Inheritance: An Upper Earth Novel Chapter 14, Marsilius Rufus (free access)

Inheritance: An Upper Earth Novel Chapter 14, Marsilius Rufus (free access)

Chapter 14: Marsilius Rufus

Ethan is attacked by a bat, but is there more to this creature than meets the eye? Appearances can be deceptive.  

Recommended reading: teens/young adults and adults who are young at heart.
  
 An ALBION Storybook production. Audio Format ©T.J.McIntosh 2026 All rights reserved. Narrated by T.J.McIntosh, Author of The Upper Earth Novels.

If you want to know more about the stories created by T.J.McIntosh...

ebooks available on: Amazon.com: T.J. McIntosh: books, biography, latest update

Or check in with her Facebook page: www.facebook.com/T.J.McIntoshauthor

If you want to know more about the stories created by T.J.McIntosh...

ebooks available on: Amazon.com: T.J. McIntosh: books, biography, latest update

Or check in with her Facebook page: www.facebook.com/T.J.McIntoshauthor

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:02

Inheritance an Upper Earth novel Chapter fourteen Marcilius Rufus Tom was hardly conscious of the last crossing, the one that led to the stones. He vaguely remembered Paul telling him which number was right, which bridge to cross, but he heard it as if in a dream. He found his way across to the large pedestal where the hollow lay, but his feet moved mechanically while his mind floated towards the stones. Is the stone hidden here? The one the ghost spoke of? If so, how can I know which one? There were at least forty in the hollow. He turned to Paul. What do you think? I think this is it, Paul answered, crouching down to touch them. They're here for a reason. They're just stones. Ethan picked one up. Useless pieces of old rock. Put it down. Paul made a grab for the stone in Ethan's hand. Tom winced. In the short time that Tom had known Ethan, he had already understood that Ethan didn't like being told what to do. Obviously, Paul hadn't learnt the lesson yet. Ethan danced back out of reach. Ask nicely, and I might give it to you. Do you always have to act like an arrogant idiot? Paul made a feeble attempt to wrestle the stone from Ethan's hand. Stop it, you two, Tom shouted, but his words made no impact. Fending Paul off with one hand, Ethan held the stone over the edge. Don't you dare? Paul squeaked, red faced. Neither of them noticed a winged creature speeding towards them. Tom had never seen such a monstrous bat. Black fur covered its body and head, while its great wings, the length of a man's arms, carried it straight at Ethan. Watch out, Tom tried to warn him. Engross in his tussle with Paul, Ethan didn't hear. The bat took him by surprise, delivering a strike to the head with one of its wings. Ethan stumbled, and shook his head as though wondering what had just bludgeoned into him. The bat veered around for a second pass. This time Ethan saw it coming. Just as the bat swooped down, he ducked. On the third pass it clung to his head with beating wings and scratching claws. Ethan still had the stone in his hand. He hit out with it, trying to swap the creature without hurting himself. A blow connected. The bat let go with a squeak, it dropped to the floor. Ethan looked at the stone he was holding. I take it back. Stones can be damn useful, especially when you're being attacked by a rabid bat. He crouched down to examine the bat more closely. One of its wings looked broken, and it squirmed on the floor at Ethan's feet. It's cruel to live an injured animal to a slow death. I have to finish it off. He raised the stone above the bat's head. Stop, and I'm not a rabid bat, a voice squeaked. Tom exchanged a look of confusion with Ethan, who paused with a stone held in midair. Do not kill me. The voice had a strange chittering quality. By the puzzled expressions on Paul and Ethan's faces, it was obvious that neither of them had spoken. You're not suggesting it was the flying rodent, Ethan said. Everyone's eyes slid towards the bat. How can you doubt that I speak? The bat squeaked. Should I keep silent while you pum on my bones with a rock? And your discourse portrays your ignorance, young man. Bats belong to the Order Chiroptera, not the rodent family. Now, some room if you please. I need to repair my arm, and I cannot do it as a bat. I must be hallucinating, Paul said. Bats don't talk, therefore this bat cannot possibly be talking. Yes, definitely an hallucination. I'll sit down and rest awhile, until I feel better. Tom stood stock still, transfixed by the sight of the bat. It was throbbing, and with each pulsation it grew in size. Soon its body was the size of a dog, and still it grew. Do you think we should make a run for it? he muttered to Ethan. You mean before the monster rabid bat becomes a real monster. You read my mind, Tom replied. No, wait. Paul seemed to have recovered, and stared at the heaving mass of fur. Can't you see what it's changing into? No, and whatever it is, it certainly isn't normal. Ethan grimaced, as the head of the creature shook violently, and its features shifted and distorted. It's changing into a man. Look at its face. The eyes are human now. Paul's eyes were full of wonder as he watched the transformation. That's the furriest man I ever saw, Ethan remarked. But when the fur receded, a small and extremely naked man crouched on the floor, snub nosed with a mop of grey curly hair, and one arm dangling limply at his side. Excuse me for just one moment if you please, he said. Placing two fingers in his mouth, he let out a piercing whistle. At once a floating spherical object sped from the darkness and hovered by his side. The man poked a finger inside the shimmering sphere and twirled it in ever increasing circles, as though he was making candy floss. The larger the circle he spun, the larger the sphere became, until it was as big as a football. Reaching his hand inside, the man pulled out some clothes. He gave an apologetic look to Tom. If you wouldn't mind um turning around The boys turned away, while various grunts and groans emanated from behind them. My appearance is now entirely proprietor, young sirs. Clothing is, of course, conventional, but transformations do pose certain logistical problems when one is travelling. When Tom turned around the man was fully dressed, in tight fitting trousers, long black boots, a loose white smock shirt, and a midnight blue cloak. He was examining his rather limp and floppy right arm. Goodness me, that won't do at all. Now where did I put that file? His left hand groped about in a sphere, and reappeared with a small bottle of red liquid. He took a swig and licked his lips, before taking a second mouthful. Hm, the man bat said in a distracted way, scrutinizing the bottle. A potion with a red wine base. Wonderful invention. The broken arm began to visibly throb. Tom couldn't stop looking at it. Even as he watched, it straightened, as though mending itself. The fingers flexed, and the muscles grew stronger and far more bulky than those in the man's other, now somewhat puny looking, arm. When the throbbing had finally worn off, the repaired arm looked as if it should belong to the world's strongest man. The man almost appeared to be admiring his newfound muscles, but then stopped, as three sets of eyes were now staring at him. Oh yes, sorry, down to business then. He cleared his throat. Which of you is the hunter? The hunter I've heard that name before. But Tom struggled to remember where. You know, the defender the dragonslayer. Dragonslayer Ethan rounded on Paul. You mentioned dragons a while back. What is all this drivel about dragons? They don't exist. Don't exist? The man in the cloak exclaimed. To say that dragons don't exist is to say that the nether world is a fiction. Where do you think this tunnel leads? Perhaps you believe it is a shortened route to Australia. You have much to learn, young man. You should restrain your wayward tongue, else you shall soon trip over it. He turned to Tom. By the slippery play of your eyes you must be our dragonslayer. Am I right? Tom gave a reluctant nod of the head. Let me cast my eyes over you. The man then proceeded to scrutinize Tom like a horse up for auction. Hm, he pronounced, as though he couldn't find anything positive to say. He lifted Tom's arm and squeezed his bicep. Am I too young? Not much in the way of muscles, but you'll have to do. Excuse me, Tom said, annoyed. Who are you exactly? The man Bat appeared mortified. Oh my, what a jabbering jackass I am. I do beg your pardon, young sirs. Marcilius Rufus, at your service. He bowed low with a flourish of his magnificently muscled right arm. Must apologize for the rather vigorous entrance. There was no time to explain, I'm afraid. And of course, as a bat, natural instincts do tend to take over. It was my duty to protect the stones. No harm done, I hope. He held out his oversized hand to Ethan to shake hands. When Ethan gazed at it suspiciously, Marcilius's cheeks flushed, and he put it away with a cough of embarrassment. Not even a scratch, said Ethan. And sorry about the arm. No no, no apologies needed. I can see you're a natural pugilist. Just what we need. Pugilist is that an insult? Ethan asked. Paul rolled his eyes upwards. That was a compliment, Ethan. He means you're a natural fighter. Oh Ethan immediately stood up straighter. Marcilius was no longer paying attention. He wandered around the circular hollow as though seeking something. He turned to Tom. Have you heard anything unusual yet? Uh Tom realized that he was waiting for their names. Tom, Tom Brickweed, and this is Ethan and Paul. Marcilius lowered his head. May your names be everlasting. When he raised it, his attention focused solely upon Tom. It will be a great pleasure to work with a Brickweed once more. The last hunter was a man of rare qualities. My grandfather, Tom said. Alexander Marcilius put a hand on Tom's shoulder. Of course, when his time came he was already somewhat older, but fear not, I will help you to prepare. His eyes turned to the ring of stones. Do you know what is buried in these stones, young Tom? A ring? Not just a ring The ring. Without it you would have no chance against the beast, but to find it, a little concentration will be needed. Marcilius led Tom to the edge of the stone filled hollow. Tell me what you can hear. Hear the only thing Tom could hear was Paul sniffing. It was an odd question anyway. What was he supposed to hear? He shrugged his shoulders. Nothing much. Righty ho Marcilius took out a number of stones from the hollow and placed them in a pile to Tom's right. And now close your eyes and listen hard. Tom felt as awkward as a blindfolded child trying to pin a false tail on a paper donkey. But he did as he was told, and concentrated on the sounds around him. Yes, there was something, a shuffling sound to his left. He opened his eyes briefly and saw Ethan rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. But what was he supposed to be hearing? He closed his eyes again and focused his mind, trying to identify even the smallest of noises. There, a faint sound hardly audible, but definitely there. He tried to block out everything else and attune himself to that one noise. As he did so it grew louder within his head, an eerie whispering, like the voices of many people at the same time. He felt that they were trying to communicate with him, but couldn't make out any words. Whispers, he pronounced, opening his eyes again. Marcilius flushed with excitement. Now imagine where the sound can be coming from. Pinpointed precisely. Tom concentrated. It was to the right, no the left. No, he murmured. It's coming from the hollow. Taking a new set of stones from the hollow and setting them down on Tom's left, Marsilius again asked Tom to listen. Tom pivoted to face the source of the whispers. This time he was certain. The sounds came from his left. The stone they sought must be one of five stones in the second pile. Tom walked closer to them. The whispering grew stronger. Tom thought it was in Latin. He had only just started lessons at his new school, but the words sounded similar, even if he couldn't understand them. It's definitely coming from one of these. Marcillius positioned the five stones around him. Tom felt like a radio antenna, being adjusted to pick up the right frequency. He pivoted on his feet, and the cacophony of words invaded his mind completely. The stone producing it lay at his feet. It was calling to him. The ring was enclosed in a stone. He picked it up. This one. Marcilius took it, treating it like the most precious object on earth. He held it upon his outstretched hands for a while, just staring at it. It's not the stone that we need, he said. But the object within. Then his hands disappeared into the hovering sphere, and the stone was gone, the whispering too. Tom voiced his surprise. Hey, where's it gone? It is safe, and that is all that matters. Without the siren, it is of no use and would be extra weight. We have more pressing issues to attend to. The siren is in grave danger. She will need our help in the coming hours. Who or what is the siren? asked Ethan. You are now three, Marsilius replied. But to defeat the dragon you must be four. Until the siren joins you, your company is incomplete. He cast a sidelong look at Tom. It seems that young Tom has not told you the whole story, but there is no time for further explanations now. We must run, or should I say, fly. Now, what was that enchantment? His eyes fell upon Ethan's backpack, where it lay on the ground. That too will hamper us. With a few twirls of his finger he enlarged the sphere until it had grown to the size of a pumpkin, and deposited Ethan's bag within. Ethan's mouth opened, then closed, as though he was about to say something, but then thought better of it. Tom guessed that Marsilius was probably beginning to annoy him, but Tom had a good feeling about the man. Without him, Tom knew he would never have found the right stone, and Marsilius seemed to know who and where the siren was. Though, when Marsilius grouped the boys together to perform some sort of spell, Tom's good faith was put to the test. Judging by Marsilius' over large arm, Tom had a sneaking suspicion that their new acquaintance wasn't as good at spells as he pretended. His magic was probably like Tom's mother's driving. Barely satisfactory with the odd accident here and there. What are you doing? Paul said. You're not putting a spell on me. Nothing to worry about, nothing at all. Marcillius spoke like a dentist that was about to tear out a tooth without anaesthetic. Just a little something to allow us to travel faster. He produced another file, this time of a murky brown shade, and offered it to them. Ethan looked at Tom pointedly. The question was evident in his eyes. Should they trust this odd man and drink his potion? Tom didn't think they had a choice. How are we supposed to do all this without help? We have to trust someone. Tom took the file and drank from it. What was in it? he asked, passing the mixture on to Ethan. A few things, replied Marsilius. But principally bats innards. Of course, I had to use two species. Flying foxes give an excellent size of bat, but don't have the echolocation abilities to negotiate these tunnels in the dark. Ethan pinched his nose and took a rapid swig of the potion. The last to receive the file, Paul was staring at it with distrust. In my experience, Marsilius confided, it goes down more easily when you pretend it is something else. Strawberry juice generally works well. Paul screwed his eyes up tight, counted to three, and raised the brown liquid to his lips. Then a grimace took hold of his face, and his whole body became rigid. When he stayed like that, Tom understood that the potion must still be in Paul's mouth. Paul, you've got to swallow. His friend gulped and gave a half wretch, as though he were about to vomit. It's fine, he reassured them, breathing out heavily, like someone who just run a gruelling race. Good, if we're all ready now. Marcillia started chanting in Latin sounding words. I feel strange, Paul squeaked. Tom felt odd too, and when he looked across at Paul, he saw that his friend was changing. Paul's eyes were no longer human eyes, they were now red. And his face was distorting, like there was another shape trying to break out from underneath. A shape that was suddenly familiar. We're changing into bats, Tom shouted. Don't worry, boys, I'll change you back when we get there. Whatever Marcillius says, it's hard to be calm when your body's ripping itself apart. Tom felt like there were needles pricking him from the inside out. When he put his hands to his face he could feel tiny hairs breaking through the surface of his skin. Next to him, Ethan was now completely furry, while Paul's arms were no longer arms, they were wings. Then their bodies shrank, and their clothes fell to the floor in three untidy heaps. Marcilius collected and stowed their discarded garments before taking his dose of the potion. He too began to transform. Soon Tom was sitting on the floor next to three black bats. The skinniest one complained a lot. That had to be Paul. But I don't want to have wings, Bla said. Wings mean flying, and I'm definitely not going to fly. Lighten up, Paul. Bats are supposed to fly. Ethan was already trying to take off, making little hops and jumps on the spot. Tom tried it himself, but for some reason he couldn't control his wings. Get ready for takeoff, boys, Marcilius squeaked. No, absolutely and categorically not, protested Paul. Whether Marsilius heard or not, he flapped his wings and his body lifted from the ground. Tom's wings flapped too, as though they had a mind of their own. Then he understood. Their bat bodies were copying Marcilius's movements, as one the four bats hovered in midair. Let me down shrieked Paul. I can't stand heights. The best way to overcome a phobia is to face up to it, young man. Close your eyes if you need to. Your body will follow me automatically. Marcilius beat his wings faster and harder. Chocks away.