by Ben Galley
The great hall was deathly quiet. Every eye was on Farden as he stood there, dishevelled and dusty, with blood pooling around his feet. There were no whispers, no shouts, no clamouring of any kind from the gathered men and women, only silence. Farden looked around as he tried to calm himself. A huge man, who Farden correctly assumed was Bane the King of Skölgard, was standing in front of him, holding Cheska with one hand and his other at his belt, resting gently on the hilt of a big sword. Vice was standing in front of the throne, glaring daggers at him. Farden looked at the statue Evernia, at her calm expression, and then at the unbalanced scales swinging gently from side to side, two gold disks sitting in each pan. The sunlight was just touching the edges of the skylight above her marble head. The sky was as blue as it was in his dreams. A voice whispered in his head, and suddenly Farden understood.
A booming shout broke his reverie. ‘Seize him!’ yelled Vice and a group of nearby soldiers ran to the mage and grabbed him roughly by the arms. Weak though he was Farden struggled and pushed against them. Vice stormed across the hall towards him. Shadows fluttered across the floor and the new Arkmage peered up into the clear sky to see a swarm of dragons circling above like vultures. They would be dealt with soon enough, he thought.
‘Have you told them what you told me Vice? Have you told them about the fire? About Helyard?’ A soldier elbowed him in the ribs and the breath flew out of him.
Vice marched straight up to Farden and struck him hard in the face. Indescribably hard. It was a fast punch without grace nor mercy and the mage sprawled in the hands of the soldiers. Vice hauled him to his feet and shook him. His eyes blazed with murderous fire. The council were talking now. Bane moved Cheska behind him and his soldiers inched forward.
‘I’ve had enough of you,’ snarled Vice.
‘Tell the council what you really are, old friend’ Farden gasped.
Vice shook with rage. His hazel eyes bored into Farden’s, but the mage kept staring straight back at him. ‘You’re a stubborn bastard Farden, just like your uncle. I will have you hanged immediately!’
‘You’ll have to catch me first,’ whispered the mage, and he grinned through bloody teeth, breaking his gaze for just a second to see a small white cloud drift across the crystal blue sky above Evernia’s head. With every ounce of magick he had left in his exhausted body Farden pushed against the floor. And pushed he did.
Amidst shouts and yells Farden flew out of the grasp of the soldiers, and soared into the air. He swung his fist as he flew, focusing all his energy into that one crucial swing, and like a sudden lightning strike he hit Vice squarely on the jaw. Sparks exploded from the mage’s fist and in a blinding flash of light Vice fell to his knees dazed and stunned. Chaos erupted in the great hall as screams and yells filled the air.
Farden landed awkwardly, stumbling on his injured feet, but then ran for the centre of the room. With a metallic scrape Bane unsheathed his huge broadsword and swung it with a loud grunt at Farden’s neck. The mage quickly dove into a roll and heard the blade whine over his head, missing all but a strand of his dark hair. The king roared and darted after him with speed unnatural for a man of his size. Farden could hear the huge man bearing down on him, but he kept running, eyeing the others closing in on him. All he had to do was get to the statue and it could all be over, Vice, Cheska, the Arka, they could all disappear. His chest was about to burst with exhaustion but still his legs pounded the floor and propelled him forwards.
Just as Bane reached out to snatch at Farden’s clothes the mage leapt forward in a mad jump for the scales. The King grabbed at empty air and the mage crashed into the scales with a pained cry. Farden rolled to the floor in a shower of hot wax and spitting candles. He grabbed at the gold disk as it almost tumbled out of his hands and quickly bent his whole concentration on it. He felt the magick bite and suddenly it started to pull him in.
He watched as the world ground to a halt for the last time, ignoring the men poised over him with swords and halberds, ignoring Vice staggering to his feet, ignoring Bane frozen only mere inches away, hands outstretched and his face a boiling mass of anger, the very picture of rage. Farden looked only at Cheska, staring into her pale blue expression. He wondered what his child would look like, whether it would have his hair, her eyes, and whether she would miss him in any way whatsoever. He looked into her eyes, and she wasn’t the same person any more, just a hollow shell of what she had pretended to be all those years. There was a sudden rush of air as the world folded in on itself, and he was dragged into the blinding light.
Epilogue
For all the things to come
As the orange sun peered over the craggy ice-locked mountains in the east, a pair of grey-green eyes watched the light spill over the rocks and ignite the drifts of snow in a warm yellow glow. The man stood atop the highest mountain for miles and miles, braving the icy winds that tugged at his skin. He closed his eyes and let the cold bite his cheeks. The air was so clear. Below him, in the places the sun hadn’t touched yet, the shadows fell amongst the black rocks and turned the deep snow a deep blue colour. The man squinted as he peered at the jagged skyline in the distance, where the wispy clouds huddled together. He could see smoke rising from the city in the south. Beyond that the sea sparkled like a blanket full of jewels.
The mage crouched and pulled his cloak around him, careful not to drop the gold disk he clutched in his hand. His clothes were ripped and torn and his pale face was a mess of bruises and scratches, but he didn’t seem to care. For the first time in his life he felt true peace.
Farden stayed for a while, letting the sun warm him, letting his calm thoughts wander, and then he stood. With a flash of light and a flurry of powdery snow he was gone.
Later that morning the mages found that the old vampyre and his chubby servant had disappeared some time in the night. Their tent was empty but for their possessions and some of their clothes. At midday hawks arrived carrying messages saying that they should return home. The dragons flapped away northwards, silent and brooding. Modren watched them as they left, as he stood on the shore on the outskirts of Dunyra harbour. The waves licked his boots. He watched the dark shapes disappear into the sky one by one. With a sigh he crumpled the parchment in his fist and threw it into the sea. He left without a sound, heading for the bubbling quickdoor and Krauslung.
A few months later, a small boat approached the snowy shores of Nelska with three passengers sitting on its wet benches. The man in the middle of them was plying the oars. The gentle grey waves lapped at the soggy boat and made gentle splashing noises against its sides. The thing creaked and moaned with every move. The wind was cold, but calm, and it gently ruffled their hair and played with their clothes. It looked as though it was about to rain.
Farden paused his rowing and looked behind him. He noticed a welcome party standing on the shingles. The people looked cold and wet, but the dragons glistened as usual.
Durnus looked uncomfortable, and shuffled around in his seat. He was a touch paler than usual.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Elessi. ‘You’ve been fidgeting around the whole time.’
‘Nothing is wrong, maid, I am merely tired and not fond of the sea,’ he said.
‘You told me you loved the sea,’ Farden said.
‘Not in small boats, now leave me alone,’ replied the vampyre. Farden nodded.
Elessi wrung her hands, and tapped Farden on the back. ‘Are the dragons dangerous? I’ve never seen a dragon.’
‘Well, you’re about to meet one, but they’re as docile as big cats. It’s their queen you have to look out for,’ he said. The mage pulled hard on the oars and the little boat skipped across the waves. His ribs twitched momentarily and he felt a little stab of pain, but then it was gone again.
After a few minutes of rowing they reached the shore and a pair of Siren soldiers dragged the boat up above tideline where the others were waiting for them. Farden hopped out of the boat and offered his hand to Elessi. She smiled and jumped to the sa
nd with ease. Durnus scrabbled out of the other side and got as far away from the water as he could.
Farden walked to the dragons and smiled at Farfallen. Svarta and Eyrum were on his left, Towerdawn, Havenhigh, and Brightshow stood on his right with their riders. The Old Dragon smiled his toothy smile. Farden felt Elessi jump a little behind him. ‘Well met and good wishes, friend.’
‘And to you Farfallen. Thank you for your offer of hospitality, but I’m afraid we won’t be staying long. As soon as the weather improves I’m heading to the east.’
‘You may stay as long as you want Farden,’ replied the gold dragon. He wore a sombre expression for a moment and he lowered his voice. ‘Any news from Krauslung?’
Farden shook his head. ‘None. That last we heard she was out of the city and in the north, with her father. Vice remains in the Arkathedral for now.’
Towerdawn crunched pebbles as he shifted his wait from foot to foot. ‘Dark times are ahead, he has no love for us dragons.’
‘You should have killed him when you had the chance,’ said Svarta quietly, more like a regret rather than an accusation. Farden nodded.
‘Who have you brought with you?’ asked Brightshow, with a hint of excitement in her yellow-flecked eyes. Farden smiled and moved Elessi out from behind him. ‘This is my friend Elessi, from Albion. She’s never met a dragon before,’ he said.
Farfallen bowed his head in a formal gesture. The others followed suit. ‘And it is a pleasure to meet you Elessi of Albion.’ She smiled and looked as if she would start giggling. Farden rolled his eyes. ‘And this is my superior, Durnus,’ said the mage. Durnus stared at Farfallen with his pale blue eyes and bowed low to the ground. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, and let me tell you what an honour it is to meet you,’ said the vampyre with a smile. Svarta looked slightly taken aback at the sight of his fangs but Farfallen lowered his head once again ‘Well met Durnus. It is a pleasure to have you all in Nelska,’ replied the Old Dragon.
Brightshow piped up again. ‘In case you forgot, Farden, you left something behind the last time you were here,’ she said, looking behind her at her rider, Lakkin. The tall Siren moved forward holding a box, and Farden looked slightly confused. Slowly he crouched down and tipped the box gently on one side, and out came a small black cat. Farden’s weathered face creased into a smile. It was Lazy, the ship’s cat. The little creature stretched and looked around, but when it saw Durnus standing there it made a curious sound and wandered forward ponderously, daintily stepping over the wet pebbles. She came to a stop a few feet from him and curled her tail around her body. To everyone’s utter surprise the cat opened its mouth, and spoke aloud. ‘I have a message for the vampyre,’ it said calmly. Every eye turned to Durnus, and his mouth hung agape. Elessi leaned close to Farden and whispered in his ear. ‘Is this normal in Nelska?’ she asked.
Farden couldn’t tear his eyes away from the cat. ‘Not in the slightest,’ he replied.
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Acknowledgements:
This was my first book, and mark my words it shall not be the last. It’s also been a long time in the writing, and thanks to the following people I actually finished it! So without any further or much ado at all here we go:
First I would like to thank my parents Paul and Carol, and this is for two quite basic reasons. The first is that they quite obviously and simply produced me, and the second is that as a child they insisted, nay demanded, that I read everything in sight, and without those two reasons I would not be where I am right now, scribbling this on the back of an envelope. (I’d like to thank Royal Mail for the envelope).
I’d like to thank the incredibly tolerant people who, for over the last sixteen months, have had to put up with my constant badgering. Nancy Clark read and edited the first ever manuscript, as did Roger Clark, and their feedback and suggestions were invaluable to me. Nancy made sure it was suitable for all you Americans out there. Charlie Elwess was there to keep the Yorkshire tea brewing and point out any irregularities. (He has a band called Arcady Bliss, you should listen to them. No excuses). Sarah West, my eternal thanks, for the final edits, and for a room in her house, for which I am utterly grateful. Spotify, for your musical archivery, and my thanks to the music of the innumerable artists that have provided the emotions. Thomas Bulfinch, for the stories and myths, Mikael Westman for the cover, and Ollie Latham, for giving me a book that changed my whole perception of writing. I don’t think he even realises what he’s done. I’m expecting a phone call any day now...
And to Claudia, for putting up with the constant summons to my room, for reading all the little snippets and excerpts and experiments and dialogue, for nodding and smiling all the while, and for the encouragement and love and faith, thank you. One day she might read the whole thing.
And thank you, for reading my debut book, I promise I won’t take this long to write the next one.
