The Written (52 page)

Vice took a step forward and
examined Farden with a faint mocking smile as he rocked and pulled
at the chair feebly. The Undermage put his foot on Farden’s leg and
pressed his foot against his ribs. The mage squinted and gasped,
still unable to speak through his rage. Vice pressed once more and
then relented, stamping his foot back on the floor with hubris. ‘I
will be back for you momentarily. I have a princess to return,’ he
said, and then turned to leave.

Without another word they left
and the door slammed behind them. Farden started to convulse,
yanking and straining the ropes in all directions. The chair and
the knots protested with squeaks and groans but still they didn’t
budge. He was too weak to try magick. All he could do was tug and
pull and hope something would give way at any moment.

Minutes passed and still he
fought, and with each twist and pull he growled and coughed,
fighting against the grief and anger and sorrow and rage growing in
his chest. He sucked in air, exhausted, and sagged in the chair
with his head down and spit hanging from his mouth. A tear crawled
from his eye and started to fall down his dirty cheek. Farden
watched it drip onto his shredded tunic and soak into the
fabric.

He gave in then, and cried,
with long uncontrollable sobs and deep breaths, letting the hot
tears of frustration burn channels through the dust on his skin.
Farden closed his eyes and wept.

‘I don’t understand why you had
to tell him about the child, he’s already going to hang why rub it
in?’

‘Are you turning soft on me
Cheska? The man has caused us endless trouble, he deserves to
suffer. And if I recall, you were the one who wanted to come and
show your face, not me, so don’t you dare lecture me on rubbing it
in.’ Vice glowered at her, and she looked away.

Cheska remained quiet. She
watched her feet tread on the marble steps and took several long
deep breaths. They walked up another flight of stairs and emerged
in to the long hallway leading to the great hall. The council and
the king would be there waiting. Vice rubbed Farden’s blood from
the back of his hand and straightened his black and green robe.
There was no need for haste, he reminded himself, he had all the
time in the world. He turned to Cheska as they reached the huge
gilded doors of the hall. ‘Just remember what I told you,’ hissed
the Undermage. The two soldiers standing guard raised their spears
and pushed hard on the big heavy handles, and the doors swung
inwards with a low moan. Vice pasted an affable smile on his face
and walked into the bright sunlight inside the hall. He looked
around at the council and noted the mass of Skölgard soldiers that
surrounded them all, holding tall halberds and wearing thick pale
armour that was a rusty copper colour. Arkmage Åddren sat on his
throne looking very small and agitated. There was a hollow look in
his dark sapphire eyes. His hair looked thin and unwashed. There
was an awkward hush in the hall. Vice inwardly laughed.

The King of Skölgard turned
around to face the newcomers. He stood in front of the statue of
Evernia with his hands on his hips. Bane was a huge man, maybe
seven feet tall and just as wide. He looked half-man half-bear,
with a hungry smile and dark green eyes that seemed to shine even
in the daylight. His hair was short and slicked down with wax and
his beard was braided into two forks. A scar carved its way down
one side of his jaw. A silver necklace of miniature skulls hung
around his thick bristly neck and dangled over an enormous silver
and pale green breastplate depicting two wolves fighting. Wrapped
around his shoulders was a long fur cloak and the tails of it had
dragged muddy streaks across the pure white marble. When he saw
Cheska King Bane opened his massive arms wide, and his numerous
bracelets rattled noisily. With two big steps he closed the gap
between them and swept her up into her arms, looking at Vice as he
did so. Vice nodded almost imperceptibly.

‘Cheska my daughter, it is good
to have you back in my arms once again,’ said Bane in a booming
voice. ‘Where is the bastard who dared to endanger the first
princess of Skölgard?’ he glared, looking around at the council

‘You have caught the traitor
Vice?’ called Åddren, looking suddenly confused. The Arkmage’s
voice cracked shrilly as he raised his voice to shout. ‘Who is
it?’

Vice sighed and looked to
Åddren with a gracious and somewhat patient smile. ‘Your Mage,
esteemed council members. I was just about to explain. The traitor
behind all of this has been none other than one of our own Written,
a mage this council put a lot of faith in, a man we have honoured
more than once. He has been in league with the dragons this entire
time and together they sought to destroy this council from
within.’

‘What of the beast?’ came a
shout from the council. Vice held up a hand and nodded. ‘That, at
least, is good news. I have just returned from Albion where this
traitor attempted to summon the hydra. The beast was stopped,
luckily by myself.’ Vice paused for affect. He heard more than a
few sighs of relief. He continued. ‘I caught the traitor and
brought him back here.’

Åddren sat up, feebly, in his
throne. ‘Well tell us Vice, who is it?’

The Undermage pointed a long
finger at the Arkmage. ‘You should know Åddren, he’s the the mage
you put so much trust in, the mage that you gave Helyard’s Weight
to, allowing him escape to Albion before I had a chance to stop
him. He is none other than Farden.’ Vice glared at his superior. A
wave of dissent and shocked murmurs rustled through the crowd.

Bane took a few giant steps
forward and put his giant hands on his waist. ‘You allowed him to
escape Arkmage, after what he did in Manesmark, after he almost
killed my daughter?’ The king was incredulous, and played his part
well, Vice thought to himself. Bane signalled to his men. ‘Drag him
from the throne!’ he shouted, and his soldiers sprang to his
bidding. Åddren started to panic. The council and the Arka guards
seemed torn, but any that moved forward quickly found blades in
their faces. The Skölgard soldiers had the great hall surrounded.
Åddren leapt up from his throne and tried to call for order but
before he could get any further a soldier grabbed him and escorted
him roughly across the hall to stand in front of Bane. Shouts
echoed around the hall.

‘Leave him alone!’

‘Arrest the traitor!’ they
cried.

‘Quiet!’ yelled the king. He
looked the frail-looking old man up and down and curled his lip in
scorn. ‘You are not fit to rule these people.’ Bane waved a hand
dismissively. ‘Take him to the cells,’ he ordered, and his soldiers
dragged Åddren away towards the doors. Unlike Helyard the Arkmage
didn’t even protest. He allowed himself to be silently removed from
the hall, simply gazing back at Vice with sorrow in his eyes.

But the Undermage smiled, and
looked to the King of Skölgard. Bane nodded back, and turned to the
council members and the Arka soldiers standing in small groups
behind his men. His voice boomed and echoed around the marble hall.
‘You are all witnesses to this! From henceforth the lands belonging
to the Arka will be held as a vassal of the Skölgard empire! My
soldiers will remain here to keep order as your new Arkmage sees
fit. Since he has saved this council from betrayal and chaos more
than once I am appointing Lord Vice as the head of this council, to
rule alone. My word is final! Do we all understand?’

There was a resounding chorus
of agreement from everyone there including the Skölgard soldiers.
Vice flashed a victorious smile and started to walk towards his new
throne. As he passed the statue of Evernia he reached inside his
robe and dropped his two Weights into each of the scale pans with
two loud clangs. Fire trickled from his fingertips and he lit each
candle in turn, as tradition stated. He flashed the goddess a
mocking glance and carried on walking. The council began to clap as
he put his foot on the marble steps. One by one he marched up them,
and then turned to take his place on the throne. He looked over the
gathered members of the council and then to Bane, who stared
confidently back at him with what could have been a smile. The
crowd was on the verge of cheering when suddenly there came a huge
rending crash from somewhere below the hall. The room vibrated with
the impact and the goddess’s statue trembled ever so slightly. Dust
fell from the marble beams. Vice pointed to a group of soldiers and
barked orders at them. ‘Go find out what that was,
immediately!’

‘Yes Your Mage!’ they shouted,
and bowing quickly they ran off. They slammed the doors with a bang
and then an eerie silence fell in the great hall, broken only by
the tolling of the twin bells below. Vice drummed his fingers on
the marble throne, and stared at Bane.

Farden’s chest heaved with the
breathless sobs that racked him. He choked and spluttered again,
and then tried to squeeze the tears from his blurry eyes. His
wrists, head, ribs, and legs ached with mind-numbing pain. And his
brain was going crazy. He relentlessly repeated every word, every
tortuous poignant moment of the last half hour in his head, every
heart-wrenching wave and whisper drenched him with sorrow. He
stared into the coloured patterns on the floor and tried to clear
his thoughts. But nothing happened. Farden squeezed his eyes
together and let the painful darkness envelop him.

Sunlight burned his skin,
making it prickle and sweat. It was a dry heat, and the hot wind on
his face did nothing to cool him. There was sand between his toes.
Farden sighed; this was not what he needed now. He tried to keep
his eyes shut but they itched as the fine grains of sand wormed
their way beneath his eyelids and scratched his eyes. Something
pawed at his leg. Farden opened his eyes to find the sun and a
black cat staring at him. He blinked, momentarily blinded, and
looked around. Only sand greeted him. There were no mountains, no
cliffs, no birds, just endless sand from horizon to horizon, east
to west. The sky was as big and blue as it had ever been, and
Farden wished he could just melt into it and never wake up.

The cat yowled at him and he
looked down. Farden could feel the tears drying on his cheek. The
wind whipped his naked body. His red and gold vambraces glinted and
flashed in the sun. He stared into the cat’s impassive obsidian
eyes and tried to match its gaze. He knew it was waiting for him to
speak. Farden shook his head.

‘I told you to leave me
alone.’

You’re not
finished yet
said the familiar voice in his head.

‘I’m done. I give up. All I
have to look forward to is the rope around my neck. I don’t care
who you are but I would appreciate it if you left me to enjoy my
last few hours.

So this is it? All the help
I’ve given you and you just give up?

Farden hung his head and the
cat hissed at him through its needle-like teeth. ‘I don’t even know
who you are.’

For the third
time,
I’m just like you.
W
e never ask for this, nor do we ever
complain, we just do what we’re told. Its what people like you and
me do; we fight, and we never ask for anything in
return.

‘I want to be left alone,’
replied Farden.

No you don’t.
You want to fight. You want to march upstairs and take a sword to
his head and watch the blood drip on the floor
. The voice
was becoming impatient.

The mage shook his head. The
cat crept a little closer. ‘It’s useless. He’s won. I’m a failure
just like my uncle.’ Farden slumped to the sand and felt the hot
yellow stuff buoy him up. The sky seemed so blue and empty.

The voice hesitated for a
moment. The cat crept closer and raked a claw down Farden’s leg.
The mage didn’t even flinch. The sand shifted and moved around his
shoulders and he closed his eyes, letting the warmth surround him.
They found me naked and screaming. They found me
painted in someone else’s blood. They found me biting the tips from
my fingers. They found me scraping words into my legs with shards
of window glass. They found me swearing and cursing and yelling his
name until they filled my mouth with rags. They found me clawing at
the city walls and wanting to run. Then they gave me a blanket and
a gold coin to do with as I saw fit. They sent me out into the
wilderness. They didn’t kill me, they let me go, I didn’t fight, I
left. I was lucky. I was not becoming someone different, I was
getting to know the person I was already. He had changed me, he had
tried to use me, but I failed.
He
had
failed.

The sand crept over Farden’s
neck and swallowed one of his arms. The cat bit his thigh and drew
blood. Why him? Why had all this happened to him? Was it his
destiny to be tortured and chased, just because he was some failed
idea Vice once had? The hot sand moved up to his ears and blocked
out the noise wind. But the voice still spoke deep in his head.

All the help I’ve given you,
and you’re just going to give up.

Farden nodded and felt the sand
tugging and pulling at his legs. It wanted to eat him and he wanted
to let it. He didn’t care any more. Vice had taken everything from
him.

Who are you Farden, what have
you done with yourself?

His foot was enveloped by the
warm gritty earth.

Are you his tool Farden? His
weapon? I asked you a question mage!

The sand sucked him further
into the ground. The cat scratched furiously at the sand and dug
for his limbs. He was now up to his chest.

What have you done with your
life?

The sand moved over his skin
like a yellow river, like time falling through the waist of an
hourglass. It swallowed his chest and arms and crept up his neck.
The dragonscale pulled at his skin and he opened his eyes to find
the cat staring at him, her two black eyes like scrying mirrors
reflecting his bruised and battered face. What had he done? Farden
felt the sand on his chin. There was a reason he had been so
useless to Vice, and it was that reason that suddenly burned like a
little candle in the mage’s dark and stormy mind.