpire.

‘Sidon, come inside, I need a word!’ shouted Tyrell, a rather stout man with thick set shoulders and eyes of green that drooped ever so slightly at the corners.

The sun, which had just peaked with a rather uncomfortable glare over the eastern sky, had at that moment, illuminated the gentle blue eyes of a rather scraggy looking boy, his blonde, unkept hair sweeping softly across his lightly freckled face, as he gazed with weary eyes over his freshly harvested fields. His work, which, between school and homework, often took up most of his spare time, had finally finished for the spring, so to see thatched baskets full to the brim with assorted goodies brought a sense of relief. It also meant Sidon, who had worked so ferociously over the past few weeks, was that much closer to the long overdue rest his tired body cried out for.

Giving a small wave, Sidon picked up the last remaining tools, which lay scattered on the soggy ground around his feet, and made his way reluctantly back up towards the house. Though rather skinny and often clumsy, Sidon was just your ordinary, everyday thirteen year old boy, with one rather glaring exception: Sidon just so happened to have an unusual birthmark pressed firmly into the center of his chest. It was not a circle or a blob, but a sharp tailed silver dragon, and on this particular day that mark had begun to do something very peculiar, something it had never done before — it was glowing.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Tyrell, noticing the uneasy expression on Sidon’s normally smiling face.

‘Fine. Jus–just ripped my vest,’ lied Sidon uneasily, pulling his favourite vest just far enough across so as to cover the strangely radiant glow trying its utmost to betray his secret. Dark brown with a light black thread, Sidon had once barely walked outside without throwing his vest over his white work shirt, however, in recent times it had rarely come out of his cupboard. On this day, though, Sidon was very pleased he had decided to give it another go.

‘You could do with some new jeans, as well,’ said his father tugging at a thread running from a large rip in Sidon’s navy jeans.

Sidon smiled weakly, before quickly changing the subject. ‘Yo-you still drinking that stuff?’ he asked, as he swept his hands through his shaggy blonde hair, dislodging several large chunks of dirt.

‘You might like to know that the seeds have started popping up all over the outer edges,’ said Tyrell, looking entirely too proud, though still watching Sidon with caution. ‘They’re cased in some sort of shell — like a coffee bean I think. It was really an accident how I came to start drinking it ... story will blow your socks off!’

Sidon held up a hand, ‘I’m fine thanks, dad,’ he winced. ‘How about you tell me some other time. My day’s been long enough.’

Sidon and his father had a great relationship, so the banter between the pair was nothing new.

‘Fine, I’ll spare you the details,’ said Tyrell smiling. ‘I need you to know what they do, though.’

‘What for?’ demanded Sidon animatedly, his head shaking in protest. ‘There’s no way I’m drinking that stuff.’

‘No, I imagine you wouldn’t,’ added Tyrell with a chuckle. ‘However, I do need you to go into town and do your best to sell what you can of the crops and these beans. Try Mrs Jenkins, she might want to sell some at the markets.’

‘When?’

‘Today,’ said Tyrell, glancing out over the flat open terrain that was Cottonshire.

The small town just south of Lancashire had been voted five times as the most boring town in Great Britain and for good reason: it was completely void of anything but field after field of cotton. It had become somewhat of a sideshow for tourists, who, not understanding how utterly depressing the small town could be, often drove by taking pictures and on the odd occasion even visiting the small cotton museum that overlooked the Charm family farm.

It had become the running joke of the nation.

Sidon sometimes wondered how on earth the mayor of the town, Old Larry Attercop, managed to promote such a mind numbingly boring place: Come, bring your family and spend the day in the worlds worst town.

‘Are you mad?’ asked Tyrell, as Sidon’s silence lingered.

‘No,’ Sidon lied again. ‘I just can’t see why we can’t move. Don’t you ever wish for, well ... for anything?’

All his life, all Sidon had ever wanted was a bit of adventure, the open seas perhaps. He’d read so many books about so many places around the world — Rome always being his favourite — that every night before he went to sleep he prayed to the gods that his dreams would take him there — the Colosseum perhaps, fighting like the gladiators of old. Yet every day Sidon would wake up to the same dreary realisation: his dreams were as close as he was ever going to get to leaving Cottonshire.

‘Sidon, you know we can’t,’ said Tyrell with a hint of a smile. ‘The farm’s all we have. It’s been in our family for five generations.’

Sidon tried to smile back but did not speak; it was always the same old excuses, the excuse that meant just another day in this boring old town.

‘Anyway,’ said Sidon, ‘does it have to be today?’ he continued on, looking slightly downtrodden. ‘You know what today is, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do. How could I forget such an important day — it’s not every day you turn thirteen!’ beamed Tyrell.

‘I was hoping maybe I could rest today?’ Sidon looked hopefully at his father. His hopes, though, were quickly dashed by the grimace on his father’s face.

‘I know, but we really need the money. This is the only means we have at the moment, the cotton’s not growing,’ said Tyrell with sad eyes. ‘I really am sorry.’

Sidon knew his father felt terrible for making him go, but what other choice did he have — they had to live.

Tyrell Charm had been unable to do a whole lot since he lost his eye two summers earlier. Whilst recovering, infection had set in and caused a problem with his mobility. So despite his frustrations, Sidon was now resigned to his new job as caretaker.

Cottonshire was his prison.

‘I promise you can have as long as you need when you get back. Maybe tonight we could even break out that book of yours —’ he smiled awkwardly ‘— your mother’s old book.’

Sidon sighed, the small dimples in his cheeks widening.

He knew his father was right; if he didn’t go, there was a chance they wouldn’t have enough food for the week — green vegetables and little black beans just wouldn’t be enough.

‘I’ll go,’ said Sidon despondently, slouching down to lean against an old wooden crate, ‘but you know you can’t read. Besides, I haven’t read that book in years.’

The book in question had been kept safely concealed in a hidden chamber below Sidon’s room, nestled in an alcove at the back of his grandmothers rather ancient looking mirror. Its satin–like cover had meant little to Sidon, but the words somehow had always spoken to him on a personal level. As if they were written just for him. But, as with most of his possessions, it had been resigned to gather dust while he took care of his father.

‘Maybe one day you’ll read it to me,’ said Tyrell smiling, though the inner shame of his ailing condition, evident in his strained eyes.

Sidon nodded but said nothing.

‘Thanks, champ. I’m a lucky man to have you,’ said Tyrell, his honest face breaking into a warm smile.

‘Yeah I get it — I’m great, you don’t have to tell me twice,’ said Sidon playfully, coming to the inevitable conclusion that this was happening whether he liked it or not.

Tyrell smiled, then said with a slight grimace, ‘Good luck, I’ll see you when you get back. I’m just going to lay down for a while.’ He motioned to the couch inside.

‘You okay?’

‘Fine, just feeling a little tired. Nothing to worry about,’ Tyrell insisted, but Sidon knew better. There was something wrong, he could feel it, but knowing his father was too proud, and somewhat stubborn, to tell him the truth, he decided to let it pass — for now.

Chapter 2

A Giant Leap

The sun continued to bear down without relent for the best part of the afternoon. The trip, which normally only took a few hours, had already lasted three, and Sidon wasn’t sure he could drag his rickety old trailer (full to the brim with vegetables and beans) much farther. Horses were a luxury in Cottonshire, cars even more so, but they were luxuries Sidon could well have done with at that very moment.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Sidon looked anxiously around for any sign of respite, a place where he could take some time to help his shaking legs keep up with his racing mind.

‘A quick rest, that’s all I need,’ whispered Sidon, with a dry rasp, but anxiety had begun to set in. That, along with the realisation that night would soon be upon him, had given Sidon a stomach full of butterflies.

It was at that moment, when Sidon was on the verge of turning back, that something strange caught his eye.

It looked like ... but it couldn’t be ... in Cottonshire? Surely the sun was playing tricks with his eyes, but it wasn’t. It was as clear as the sky is blue —

‘A forest?’ he said, squinting hard, the glare of the beaming sun reflecting brightly off the dusty old track. He had been down this road more times than anyone in Cottonshire, knew every inch of every dirt track, and never, in all his time, in all his wanderings, had there ever been more than a couple of brown–leaved trees grouped together; everything was flat and boring — built for cotton farming. Forests had not grown in these parts for a very long time.

Biting his lower lip, Sidon decided he must go investigate; something he did all too willingly. A bit of excitement was all Sidon had ever wished for. He’d never been to the big outer cities, never seen the sea, in fact Sidon had been so sheltered in his short life, that he had never even set foot outside of Cottonshire. This, he decided, was for the good of his sanity.

Noticing that strange winds seemed to be disturbing the trees and that a distinct chill had begun to creep into the air the closer he came to the ever darkening woods, Sidon yelled hopefully, ‘Hello! Is anybody there?’

There was no reply.

A dark eerie feeling was beginning to unfold, as Sidon, skin crawling with the uncertainty of fear, inched slowly through a large cluster of overhanging branches that formed a thick, green canopy at the entrance to the forest.

Propping his trailer up against a tree — knowing it would be of little use to him once inside — Sidon bellowed out a second time, hoping his first attempt was merely blocked by the howl of the enormous thrashing trees.

Again, though, there was nothing.

Whether through curiosity or some stupid rush of adrenaline, Sidon decided to push on. You’ve gone this far, he thought, what have you got to lose? So, despite being sunburnt and desperate for a drink, Sidon traipsed clumsily through the ever darkening woods, guided only by the radiance of abnormally large glow worms, their bulb-like backends leaving the entirety of the forest floor with a rather spine chilling glow.

After near on an hour of falling down hidden sink holes and catching on entangled vines, Sidon, who thought he would faint at any moment, finally came to rest at the edge of a nearby river where the pristine glow of velvet–like water sparkled brightly in his tired eyes.

‘Thank you,’ Sidon mouthed, as he crouched low to get a better look at the shimmer of the unnaturally crisp water. Small tangerine coloured fish floated by on their backs, ruffling the reflection of a clearly weary Sidon. Yet despite the fish quite obviously being dead, it was not until Sidon began scouring the surrounding sandbanks, where he spotted an abundance of dead or dying plant life, that he knew something was not right.

Reluctant though he was, Sidon got to his feet, knowing he had no choice but to keep moving. Maybe I’ll get lucky, he thought, though the truth of the matter was that Sidon had no idea how to get back to the entrance, and the icy air was biting hard at his exposed skin.

For the first time in his short life, Sidon felt real dread. His eyes darted first left, then right, but there didn’t appear to be an opening. All he saw was a torrent of shifting shadows that formed in clusters, blocking and changing. Every time Sidon thought he’d spotted something familiar, it moved. Darkened shapes hovered high in the trees, and howls of hungry wolves echoed on the wind.

This was fear unlike any Sidon had known.

But then, just as his mind had begun to form pictures of tragedy, Sidon spotted something in the distance that resembled a mound. If he could just get high enough, maybe he could see the sliver of light he was searching for. If he could just get high enough, maybe he could find his way out. It only took a few short minutes to reach the vantage point, but, much like the trees, this large pile of moss-covered dirt appeared to be moving.

With a shrug, Sidon took a hold of the first rock, which had a distinctly slimy texture, and began to pull himself up. It was silent as he carefully climbed the slippery rocks, but half way up, when Sidon was readying himself for an assault on the remaining two or three meters, he heard a soft, casual voice beckon him from below.

‘I would probably stop if I were you.’

‘Who said that?’ croaked Sidon uneasily, jumping back in alarm, his abruptness almost causing him to overbalance. Only at the last moment did he manage to find a foothold. ‘Who’s there?’

‘Please, Sidon Charm, hop down from that giant,’ said the sweet voice calmly. Her beautiful English tones were smooth as silk. ‘Then, if you’re still alive, maybe we can talk.’ At that moment, a pink haired goddess, no older than Sidon, walked out from behind one of the enormous oak trees, a bow gripped tightly in one hand, a quiver of arrows pressed firmly to her back. She wore a short, green dress that hung over black cloth leggings with a thick leather belt wrapped tightly around her waist. Her brown boots, which ran up to her knees and folded back over, were clasped on either side with a dozen metal pins. This girl may have been beautiful, but she also looked extremely dangerous.

‘I don’t know why this beast is here, or how it managed to find its way into the forest, but one thing’s for sure — it will eat you if it catches you.’

‘Ah ... I’m standing on a giant?’ said a clearly horrified Sidon. ‘This is a giant?’ Sidon’s eyes widened as he now realised the rock wasn’t moving — the giant was breathing. It was covered head to toe in a thick layer of moss, obviously doing its best to camouflage into its surroundings. If Sidon hadn’t been so utterly terrified at that very moment, he might have found the work of the giant beast to be rather brilliant.

‘I would recommend jumping — now,’ said the girl, who seemed to be enjoying Sidon’s panicked state a little too much; her arms were folded, her stance amused. ‘Before it wakes up.’

Clearly not wanting to be some giant’s dinner, Sidon, after eyeing the distance to the forest floor with trepidation, did the only thing he could — he leaped, with one fell swoop, as far from the giant as he could. His landing, although not entirely graceful, was soft; a cluster of shrubs had spotted his predicament and moved just in time for Sidon to land amongst them.

Felling a little silly, Sidon said, ‘Thanks,’ to the two shrubs that had broken his fall. Though, he still wasn’t entirely sure his eyes weren’t playing some ghastly trick on him.

Sidon stood up slowly, pulling several leaves from his trousers. ‘Excuse me —’ he said, peering back uneasily at the still sleeping giant, before finding the crystal blue eyes of the beautiful young goddess ‘— What is this place?’

‘This —’ said the girl, laying her hand tenderly on a nearby vine, the stem of which curled gently up her arm. ‘— is a hidden sanctuary for my kind,’ she finished serenely.

Sidon frowned slightly but did not say anything to this; he merely nodded. What else could he do? It was clear this was something completely out of the ordinary. After all, hadn’t he just been saved from an almost certain bruised backside by a pair of enchanted bushes.

‘Um ... how do you know my name?’

The girl flushed red, which Sidon thought extremely odd considering the circumstances. ‘Everyone knows your name; it’s common knowledge where I’m from,’ said the girl sweetly.

She blushed brighter.

Sidon flinched. ‘You’re saying you’re not from ... well, from ...?’ Sidon shrugged his shoulders, unable to finish.

‘I’m not from any place you would know, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘I see ...’ said Sidon, clearly confused; she appeared to be telling the truth.

‘You don’t believe me,’ said the girl with a rude edge. Now, clearly agitated. ‘Believe what you want, I really don’t care. I shouldn’t be here anyway. If my father finds out he’ll ...'

Sidon waited patiently for her to finish, but nothing came. So he said, somewhat impatiently, ‘Your father will what?’

‘Shhh, you hear that? Something’s out there.’

Sidon froze, and for a moment neither he nor the young girl dared to breathe. Faintly at first, but clearly getting closer, they heard the sound of rustling leaves and the neatly silent squelch of footsteps in mud. This, along with the thick mist that had slowly begun to rise, had given the already darkened forest a frightening edge.

‘We’re not alone,’ whispered the young girl, as the glowworms around her feet retreated to the nearby entanglement of vines and branches.

‘What is it?’ asked Sidon, sounding nervous.

The young girl shrugged but said nothing. Her sharply angled eyes bored a hole through the mist, trying to lock on to what was coming their way.

‘Do you think —’

‘Shhh! Be quiet! It’s getting closer ... get down.’

It was then, just as Sidon had thrown himself to the muddy forest floor behind the safety of several large trees, that he heard the rattle of a voice so unnatural it caused him to grasp for his ears.

‘Thirk — up!’ screeched the creature to the sleeping giant, as it pulled something short and black from beneath its red cloak. It looked like a stick, though Sidon presumed, due to many nights reading stories of magic and a well-rounded imagination, that it must surely be a wand. When the giant did not show signs of waking, a very small but bright red spark shot from the end of the wand, hitting the giant firmly in the stomach. The huge beast reared heavily from the ground, rage written all over its wart-covered face, readying itself to crush whatever lay in its path, but instead — unbelievably — it froze. It was as if all of the giant’s worst nightmares had come true in the form of this red–cloaked creature.

‘Is that a Qwaiker?’ whispered Sidon disbelieving. It was one of Cottonshire’s most famous myths. A myth Sidon had read about more times than he could possibly remember. His father had often spoken — jokingly of course — of the death rattle that people had heard right before their lives were ripped from their bodies. This, Sidon assumed (now hearing the sound with his own ears) was merely the sound of the creature speaking.

‘Yeah, that’s a Qwaiker, and I bet you anything it knows you’re in here,’ said the girl, peering through a slit in the trees. ‘That giant was meant for you.’

‘M–me?’ stuttered Sidon.

‘Yeah. And the poisoned water. They were hoping you would be stupid enough to drink from it. Guess you got lucky,’ she said, placing her bow very quietly over her shoulder.

‘Wha–what do I have to do with this?’

‘Everything,‘ whispered the girl sternly. ‘We have to get you out of here before they see you.’

‘Why —’ Sidon started, but was abruptly cut off by a hand across his mouth. The girl held a finger to her well-curved lips before pointing at the movement up ahead.

With the unmistakable shake that only comes from fear, the giant scratched at its head as if trying to recall a memory. The closer the cloaked figure came to the childlike beast, the more nervous it appeared to be.

‘Where is the boy, beast? hissed the Qwaiker from beneath the cover of its cloak.

‘Thirk not know. One minute he awake, next he sleep,’ grunted the giant stupidly; a distinct shake to his throaty voice. ‘Thirk sorry.’

‘I have no time for sorry. You have failed your master.’

It was at that moment that Sidon got a glimpse of the creature: a hand, completely covered in dark black feathers emerged from the sleeve of the cloak, holding what looked to be a very small pile of ash. ‘You have failed your master, you know what you must do,’ said the Qwaiker, its high pitched voice unmistakably cruel.

Shaking its head, the beast, now trembling from head to toe, began to plead. ‘Thirk sorry! Thirk sorry! Please ... Thirk —’

‘Kneel, beast,’ demanded the Qwaiker without a hint of remorse. ‘Die a warrior. You owe that to your family.’

But the Giant did not flinch. If anything, Sidon was sure he saw the beast straighten.

‘Sidon we have to get out of here — now. We don’t need to see this.’

But Sidon couldn’t move, he was rooted to the ground, transfixed in the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. How was it possible that this fifty foot beast was so frightened? Why could he not defend himself?

Then, in the blink of an eye, Sidon’s questions were answered. It happened so quickly he hardly had time to think; one minute the giant was there, standing his ground, the next ... well, Sidon wasn’t exactly sure. The Qwaiker blew a small amount of the dust into the giant’s lower leg, then, as if no more than a dried leaf on a bonfire, the baby faced giant named Thirk disintegrated into the same black ash that had only seconds earlier been held in the grasp of the deathly creature’s hand.

Sidon’s eyes narrowed unable to believe what his brain told him was surely impossible.

‘Come on, Sidon, you have to go,’ said the girl more urgently, tugging at his sleeve. ‘I’ll create a diversion —’ she paused, waving her hand in front of Sidon’s stunned face. ‘— Sidon ... concentrate.’

It took a moment, but Sidon, who was still gaping at the scene that had just unfolded, regained his composure and nodded, confirming he was ready to listen.

With a huff and a scowl, the girl said slowly, ‘When I say run, you run ...’ Her eyebrow raised into a rainbow like arch, as if to let Sidon know this was a very simple task.

When Sidon shook his head, however, his refusal was met with a smack on the arm followed by a glare from those same piercing eyes, the eyes Sidon had not been able to