The Written (26 page)

The last thing he did was to
whisper in the feathery place where the hawk’s ears were and then
fling her from his arm towards the window. The bird screeched with
a thin piercing wail and then disappeared into the grey sky.

‘Thank you,’ said Farden.

The jumpy man bowed. ‘My
pleasure sire, always nice to be of service,’ then he bowed again
and Farden shook his wrinkled hand.

‘Please let us know if and when
a reply comes from the Arka,’ said Brightshow.

‘I will madam, good wishes to
the two of you,’ the grey man dipped his head once more and then
fidgeted with his hands as if he were unsure of what to do with
himself.

Brightshow and Farden went back
to the hall, where Farfallen, Svarta, Eyrum, and a few other
dragons had gathered in the centre of the huge mass of tables.
Svarta seemed angry, but then again Farden had never seen her be
any different, and Farfallen looked disappointed and pensive. As
they emerged into the light of the great hall the Old Dragon
beckoned them closer with a silent wave of his great claws. The
mage listened to the loud conversation between his rider and one of
the scholars.

‘What do you mean weeks?’
Svarta asked. The man opposite her was tall and clean shaven, and
had obviously drawn the short piece of straw. He was clearly
nervous in front of the Siren queen, and her demanding expression
and posture frightened him. He blushed through purple scales and he
kept smoothing his blonde hair to his forehead anxiously. ‘Even the
oldest of our tearbooks don’t go back as far as the Old Dragon’s.
As far as we can…er, ascertain your highness, none of the scrolls
or parchments here have hinted at a well, therefore it must be...’
he faltered.

‘What?’ Svarta asked quickly.
Her hands were fixed to her hips.

‘It must be in your dragon’s
memories,’ the young scholar added quickly, ‘and that’s the
problem, it is taking far longer than we expected...’ he gave up
again, and pulled at his fringe some more.

‘And you’re telling me it would
take
weeks
to search Farfallen’s
memories?’

The man looked behind him to
his cluster of colleagues, who all bobbed and nodded frantically.
One held up a hand. ‘It seems so, majesty. The older his memories
are the more ancient the translation, and the more difficult it is
to read. It is taking us a long time, and so far we haven’t found
anything at all.’

Svarta huffed, but Farfallen
spoke up in his deep booming voice. ‘If it will take weeks, then it
will take weeks. These men are trying their hardest and we must
give them the time to finish their task.’ The blonde man relaxed
visibly. ‘However!’ Farfallen held up a claw and flashed a look to
Farden. ‘Understand that we are all in great danger, and your lives
depend on finding this well before it is too late. Do you hear me?’
Farfallen looked around with a raised brow and every single scribe
and scholar and Siren in the room shouted loudly in agreement and
scrabbled to get back to work. The hubbub began again. The Old
Dragon turned to leave, and the blonde man was left looking
relieved and shaky. He turned back to his little gang and breathed
a heavy sigh, with a few pats on his back for good measure.

Farden followed the group of
dragons and people as they left the hall, and Farfallen led them
down yet another wide corridor to a long room that was missing a
wall and open to the sky on one side. The cold wind swirled around
the bare space, and the dragons gathered in a little group at the
end of the room.

‘Well what now?’ Farden asked
loudly as he walked towards them, arms spread questioningly.

Farfallen looked at him, and
cocked his head on one side like a giant cat. ‘Now, Farden, you go
home. We will continue to search through my memories and find this
elf well. You can have my word that we will send our fastest
dragons to you when we have success.’ Farfallen said.

Farden shook his head. ‘But you
said yourself that will take weeks,’ he objected.

‘Maybe so, but if I and Svarta
and the others help them search,’ he said with a confident air,
‘then you shall have your answer within a week.’ The other dragons
rumbled in agreement and looked at the mage, their colourful placid
eyes gazing down at the man standing before them. ‘My memories are
flowing slowly back to me, like a brook, but soon I can feel they
will be a great torrent in my mind. We can’t rush this Farden, and
we need to be careful,’ and as if reading Farden’s thoughts once
again, he added, ‘and yes mage, we are aware of the lack of time.
We want this as much as you do.’

Farden looked down at the stone
floor and fought a long sigh. ‘Then I will return to Krauslung. The
Arka will need to be ready just in case,’ he said.

The Old Dragon smiled.
‘Hopefully it will not come to a fight, my good mage. But if it
must, then the Sirens will stand beside you.’ He looked for a
moment to the other dragons before continuing. ‘And tell your
Arkmages that they can once again call us friends. The war ended a
long time ago, and I think it is once again time for us to open our
gates.’ Svarta shot Farfallen a shocked glance and then, catching
herself, she turned to face the mage with an expression of badly
hidden anxiety.

Farden smiled and crossed his
arms across a chest swelling with pride. ‘Thank you Farfallen.’

‘Towerdawn here will take you
anywhere you want to go.’ Farfallen nodded to a stocky red dragon
on his right, and the muscular beast bowed his chin to the floor
with a long blink. His scarlet scales rippled in the sunlight and
the dark wine-coloured crest running along his spine wobbled.

Farden bowed in return but
shook his head. ‘Again thank you, but Brightshow has told me there
is a quickdoor at the docks that I can use to get back to
Krauslung.’

Farfallen nodded. ‘Of course.
It is ancient, but I know it still works. I will have one of the
wizards open it immediately.’

‘Then I will need to go pack.’
Farden smiled. Brightshow chuckled behind him.

‘Svarta will have some
provisions brought up to your room.’ Farfallen said, and Svarta
nodded tiresomely. Farden bowed and Brightshow followed him out of
the door. When they had left the room and were walking back down
the corridor, the dragon sighed mockingly. ‘Well! It seems we’ve
only just met and you’re already leaving.’

‘It is a shame!’ Farden laughed
and shrugged. ‘But sadly I have to be getting back to the Arkmages
as soon as possible.’ He had decided that he would miss Nelska and
its dragons.

‘I’ve heard one of your elders
has spells that control the weather?’ The dragon asked.

‘Helyard yes.’ Farden murmured
thoughtfully, surprised that Brightshow would know that about one
of the Arkmages.

‘He must have the blood of the
daemons in him then, one of the nefalim,’ the dragon whispered as
though it were heresy to say those words. She sounded like one of
the superstitious sailors back on the ship.

Farden found himself laughing
out loud. ‘Hah! Now that I would find very hard to believe. He’s a
powerful mage yes, but not a demon, just an angry old man.’ Farden
shook his head and laughed quietly.

‘A man who controls the weather
like the gods do should be careful with his anger. He sounds
dangerous to me.’ Brightshow, as usual with the dragons, made a lot
of sense in Farden’s ears. He had thought long and hard about a
traitor in the midst of the magick council, and more than once the
name Helyard had crossed his mind. He would talk about this with
Durnus, and Vice, when he got back. He could trust them at
least.

‘He does, I agree,’ Farden
mused for a moment. ‘Do you think that Farfallen and the others can
find that well in a week?’

‘If Farfallen gave his word,
then it will happen. That dragon doesn’t often disappoint.’

‘Good, because we’ll need all
the help we can get to stop those behind all this. I’m just praying
that they don’t already know where a well is.’

‘We would know by now if they
did.’ Brightshow offered wisely.

‘I suppose you’re right.’
Farden agreed with another shrug.

‘And here we are.’ Brightshow
said. They had come to the large door to Farfallen’s rooms, and
they paused.

‘It was nice to meet you.’
Farden said with a smile. Her huge yellow eyes had the same kind
gaze the others had and he noticed himself slowly getting lost in
them.

‘You also,’ she said with a
slow blink and a slight nod. ‘It’s time for me to go find my rider,
Lakkin, so sadly I won’t be able to see you off at the docks.’

‘Well hopefully I will see you
in the days to come.’

‘Perhaps. Well met and good
wishes Farden.’ The dragon turned and the mage ducked involuntarily
as her long white tail swung high over his head.

Farden went to his little room
to gather up the rest of his clothes and armour and spent the next
handful of hours in deep thought. The only problem was that the
people of the palace seemed intent on knocking on his door and
continually delivering provisions and supplies from the Old Dragon.
After three hours the mage stood surrounded by parcels of bread,
cheese, meats, and fruit, haversacks filled with a mealy cake
thing, a small oil lamp, two fresh tunics and a new black cloak, a
length of red rope, various maps, a small book entitled
“
Flight for Beginners”
and an ornate vial
of melted snow, for his health obviously.

As soon as he dared to assume
he had seen the last of the servants, another dull thudding shook
the mage’s door. With an exasperated sigh Farden leapt to the door
and opened it to find Eyrum standing outside. The big man said
nothing and the mage gestured for him to enter and get out of the
wind. Eyrum had to stoop to avoid hitting his head on the door
frame.

‘What brings you to my humble
room?’ asked Farden with a smile.

‘I have a parting gift for you,
before you go,’ he said solemnly. The mage guessed he wasn’t used
to this sort of sentimentality and nodded for him to go on.

He took a breath and cleared
his throat. His eyes wandered around the room and over the
scattered supplies strewn over the bed. ‘Seems like you’ve had
enough from Farfallen as it is. That dragon really has taken a
liking to you.’

‘Gods know why,’ chuckled
Farden as he gathered and stacked clothes and packets and parcels
to stuff into his travel bag. The supply belt around his waist was
already full to bursting.

‘Even so, I thought you would
appreciate this.’ Eyrum held out a big fist and slowly opened his
fingers to reveal a small glittering object curled up on his palm.
The Siren lifted the shiny pendant up by its thin metal chain and
offered it to the mage. Farden took it gently and stared at the
object. It looked like a thin sliver of a dragon scale, sandy
orange in colour and sparkling as though it were encrusted with
gold dust and hard miniature jewels. There was a warmth to it, a
leftover glow that Farden could feel only if he held the scale
tightly in both hands. As he was turning it over in his fingers
Eyrum explained.

‘When a dragon dies, their
scales soak up and hold on to their luck. So if you wear this
around your neck it might bring you good fortune in the weeks to
come,’ the man said quietly. He had hardly moved since first
entering the room, he just stood still with his big hands now back
in his cloak pockets.

Farden was shocked, and
honoured, and confused all at the same time. He instantly handed it
back to the big Siren. ‘I can’t take this Eyrum, it’s your
dragon...’ But Eyrum pushed the mage’s hand back, and closed his
fingers around the pendant for him.

‘I have a feeling you need it
more than I do.’ He shook his head.

Farden didn’t know what to say
and just stared at the pendant. A gift was a gift after all. ‘Thank
you Eyrum,’ Farden looked fruitlessly around his room to find
something to offer the monstrous man in return. ‘I have nothing to
give you…’

‘No need mage, it has been good
enough to meet you, and to see your impressive display of magick
last night. I hope that we have both learned something while you
were in Hjaussfen.’ Eyrum said.

Farden smiled. ‘I think that a
lot of my opinions have changed since being here, and not only
about dragons. If only the rest of the Arka would see it through my
eyes, see that there’s something deeper and more ancient about you
scaly lot.’

Eyrum managed a small grin.
‘Indeed! Then I think it is a good thing that you were washed up on
our shores.’

‘Maybe.’ Farden mused, noticing
that fate had once again manoeuvred his life without his control or
blessing. Eyrum moved towards the door. ‘I will see you at the
docks Farden. The quickdoor should be ready within the next few
hours.’ He opened the door and let a cold breeze in.

‘Thank you again, Eyrum, for
the gift,’ the mage looped the chain over his neck and slipped the
stiff scale under his tunic. The big man said no more and quietly
shut the door behind him with a click.

An hour passed, and Farden
managed to squeeze the rest of the stuff into the haversack and
decided to eat whatever he couldn’t fit in. Lazy stretched and
yawned by his side, and then got up to sniff around his packages.
She looked at him with a strange look, as if she wasn’t fond of
change, and then sat on the corner of her bed to lick herself.
Farden was munching on an apple and a slice of some dark dried
meat, which seemed a bit too fish-flavoured for its colour, when
yet another visitor knocked on his door.

Still chewing he opened it to
find Svarta standing with her arms crossed, her face displaying a
familiar annoyed expression. Farden waited to finish his mouthful
of apple and looked at her. ‘I’m sorry were you waiting for long?’
he said finally.