The Book of Beasts (2 page)

The old woman returned to her chair at the cottage's bay window and lifted her knitting on to her lap. Despite having twisted fingers, the knitting needles clacked with unnatural speed.

‘Hollow Earth?' Duncan repeated.

‘Aye,' she nodded. ‘Hollow Earth. Many think the place a mere story told to children. But it is as real as this room.' She paused and looked at him. ‘Albion was the first of our kind. He was called to these islands in a dream. Some believe it was the twin perytons, black and white, that called him to found the monastery on Auchinmurn as a safe haven for Animare and Guardians alike.'

Fox perched on the edge of a wooden chair, listening intently. The old woman set her needles on her lap and continued.

‘The beasts who now only live in our stories, our myths and fables, once lived and breathed in Albion's world. Griffins, basilisks, selkies and more. But when magic was no longer trusted and people had new ways of explaining matters, the world became an unsafe place for creatures such as these. It was Albion who began the task of sealing the beasts away. He started
The Book of Beasts
, indexing and categorizing as he locked them far beneath the islands in the place we call Hollow Earth.'

‘Have you ever heard of Albion manifesting himself in dreams in this way?' Duncan asked. ‘Outside Hollow Earth?'

The old woman's eyes were starting to droop. Outside her window a farmer on his milk cart trundled along the cobbled stones.

‘I have heard it said that Albion is the one from whom we are all descended,' she mumbled. ‘Which makes the Council laws that keep Animare and Guardians apart, when we're all from the same stock, as daft as dust.'

Her chin dropped to her chest. Duncan realized she was snoring.

Quietly he lifted his overcoat from the back of the kitchen chair, pulled a guinea from his money clip and set it under the marmalade jar at the centre of the table. As he lifted the latch on the door, the old woman suddenly roused.

‘Mr Fox,' she called. ‘If yer visitor is Albion, then you and your sons and daughters may be in danger.'

Duncan smiled in surprise. ‘Mrs MacDonald, I am a—'

Confirmed bachelor.

He stopped himself from finishing the sentence.

The old woman was referring to Sandie and the twins.

That night Duncan Fox decided to sit up and wait for Albion to appear.

A little after midnight, the elongated figure glided out of the corner of the room. He did this for two more nights. Albion never came closer than the bottom of the bed. He never did anything more than raise his sceptre above his head.

On the seventh night, everything changed.

That night, Albion appeared after midnight as usual. But instead of floating above the oriental rug, in front of the portrait of Fox's grandfather, Albion stood before an entirely different backdrop. A rocky opening, dark and shimmering. Fox recognized it at once. It was a cave tucked into the north-west hillside of Era Mina: the small island opposite the main isle of Auchinmurn.

Fox shifted cautiously to the end of his bed, wary of disturbing the apparition but intent on examining the cave.

The cave mouth expanded, in an ever-widening gyre, hitting Fox with a blast of foul-smelling air. Albion raised his sceptre, holding it out towards him.

Not knowing what else to do, Duncan grasped it.

At once he was lifted off his bed. The pursing mouth of the cave had suddenly become a twisting tunnel of spiralling colours and light; a maelstrom of yellows, greys and blacks. At first it was impossible for Duncan to tell if he was falling or rising, tumbling forward or flipping back. He was weightless, and yet there was pressure pushing on all sides of his body. His hand gripped the wooden sceptre more tightly, sensing that somehow it was controlling his descent.

And then he heard the beasts.

Howls. Bellows. Cries. All of them thunderous, all of them monstrous. A scaly claw burst through the swirling colours, tearing the sleeve of his nightclothes. A hundred harpies swarmed like bats at his feet, snapping their needle teeth at his bare toes.

As Duncan kicked and batted them away in terror, Albion's sceptre flew from his nerveless hand. In that instant, he landed face first on his bed with a thump.

He had rolled over quickly, gasping as he scrambled to his feet. The morning sun was streaming in through the parted curtains. Albion had gone.

The sun was warm on Duncan's face now. He studied his painting again, then looked back at his subject: the old smugglers' cave. It was the place that Albion had shown him. He was sure of it. Sandie Calder and her children were in danger from this place. Somehow. At some time.

Auchinmurn Isle
West Coast of Scotland
The Middle Ages

High up on the burned and blackened hillside, an elderly woman pulled her hands from the cold earth and watched the rising wave stretch itself over the bay.

Jeannie Anderson, the Abbey's housekeeper, had done what she could to protect the island and its secrets her entire life, as was her birthright and sacred duty. This wave was so powerful that it would destroy most of the island, but it had to be done.
The
Book of Beasts
could not fall into the wrong hands. Ever.

Jeannie sat back on her heels, prepared for her own death.

She suddenly tensed in alarm. Something was wrong.

Someone nearby was out of time.

The monstrous wave blotted out the sun.

From settlements up and down the Scottish coast, men, women and children fled to higher ground. A few fell to their knees, howling to the heavens for mercy. Deer darted deeper into the forest; sheep cowered under hedgerows. Cormorants flew to crannies on the cliffs, leaving a flock of herring gulls hovering above the shore, circling, cawing, waiting to pick flesh from the dead.

Carik, a pale Norse girl with elfin features and lively blue eyes, stood with Matt Calder and Solon, an apprentice Animare at the monastery. Carik's blue eyes were wide.

‘Matt of Calder, is your dark magic controlling the sea?'

Watching the wave rise above them, Matt shook his head. ‘Someone else is doing this.'
Someone more powerful than me
, he thought. ‘And I aim to find out who.'

Without warning, he took off down the hillside, heading back to the beach.

‘Matt, stop!' yelled Solon. ‘You may come from a place I don't understand, but I know this: that wave will kill us all!'

Unsheathing a sword from his leather belt, the young Animare charged after Matt. But Carik, who had separated the two boys in a fight earlier that day, stepped in front of him with her hand on his chest.

‘Let him go. We owe him no fealty. Let him fight his own battle.'

Solon shook her off. ‘But this isn't only his battle. I owe my allegiance to these monks. These islands are my home.'

The wave stretched closer, arching over the tall band of pine trees bordering the shoreline, drenching the island in a salty brine. There was no time left. Carik and Solon threw themselves under a lip of the hillside, bracing themselves for the impact.

The wave shivered like a living thing, but didn't fall.

‘What sorcery is holding it?' asked Carik, peering out in astonishment.

‘I don't know, but we need to get to higher ground.' Solon seized his pack and grabbed Carik's arm, pulling her from under the rock. They made their way up the hillside, through the trees, towards the abandoned cottage where they'd been hiding since the attack on the Abbey. ‘If Matt's father is the dark monk terrorizing my islands, Matt will need our help to stop him. We can't do that if the sea swallows us first.'

‘But he doesn't want our help!'

‘I don't care what he wants,' said Solon, blinking hard; his eye was swollen after his earlier fight with Matt. ‘I will not have any more blood on my hands.'

Solon stared off into the trees, unblinking, his mind focusing on the one thing he hoped could help.

A brilliant beam of light breached the darkening sky, cutting through the curling, shivering crown of the wave. Carik shielded her eyes as the white peryton swooped across the sky towards them.

The size of ten stallions, the magical beast was an awe-inspiring sight as its huge hooves touched the ground in the clearing before them. With its wings folded against its powerful haunches, the animal galloped to a stop in the middle of a copse of trees. Its presence overwhelmed the small space. Steam rose from its flaring nostrils, and Solon's arm tingled as he walked over and stroked its head. Its silvery hide glistened with droplets from the wave still hanging like a heavy cape over the trees, muffling all sounds.

Stamping its front hooves impatiently, the peryton kneeled before Solon. Not for the first time, nor for the last, Solon wondered at the ways that this ancient beast was connected to the islands. His master Brother Renard had been the first person to summon the peryton. Now, at a time of extreme danger, the beast had answered Solon's call. Solon knew that he and the old monk were close, but often wondered if their connection went deeper.

He climbed on to the beast's back and adjusted his sword before turning to Carik and helping her up. The peryton took four great galloping strides and lifted into the air. Slipping backwards, Carik scrambled in panic to steady herself as they rose over the wave.

Solon!

Clear as a bell, Solon heard Carik in his head. Her Guardian abilities had disturbed him at first, but he now found himself welcoming them. He grabbed the belt of her tunic, hauling her close to him. As she put her arms round his waist, he felt her heart drumming against his back. For a brief moment, Solon savoured the tingling warmth.

A freezing wet wind buffeted them as they rose into the sky and Carik tucked herself closer to him. Solon leaned forward, tightening his grip on the beast's tines, letting his thoughts of saving Matt and the monks drift through his fingers into the skein of fur coating the antlers, deeper and deeper until Solon knew that the peryton understood what must be done.

The beast soared higher. Below them, the dark hovering wave looked like the hungry maw of a sea monster.

The Abbey
Auchinmurn Isle
Present Day

The curtains were rippling in a light breeze. Too chilled to get out of bed and shut the window, Em Calder rolled on to her side under the duvet, hoping to snag a sweatshirt from the pile of clothes on the floor. Reaching out, she touched a gloved hand.

‘Aaargh!'

Em screamed and shot up in bed, fumbling to find the switch on her bedside lamp. Then she realized she didn't need it. The centre of her room was already awash in a pale yellow light.

A druid-like figure wearing a crown of knotted antlers stood next to Em's bed. Except – he wasn't next to her bed, exactly. He was standing on the rocky ledge of a cliff that was somehow present in place of her bedroom floor. Tendrils of fog-like dry ice swirled around the figure's leather-bound feet, chilling the room.