The Written (29 page)

Suddenly there was a quiet
knock at the door, and with a great amount of effort Farden shook
his head, blinked, and sat up. He looked around, blearily, and then
the knock came again, louder and more impatient. The mage hauled
himself from the bed and went to the door. Farden lifted the latch
very slowly and peered around the edge of the door.

In the dark hallway stood a
very cold and very wet Cheska, her hair bedraggled and dripping,
coat gripped tightly around her. She was just on the edge of
shivering, but when he opened the door her eyes sparkled and she
managed a polite smile.

‘Hello,’ she said.

Farden’s heart lurched.
‘Cheska! Come in, you look like you’re freezing,’ he said, and
ushered her in. He took a moment to look up and down the corridor
to see if anyone was watching and then locked the door tightly
behind him.

‘Expecting someone?’ she asked
quietly. Cheska pulled her thin leather coat around her shoulders.
Farden turned and looked at her, and realised how much he had
missed her. Her voice sounded like little bells in his ears.

Farden smiled and shook his
head. ‘Definitely not you anyway’ he said. He grabbed a blanket
from his bed and wrapped it around her shivering frame. They
perched on the edge of his bed in silence. The mage’s eyes roved
over her, and when she looked up at him he stared deep into her
blue eyes. She stared back at him, waiting. ‘I was going to come
see you at the Spire tonight,’ he said, with a smile, and Cheska
made a face. She looked around, at the crackling fire and the book
and the rumpled bedsheets. ‘I’ve been waiting for hours, Farden,
ever since I heard you were back.’

The mage inwardly chided
himself. ‘Vice and I had things to go over, there was wine. It’s
going to be a difficult day for us tomorrow,’ he said, and reached
to play with a strand of her hair. Cheska batted his hand away and
started combing her wet tresses through her own pale fingers. She
fixed him with a sour look. ‘My Ritual starts tomorrow,’ she said,
waving her fjortla in front of him. Farden hesitated, searching for
something appropriate to say, but all he could think of was to put
his arm around her. She didn’t push him away, and they let the
noise of the fire and the rain fill the awkward silence. For a
moment she did nothing, and then she leaned her head on his
shoulder. They both knew what the other was thinking, but neither
wanted to voice it aloud. It had been a long time since the night
in the alleyway.

‘I thought you were dead,’ she
said finally, barely a whisper. She fiddled with the edge of the
blanket. He rubbed her shoulder with his hand, and tried to put as
much humour into his brief chuckle as he could. ‘You know me better
than that,’ he said, but the awkwardness didn’t die as he’d hoped.
She just stared at him, and her serious face made him look away. He
stared into the bright flames and sighed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and
searched for something else to say. He had always been the
emotionless one, and now he struggled to put his feelings into
words. She just nodded and looked away. Another moment of silence.
‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you,’ Farden told her. ‘About you
and, tomorrow. I just hope you know what you’re doing Cheska.’

‘Farden,’ she said, and turned
his head with a gentle finger to look at her. Her blonde hair hung
over her crystal-blue eyes but Farden did not miss the
determination burning behind them. ‘You know I do,’ she said, and
it was all he needed to hear. Since that day outside the Spire, he
had tried his hardest to ignore the possibility that he might lose
her to the Ritual, and up until then he had succeeded. It was
another shadow in his mind that he didn’t need, and now it
threatened to cloud his new-found calm.

‘I hope so,’ he hugged her
tight, sighed, and then ruffled her hair again. They said no more,
and buried the matter under hope.

Her serious face warped into a
tiny smile. ‘See, you do care about me.’ Farden narrowed his eyes.
‘Hmm, don’t flatter yourself,’ he muttered, and Cheska slapped his
arm. She stood up and went to the window to stare at the rain. ‘So
how was Nelska?’ she asked.

Farden scowled and shook his
head. ‘I didn’t think the news would reach the Spire that quickly,’
he mumbled, and Cheska shrugged under her blanket. ‘Nelska was...’
he tried to search for the right word. ‘Difficult,’ he said.

‘What happened?’ she asked and
Farden sighed. He had no idea where to start and how to explain it,
so he started at the beginning. The mage told her about the
sorcerer on the ship, the cold of the northern waters, and how he
had been unconscious for almost a week, flitting in and out of
sleep and dark dreams. He neglected to mention them in detail, and
he didn’t mention the crazy man in the cold cell, because they
could be left out, but then he proceeded to go over everything he
could remember about the Sirens and their dragons. He told her
about Svarta, but not Farfallen, and tried to loosely explain why
it was so important that they find a dark elf well. Farden trusted
her, but some things could be left until this was all over. She was
silent and engrossed, as if trying to imagine every fine detail.
When he had finished she nodded slowly, as if her mind were trying
to order and catalogue the flood of information, and came to sit
next to him on the bed again. She took a big breath. ‘So we’re at
peace with the Sirens now, and they’re helping us find a magick
well?’

Farden shrugged. ‘If all goes
to plan. And now Vice has ordered me to get all the Written ready
to fight by tomorrow evening,’ he said.

‘You?’ Cheska looked taken
aback, but then put a reassuring hand on his. ‘Not that I think
that’s a bad thing, but out of the Written everyone knows you’re
the outsider. And after... well,’ she trailed off. ‘What happened
with your uncle?’

Farden had to admit she was
right. He nodded and scratched an imaginary itch on the back of his
hand. ‘I know that, and Vice knows that, but for some reason he
thinks it’s a good idea.’

‘Maybe it is.’ Cheska offered.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, it’s been years since I lived
at the Spire. Half of them probably don’t even know who I am, apart
from the rumours.’

‘Then they will soon enough. If
the Undermage thinks you’re capable, then so should you.’

‘Perhaps.’ Farden left it
there, and listened to the rain on the glass. ‘All that matters is
stopping the people behind all of this. I can’t let them get away
with it.’

‘You always make it your fight,
don’t you?’ Her voice sounded distant. He nodded. Cheska looked at
him with a strange expression. ‘It’s always got to be your fight
and yours alone, ever since I’ve known you. Why do you put so much
weight on your shoulders all the time?’ she asked. Her hands were
resting calmly on his leg and Farden couldn’t help but stare at
her.

‘Because someone has to,’ he
said quietly.

Cheska shook her head. ‘Then
why you?’

Farden sighed. ‘Why any of us?
We’re the Written, we do these things because we’re the only ones
who can. I’ve never failed a mission yet and I’m not about to
start.’

‘But it doesn’t always have to
be you, Farden, what are you trying to prove?’

‘Yes it does, and I have
everything to prove.’ Farden shook his head stubbornly.

She sighed, exasperated.
‘There’s a whole tower in Manesmark filled with people like us,
like you, Farden. You don’t have to prove yourself anymore, don’t
you understand that? It’s why you don’t want to be in charge of the
other Written, because you still think you can do this on your own.
The lone wolf, Farden saves the day again, is that what you want?’
Her questions were like arrows. He knew she cared, just like all
the others. Farden looked deep into her eyes and clasped her smooth
hands between his. ‘I know what I’m doing, and right now I can’t
take another lecture about how I need to be careful, I get enough
of those from the rest of them,’ he said.

‘It’s because of your uncle,
isn’t it? she ventured, knowing how touchy a subject it was.
‘That’s what you’re trying to fight,’ Farden’s face was no less
flinty. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m nothing like him.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ said
Cheska, and left the matter to die away with the silence. She
managed a tired frown and looked away. ‘One day we’re going to give
up trying to convince you, and one day it’ll be too late,’ she
said, with a slow shaking of her head, and a little shiver shook
her slender body.

‘You’re cold,’ said Farden,
quickly changing the subject. He got up from the bed to add to more
wood to the fire. The mage picked up two logs from a little box by
the window and held them in each hand. Flames trickled along his
fingers and the dry logs began to spit and hiss. As the crackling
bark started to burn by itself Farden dropped them gently into the
fire with a little shower of sparks.

Cheska rolled her eyes. ‘That
was unnecessary.’ She was now sat cross-legged on the bed with the
blanket gathered around her like a shroud with a hood.

Farden tided his things and
smirked at her slyly, glad to have escaped the earlier
conversation. ‘But it’s why I’m so good; I’m always
practising.’

Cheska made a laughing noise.
‘I could give you a run for your coin.’

‘There’s a reason we’ve never
duelled, Cheska. I’m scared I’d hurt you.’ Farden leaned against
the fireplace and crossed his arms with a triumphant grin.

‘Afraid to lose?’ Came the
snippy reply.

‘Hah! We’ll see in three days,’
Farden winked and she looked for a pillow to throw at him. Joking
about it didn’t make it any better, and he tried to force his mind
away from shadow. ‘What did you choose anyway?’ He asked.

‘Illusion and spark.’ Cheska
smiled.

‘Interesting. What about your
friend, Burg, Brine?’ Farden smirked.

‘Brimm? Shadow and vortex.’

‘Interesting
and
original then,’ he said mockingly.

‘Oh be nice.’ She held out a
hand for him to join her. He sat on the edge of the bed facing her.
They kept hold of eachother’s hands. ‘Brimm actually looks up to
you, Farden,’ said Cheska.

The mage shrugged. ‘I can’t
imagine that, he’s so protective of you,’

‘He’s probably just jealous of
you. You should teach him some things,’ she suggested.

‘I don’t even know how to begin
to teach someone, that’s for the masters at the Spire, leave it to
them.’ Farden snorted.

Cheska shuffled closer. ‘You
could take any one of them.’

‘Probably,’ the mage nodded
reflectively. He lost his train of thought when she started to lean
into his warm neck. Her voice sounded small from below his
chin.

‘What did you chose?’ she asked
quietly.

‘You already know, fire and
light,’ he said.

There was a pause, and then she
put a hand on his warm chest to feel his heartbeat. ‘What about the
other two?’

Farden shook his head,
irritated. People were too eager to gossip about things that didn’t
concern them. ‘Who told you about that?’ he muttered.

‘We all know the stories about
Farden,’ Cheska said. ‘What are the others?’ The mage sighed and
looked up at the ceiling. Tonight had been for forgetting, not
dredging up the past, and his calm was being put to the test.

Every Written’s Book contained
certain runes that gave power to certain schools of magick, like
water or fire, gifting a mage with enhanced abilities in those
particular skills. Back in the earlier days, when Farden had still
been in training, the Scribe could write as many as four runes into
a tattoo. But, in light of a few certain incidents, the council had
ruled that using more runes was dangerous for a candidate, and more
likely to dissolve their minds like wet sand. They were
unfortunately right; the more magick that was forced upon a mage,
the less they could hold onto reality as the years went on. Farden
had been the last to receive four runes, and it had been a highly
guarded secret, until now. Rumour had it that Farden’s uncle had
five runes in his Book.

‘Spark and quake,’ said Farden
quietly.

Cheska tutted. ‘There’s no tact
to you is there. As subtle as a house.’

Farden wagged a finger
mockingly. ‘A Written isn’t mean to be delicate and quiet, Cheska,
you can’t win a fight with shadow magick.’

‘Who says you have to fight?’
she said, but Farden chuckled, and said no more. She left the
subject alone. Farden looked down at her, and she up at him. They
held each other’s gaze for a while, and there was no sound but the
dripping on the windowsill and the muffled singing from downstairs.
Cheska looked down at her nails and searched for some way to say
it.

‘I’m scared Farden...’ she
began, but Farden put a hand to her cheek and before she could go
any further he kissed her. Their lips met and she let his hands
wander across the soft skin of her neck and up into her hair. She
threw her arms around his shoulders in a warm embrace and Farden
felt her heart beat hard against his own. She was warm,
intoxicating. The mage felt her hands exploring inside his tunic
while they kissed, fingers running over his chest and blindly
tracing ridges of old scars. Cheska pulled him backwards onto the
bed and pulled the blanket around them. With a flourish of blonde
hair Farden pulled her shirt over her head and began to take off
the rest of her clothes. They quickly landed in a heap on the floor
and were swiftly followed by Farden’s tunic. Cheska bit and nibbled
the mage’s shoulders. Her nails dragged softly over the tattoo on
his back and with one hand he entwined his fingers in hers and held
her down on the bed. He ran his hands over her breasts and
half-naked body. Farden let his tongue rove over skin, and she
moaned and sighed as he did so. Her beautiful skin shone pale in
the dying firelight, and her eyes were sparkling with the
reflections of the flames. Farden had never known her to look so
beautiful. They stared at each other for a moment, and then they
kissed again. He explored the curves and niches of her body and
felt Cheska’s hands do the same. Her slender fingers floated across
his skin and moved slowly further down his stomach to his waist.
Farden shifted to be closer and they pressed themselves against
each other rhythmically, feeling the warmth of the other’s skin and
the fast heartbeats as they removed the last of their clothes and
felt nothing but eachother’s skin. His was rough, weathered, hers
was impossibly smooth. Cheska pulled him close as he moved his
hands between her long slender legs. Her breathing was loud in his
ear, and she smelled incredible, feminine, and the scent filled him
with animal lust. She was the mountains, the sky, the crystal lake,
everything, and her sharp nails raking across his back only made
him want her more. The shadows burned away from the corners of his
mind and he forgot everything except her, and she was a bright
island like a candle in his darkness.