The Written

by Ben Galley

  Helyard swallowed blood and tried to glare at him. ‘You’ll never win, Vice, that creature will be thwarted by our army...’

  ‘Our army will be several hundred miles south of where they need to be, you fool. You forget that with you gone, I alone command our men, and once I’m finished with them the Arka and their new Siren friends will be nothing more than a forgotten song on the lips of the new Emaneska,’ Vice sneered and crouched opposite the dying Arkmage. ‘There’s not a single person who can stop me now, old man, and by the time they find you in here I’ll have disappeared and my plan will be unstoppable.’

  Helyard shook his head and tried to raise a hand but his eyes were slowly inexorably closing. ‘You’ve betrayed your people...’ he wheezed, half-laughing, half-coughing. Bright blood spattered his chin. ‘The so-called Undermage is nothing more than traitorous scum after all. I always... knew you were a snake. Just look at you.’ Helyard leered, a grin filled with bloodstained teeth. ‘May the gods curse you Vice...’ he chuckled.

  Vice’s eyes blazed with murderous fire. He grabbed the Arkmage’s head with both hands and brought his face close to the old man’s ear. The hilt of the knife was pressing against his own chest and he could feel Helyard writhe in his grasp as he pressed harder against him. ‘The sad thing is, old friend...’ he paused, leaning harder and harder still on the knife. ‘They’re not my people!’ Vice viciously wrenched the old man sideways and threw him to the floor. A loud snap came from his neck and Helyard did not speak nor move again. He simply stared into nothing, and became still.

  Vice stood up and watched the lifeless body at his feet for a moment with his head on one side. ‘Let the gods curse all they want,’ he muttered.

  Outside, over the city, drop by drop, the rain came to a halt.

  Jarrick had slept through the banging and the muffled sounds of commotion from down the hall, and he snored gently while a dust-covered figure slipped past him and silently opened the door. Vice left without a sound, and the soldier slumbered on, dreaming of nothing in particular.

  Chapter 14

  “...There are many faces of Evernia, many facets to her magick, and in her kindness the goddess provided the world a multitude of powers, schools of fire, light, and wind. It is these legacies of the goddess that we Arka strive to protect. But after the daemons were brought from the other side, they perverted her gifts and tainted them, soiling her magick for the elves’ use. Their despicable children, the giants of old, the half-breeds, did no better. They were the ones who forced the gods to leave, not us. And now we pray and wait for their return, we wait for the day that the old ones walk our shores again and rid the world of its evil leftovers for good.”

  From the ‘Matters of Magick’ by Arkmage Legrar

  Seven hundred miles away a white and gold dragon crashed to the leafy floor of a dark forest clearing, sending stones and earth flying in all directions and crushing a small sapling. Her wings slumped to the ground with tiredness and the mage on her back rubbed his head where it had collided with the dragon’s scaly neck.

  ‘Sorry about the landing Farden, my legs have cramped up after that flight,’ she apologised with a weary smile.

  Farden rubbed the graze on his forehead and frowned. ‘That’s fine,’ he said and managed a smile. Trying to see if there was a blood on his fingers in the dark wasn’t really working, so he clenched his other fist and a light spell tore through the clearing. Their distorted shadows mingled and danced with the gloom under the low trees.

  Brightshow’s huge yellow eyes shrank in the light and she looked around them. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, my hands are permanently fixed to the saddle, and my face feels like its frozen solid, but apart from that I’m good!’ Farden smiled wryly. His face felt like ice and so did his fingertips.

  ‘It’s a shame Lakkin didn’t have any spare riding clothes, it would have helped,’ said Brightshow with a shrug.

  ‘Mm,’ Farden mumbled. He busied himself with the tangled leather straps around his thighs. He hopped down from the saddle but he got his foot trapped in the leather stirrup and fell to the leafy ground awkwardly. He freed himself and brushed the twigs and leaves from his black leather cloak. He jiggled the sword strapped across his shoulder, checked it was still safe and sound, and then massaged his legs to try and get the feeling back in them. Brightshow hid a polite laugh, and then took stock of their surroundings while she caught her breath.

  The Forest of Durn swayed gently in the calm breezes. Leafless brown trees whispered and shook at the edges of the clearing, their thick skeleton branches knocking together gently, tangling with bushes and bowing over winding goatpaths and little trails through the foliage. The sounds of the trees in the soft wind were like the gnawing and creaking of some great animal as it rustled and scratched against the the murmuring firs. Farden’s light spell filled the clearing with clean white light and it fell in speckled patterns and narrow shafts amongst the woods, holding back the shadows. An almost indiscernible path disappeared into the dense black undergrowth to their left, to the west.

  The dragon sniffed the air and looked up. The cold sky above them was empty of clouds. Tiny stars sparkled above them, distant and lonely, and tried to piercing the night with their weak lights. A sliver of white moon lingered on the treetops, dangling quietly and unassuming. The air felt icy in her nostrils. Brightshow dug at the mouldy loam beneath her with razor claws, searching for nothing in particular except something to fill the silence. Farden adjusting his tunic again and sighed loudly. ‘Right, I’m ready,’ he said, patting his belt. ‘I’ll see you at Kiltyrin later tonight, hopefully before sunrise.’

  Brightshow turned to face him. ‘Hopefully your vampyre will be able to help us.’

  Farden chuckled and shook his head. ‘Durnus knows more about Albion than the Dukes do, have no fear,’

  ‘Well then,’ she said, rattling her scales and stretching her wings out once more. ‘I’d better be going. Good luck Farden, and be as quick as you can.’

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ he replied, and they said no more. He watched the dragon circle the clearing before she took off, and then with a toothy smile and a blast of air she was away again, flapping through the darkness and leaving the mage standing alone in the clearing. Farden listened to the sound of her wings fading into the distance as he disappeared into the thick forest.

  A short while later, Farden emerged from the scraping branches and twigs and stepped onto the neat lawn in front of the Arkabbey. The silvery light from the moon and the pale stars had turned everything a different shade of grey, a bleached monochrome version of the night. The wind rustled across the lawn and through the trees and a small pillar of smoke rose from a chimney at a slanted angle. The Arkabbey slept on peacefully, so far untouched by the day’s problems, slumbering and ignorant of the danger that waited in the south. The dark woods rustled softly behind him and Farden walked silently across the grass towards the abbey. There was no guard at the door and it was unlocked, so the mage went straight in and headed for the belltower.

  When he reached Durnus’s room there was light creeping out from under the his door, so Farden knocked loudly on the oak and waited. There was a little pause, and then some rustling and a bang. ‘Just a minute,’ came a muffled cry.

  After a few more noises the door was unlatched and it swung open. Firelight spilled out into the dark corridor and framed the vampyre in an orange silhouette. The mage blinked in the bright light.

  ‘Farden!’ cried Durnus. His face creased into a wide smile and the vampyre moved forward to embrace his old friend. ‘By the gods, you are alive!’

  The mage clapped him on the back and grinned. ‘Apparently so,’ he replied.

  ‘Come in, come in!’ Durnus beckoned for Farden to enter and he followed the vampyre into the warm room. Candles flickered lazily in their holders and a weird smell hung in the room, maybe of flesh or uncooked meat. Durnus was wearing a long robe of blue and green that touched the fl
oor. It rustled against the stone as he moved the chairs around the fire. He rubbed his hands together and turned to the mage. ‘You must excuse me, Farden, you caught me in the middle of my evening meal,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Anyone I know?’

  ‘As always, no, but you can rest assured that bothersome Duke in Leath will be most confused as to where his butler has disappeared to,’ chuckled Durnus. With a great sigh he lowered himself into his comfortable armchair and a faint smile hovered on his pale lips. The vampyre seemed tired. Farden nodded and followed suit, taking his own chair in front of the crackling fire. The subject of Durnus’s dinner had always made him slightly uncomfortable. But there were other things on his mind. ‘There is much to discuss, old friend,’ Farden started, ‘and we don’t have much time at all.

  ‘In your own words, apparently so. I just received word from a hawk that Helyard has just been thrown into prison for treason. Tell me this is some sort of sick joke.’ The vampyre’s face was grave.

  ‘Sadly it’s not. Helyard went to Nelska last night and murdered a dozen Siren guards and stole Farfallen’s tearbook...’

  ‘Wait, I thought that Vice had...’

  ‘There’s so much to tell you, Durnus, but we don’t have time to talk,’ urged Farden.

  But Durnus waved his hand. ‘Report.’

  Farden sighed. ‘I went to Nelska on a peace treaty, and to enlist the help of the dragons. The Arkmages sent the tearbook with me as a gift in the hope that they could find the whereabouts of a dark elf well in Farfallen’s memories. I know what you’re thinking, but somehow Farfallen survived and now he’s somewhere in Krauslung,’ he said. Durnus looked shocked and appalled, but Farden continued. ‘Last night Helyard went to Nelska to steal the tearbook and in the process he killed half the palace guard. The Sirens threatened war but Åddren and Vice managed to calm them down and forge a treaty. Unfortunately for Helyard he dropped his Weight in Nelska, and now he’s locked up.’

  ‘And how is Åddren dealing with all of this?’

  ‘He’s a broken man. He trusted Helyard implicitly for years so I think he’s taking his betrayal harder than any of us. And now that Helyard’s traitorous nature is public news, the city is at breaking point. You can feel it just walking down the streets. Like an awkward silence,’ Farden explained.

  Durnus rubbed his forehead with both hands and took a long breath. ‘With Helyard gone, Åddren will stand alone, and he’ll be hard pressed to keep some of the more radical and dangerous members of the council in check, even with your friend Vice there to help. There are some I am sure that will not be too keen on this peace with the Sirens, some who want to see nine more years of war,’ Durnus wagged a cautionary finger.

  ‘You said it yourself, Vice is there too, and I trust him to stand up for Åddren. Luckily he has control of the army and right now they’re gathering at Dunyra, ready to face this creature.’ Farden paused. ‘If it should come to that.’

  Durnus looked confused. ‘I don’t understand,’

  The mage slapped a hand on his knee. ‘This is what I’ve been trying to tell you! Helyard has been travelling back and forth between Krauslung and Albion and we think that this is where his friends plan to release the beast. Vice and the dragons think there may be a dark elf well here, somewhere we’ve never thought to look before now.’

  Farden could see the intrigue sparkling in the vampyre’s eyes. ‘Where?’ he asked.

  ‘Between Kiltyrin and Fidlarig.’

  It was Durnus’s turn to slap his knee. ‘I knew it! I’ve always suspected Albion of hiding a well and here it is, right under the Dukes’ noses!’ He quickly got up and rushed over to a desk in the corner, stepping over something as he did so. He rifled through various maps before jabbing his finger at one of them. ‘There, a ruin on the side of a hill. That could be your best shot.’

  Farden got up from his chair and made for the door. ‘Well bring that with you then, we don’t have much time.’

  Durnus looked up suddenly, and there was an uncertainty on his face Farden hadn’t seen before. ‘Me?’ he asked. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying we need your help old friend,’ replied Farden, but the vampyre just began to shuffle the papers and parchment and shake his head. ‘I haven’t left this Arkabbey in years, I have a responsibility... I, oh what would I know anyway, I’m just an old bookworm!’

  ‘Durnus!’

  ‘No Farden, you can do this without me,’

  ‘You’ve said how much you envy my position, this is your chance to get out there and make a difference,’ urged Farden, but the vampyre stayed quiet and stared at the maps on his desk.

  The mage kept talking. He knew his old friend better than that. ‘Lost by dark ones all forgotten, lakes of magick below paths untrodden. You taught me that. None of us know the dark wells like you do, and that’s why we need your help.’

  There was a moment of silence as Durnus thought quietly to himself. When he finally looked to Farden, and the mage could have sworn he saw a twinkle in those pale blue eyes. ‘It has been many years since I left the comfort of this abbey, but if the fate of Emaneska is in the balance then I suppose I must acquiesce,’ he smiled.

  ‘It was an order from Åddren,’ added Farden.

  Durnus shrugged and began to roll up his map. ‘Well, in that case.’

  ‘Good man,’ said the mage, and he grinned.

  ‘There are still a few hours before sunrise, I will prepare the quickdoor for us. Did you say Dunyra?’ Durnus walked to the corner of the room where the quickdoor sat dormant.

  ‘Yes, near the port. It’s where the other Written are meeting. By the time we get there they should already be searching the hills,’ Farden said.

  ‘Good, then let us waste not a minute more! Give me an hour, and I shall be ready to leave.’ Farden nodded and left him to it. The mage shut the door quietly behind him and wandered through the dark corridors. He had no time to catch up on sleep, so he decided to make his way into the kitchens and satisfy his growling stomach.

  The kitchens and dining hall were dark and silent; everyone seemed to be asleep apart from the mage and the vampyre. Farden crept around the kitchen in the orange light of the stove and gathered some bread. He reached into his pack and took out some of the supplies that the Sirens had given him. Farden found a pot of cold soup and dipped his bread in it, following it with some of the dragon-riders’ chewy travelling biscuits and a weird brown fruit that tasted something like a sour apple. He made a face but finished it and searched through his pack for some more of the biscuits. Farden walked as he chewed and headed towards his room for a quick lie down.

  His room seemed cold and bare compared to the cosy atmosphere of the Bearded Goat but it felt good to be back in familiar surroundings again. He dropped his supplies to the floor with a thud and stretched his arms. The mage walked to the window and stared at the monochrome forest and listened to an owl hoot somewhere in the trees. Farden chewed his biscuit and listened to the night sounds. The room was dark so he reached for the candlestick that sat on the bedside table. As he tried to click his fingers he knocked it clumsily and it fell to the floor with a dull clunk. Farden muttered to himself and cast a brief light spell. As he bent down to pick the candlestick up, a small bark-cloth bundle caught his eye, and he froze. Lying on the floor was the bundle of nevermar from all those weeks ago, and the hazy memory of hiding it inside the hollow candlestick suddenly came back to him. Farden made sure the door was closed and crouched down, listening for any footsteps in the corridor. He put aside his biscuit and grabbed the bundle. The nevermar smelled old, dry, and it felt as though there was only a little bit left. Farden clenched his fist around it and let his mind wander. He ground his teeth together and felt temptation prodding him with a stick as it always did. Something knocked against his collar bone, the amulet around his neck, and Farden scratched at it. He could almost taste the stuff on his tongue. He closed his eyes and gnawed at his lip. Let it go said a voice. The voi
ce from his dreams. Farden sighed, and shook his head.

  With a grunt the mage stood up and left his room. He ran quickly and quietly down the stairs until he reached the ground floor and then he made for the door, still gripping the bundle tightly in his hand. Farden emerged into the shadowy gardens and strode across the damp lawn without a sound. He reached the edge of the forest and ducked under a branch, wary of any sounds behind him, and then crept into the trees.

  Farden walked for a minute until he was a safe distance away from the Arkabbey, careful to mind snapping twigs or anything noisy. Deep in the woods the night was thick and impenetrable. The only sounds were the whispering boughs shaking their leafless branches and the screeching of the distant owl. Farden leaned up against a tree trunk. The mage lifted the little bundle to his nose and smelled the earthy, sickly-sweet scent of the nevermar. He peeled back the cloth and pinched the dry moss between his fingers. Saliva filled his mouth in anticipation, and he twirled the nevermar between his fingers and rolled it into a tiny ball. He felt the fire spell stirring in his hand.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said a voice from behind him. Farden jumped, dropping the bark-cloth and the nevermar, and in a blur his hand was on his sword handle. A light spell pierced the gloom. He whirled around to find Elessi holding her hands over her eyes. ‘Farden it’s me!’ she cried.

  ‘Elessi? What are you doing out here?’ Farden released his sword and blew a brief sigh of relief.

  ‘I could ask you the same question,’ came her reply. She fiddled with her hands nervously in front of her. She was in a nightgown and sandals and her curly brown hair covered her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and hollow. She looked upset or scared, Farden couldn’t tell.

  ‘Well it’s none of your business,’ he said, suddenly irritated.