Rise of the Last Pendragon

By M Thompson

The first of a unique trilogy, Rise of the Last Pendragon ensnares readers aged twelve to late adulthood. It follows a fascinating twelve-year-old girl from Liverpool, developing to her mid-teens, discovering supernatural powers for the wars to come. Real life meets fantasy, as a horrific outcome looms amidst plots delivering mythical creatures of every sort, twists, mystery, and an enthralling, heart-warming performance from Matilda. In 2021, Matilda meets a Dragon in the Dark Forest, bound to her by an ancient prophecy, telling of her destiny to be the Lioness, rightful Queen of Camelot. Catapulted into a world of hidden realms, Matilda embarks on a thrilling voyage of discovery, spiralling through a web of death, crime, violence, and gut-wrenching emotion. Empowering, heroic, relentless, Matilda’s magnetic, impetuous character bodes well for adventure. If anyone, who does she trust? A tear-jerking finish leaves more questions than answers, but all will be revealed in the next instalment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brown Dog Books
• Release date: Oct 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9781839527050

Book preview

Chapter 1

AND SO IT BEGINS

OBSERVER

A pink dawn was breaking in the kingdom of Camelot. A thin mist kissed the woodlands of Avalon’s hills. Cattle and deer huddled together on fields, embracing fear arising from the strenuous tension in the air. Two eagles cried as they soared high above Pendragon Castle. A fleet of ravens perched on the perimeter of its rampart walls, squawking deathly sounds. Soldiers in silver chainmail stood abreast on the battlements, longbows drawn. The moat on a wide mound of earth snaked a brown river north, out of Avalon.

Morgana stood on the highest turret, hands pressed on the stone, anxiously looking into the distance where drums were beating in a faint rhythm. A division of her strongest knights formed a sideways train of defence.

A thousand red capes, silver armour and white horses, Maudrid at the head of them all.

Across the field, a scourge of five hundred men from various villages formed a train of their own. Ragged clothing, malnourished faces smeared in gold paint. Some beating their drums. Most thrusting swords in the air, cheering the name of their wanting, their true Queen. The urban myth finally breathed life. Lioness! Lioness! Lioness! Their chants echoed Avalon’s atmosphere, carrying hope through the skies of Camelot. Others waved red banners, and flags with the golden face of a roaring lion. The drawbridge creaked as it lowered. Mage, dressed all in black, on her black horse, galloped across it.

One hundred of Morgana’s deadly shieldmaidens rode behind her. Brown leather skirts, silver knee-high boots, silver breastplate armour, exposed arms down to brown leather gloves. Their hair plaited. Round shields of silver on their backs, swords in scabbards on their belts.

The ground rumbled and the mist was disturbed as they rode through it. The shieldmaidens formed a uniform line ahead of the knights, looking out to the rebellion. Mage tightened her grip on the reins, pulling her horse to a circled halt behind them. Her ferocious eyes shot a glare at Maudrid. With her black gloved hands now loose on the reins and her cape draped across her shoulders, she beckoned him with a slight nod. Maudrid snarled, breathing in deep, exhaling slow. His breath flurried a mist. He hocked a gob of phlegm, spitting to the side, then trotted forth to meet her.

‘Maudrid…how many?’ Her gaze scanned the field briefly.

‘Five hundred, give or take,’ his tone reluctant.

‘All Druids?’ She looked back at him.

‘It’s hard to tell, Mage…this is the third in a month. The Lioness is coming.’

‘Why have you not advanced?’ She demanded.

‘None of my men have old religion magic, only me. It’s unclear how much power the Druids have gained since the last skirmish.’

Mage laughed tauntingly through the black mask covering her face.

‘The great Maudrid, quivering at the sight of a few Druids. You’re a disappointment.’

‘And you’re a child!’ he shouted. His face clenched, gritting teeth.

‘Careful, Maudrid!’ Her eyes homed in on him as she clutched the hilt of her sword.

His voice deepened. ‘You’ve been in Camelot a year, Mage…what do you know?’

‘Maudrid, on their last skirmish they could barely summon wind, let alone fire. If they had such power, they wouldn’t need swords.’

Mage clicked her stirrups, leaving Maudrid’s presence in haste. She trotted past a few knights with a snarl; they all put their heads down to avoid her gaze. Pulling on the reins, the Mage broke into a strong gallop across the field. The shieldmaidens followed, the sound of metal whipping as they drew swords. The Druids screamed a battle cry, charging forward on foot whilst chanting their attack. Fireballs conjured from their hands filled the air, smashing into screaming horses. The maidens fell by the dozen, crushed by their beasts. Mage leapt from her horse, chopping her sword through shield after shield, deflecting fireball attacks with a simple wave of the hand. With no effort in her own chants, she terrorised, blazing Druids with paralysis whilst carving her blade in the air. Swords clanged a deafening roar. Blocking blow after blow, Mage sliced her way through bodies with ease. Blood sprayed fountains as she left her mark of dominance. The rebellion retreated as Mage caused panic amongst the ranks of their daring attackers.

In the hidden realm of Camelot, in a cold, wet and dank cave, torchwood flames leap off damp rock walls. Merlin waits patiently, suffering in silence with his companion of many centuries. The silver hair, long and greasy, falls down past his weathered, wrinkled face. The red, hooded gown is worn and dirty like the long nails on his blistered fingers. He sits constantly on a natural bench of granite stone, staring at his crystal ball, hoping for life.

Egrid, the pink dragon, is chained to a wall, bound by a powerful spell. Her doleful eyes, once full of life, now rest in solemn despair, her body and spirit subdued. The sorrowful pair, condemned, trapped, in a curse bestowed upon them by Morgana, a powerful high priestess of old religion magic. For over nine hundred years, they have quenched their thirst on rainwater dripping through cracks in the stone-fingered ceiling above. Their hunger still feeds on vermin passing through. Merlin dare not take his own life. He would wait a thousand more years to see Camelot return to glory. Egrid played her part in a war in a country where she doesn’t belong, and got caught in a web of lies and deceit. She longs for home. She longs for her lost love. The days of King Arthur are long gone, but the prophecy lives on.

Suddenly, after centuries of lying dormant, the crystal ball shines a bright silver light. A desperate Merlin rushes to it, and Egrid rises from her slump with hope. Merlin’s weak hands press on either side as he gazes through the ball. He sees a young girl, blonde hair, blue eyes, sitting on a bench reading a scroll. He falls to his knees with tears of joy. The dragon’s chains rattle as she moves. Merlin glances to her with a smile.

‘It is her, Egrid… the Lioness.’

Egrid sighs through a hopeful smile.

‘And so it begins, Merlin…And so it begins.’

On the bed of the Caribbean Sea, deep beneath the waves, the city of Atlantis lies enclosed within an invisible dome, shielded from water and sunlight above. Two thousand years prior, Zeus had had a special trident forged by an oracle of the old religion. He gave the trident to his brother, Poseidon, to help him rule over Atlantis. Poseidon’s only task was to guard the magic coral, a special element on Earth that can only be found on the bed of the Caribbean Sea. Given the correct amount, this magic coral could be used to bend the will of any living creature. It is for this reason that Zeus wanted to protect it. But Poseidon failed in his duty. A cyclops named Egor stole a small piece of coral using his gremlin minions. Zeus banished Egor and the gremlins to a castle in the sky. As a punishment for Poseidon, Zeus cast Atlantis to the bottom of the sea, where Poseidon still guards the coral to this day.

Zeus then hid the trident on land, making it invisible to the naked eye, on account that one day, it would reveal itself to the one, pure of heart. The one, chosen by the old religion. Upon this day, the sunken city of Atlantis will rise again.

Poseidon, a tall, lean muscle of a man. A God unscathed by time. His black hair curls at the square jaw of his stubbled face. Wearing a black silk robe, he sits on the throne in a palace lit by candles and chandeliers. Velvet curtains drape the walls. Aristocrats drink wine and sway on floors of glistening marble. An earthquake erupts, creating panic amongst most, but not Poseidon. He rises from his throne smiling. He feels the familiar energy he remembers from his time spent with the trident. He runs out onto the steps. Fraya, his wife, rushes to his side. Poseidon puts his arm around her and laughs aloud.

‘And so it begins, Fraya…And so it begins.’

In the cold, North Sea there is an island called Kattegat. A secret realm, home to dragon and human. One dragon rules the north, one man rules the south. For centuries they have lived in peace. The two dragon tribes of Kattegat are locked in constant turbulence over the right to power: the Ironclaws and the Hyperions.

King Xavier Ironclaw believes in peace in the south, but Lord Commander Ragnar Hyperion does not. He believes Xavier’s time is at an end and is ready to usurp the throne. A long time ago, Ragnar was approached by a mysterious figure of unknown gender. Referred to only as the Master, this figure set in place a plan that requires Ragnar’s help, along with a few others. The Master wants the throne of Camelot, but in order for him to take it, Queen Morgana must die. The only weapon on Earth capable of killing Morgana is a sword forged in dragon’s magic. King Arthur had it made for when the Lioness arrives to bring Camelot into a golden age. Excalibur remains sealed in a stone in the courtyard of Pendragon Castle, only to be freed by the Lioness. Thus not even Morgana has the power to destroy it.

Through a prophecy made by an oracle before Arthur’s death, the dragon that forged Excalibur is bound to the Lioness by destiny. The only way Morgana can secure her survival is to kill either the dragon or the Lioness. For, if a dragon dies, its magic dies with it. In such an event, Excalibur’s hold over Morgana would be no more. Morgana remains oblivious to the Master’s plan, but both wish death upon the Lioness. First, the Master intends to use the Lioness to kill Morgana. In order to secure the Pendragon bloodline, and the future of his Lioness ascendant, King Arthur had a secret child who was sent to Kattegat. But the Master stole the child from Kattegat and nurtured it elsewhere. Many are employed in the Master’s service, one being a powerful young witch known as Mage. Compelled by the Master, Mage has pledged her loyalty to Morgana in order to spy on her.

Morgana wants Mage to locate the Lioness, but Mage’s task from the Master is to throw her off the scent. Ragnar is tasked with chasing an Ironclaw dragon prince into the arms of the Lioness. Dragon and lion will then come together to face their destiny. In return, the Master will help Ragnar in his plans to unite the dragons of all the secret realms across the world. In order to prevail over the supernatural world, the Master requires an army of monsters, and so, a deal is made with Dracula. He will provide an army of vampires and in turn, the Master will give him and his army the ability to walk in the sun.

High above sea level on the rocky mountains of Kattegat’s north region, Dracula stood waiting, staring at the Moon. His black cape blew in the subtle wind. His black suit was pressed and clean, with the white collar of his shirt raised around the neck. His seductive pale face and slicked black hair defied time. Dracula tilted his head up. His nostrils twitched at the scent of incoming blood. His fanged teeth shown as his tongue caressed his dry lips. His beady eyes shifted to the left of the blackened sky. Amidst a wave of torrential rain, a spray of lightning peppered the sky. A dragon glided in, a silhouette against the Moon. He landed, shaking the ground with his enormous weight. Ragnar Hyperion, a fierce red creature with thick horns and black eyes, sharp teeth like knives.

The monsters engaged.

‘Ragnar,’ Dracula’s prolonged Romanian accent stretched. ‘What reason do you have for summoning me to this horrid island? I don’t like the smell of dragon blood.’

‘The Master wants an update on your progress,’ Ragnar’s voice strong and heavy.

Dracula smiled mockingly. ‘And like an obedient pet, you bow to the Master’s commands!’

With rage, Ragnar roared a flurry of fire into the air. ‘I bow to no one, Dracula!’

Ragnar stooped his long neck, imposing his snarling face on Dracula, but the vampire wasn’t threatened. He knew he couldn’t be touched. Ragnar calmed and retracted slowly.

‘Like you, Vlad, I need the Master.’

‘Yes!’ said Dracula. ‘But, when we don’t…’ He raised one eyebrow, expressing a hidden agenda. ‘You can tell the Master, I will deliver an army of one hundred thousand vampires, as promised…in due time.’

‘Time is running out, Vlad. Other realms will soon rise through the Lioness. They will need to be conquered.’

‘I told you.’ Dracula stepped forward. ‘I will deliver.’

‘There is another issue, Vlad. Mage has caught sight of you, stalking the girl.’

‘Tell Mage to relax. Naturally, I was curious as to what she smells like. But, my trips to Liverpool are of no interest to the Lioness. I have unfinished business with a werewolf there.’

‘Just stay away from the girl, Vlad. Remember what is at stake. Squabbles from a past life are not of priority.’

‘I know what is at stake, Ragnar. Control the girl… control the future of the supernatural world.’

‘And so it begins, Vlad…And so it begins.’

Mage, a young and powerful witch, walked through the firelit halls of Pendragon Castle, her face covered from the nose down, only her dark eyes and head on show, the black leather mask, evil-looking. Long brown hair in one plait. Her body dressed from the neck down in black leather, skin-tight. A black cape falls down her back. Specks of blood are crusted on her boots. Her flat stomach on show. Her gloved hand always on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it from the scabbard on her silver belt. Mage’s menacing confidence, and unpredictable nature, strike fear into all who cross her path. She struts like she is ready to kill. Her voice unrecognisable, it echoes in a tone of darkness. All bow their heads to avoid her gaze.

Within the year of pretend devotion, Mage has slaughtered Elder upon Elder from the many villages of Camelot’s realm. Anyone who opposes Morgana’s law meets Mage’s sword.

Camelot, once a small part of Britain, is now transported into a secret realm the size of England. Queen Morgana, middle-aged in appearance, is the most powerful high priestess Camelot has known, her beauty maintained by magic drawn from centuries. Her silky black hair falls to her waist. Her soft, red lips a perfect bow. Those seductive green eyes break the will of most. Her purple, velvet dress complements the golden crown on her head. But now Morgana’s royal presence is tarnished with a voice tormented by anger, hate and concern.

Mage approached the doors of the throne room. The guards in silver body-armour removed their spears and opened the doors. Mage took a moment to observe before entering. Ahead, at the end of a long red carpet with a column of white marble pillars on either side, Morgana sat on her throne, scowling. Maudrid, her most loyal of knights, stood beside her, a tall bear of a man, a feared warrior with proud battle scars on his stern face. Mage took her time, stroking each pillar with her hand as she walked by. She stopped only metres away from the Queen. For a moment, they glared at one another in silence.

‘It is custom to kneel before your Queen,’ said Maudrid in an angry tone. Mage remained standing. Her slow gaze shifted to Maudrid.

‘It’s okay, Maudrid,’ said Morgana. ‘Leave us.’

On his way out, the knight stared at Mage. A bold move by the daring man. Mage swivelled her head to follow him. Morgana snapped her fingers to get Mage’s attention and Mage met the Queen’s gaze. In a display of frustration, Morgana tapped her fingernails on the arm of her throne.

‘Mage, I hope, for your sake, you bring me good news.’

Mage slowly shook her head from side to side.

‘I’m afraid not, my Queen… but I am close.’

Morgana leapt from her throne, shouting in a fit of rage, ‘How hard can it be to find one little girl?’

She groaned in anger.

‘You have failed me once again! Your worth is becoming less of a value, and more of a hindrance. Do I have to visit the outside world myself?’

Mage released her grip from the hilt of her sword and placed both hands behind her back submissively.

‘The Lioness is shielded, by a powerful spell. Someone is protecting her.’

‘You stupid girl! Don’t you think I know this? I have tried everything.’

Morgana sat back on her throne and sighed whilst pinching her nose and tilting her head forward.

‘Perhaps Merlin could help?’ Mage suggested. Morgana looked up.

‘I’ve had Merlin imprisoned in his own cave for almost a thousand years. He will not break.’

‘I could break him…if you tell me where his cave is.’

Morgana hummed and then smiled.

‘I trust no one with that knowledge. There are only two people on Earth who know where his cave is. Besides, there is no spell Merlin knows that I don’t… I am vexed, Mage. Extremely vexed. The prophecy has begun. Arthur said, when the Lioness is born, magic would gradually return to the Druids. Magic that I stole! They’ve been regaining power for over a decade now. She is out there somewhere. The village people are singing songs of the Lioness.’

‘My Queen, what more can I do to serve you?’

Morgana shouted in anger once more. ‘You can get back out there and find that girl! If you return without the head of the Lioness, it will be your head on a spike. Get out of my sight!’

In the North West of England, in the black of night, deep within the trees of Liverpool’s Dark Forest, the Moon hung low with an eerie presence. Iris, the raven, sat quietly on the branch of a tree, watching over her Master. Yet to be revealed as either man, woman or other, the Master spoke like Mage, with a dark, echoed tone. Disguised by shadow and hood, the Master wore a black gown from head to toe, face never seen. The Master stood ominously with arms at stomach height, interlocking through drooped sleeves. A harsh wind whistled through a light summer rain. Iris squawked as Mage appeared, hovering above the Master on a broomstick. Mage landed softly and greeted the Master with a nod of the head.

‘Mage, tell me of Morgana.’

‘Morgana grows more anxious by the day. She knows someone is protecting the girl. Maudrid is forcing young girls from every village to attempt pulling Excalibur from the stone. After they’re tested, they are branded with a letter M, on the right forearm.’

‘Maudrid is loyal, not very pliable…I am proud of you, Mage.’

‘What next, Master?’

‘The wheels are in motion, but Matilda is nowhere near ready for Camelot. She must be acquainted with the supernatural world. To face Morgana, Matilda will need to face hardship to build strength. It’s going to be a long journey, and it must begin in the Caribbean.’

‘What about the dragon, Master?’

‘Oh, Matilda will meet him before then.’

‘Why is the magic coral so important to you?’

‘I will tell you that when you need to know. The magic coral is not the reason why I want her to raise Atlantis. I want Matilda to build a relationship with Poseidon. The magic coral I seek is not in the sea, it’s up there.’

The Master pointed to the stars, and Mage briefly looked up.

‘In a castle in the sky,’ said the Master.

‘Master, you mentioned hardship for Matilda. What exactly do you mean?’

‘I have set out many tasks for Matilda to complete… to harden her father, I took away his brother, the uncle she never met. Her father’s deep emotion now rubs off on her. Matilda loves her Daddy! I have put a spell on Niki which compels him to commit crime. Eventually, he will be put in prison for the rest of his life.’

‘Master, that will break Matilda’s heart.’

‘That is what I want, Mage…when a heart is broken, it mends ten times stronger.’

‘Niki is a good man… I’ve seen it. A law-abiding citizen.’

‘Not any more, he’s not.’

‘What if you’re wrong about Matilda? What if you break her, and she doesn’t come back from it?’

‘Oh, she will. Matilda is a Pendragon. The last Pendragon. She has Arthur within her. He was the Lion. She is the Lioness.’

The Master put an arm around Mage’s neck and pulled her in close.

‘There will come a time when Matilda faces the reality of losing all that she holds dear. Only then will she awaken the full potential of the beast within her. Matilda’s journey is going to be long. In the meantime, I want you to test her mettle. See what she is made of. Do you understand?’

‘I understand, Master.’

‘And so it begins, Mage…And so it begins.’

Chapter 2

WHO AM I?

MATILDA

September 2021

I am Matilda Thompson. I was born in a city called Liverpool, in the North West of England. My home is in Domville Road, in the Old Swan area. I live with my parents and my brother, James, who is three years my junior. My cousin Nicole lives next door to me. We both go to Northway High School, and we are in the same form class. I have blonde hair, blue eyes, and I’m five foot six inches in height. I am told that is pretty tall for my age. Nicole is the same height, but she has brown hair and hazel eyes. Some say I am quite the adventurer, but I would much rather describe myself as always being in the wrong place at the right time.

I have other family on my dad’s side, but they live in the South of England. Dad is a scientist. He works in a lab on the top floor of a university. His job is boring if you ask me, but Dad knows how to have fun on his days off. Mum on the other hand, well, she is a full-time goddess who keeps us all in line.

At present, I am fourteen years old, but I’m going to take you back to a day in September 2021, when I was twelve. This certain day marks the beginning of a long, exciting, and somewhat dangerous journey. Throughout our time together, you will learn that many things you may have once believed as only myth and legend are in fact as real as you and me. Only they have been hiding in plain sight, until now.

I was once just like you. I never believed in the supernatural, but one day, on a simple detour on my way home from school, my disbelief was shattered. It was an event that changed my life forever. Life was simple, until I discovered what lies beyond the curtain that blinds the world from truth. In my world that curtain has now lifted and so I spend my days watching and waiting, to see what the world has in store for me next. Come what may, I’ll be ready for it.

It’s 9 a.m. on a hot summers’ day. The holidays are over. It’s my first day back at school; I’ve just entered my second year of Northway High. It always takes me at least a week getting back into the swing of things, and the uniform doesn’t help with the heat. Black blazer, white buttoned shirt and blue tie, black pleated skirt, black tights, and black shoes. Most days, I have my hair in one plait, but today it’s in a ponytail.

I don’t understand the logic behind school uniforms. I mean, how is one expected to apply a positive mental attitude, when dressed for a funeral every day? The Americans don’t wear uniforms. I had been so relaxed the past six weeks that I almost forgot school exists. I usually walk to and from school with Nicole, but today she is off with a stomach bug, so that leaves an empty seat at my desk. If it were me off school on my first day back, eyebrows would be raised, but when it’s Nicole, you know it’s legit. Nicole kind of likes school. There are another twenty-odd pupils in my form class, and the high-pitch volume is rising by the second. There is lots of talk about holidays abroad, and family barbecues in the sun. The closest I got to either of them was in the back garden with a few party sausages and a blow-up swimming pool. I mean, is it wrong for a girl to dream of a summer spent on white, sandy beaches, beside tropical blue waters? My life may seem dull on the holiday scene, but in other aspects, not quite. I am not one’s average schoolgirl. I’m not into girl groups or bitchy attitudes, and I’m a private person. I always stick up for the not-so-confident ones, because I know how it feels to be singled out. For certain reasons, I’m often called a freak and a weirdo. Since birth, I have had a strange condition affecting my eyes. Basically, they change colour from blue to a bright gold. For years growing up, I was taken to many special doctors, some of whom even travelled from America to see me, but not one of them could produce a diagnosis. My condition has been labelled as an anomaly. For years, I hated it, because I had no control over when my eyes would change colour. But over time, I learnt how to summon them at will. The only time that I can’t control the change is when I fall into one of my trances, but I will explain that shortly.

Ever since I became a senior, a certain boy at school had taken a liking to me: Barry Higgins, who is captain of the school football team, and all that jazz. He’s a nice boy, not full of himself, and he’s quite good-looking too. But, despite the fact that I show no interest, other girls in our class still get jealous.

I suppose, one could say, Nicole is my only one true friend, but that doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Friends are overrated. There are only two girls who taunt me these days at school, but they only try their luck when me and Nicole are separated in different class subjects. No one in school messes with Nicole. My cousin is a black belt in karate, and a highly skilled kickboxer. She once flattened the school bully, a fifteen-year-old boy, with one kick to the head, in front of the whole of Northway High in the yard. That was the last time he tried taking Nicole’s pudding, or anyone else’s for that matter.

There are some more prominent things you should know about me. Things, I haven’t told a living soul, not even Nicole. Reason being that I’m a secretive person, plus, I don’t yet understand why I am the way I am. This past year, I’ve been doing some activities with Dad, one of which is running around Sefton Park. It’s a five-kilometre perimeter. Within these runs, I find myself completing five-minute miles, without losing breath or breaking a sweat. Dad has been teaching me boxing too, in the back garden. He takes me on the pads and has me punching the bag attached to the wall. The problem is, each time I punch the bag, my strength and power are so great that the bag almost flies off the hook. I deliberately play down my strength when training with Dad, and my speed too, when we go running. Dad already thinks I’m an athlete, natural born. I have other strange abilities too. Sometimes I see things in a slow-motion state. It’s so weird. It’s like time slows down around me, but I still move at normal pace. I have learnt how to summon it at will, but it doesn’t always work, and sometimes it just happens out of the blue. It’s always for different spurts of time, some long, some short. Mum once knocked a cup off the kitchen side. I leapt from the back door and caught it before it smashed on the floor. Mum had her back to me, so she didn’t see it.

There is more. I have dreams that come true, and visions that appear through random trances. For example, I once dreamt a kid in class tied my shoelaces together from under the table, and when I stood, I fell flat on my face. The whole class laughed. The next day, the exact same scene unfolded. That’s just one example of a little scene.

There have been countless other dreams that have come true, and it’s not déjà vu, I know the difference. The trances occur when I’m awake. I receive flashing images in my mind of various things. Distant, faraway lands, villages and castles. Men on horseback wearing armour. But there are two specific images that take precedence above all. One is of a black dragon, roaring and breathing fire in a fury. The other is of a fierce-looking girl, always dressed in black leather. She wears gloves, and her face is always covered by a mask with only her eyes and head on show. She calls to me in a strange voice, like an echoed tone, I am the Mage. It has always been me.

At first, I thought these visions were the result of my active imagination, but they happen too often. I don’t know, they just feel real.

So, as I sat at my desk next to the window, in the far-left corner of the room, I placed my chin on the palms of my hands, just watching and listening. I noticed the name of my new form teacher written on the chalkboard. Mr Thornberry. I sighed with dread. Thornberry is the one form teacher nobody wants. I’ve had classes with him in the past. He is nothing shy of a nightmare. Thornberry entered the room and slammed the door with a scowl and a raised voice.

‘Silence! In your seats, at once. Or perhaps you all want detention on your first day back.’

Every pupil scattered to their desk. Within a split second, the room was silent. Thornberry has an old British accent, which amongst other things, does not suit his middle-aged appearance. I’d say he is in his late thirties, but he dresses like a twentieth-century aristocrat. Today, he’s wearing a white shirt, buttoned to the collar, a light brown blazer with a silver pocket watch hanging on a chain, brown trousers, and black shoes.

Standing at six foot and of athletic build, I see no reason for him to walk with a cane. Although he does, a cane with a wolf’s head on the handle. He has short stubble on his masculine face. His hands are hairy, and his brown hair is cropped at his pointy ears. Thornberry’s brown eyes pierce through the small circle-lens glasses resting on the bridge of his short nose. The only imperfection the man has are the wonky teeth hidden behind his thin lips. Thornberry strolled up and down the aisles, tapping his cane on each desk and glaring at each one of us. As he walked past mine, he stopped, spun around in haste, and slammed the wolf’s head of his cane on my desk. I flinched, gasping in shock,

‘Thompson!’ he said. ‘I see an empty seat. Where is Nicole?’

I stuttered momentarily.

‘Oh, she, she, erm...’

‘It’s a simple question,’ he frowned. I gathered my senses.

‘Nicole is off today with a stomach bug, sir.’

Thornberry leant forward, twitching his nostrils.

‘You smell like a cat! I wasn’t aware you own such a vile pet.’

The whole class laughed. I bit my lip with embarrassment. Thornberry turned briefly and silenced them all with a glance. So many smiling faces looking at me. I felt my cheeks going red with anger. I discreetly tried to smell myself, but I only caught the scent of my shampoo, and Lenor.

‘I don’t own a cat, sir!’ was my abrupt response.

‘Then why the smell?’ he grumbled.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t smell anything past your breath! Have you heard of Colgate?’

Instantly, some pupils gasped in shock, others howled in laughter. Thornberry’s jaw dropped as his eyes popped. I realised I had made a mistake, but there was no going back. I might as well see the assault through.

‘What did you say to me, Thompson?’ His voice pitched.

‘I said…your breath stinks like ass!’

Oooohh, was the reaction in multiple voices. I even heard one pupil say the word savage. Thornberry was furious I’d spun the negative energy back onto him. Truth be told, I did stroke my neighbour’s cat, Fluffy, on the way to school, but I wondered how Thornberry could smell it, or even determine that it was a cat, from where he stood.

‘Do you take pleasure in mocking me, Thompson?’

‘Well, now that you mention it…yeah, it felt pretty damn good!’

Thornberry placed both hands on my desk and leant forward, a foot away from my face. I pulled my blazer over my nose to further my ridicule of him. The class continued to laugh. I didn’t want this attention, but Thornberry had started it. He ragged my blazer away from my face.

‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ he smirked.

‘Not nearly as clever as you, Mr Thornberry, with your sly remarks,’ I smirked back, feeling victorious.

‘Well, Thompson, let’s see if I can remedy your lack of intelligence, with one hundred lines for homework. I shall not take Mr Thornberry for a fool.’

My victory smirk faded rapidly. Defeat was on the horizon.

‘Anything else you wish to say, Thompson?’

‘No, sir.’

‘No…thought not.’

For a moment, Thornberry kept his eye on me. Out of respect for my elders, I turned my gaze, but I did so slowly, and with reluctance. After form class registration, I walked through the halls, headed for my first double class of the day. Religious Education. I was last to enter the room. The only seat available was next to Barry Higgins. He waved, signalling me to sit next to him. I didn’t want to, not because of Barry, but because my two tormentors were sitting at the desk behind: Jessica Ward and Amanda Page. From my schoolbag, I