The Written (48 page)

Bricks and rock erupted from
the ceiling as the roof fell in with an ear-splitting crash,
raining stone and mortar on the room. One man was flattened by a
huge brick as he dove for cover, another was knocked senseless and
tripped over the edge of the well. Stone flew in all directions.
The wind turned everything into a swirling storm of stone as deadly
chips and shards flew everywhere. Carn Breagh was ripped in two.
Daylight suddenly pierced the shadows as room after room and floor
after floor was ripped from above them and dragged down to feed the
hungry well. Snow fell from the hole above in great clumps and
gradually the room was swallowed by a blizzard.

‘HOLD!’ Vice screamed at the
others through the maelstrom, and whoever was left grabbed at
anything that would stop them from being torn away. Cries and yells
of terror and pain were torn away into the storm. Another boom and
a clang came from the well, and a blood-curdling whine from
something below. It felt like the entire world was being dragged,
piece by piece, into the well.

There was another noise, louder
and angrier this time, almost a gurgling scream, and just then
three gigantic claws reached over the edge of the pit and grabbed
at the wall. They ripped apart stone like rotten wood. Another
clawing foot rose up from the well and smashed against the far wall
and turned two soldiers to bloody smears on the floor. A stench
filled the room that made Vice gag involuntarily, a smell of
sulphur and death, of decomposing flesh. The wind had become hot
and dry and the blizzard suddenly died.

Out of the darkness below a
head rose, a massive, ugly head that was too horrifying to
comprehend. Embedded in its dragon-like face were scores of red
eyes that glowed like burning coals, and they blinked as one. The
beast rattled its horns as a clump of snow fell on its head. It
turned to Vice. Hot breath billowed from its nostrils like the
steam that had begun to fill the room. The Undermage stood,
shakily, to return its gaze, wondering which specific eye to look
at. Dark whispers hissed in his head, voices that he hadn’t heard
for thousands of years. After a moment, Vice looked up, through the
hole in the castle to the wintry skies above, to the dark shapes
circling above, and then back to the monster. The thing made its
whining cry again and lifted itself further out of the steaming
well. Another head rose, and another, and another, and yet another,
one by one, until almost twenty heads had reared up from the
shadows, fighting for space with snarls and screeches. Vice
couldn’t tear his eyes away, and as he pressed himself flatter
against the wall to avoid being crushed by the beast he watched
awestruck as the monstrous thing rose into the air.

Mere seconds before Farden
thought they would crash into the ruins Brightshow flared her wings
and darted back into the sky. The sudden lurching change in
direction made bile jump into the mage’s throat, but he forced
himself to swallow hard and concentrated on holding on. He opened
his mouth to speak but a sudden crash from behind stopped him. They
both whirled around just in time to see the castle rip itself in
two and erupt in a fountain of broken grey stone. The other dragons
roared and dodged the flying chunks with rolls and dives, but one
unlucky rider was caught by a shard of rock and was thrown like a
rag doll from his saddle. The dragon, a spiny yellowy-orange beast,
made a terrible cry and went limp in the air. She crashed to the
ground in a shower of snow and brown stone.

‘We’re too late!’ Farfallen
yelled, snarling and cursing in some ancient language. They barely
had time to think before there was another huge bang. Something was
moving around in the gaping hole. Something older than all the
dragons combined.

‘Look!’ Brightshow shouted and
everyone turned to watch as the demon ripped its way out of the
castle.

‘It’s a hydra!’ shouted
Farfallen, and with fearful roars and trumpets every dragon backed
away from Carn Breagh. Farden’s eyes went wide with shock.

The thing was terrifying, if
only by sheer size. With a rumble it pulled the last of its heads
from the ruin and stood tall on all four monstrous feet, each one
thicker than any tree the mage had ever seen, and rippling with
muscle. The hydra dwarfed the swarm of dragons as it stretched to
tower high above the castle, easily hundreds of feet tall. A score
of heads sprouted from the monster’s thick shoulders, and their
entangled necks squirmed like a nest of snakes. Each fearsome head
was impossibly big, almost as big as a dragon itself. Blinking red
eyes and teeth fought for a place amongst bony ridges and bristling
crown-like crests of countless dark blue spines. In the weak
morning sun the hydra’s grey flesh seemed to pulsate and writhe in
an unnerving way. Its breath steamed in great clouds like an angry
volcano. The mage could smell the thing, a horrible rotting smell
of meat that permeated the air and soiled the snow. An
ear-splitting cacophony of a roar came from every one of its
mouths, an eerie, discordant minor harmony, and the sound chilled
everyone to the bone.

Brightshow turned her head to
look at Farden, and they swapped fearful glances. Farden felt a
cold sweat form on his brow. He had never seen anything like it,
not in his dreams, no in his darkest nightmares, not on the wall
paintings in Hjaussfen, not even in the wildest parts of his
imagination. The thing screeched again, and Farden found himself
staring, eyes wide, into the fang-lined mouths of the beast. All
thoughts of Vice and revenge had disappeared, replaced only by
numbing dread.

There was a huge crash as
another part of wall fell in under the weight of the hydra, stones
crushed to sand under its four gigantic feet, its thick forked tail
swishing back and forth restlessly. A myriad of red eyes blinked as
one.

Farfallen swooped close and
barrel-rolled overhead. Farden heard a deep voice in his head as
clear as if someone sat behind him.
Go after
Vice. We can handle the hydra for now.
The mage looked at
the Old Dragon and met his gold-flecked eyes.
Cut
the head from the snake and the body dies
said the voice.
Farden nodded his head once, grimly, and with that the dragon
snarled and flashed a dangerous and toothy grin back at him. He
climbed high into the sky, above the hydra, and made a long
trumpeting noise like a battle-horn. The others took up the cry and
climbed into the air. Below them the hydra snarled and gnashed its
countless teeth together, making a sound like snapping trees.

Farden thwacked his dragon’s
back. ‘Brightshow! Take me down to the castle, I have to stop
Vice!’ he shouted above the roaring and the gnashing.

‘Are you sure?’ she yelled

A sudden surge of energy, maybe
confidence, maybe fear, he didn’t know, but still some sort of
mettle coursed through him. ‘More than ever, let’s go!’

Brightshow lurched and flapped.
‘Then hold on!’ she cried. Farden was starting to grow tired of
hearing those words, but still he tensed his body for the
inevitable stomach-churning drop. She dropped like a stone and
rolled, making the snow the sky, and then back to the snow again.
Farden fought bile again and tried to keep his eyes on the
gargantuan hydra that was getting uncomfortably close. There were
six dragons behind them, wings tucked and snouts pointed, following
him and Brightshow down to the castle. She swerved again and Farden
had a blinding moment of fear as one leg slipped from a stirrup.
His fingers were frozen to the saddle and he found himself praying,
to anyone who would be listening, that he would reach the ground in
one piece.

Above them the dark shapes were
falling, roaring and screeching and snarling and trumpeting, a riot
of colours with claws outstretched and jaws wide. The hydra made
its whistling minor chord wail again and its jaws clicked and teeth
ground against eachother. The swarm and the monster clashed, and
chaos filled the cold air. One yellow dragon got too close and was
torn in two in a shower of blood and ochre viscera. Another had one
wing ripped clean from its side. Farfallen dipped and swooped
through the nest of snakes-like heads, blasting searing fire in
every direction while Svarta leaned far out of her saddle and
slashed here and there with her vicious longsword. Towerdawn came
up from underneath, flying upside down, and ripped chunks of grey
flesh from the hydra’s underbelly with his front claws. One head
snarled and snapped at him, missing his tail by inches. Fire filled
the morning sky.

Go,
a
voice said again. Farden shouted to Brightshow. ‘We don’t have much
time!’

‘I know I know!’ she snarled,
and rolled left to dodge another snapping head. A blue dragon
behind them screeched as the hydra clamped onto its back and yanked
it from the air. Sapphire blood splashed the snow as the beast
disappeared behind rows of sharp teeth. With a quick flap they were
suddenly in the clear, around the back of the monster with only its
tail to fear. Brightshow crashed to the snowy ground and gulped
air. Farden could feel her huge heart thrumming inside her chest,
impossibly fast, pounding with fear. Her yellow eyes were wide and
panicky. ‘Go, while you still can!’ she gasped.

‘Just keep clear of that
thing!’ Farden leapt from her side and drew his sword in midair.
The snow crunched and creaked under Farden’s boots as he landed and
he remembered the first time he had seen Carn Breagh, all those
long weeks ago. Beside him the other dragons skidded into the snow
while others hovered to let their riders jump to the ground. A big
hand grabbed the mage’s shoulder and he whirled around to find
Eyrum standing behind him. His one good eye stared back at him
intently. Even in the excitement of battle, his tone was low and
measured. ‘Have you still got the scale I gave you?’ asked the big
Siren. He held his ridiculously large axe in one hand, hefting it
as easily as a toy. The sharp blade glinted in the pale misty
light. Farden nodded and patted his chest, and the feeling of the
small trinket against his skin suddenly comforted him. A smile
hovered on Eyrum’s scarred lips. ‘Then let us finish this you and
I.’

Farden opened his mouth to
speak but just as he did so a huge black shadow passed over them.
Somebody nearby shouted a warning, which came out more as a
blood-curdling scream, and they all ran for cover. Sadly one
soldier was too slow, and a tail as big and long as a row of
buildings flattened him under a huge explosion of snow.

‘Everyone inside, now!’ shouted
the mage, and the rest of them scampered into the shadows of the
castle wall, where a small metal door was sunk into the ice-covered
stone. Their work done the dragons leapt into the sky and quickly
retreated. The Sirens took cover, crouching behind blocks of stone,
weapons shaking and wide eyes fixed on the monster towering above
them. Farden didn’t blame them, fear chilled his heart like the
breath of a tomb.

Doggedly the mage focused his
mind and pressed his hand up against the cold door. Closing his
eyes he tried to concentrate, blocking out the screams and yells
from around him. He could hear the swishes of wings and the
rumbling cacophony of the hydra, blasts of fire and the sound of
things dying. Farden felt the door creak, and redoubled his
efforts. He strained and pulled at the door.

‘We don’t have time for this,’
Eyrum grunted impatiently in his ear.

‘Just give me a moment.’

‘You and your magick,’ muttered
the big Siren.

‘I said...’ there was a clang
and a thud, and Farden stepped back to watch the big rusty hinges
melt and dissolve. ‘Give me a moment.’

Eyrum raised one eyebrow. ‘Hmm,
stop wasting time. Sirens! With me!’ He shouldered his big axe and
strode into the darkness with the others at his back. There were no
torches to light their way. Eyrum turned to the mage. ‘A little
illumination?’

Farden smiled wryly. ‘Me and my
magick,’ he mumbled, and he made a fist. White light shivered
around his fingers and suddenly the corridor was bathed in a pale
moon-like light. There was a thick burning smell in the air, mixed
with rot and ancient damp, a smell that clung stubbornly to the
back of the men’s throats and made them cough.

‘Quiet,’ Farden hissed, and
they crept on into the ruined castle.

They took every stair they
could find, anything that would lead them deeper and deeper into
the castle. The sounds of battle raged above them. deafening bangs
and tremors that shook the walls whenever the hydra moved. In his
head Farden cursed himself over and over, berating his ignorance.
He should have realised the first time he came to this dank castle,
realised that there was something hiding in the darkness he had
felt. Why had he been so blind? He tensed his jaw and consoled his
guilt with the fact that Vice was somewhere below them and
hopefully weakened by the summoning. Farden would make him pay
dearly for what he had taken from him.

After what seemed like an age
they came to where the corridors split and the mage looked left,
then right and racked his brains to remember the way he had gone
before. After a moment, he decided to go left, and quickly found
the room he was looking for. The mouldy tapestry was still on the
dusty floor, apparently where he had left it, and the narrow spiral
staircase still led a path into the darkness below. ‘This way,’
Farden whispered and the others followed silently. He wiped sweat
from his forehead and wiped his palms on his tunic. The castle air
was getting hot and clammy and stuffy. The mage could feel
something, though what it was he couldn’t decide.

They were now in the corridor,
and someone had kindly lit all the torches. Farden doused his light
spell and momentarily tried to regain his strength. The others
strode past him and further down the corridor. He felt a big hand
on his shoulder again.