The Written (7 page)

Farden leaned against the
doorpost and waggled the fierce tip of his sword at the cowering
man. ‘You’d better have whatever I came for, or you’ll wish I had
killed you last night,’ he spat.

Jergan was still breathing
heavily, and his bony chest heaved up and down with his panting. ‘I
thought you were here for sport, like the many others that have
come here and tried to hunt me. How was I supposed to know who you
were and what you want, I haven’t spoken to anyone in months, or
years...’ He glowered at the mage, and then cocked his head on one
side, like a dog. ‘What do you want from me Arka?’

Farden sheathed his sword.
‘Information that you have, old man, or had.’

Jergan shook his head, as if
his fate had already been decided for him. ‘What could I possibly
know that’s of any value to you?

Farden scowled, and ‘Well let’s
find out, shall we? Three days ago something was stolen from my
people...’ he began.

‘And you think I had something
to do with it?’ He glared again, and Farden felt the anger boiling
in his chest. The cursed old skeleton was being petulant. Farden
crouched down and brought his eyes close to Jergan’s. ‘Listen here,
old man, and listen well. After last night you’re lucky I didn’t
set fire to your hut and be done with you. But I’ve been sent here
for information, and I don’t intend leaving without it. I suggest
that you give me what I want. And if you interrupt me again, it
will be the last thing you do. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll
leave you in peace, or end you if that is your wish.’ The mage’s
eyes burned with fire. The Siren looked away, and they both rose
warily, Jergan taking a seat by the small stove and Farden
remaining standing, arms crossed and stern. The scaly man took a
few deep breaths, licked his dry cracked lips, and gestured with a
wave of his papery hand. ‘Please, go on.’

Farden flashed a humourless
smile. ‘The stolen item was a book that was taken from the Sirens
during the war. It was a book of great magick, small and black with
a black dragon-scale cover. My masters think you studied this book
years ago when you lived in Nelska.’

The lycan looked away. ‘That
was a long time ago mage,’ he said.

‘Well I need you to
remember.

Jergan thought for a minute.
His mind was full of tired headaches and ravenous hunger. ‘I have
tried to forget these parts of my life, and for years I’ve pushed
them from me, or the beast has done it for me. If I can’t remember
having a life, then I have nothing to miss do I?’ He paused again,
and then narrowed his eyes with deep thought. ‘A long time ago,
years before the war, an expedition discovered a cave near the
Tausenbar mountains, and in the depths of this cave lay a hidden
fort dug out of the rocks and cliffs, and inside that we found a
library filled with everything we could have dreamed of. It had
been a dark elf stronghold, in the old times, now long abandoned,
but it was filled with so much knowledge and countless forgotten
treasures. The elves had left all their belongings in a manic
retreat, leaving all their food and clothing behind in their rush.
One of the tomes we found buried beneath the dust was a little
black book like the one you’ve lost.’

‘Well was it this book or
not?’

‘That was such a long time ago,
and my mind isn’t what it used to be… but it sounds the same. A
small book covered with black dragon scales, and a small gold latch
on the front, with a very strong spell sealing the lock.’

Farden nodded. ‘That sounds
like the one.’

Jergan shrugged. ‘Well, there
you have it.’

The mage shook his head. ‘I
need more than that. What was
inside
the
book?’

An irritated sigh. ‘We took it
and the other books we found back to the halls of Nelska, and began
to study them, in what took years to accomplish. I happened to be
one of the few men working on your book, trying to uncover the
secrets of the dark elf magick.’ Jergan paused for a swig of nearby
water.

‘You Sirens should have known
better than to mess around with elven magick,’ said Farden.

‘We knew that, but at the time
it seemed the best thing to do for our people, with power like that
we would have been unstoppable,’ said Jergan, grinning a
little.

‘Then I’m glad we started the
war before you did.’ Farden returned the yellow smile.

‘Perhaps, but either way this
book was the most fantastic example of dark elf magick we had ever
seen. Once our most powerful spells had opened the book we were
able to learn the summoning incantations that brought daemons,
monsters, and ghosts from the other side, calling them to fight
anyone who would stand in our way. We tested some of them with
several prisoners from Skölgard with brutal results. The daemons
would do anything we asked them, and they would fight on command
until death. That is, if you were strong enough to summon one;
several of our wizards died from the strain of summoning such
terrible beasts.’ Jergan looked wistful, remembering an age long
forgotten, like a torn-out chapter of a book he had once read.

‘Shame,’ Farden spat.

Jergan seemed hurt, but thought
better of complaining. He went on. ‘The most powerful spell in the
manual was for the one of the most ancient and terrifying of all
dark monsters. None of us to this day knew how to raise it, and the
incantation alone scared us witless. Whatever it was the Old Dragon
called a stop to such free use of dark magick, and called off the
whole investigation into the “evil” book. Farfallen had it banished
to southern Nelska, where apparently your soldiers stole it and
whisked it away back to Krauslung.’ The scaly man crossed his
arms.

‘What was this spell about?’
Farden asked as he took a seat on a small wooden box.

‘We never knew, it referred to
what was named...’ Jergan made a guttural sound of some foreign
language, and Farden shook his head. ‘Something I can understand,
please?’

Jergan made a face as though he
were teaching a child. ‘
Thy mouths of
darkness
or
terrible dark
,
something like that. All that we managed to find out was that this
thing was different from the other dark creations, a crossbreed of
daemon and dragon that old Farfallen feared greatly. Luckily, none
of our wizards had been strong enough to survive such a powerful
incantation, and the Old Dragon put a stop to our research, so the
book was sent away and we halted all other reading on dark magick.
Farfallen had the practice outlawed in Nelska and none of us spoke
any more of it.’

‘
Research
is hardly the word I would use, but that
sounds a wise thing to do, for a Siren.’ The mage nodded as he
searched in his travel bag for food. He tossed Jergan a red apple
and munched on his. ‘I will assume that was a compliment,’ said the
lycan, as he caught the offered fruit. ‘Thank you.’

Farden shrugged. He mused as he
crunched on the bruised apple, turning over words in his head.
There was a moment of chewing, and then the lycan asked a question.
‘I take it you are one of the Arka then? One of the Written I
imagine?’

Farden set his jaw. It was an
invasive question, especially from a Siren. He humoured him. ‘Yes,
I am.’

Jergan nodded slowly, a hint of
something in his hollow eyes. ‘Then I applaud you, carrying the
Book is not easy task, for some,’ he said, and his hungry eyes
roved over the mage. ‘I’ve heard the stories about the unlucky
ones, mage, when the magick eats away at the mind.’

Farden shuffled on his little
box and scowled. ‘I suggest you keep your observations to yourself.
Why would someone want to steal this dark manual?’ How much would
it be worth on the magick market?’

‘As I said, it has been years
since I talked to barely anyone mage, as you might have guessed I
usually just end up eating my guests.’ Jergan’s face went icy cold
and his eyes glazed into a faraway look. Farden tried to find
patience somewhere inside him. ‘I saw as much last night. Again,
why would anyone want to steal the book?’

‘Power maybe? But to use the
greatest spell in that book you would have to be one of the more
powerful mages in Emaneska. I only know of a few, and most of them
are the ones who sent you. Out of the Arka probably only the
Arkmages could open the book and cast the spells within. You’re
probably asking the wrong person’ said Jergan, but Farden didn’t
buy it. ‘There are other powerful mages in the land these days,
besides the Arkmages. A few of the wizards from your own lands
could do it, and in the east Skölgard have sorcerers capable of
such feats. Why would my masters steal their own book?’

‘You tell me, mage. Could you
do it?’ Jergan asked with a nod of his head.

Farden shook his head. ‘That’s
not the point,’ he snapped, and the lycan went on.

‘If someone wanted to steal it
then they would have to know of its existence. Excluding the dark
elves who are obviously not an option, that leaves the Sirens in
Nelska or your own people. That’s the truth of it.’ Jergan leaned
back on the rickety chair. Even with the stiff breeze from outside
sneaking through the open door, the air inside the hut was thick
and stale. The more Farden looked at the scaly lycan, the more he
pitied him. He obviously hadn’t eaten anything for days; Jergan had
eaten the whole apple already and had wolfed down the core and even
the wooden stem. The mage shook his head, and focussed on his
task.

‘Then if it wasn’t any of the
Arka, that means the war is far from over,’ concluded the mage. An
ominous silence hung between them. Farden’s mind ran through fields
of possibilities and jumped over hedges of doubt. Had, the gods
forbid, one of his own Arka committed this crime, murdered the
scholars and stolen this book? Farden’s mind clouded stormily with
fears. He couldn’t rule out the Sirens either. And there was the
distinct possibility that the murderers were working completely on
their own, independent of either race, Arka or Siren. Suddenly he
felt a heavy dread worrying and chilling his heart, but an equally
strong sense of duty coursed through his veins, and the mage
clenched his fists as he resolved to put a stop to this mess before
it got out of hand. Farden had to get back to Durnus.

Jergan filled the silence. ‘If
the book was stolen by someone powerful enough, strong enough to
summon that terrible creature, then all of Emaneska would be in
danger, not just our peoples,’ Jergan warned. Some colour had
seemingly returned to his old skin, and he seemed more confident,
eloquent. He went on. ‘If you had seen the sort of caged daemons
hidden in this manual like I have then you would know how important
retrieving this book is. Now this is important, so listen well.
It’s not just being able to cast the spell that is the challenge,
but this particular beast needs a powerful well of dark magick to
help it cross over. The elves built deep caverns to house their
magick power, much like the Book you carry.’ Jergan paused to look
hungrily at the mage. He continued hastily when Farden
threateningly narrowed his eyes at the lycan. ‘There used to be
hundreds of these wells all over the lands, but when the elves left
they were hunted down and destroyed. I’m sure you know of them:
“lost by dark ones all forgotten…” ’ he recited.

‘ “…Lakes of magick below paths
untrodden.” Yes we’ve all heard the stories and the riddles to find
the last few elven treasure troves. But they’re all gone, lost to
time. Where else would someone take the book to release its power?’
Farden crouched forward, elbows on knees. Against his better
judgement he was beginning to trust this Siren’s words.

‘That’s assuming that you’re
wrong and not all the wells have vanished?’ The corner of Jergan’s
mouth rose ever so slightly, as if he had a won a small hand in a
verbal card game against the interrogative mage. But Farden wasn’t
in the mood for playing games. ‘Then tell me where I can find
one.’

Jergan laughed as heartily as
his starved frame would allow. ‘Hah! No one has uncovered one for
decades, so explain to me why I could know where to look.’

‘You obviously know that there
are some left in Emaneska, and creatures of your kind are drawn to
magick. You might have found one in your time with the Sirens, or
maybe as a lycan you know where one is,’ he said. Farden had a
dangerous look in his eye.

‘All I know is that there a
still a few left, maybe about two, or three, I don’t know.’ Jergan
held up his scarred palms in honesty.

‘But you don’t know where?’

‘We never found one. That was
one of the reasons we never managed to summon the beast from the
book.’ Jergan flopped his arms on his lap. A silence sat in the
room and Farden was deep in thought. ‘So whoever has stolen this
book intends to release this creature, but only by finding one of
these wells.’

‘And the only way of doing that
would be through the dragons of Nelska. In the memories of the old
dragon there may be a clue to where an old well may be,’ offered
Jergan.

‘Then I suppose I’ll be hunting
dragons next.’ Farden clenched his fists and rose. Jergan stood up
with him.

‘If you’re going to go then I
would ask one favour of you.’ The Siren asked in a pleading voice,
his violet eyes watching the mage adjust his belt and travel
pack.

‘What do you want? Farden
replied sharply as he sheathed his sword.

‘If you do come across any of
the dragons, then at least tell them that I’m alive, and not dead.
That’s all I ask,’ whined the man.

Farden nodded, and went to the
door. The breeze was hard and cold, but sun was beginning to burn
away the drizzle and the blue skies had started to scatter the
clouds. Farden looked at the decrepit old man standing behind him.
‘Thank you Jergan, for your help. I understand you didn’t ask for
this, for the life of a lycan, and I hope that you survive it a
while longer.’