The Written (39 page)

‘Where’s the abbey?!’ she
wailed as branches whipped her face and scratched her arms. Farden
kept going, weaving through the darkness and ignoring the angry
threatening cries from behind them. ‘Just keep moving!’ he hissed
urgently.

All of a sudden they stumbled
onto the short grass of the abbey lawns and Farden was pushing her
in the direction of the kitchen door. For a moment Elessi
hesitated, but he waved his arms frantically for her to flee. ‘Go
to Durnus, he’ll get you out of here!’ he shouted.

Elessi’s eyes were wide and
flicked nervously between the forest and the mage. ‘But...’ she
began, clinging to her nightdress.

‘GO!’ Farden yelled. She said
no more and scurried off into the darkness towards the tall abbey
with her sandals slapping against her feet. Farden turned to face
the invisible foes, planting his feet wide and feeling his hands
shake with magick. Their stealthy approach ruined, the attackers
shouted and bellowed and crashed noisily through the forest towards
him. Their shouts and cries had woken the abbey from its peaceful
slumbers and a handful of guards tumbled out of the main door,
still struggling with their armour and wiping tiredness from their
eyes. The moon and stars bathed the abbey grounds in a pale glow
and they could see dark shapes surrounding the abbey grounds. The
trees shook with movement and the sound of men and metal clattering
through the undergrowth grew louder by the second. The Arkabbey
bell began to toll.

‘Stay together!’ Farden shouted
to the confused and bewildered soldiers. They rushed to his side
and readied their weapons, forming a little line halfway across the
lawn. Arrows exploded from the trees and thudded into the grass
inches from their feet but they held firm, their courage bolstered
by the powerful mage standing with them pulsating with magick.
Farden stretched out his hands by his side and a sudden wind
flattened the grass around the group. Dead leaves scurried around
their feet and cloaks clapped and fluttered, crackling like
whips.

‘Hold on!’ Farden bellowed to
the others and slowly he began to move his hands forward, inch by
blustery inch. The wind howled wolfishly around them. Two men
emerged from the trees and rushed forward but suddenly they seemed
to collide with an invisible wall of air. Farden pushed his hands
forward, shaking, and the men were plucked from the lawn and thrown
backwards into the forest. Two more ran ran out of the undergrowth
yelling but the wind ripped the swords and shields from their hands
and they tumbled into a bush.

Farden slowly wound the spell
down, but as he did so a sudden flash of light in the corner of his
eye caught his attention. ‘Watch out!’ A shout rang out in the
darkness just as a streak of fire tore through the darkness towards
them. Farden spun and threw himself flat to the ground as the
fireball exploded against the chest of a soldier standing behind
him. Flames consumed his face and neck and he crumpled to the
ground with a gurgling choke. The poor man frantically rubbed at
his scorched chest as the others ran to quench the bright fire.
Farden leapt to his feet and threw two of his own fireballs back in
the same direction. Another arrow sprang from the forest and a
soldier caught it on his shield.

Farden found himself barking
orders at the men. ‘You two, take that man back to the kitchens and
keep him there. You, guard the main door, and wake up the others.
The rest of you, follow me!’ They sprang to do his bidding with
alacrity, some stayed, others dashed off into the night and dragged
the man with them. Farden’s eyes roved over the bushes and trees,
watching for movement or any glint of metal. Aside from the pealing
bells it had become very quiet in the grounds. There were no
shouts, no yells. They jogged towards the north side of the
Arkabbey. The others at his back breathed noisily and their armour
rattled but they seemed ready enough. They kept moving.

As they reached the corner of
the north wall a shout rang out in the darkness and a blast of
lightning struck the lawn in a shower of dirt and charred grass.
They ran for the cover of the wall and crouched in the flowerbeds.
Farden slammed his vambraces together and a ball of fire began to
grow and spin above his palms, getting bigger and hotter with every
second. The soldiers shuffled backwards and eyed the mage warily.
Farden, deep in concentration, muttered one word at them. ‘Ready?’
he asked. To a man, they all nodded eagerly, and Farden stood
up.

Another fork of lightning
flashed across the lawn as the mage emerged from behind the wall
with the spinning fireball balanced in his hands. A dozen yards
from him two hooded sorcerers crouched between a fallen tree and a
stone bench. They yelled and pointed at him and waved their swords,
but it made no difference. Farden lifted the ball of searing fire
above his head and it pierced the night like a miniature sun. It
took all of his strength to throw the fireball but it flew through
the air in a deadly white streak and exploded against the tree
trunk. With a deafening boom and a searing blast of heat the trunk
shattered into a thousand pieces, sending deadly shards of wood
flying through the air like vicious hornets.

Farden quickly held up his arms
and a bubble of air pulsed from his hands with a dullish thud. A
dozen flaming daggers of wood struck the invisible wall and
ricocheted to the ground and sizzled. Farden blinked and squinted
the white spots from his eyes and looked at the mess he had caused.
A massive smoke cloud rose like a mushroom above the crater where
the tree had been, and the stone bench lay on its side with a nice
new crack through its middle. To his back he could hear the
soldiers gaping at the flaming scene.

A coughing came from behind a
section of the tree and Farden dashed forward to investigate. He
found a hooded and masked stranger lying behind the broken bench.
The man’s chest was punctuated by three thick chunks of wood buried
deep in his ribcage, and every breath seemed to be a battle. Blood
was pooling in the scorched grass and rotten splinters under his
back. Farden crouched down next to him.

‘Who sent you?’ growled
Farden.

The man attempted to laugh but
just coughed instead. ‘You think you scare me Farden? A hermit like
you? You’re a lost cause.’

With a quick flick of his hand
Farden tore away the mask covering the man’s face, but as he did so
his stomach flipped.

Ridda grinned at him through a
mask of blood and slowly whispered his last few halting words.
‘Think you....can run, Farden? Run...from the likes of him?’

‘Tell me who you work for,
traitor or I swear to the gods I will make you die in agony,’
Farden’s eyes were like flint and blue sparks hummed and spat
threateningly in his palm. ‘Is it Helyard? Speak! How did he get
his orders to you?’

All Ridda gave was a wheezing
chuckle and blood trickled down his chin He shook his head and
mockingly wagged a weak finger. ‘Helyard...’ he paused to gulp and
breathe, ‘...is only the beginning.’

Farden fumed. He felt a huge
nauseating dread clutch his heart with the icy fingers of a corpse.
The mage shook him to keep him from slipping away too soon. ‘Who do
you work for?’ Farden’s hand hovered over Ridda’s leg, and a spark
connected with his cloak. He flinched with a yelp and then winced
as the wooden splinters twisted inside him

‘You’re a...’ he began, but his
eyes slowly started to close. Farden jogged him with another
spark.

‘... dead man,’ he croaked.
Ridda’s eyelids closed permanently.

Farden clenched his fists and
roared with frustration. He got to his feet and kicked the body of
the dead mage to the ground, swearing and gritting his teeth.
Behind him the soldiers looked at one another and swapped nervous
glances.

Just then the other masked mage
emerged from behind the splintered tree and tried to limp away, but
Farden’s anger quickly found him. In a flash his hand flew to his
sword handle and he wrenched it from its scabbard. The blade flew
spinning through the air and caught the stranger between the
shoulders. He fell to the floor with a crunch and didn’t move
again. The Arka soldiers moved to make sure the man was dead and
waited until Farden joined them. When he reached the body he tore
the sword and the bloody cloak from the man’s back and ripped it
until he could see the man’s bare shoulders. His dirty skin was
unmarked and clear, but Farden was still not satisfied. The
soldiers muttered amongst themselves and Farden simmered with
anger. All of a sudden there was a smash of glass and a limp body
landed in a small bush at the foot of the wall with a horrible
crunch. They all looked up to find Durnus standing at a broken
window frame gazing down at them. His face was smeared with dark
blood and his fangs were bared, eyes wild with the fire of battle.
He shouted to the mage.

‘Farden! They’re inside!’ he
yelled, but the mage was already up and running towards the main
door. The soldiers could barely keep up with him. He slid to a halt
in front of the tall oak doors and darted into the darkness of the
abbey. The moment he was inside a man ran at him from the shadows
bearing a long knife. Farden dropped to his knees and light pulsed
from his open hand. The hooded attacker stumbled and yelled,
blinded by the sharp white blast. Farden punched him hard in the
midriff and the man crumpled winded to the floor. The mage’s knee
collided with the man’s forehead and he sank to the floor. Farden
took the man’s knife and ran on.

He leapt up the nearest stairs,
taking them two at a time. He heard the clanging of swords above
and below him but he kept running, heading for the vampyre’s room
at the the top of the abbey tower. The bells were still
ringing.

A young maid ran ran screaming
from a doorway followed by a sinister looking man in a hood. He
grabbed and snatched at her arm but she managed to escape him and
cowered by the wooden banister.

Farden sped forward and plunged
his blade into the man’s chest, letting the attacker slump to the
ground at his feet with a groan. The girl stared in horror at the
dead man. She ran off whimpering into the shadows before Farden
could stop her.

The mage ran on, and the
shouting and sounds of fighting grew louder with every step he
took. The Arkabbey was now overrun by dark invaders and servants
and soldiers alike were being cut down in the darkness of the
corridors. Farden ducked a spinning arrow and ran on. A hooded man
appeared in a doorway and poised to strike at the mage with a
snarl. Three broken ribs and a shattered skull later the stranger
lay on the floor, immobile and gasping through crushed lungs,
choking on the dust from Farden’s boots. Shouts and curses echoed
off the stone walls behind him and a long wail came from somewhere
below. Farden’s head spun.

Up in the far reaches of the
abbey tower Durnus pressed himself against the door as the men
outside charged for the tenth time. Elessi whimpered and shook her
hands frantically while she paced back and forth by the fire. Her
nightgown was shredded and torn, covered in dirt and more than a
few specks of blood. The vampyre snarled and shoved the door again
to keep it closed. He could hear blades hacking at the wood from
the other side.

‘What are we going to do?’
Elessi moaned. She pulled agitatedly at her curly hair.

‘Calm down woman. Farden will
be here soon, and then we can leave!’ Durnus licked his lips
nervously and cast a glance at the humming quickdoor in the corner.
The fire crackled quietly in its hearth. The tolling of the bells
above made the room vibrate.

There was a splintering thud
and a spear head wiggled its way through a gap in the wood. Durnus
seized the blade and yanked it with a forceful twist. The spear
haft split and there was a cry from the other side as someone tried
in vain to retrieve his weapon.

The vampyre snarled through the
door with a sibilant hiss. ‘Leave this place before I kill you
all!’

Laughter came from the corridor
outside. ‘We just want to talk, old man, let us in!’

‘I am no man!’ Durnus cursed
and spat blood through the gap in the door. His lips and face were
covered in dried crimson and the look in his pale eyes was as
frosty as the ice fields. He licked his deadly fangs and felt the
sharp nails at his fingertips with a thumb. The door pounded and
shook but Durnus steeled himself to wait for his friend. This was
the fight he had waited decades for, and he wasn’t about to let
anyone down.

Durnus slammed his fist on the
door frame and hissed with pure animal rage, baring his sharp
teeth. Elessi hid behind the armchair with fright and closed her
eyes tightly.

‘Let us in old man!’ came the
taunts from outside.

‘So be it,’ he hissed. With a
burst of inhuman strength the old vampyre suddenly ripped the door
from its hinges and dove into the group of men with a vicious
snarl. A knife raked his arm and fists collided with his body but
Durnus felt strength and speed he hadn’t known in years flowing
through his dusty veins. He dodged and moved like a shadow, claws
striking and ripping through cloth and flesh. He was a blur of
animal rage, whirling in circles and sinking his fangs into
anything that moved.

The men slowly started to back
off and tried to surround the vampyre. Durnus breathed in hissing
gasps like a cornered swan. He bled from a dozen scratches and
cuts, painted in blood that wasn’t all his own. His keen eyes could
pierce the darkness better than his enemies, and he waited for them
to pounce.

‘Durnus!’ A shout echoed down
the narrow corridor just as a fireball ripped through the group and
burst against the wall. Chaos erupted in the hallway. Durnus jumped
on the nearest hooded figure and sank his fangs deep into the soft
place under his chin. ‘Get him off me!’ cried the man, convulsing
and stumbling under the old vampyre’s weight.