The Book of Beasts

by John Barrowman

  As the peryton soared to its highest point in the wispy clouds, Solon allowed a glimmer of his intentions to peep through.

  In an instant the peryton had turned in mid-air and dropped straight down again, towards the top of the pencil tower on the wee island. The wind tore at Solon’s cheeks. He wrapped his arms around the beast’s neck, flattening his body across its back and tucking his head into its neck to prepare for the impact. The tower loomed in front of them. Solon closed his eyes and tightened his grip.

  The peryton’s massive antlers hit the tower like a battering ram, knocking a hole in the wall at the weakest point between the two topmost arrow slits. The momentum threw Solon off the peryton’s back and on to the rubble in the heart of the shattered cell.

  Jeannie lay on the straw, her head still weighted down by the mask. The peryton skidded to a stop near her head, and sniffed her tenderly. She stirred, lifted her chained hand and patted the beast’s nose.

  ‘Ach, son,’ she slurred to Solon, ‘you shouldn’t have come, but I’m glad ye did.’

  ‘Are you hurt, Lady Jeannie?’ Solon asked, climbing out of the rubble and dusting himself down.

  ‘I’ve been better.’ Jeannie shook her chains. ‘Would ye mind?

  Sorry, master, Solon thought.

  Using the wall as his canvas, he etched a broadsword into the bricks with his dagger. He held his hand out to catch the sword’s handle as it dropped from the air in a flash of silver.

  Taking the sword in both hands, Solon hacked through the chains on the iron rings, freeing Jeannie from the wall. ‘I still need to break the iron clasp at the back of your mask,’ he warned. ‘It will cause discomfort.’

  ‘Do what ye have tae do, son. Don’t fret about me.’

  Solon slammed the sword hilt into the pin on the clasp at the back of the mask, snapping it on his first try. He lifted the heavy iron casing gently off Jeannie’s head and set it down.

  Jeannie tugged Solon into a soft embrace, then turned her head back and forth, loosening her stiff neck muscles. ‘Thank you. Now where’s oor Mattie?’

  ‘Malcolm is holding him near the portal to Hollow Earth, in a painted cave inside the island,’ said Solon bitterly, helping her slide the iron cuffs from her wrists and ankles. ‘He has my friend Carik too. Malcolm trapped my sister and others on Auchinmurn. They are in terrible danger, but he won’t release them until I return with The Book of Beasts.’ He looked at Jeannie, willing her to understand. ‘I cannot give him the book. You must understand, too much is at stake. But I must save my sister and the others somehow.’

  The peryton dipped its front legs and kneeled next to Jeannie, who whispered into its pricked ears. The peryton snorted in response.

  ‘You know where your sister and the others are?’ Jeannie asked, gently brushing debris from the peryton’s antlers.

  Solon nodded.

  ‘Then you take the beast and free yer sister and the others. Let me deal with Malcolm.’

  Solon flushed. ‘I cannot let an… old woman fight a monster on her own.’

  Jeannie smiled kindly. ‘I will manage fine, son. My whole life, folks have been underestimating my abilities. I can handle Malcolm and he knows it. That’s why he has kept me drugged and locked up here.’ She rolled her neck muscles again. ‘I’m feeling much better already. I’ve not eaten the food or water he sent with those two buffoons for a while. My imagination is as alert as ever.’

  The peryton snorted and dipped its forelegs again. Solon hesitated.

  ‘Climb on, then,’ said Jeannie, giving him an encouraging push. ‘Let the beast help you. Then take your sister and the others to safety in one of the caves on the big island. Just in case.’

  Solon climbed slowly on to the peryton’s broad back. ‘Just in case of what?’ he asked, settling his sword at his side.

  ‘Just in case my plan with Matt doesn’t work and the beasts break free.’

  Matt trusted this woman. Solon decided he would too.

  FIFTY-SIX

  Auchinmurn Isle

  Present Day

  A hefty pair of scissors dropped out of nowhere above the hearth, hitting the floor with a loud smack. Em grabbed them and jumped back to the chair seconds before the old crofter clicked up the latch and stepped back inside, setting the silent walkie-talkie back on the mantel.

  ‘Not long now,’ he said, folding his arms.

  Em fiddled with the scissors behind her back, trying to position them so she could cut the pieces of plastic binding her wrists. It wasn’t easy.

  The crofter was staring curiously at her.

  ‘Not long for what?’ asked Em, manoeuvring the scissors to her other hand.

  ‘Not long for you to find a way to use the scissors you’ve animated to cut those ties.’

  He picked up the poker and scraped away the sketch in the ashy hearth.

  Em’s hands tingled as the scissors vanished in a burst of light. At least she’d managed to free her wrists from the chair.

  ‘It was worth a try.’

  He laughed, a raspy smoker’s laugh. ‘Ach, of course it was, lass. Yer just like yer father.’

  Through the front window, Em spotted two beams of light bouncing across the open field from the footpath. The fog had thickened considerably, making it look as if the torch bearers were floating towards the cottage. Friend or foe? she wondered.

  The crofter smiled at the approaching lights.

  Foe.

  Adrenaline spiked through Em’s system. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, keeping her emotions on an even keel. She needed to control her fears. If she was going to get away, she didn’t need to contend with any additional obstacles from her imagination.

  She tried to sense something more about this odd man than the same staunch resolve that she’d been detecting since he’d grabbed her at the stones. Again, she felt a stabbing pain behind her eyes as he blocked her attempt at inspiriting him.

  ‘Who are you?’ asked Em, her skin tingling all over. ‘How do you know my dad?’

  The beams of light were getting closer. Her best chance of escape was before whoever was carrying those torches made it to the door.

  ‘Never mind who I am,’ the crofter said, pulling Em up from the seat. ‘Who you are is more important.’

  Em pushed up with her knees and slammed her head under the crofter’s chin. His head whipped back and Em bit the edge of her tongue from the force. Lifting the chair with her free hand, Em slammed it down on the back of the crofter’s head, knocking his cap off.

  The chair was heavy and knocked the old man to his knees. But the blow hadn’t been enough to knock him out. He rolled on to his back and grabbed for Em. Em scooped up some ashes from the hearth and threw them at the crofter’s eyes. Grabbing the poker, she swung it against one of his knees. He howled in pain and crumpled to the ground again.

  Momentum from the swing knocked Em off balance. Lunging at the mantel, she grabbed at the matches, knocking the rest across the hearth. Frantically, she reached for one and tried to use it to draw an opening on the wall. The crofter leaped to his feet and yanked her backwards, toppling them both to the floor. He wrapped his arms round Em and squeezed, his grip so tight round her chest that Em couldn’t breathe.

  She was going to pass out at any second.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  Auchinmurn Isle

  The Middle Ages

  The temperature inside the cave was dropping steadily. Carik was shivering, huddled against the far wall, but Matt’s adrenaline was keeping his body temperature up despite the fact that his father had stripped him of his coat before locking him into his machine. Matt’s fingers were tingling; his feet had gone to sleep. The throbbing in his head was getting louder and beginning to worry him.

  Could a healthy thirteen-year-old have a stroke?

  Matt opened and closed his hands as best he could and wiggled his toes, forcing some circulation into his extremities. He peered through the slit in the iron mask at his father.

  Malcol
m had hardly moved since sending Solon to fetch the book. His arms hung loosely over his crouched legs, as if ready to pounce on his prey at any moment. His fingers seemed scalier and more claw-like than ever. Drops of inky liquid continued to ooze from the deformed side of his mouth, puddling in the dirt with a strange phosphorescent glow. Malcolm was becoming the monster on the outside that he already was on the inside.

  Matt watched his dad stir, his tongue flicking out into the air. It was thin and slick and forked, like a reptile’s. He licked his fingers.

  Without warning, Malcolm sprang towards Carik, dragged her across the dirt and dropped her in front of the carved mechanical monster.

  ‘Don’t hurt her!’ Matt shouted, struggling in vain against his bindings. ‘Solon will bring you the book! He’ll bring it!’

  ‘He’s been gone too long,’ Malcolm snarled. ‘I am starting to think he has abandoned you both to your fates.’

  ‘I don’t care!’ said Carik, scrambling away from Malcolm’s reach.

  Malcolm laughed, deep and throaty and animalistic. ‘You’re a terrible liar, girl. You fear for his safety more than your own.’

  He casually seized Carik’s wrist and squeezed. Matt watched as she struggled, slowed and slumped over the clawed feet of the machine into a deep, inspirited sleep.

  ‘My patience is wearing thin,’ Malcolm hissed. ‘We must begin soon.’

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  Auchinmurn Isle

  Present Day

  The two figures that had burst into the cottage dropped their torches at the sight of Em and the crofter wrestling on the ground.

  ‘Don’t just stand there!’ The crofter’s guttural accent had changed, grown more refined. Em detected a gentle French accent. ‘Get her off me and secure her quickly!’

  One of the figures grabbed Em and pulled her to her feet. Gasping, Em looked into a pair of cold green eyes.

  Dressed in black with a stocking cap pulled low on his forehead, Tanan looked like a Ninja warrior. Em recalled with a shudder how he had chased her and Matt through the caves on Era Mina in the summer. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Mara, who had once pretended to be their friend.

  Surely the presence of such a powerful Guardian and two strong Animare would have triggered the Abbey’s defences? It must at the very least have made an impression on Renard’s imagination. It must have.

  The crofter was pulling off his cap. The straggly wig came next, followed by the bushy eyebrows, and the capped teeth.

  Em knew at once who she was looking at.

  A wave of terror washed over her, making her hands clammy and her chest tight. A dull, dizzying pain throbbed behind her eyes. Her grandmother Henrietta de Court was such a strong Guardian that her powers battered viciously at Em’s mind. The firewall Renard kept around his own Guardian powers had never caused Em any pain. Henrietta de Court clearly didn’t bother with such particulars.

  In the shock of Em’s realization, Tanan quickly and efficiently bound her hands again. Em screamed inside her head and out.

  Zach! ‘Help! Mum!’

  Before she could scream again, Tanan morphed into a demon right before her eyes. He rose up on thick haunches, every tendon and muscle on his body visible beneath a layer of reptilian scales, and gripped Em with long sharp claws, his hairless head twitching, his tongue flicking. He had become the demon who had trapped her and Matt in the caves.

  It was her own fear that had conjured Tanan as the demon again, Em knew. But it was still terrifying.

  Get a grip, she admonished herself.

  The demon flared its nostrils and then, in a flash, was human again. Tanan again. Em closed her mouth without another word.

  ‘That’s better,’ Tanan said. ‘Much easier for all concerned if you cooperate.’

  Em stomped down hard on his foot, then bucked upwards, her head smacking into Tanan’s chin. She enjoyed his yell of pain.

  ‘Stupid girl!’

  Cursing, Tanan tossed her on to the bed. Em swallowed back her tears. She would not let this man-demon see her cry.

  Henrietta de Court loomed above Em now, studying her. Em could smell pipe smoke and a strange metallic odour.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ Em whispered.

  ‘Because you and your brother are an important part of a plan. A plan that will finally and forever allow us Guardians to control you Animare. No longer will we remain in service to your ridiculous aesthetic whims. It is time for you to serve us. Those Animare who help us achieve our new order will be rewarded handsomely and given positions of great importance.’ Her grandmother smiled coldly at Tanan and Mara.

  Em wriggled, fighting hard against her bindings. ‘We’ll do nothing to help you or your plan! Get away from me!’ she yelled, pushing back against the wall so the sharp edges of the stones jabbed into her back.

  Henrietta flicked a beringed hand. ‘Gloves, Tanan. We can’t have her animating with her nails on that wall.’

  Tanan rolled gloves on to Em’s bound hands. Em exhaled slowly, calming herself. Doing her best to keep her fears at bay, to keep Henrietta out of her head.

  Zach! Please, please wake up.

  Silence.

  Stay calm, she thought. Focus.

  If help wasn’t coming, she would have to help herself.

  FIFTY-NINE

  Auchinmurn Isle

  The Middle Ages

  Jeannie watched until Solon and the peryton were just a speck in the sky. Then she climbed down the rope ladder she had animated on the side of the pencil tower and stood for a moment on the beach, taking stock of her surroundings. The fresh air tasted good.

  She set off round Era Mina, heading for the north shore. She had not seen the caves on that side of the island since Matt, Em and Zach had turned them into their hide-out, but she had heard the details from Vaughn. Knowing Era Mina like the back of her hand, having spent her childhood and most of her adult life exploring inside and out, it had made Jeannie chuckle to hear the twins and Zach plot and plan as if they were the first children to have ever explored the place.

  That’s as it should be, she thought. Each generation discovering anew… Mattie deserves to be part of his own future.

  Ignoring her arthritic hips, her swollen wrists and all the screaming muscles in her body, Jeannie began her ascent of Era Mina’s north face. The island’s topography may have changed over the centuries, but its internal architecture was timeless. She knew this. Jeannie had sent the peryton to the cave opening at the cusp of this cliff to rescue Matt and Em once before. This time, she would have to do the rescuing herself.

  The opening to the caves was easier to access than she remembered; the ground cover and the bramble less dense and overgrown. Her limbs were trembling from exhaustion and hunger was making her dizzy, but she had no time to stop and rest or eat. Tearing away the bushes from the spot, Jeannie animated a shovel and started to dig.

  She worked hard for about ten minutes before a thunderous bellow erupted from the Devil’s Dyke on Auchinmurn opposite. The noise created an exodus of animals towards the shore and birds to the sky. A quake rippled across the hillside, knocking Jeannie, who was still feeling weak, to the ground.

  Matt had roused the Grendel, just as she had told him to.

  Close to the peak and near the standing stones, the ground bulged as if it was being inflated. There was a long chilling howl. Then, as if the air had been sucked from it, the bulge collapsed, leaving a sink-hole in the hillside. The Grendel was moving underground and it was hungry.

  Picking up her digging pace, Jeannie finally found the opening to the cave of drawings. She cleared the clods of dirt and roots away from the hole, and thought about shining a torch into the darkness to see how far the drop would be, but decided she couldn’t risk alerting Malcolm to her presence. Feet first, Jeannie wriggled down into the chamber, hoping she wasn’t too late.

  SIXTY

  Auchinmurn Isle

  Present Day

  ‘She’s too quiet,’ said
Henrietta, sitting on the edge of the bed and touching Em’s temple with one of her fingers.

  Em recoiled. But she couldn’t get away from her grandmother’s hand. Her head felt terribly heavy and the headache was pounding much too loudly.

  She was so tired.

  ‘What are you plotting in that colourful little head of yours?’ Henrietta mused.

  ‘We won’t help you,’ Em repeated stubbornly.

  ‘I find that hard to believe,’ said her grandmother briskly. ‘You see, you have already helped us immensely. One might even say that all of this is down to you in the first place. Tanan? The tapestry.’

  Rolled in a heavy canvas tarp, Tanan dragged the tapestry from its place against the back door. Then he unfolded a large sheet of plastic and spread it across the stone floor. Together, he and Mara donned gloves and gently, slowly, with great care, unrolled the bulky, fragile fabric. Then they kneeled beside it with an almost religious reverence.

  The images on the tapestry sent a biting chill through every part of Em’s body. For a fleeting moment she was drowning and she couldn’t get a breath.

  ‘Astounding, isn’t it?’ said Henrietta, clasping her hands together in ecstasy.

  Vaughn had told them Henrietta had stolen the tapestry. He had even anticipated that the woven image had changed in some way. But nothing could have prepared Em for this. She was looking at the same scene she had painted in the central panel of her triptych.

  Like her painting, the tapestry depicted a central figure riding the black peryton, long hair covering part of his face. Em felt more certain than ever that the figure was Malcolm. The peryton’s tack was more detailed than she had painted it: a black face plate studded in silver beneath the beast’s blazing eyes, a red collar embroidered in gold with many of the mythical beasts that Em recognized from the strange rings that had circled the Era Mina several days earlier. The peryton’s saddle looked like flames licking across the red and gold fabric. Malcolm was clothed in the same armour Em had painted, wings forged high on his shoulder plates and the silver spiral on his chest.