The Written (17 page)

But it calmed him, made him
think less about the dark things in his mind, the fears, the
second-guessing, and even despite its effects Farden had realised
that he needed it. Over the years he had been incredibly careful to
keep it a secret. The idea of anyone, especially Cheska, finding
out was unthinkable, but he was too meticulous, too wary, to be
discovered, and so far he hadn’t done any harm to anyone besides
himself. All that really mattered now was that his magick returned
before they got to Nelska. He focused on getting through his bland
stew, and tried to quiet his thoughts.

On the ship the mage’s mind
felt bored and unused. He could feel himself beginning to ramble in
his own head, and was slowly going stir-crazy from constantly
sitting in his tiny room. With a sigh Farden consigned himself to
going outside, raining or not. He finished his shark, sipped the
dregs from the bowl, and threw his hood over his head. He looked at
his reflection in the dirty window and thumbed the stubble
sprouting from his chin; he would have to shave before they reached
Nelska. He relieved himself in the bucket in the corner and left
the room.

Farden emerged onto a windblown
deck and almost immediately regretted his decision. Everything had
been tied down, and the deck was slick with spray and salty rain.
Heold was at the helm, his beard matted and glistening from the
precipitation. The big man laughed at seeing the mage. ‘If ye
didn’t like the weather before, ye ain’t goin’ t’ like it now!’ he
shouted. As if the ship had heard him, the
Sarunn
dove into a low trough between two waves and
yawed sluggishly. Farden’s stomach rolled with the waves. He stared
at the foam on the deck swirling around his boots and tried not to
think of the shark stew. The ship was on a roiling carpet of
steel-capped waves and overhead thick black clouds crackled with
light and thunder. Daylight was slowly fading and in the gloom the
sailors clung desperately to rigging and ropes and tried to work
through the rain and the wailing wind.

‘I got bored of my room!’ he
shouted, and shrugged at the Captain, but Heold was too busy
fighting the wheel. A stubborn wish to confront the awful weather
made Farden want to go and stand at his railing. The mage pulled
his hood around his face to ward against the stinging rain and
headed up to the bow. From there he peered into the storm and tried
to make sense of the grey world. He couldn’t even see the
difference between the waves and the granite sky. A wave hit the
poor unicorn beneath his feet and the
Sarunn
buried her nose in the surf. Only one more day
to go, Farden thought, remembering Heold’s words. Farden patted is
side, and then suddenly realised that he had left the tearbook
under his pillow in his room. The mage pivoted on his heel and ran
back down the wet steps to the deck. He felt odd, and a weird glow
of unrest felt its way into his already queasy stomach. He made his
way below and pushed the door to his cabin open with a bang.

The pillow was lying on the
damp floor, and Karga stood hunched over the bed flicking lazily
through the pages of the tearbook. The sailor looked up, mildly
surprised, and the two men shared an awkward, deadly silence.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’
blurted Farden, shocked.

The sailor stared at the mage
with a faint smirk. ‘I knew you wouldn’t leave it for long,’ said
Karga, and looked down at the blank pages. ‘He was right, it is
empty.’

‘Get away from the book,’ the
mage stepped further into the room. He thought of his sword leaning
against the wall behind the door. It was just out of reach, and so
he took another careful step.

‘Whatever you say Farden,’ the
sailor smiled, held his hands in the air, and stepped backwards.
‘Whatever you say.’

‘What are you doing with my
book?’ Farden growled. With a quick motion he grabbed his sword
from behind the door and pulled it out of the scabbard. He waved it
at Karga.

‘You have no idea what’s going
on, do you?’ He narrowed his eyes and flashed another toothy smile.
Farden noticed scars criss-crossing his palms. The ship tilted
underneath them.

‘Wipe that smile off your face
otherwise I’ll throw you overboard!’

‘I’d like to see you try.’

Farden fumed. ’I think we
should see what Heold has to say about this,’ the mage motioned the
door with his sword. Karga didn’t move a muscle. Farden burned with
furious anger. He was confused, thrown off-guard by the sailor’s
smug expression. There was something very wrong.

‘Move! Get out!’ Farden yelled,
but Karga simply reached out towards him with crooked fingers and
red magma burst from his fingertips, a searing pyroclastic cloud of
fire. The ball of ash hit the mage in the chest and knocked him
straight through the wooden wall of his cabin. Splintered wood and
flame filled the corridor. Farden coughed and spat and flailed his
limbs. He swung his sword blindly in the burning smog, and dragged
himself around the corner. He felt his skull throbbing and rubbed
burning coals from his charred breastplate. Farden’s mind raced
like a falcon as he peered into the smoke.

‘Come out here and fight!’
shouted Karga. A screaming bolt of lightning tore through the hole
in the wall and it exploded in the corridor with a bang. Somewhere
in the darkness between the deck the goat bleated pitifully.

‘I’m right here Karga, come and
find me!’ Farden could hear the crunch of sea on the deck coming
towards him. He waited and slowed his breathing and concentrated on
not choking, and listened intently for the right moment to pounce.
Another few footsteps, and Farden spied a shape peering through the
hole. With a yell he jumped into the corridor and swung his sword
at his assailant’s head. But Karga spun around and held his hands
up to block the swing. Just before the blade carved through his
fingers a pulse of energy exploded from his palms and the sword
rebounded with a clang. Farden swung again and thrust deadly steel
into the man’s face, but still Karga blocked and the sword whined
and bounced away.

‘Who are you?!’ barked
Farden.

He dodged another swipe and
laughed. ‘The man who was sent to kill you!’ Karga screamed as the
blade notched his shoulder. He quickly grabbed the sword with his
left hand and lightning scattered along the steel.

‘Argh!’ Farden yelped as the
magick shook him but he swiftly recovered, and with a strong step
forward he slammed his forehead into Karga’s nose. The sailor’s
head snapped backwards and blood sprayed from his face. The
resilient mage followed up with a fist in his stomach and then a
right elbow into the man’s neck. Karga choked and fell backwards
against the wall. Some of the sailors had heard the noise and
gathered around a nearby hatch.

‘Karga!’ One of the men
shouted. ‘What’s going on?’

The dark assailant ignored
them. He breathed heavily. ‘You can’t fight me with magick, Farden?
What’s wrong? I was told you would be fun! A fair match for a
sorcerer of my strength,’ Karga sneered, and his eyes flashed a
deep red. This man had dark magick in him, thought Farden, a
servant of the forbidden, but before he could react Karga clenched
his fist and shouted foreign words. All of a sudden the shadows in
the dim underbelly of the ship came alive and grabbed at the mage.
Farden cried out as a black hand pulled at his face and hair.
Shadow fingers groped at his feet. Swinging his sword left and
right he dove behind a tall pile of boxes and scrambled backwards
and further into the ship. A ball of hot lava exploded over his
head and sparks showered his hood. A dark shadow creature snatched
at him but he escaped its grasp and ran for the galley.

‘Fight me!’ Karga yelled over
the roar of his spells.

Farden dodged under beams and
pans and grabbed the sturdy wooden rail of a ladder. Another burst
of fire sent cinders flying across the ship’s kitchen and singed
the poor goat. Farden pushed the hatch above him and luckily it
came free. Rain instantly hit his face. Quickly he ran up the
ladder onto the deck, and stood with his sword low. Sailors shouted
out to Heold, who was still at the wheel.

‘What’s goin’ on ‘ere?!’
bellowed the big Captain. The sky flashed with white-blue light and
thunder boomed. Farden yelled over the howling storm. ‘It’s one of
your crew, Karga! He’s been sent to ruin this mission!’ Heold
scowled, and turned his attention back to the wheel.

The mage wiped spray from his
face and tried desperately to catch his breath. Gods damn that old
man and his nevermar, he cursed inwardly, he needed his magick
back. And fast.

A fireball streaked across the
deck and exploded against the mast. The wet sails thankfully didn’t
catch fire but the splintered wood creaked and sparked. With
fearful cries the crew dove for cover and scuttled into hiding.

‘You can’t win Farden!’ a voice
shouted over the howling rain. Karga had found his way to the
stairs near the forecastle.

‘And you should know better
than to interfere with the magick of the elves!’

His opponent poked his head
above a crate and grinned lopsidedly. ‘It’s not in my hands, mage,
I just do what my masters tell me!’ He shrugged. ‘I’m just here for
you.’

Farden growled. ‘Where’s the
manual?’

Another ball of magma tore over
Farden’s head and ploughed into the angry sea with a hiss. Karga
spat and laughed. ‘You’ll never find it! He sidled along the
opposite side of the deck like a hungry eel. Farden crouched behind
a wooden skylight and watched him. This sorcerer was strong, true,
Farden thought to himself, but he was just a man, and a man can be
broken. All he needed was his magick.

Karga called out to him again.
‘You’re wasting your time! Who knows where it could be by now,’ he
laughed sadistically. A sailor with an axe jumped down from the
forecastle stairs and strode along the deck to face up to the dark
mage, waving his weapon high over his head. Karga paused for a
second and the storm howled around the two men. Every eye on the
ship was upon them, silent and watching.

With lightning speed Karga
pounced on the sailor, knocked the axe from his grip and put a hand
around his neck. White-hot ash seared the flesh from his bones, and
the man managed a gargling scream before he tumbled into the
green-grey waves. The crew dissolved into pandemonium. They
scurried over the deck yelling and shouting and trying to get as
far away from the two mages as possible. Heold shouted from the
wheel, trying to rally his men, keeping one eye on the treacherous
sea and the other on the dangerous mages. ‘Man the mast lads! Take
those sails down!’

The
Sarunn
pitched violently over trough and crest. Farden
clanged his sword off the mast and tried to block a searing ball of
purple lightning, but the spell knocked Farden against the back
railing, inches from the edge of the ship. He moved forward and
away from the sea, and took cover behind a crate. Farden put a hand
to his back and winced for a moment before the pain abruptly
vanished. Something stirred in his spine, a tingling across his
broad shoulders that the mage knew very well indeed. Farden smiled,
and crouched low, stalking his prey. It was his turn.

Karga ducked under the railings
of some stairs and peered through the pouring rain. Sparks crackled
around his fingers as he waited for the mage to show his head.
‘Come out coward!’ he shouted. He wiped blood from his nose and
spat on the deck.

‘Up here,’ a gruff voice
barked, and Karga looked up to see a boot heading rapidly for his
face. The vicious kick sent him sprawling on the deck with a flurry
of bloody seawater. Farden dropped from the forecastle to the
stairs and rested his sword on his shoulder. But Karga was ready.
He put his hands together and a ball of magma ripped into the
mage’s chest with a huge bang. Farden flew back into the wooden
stairs and choked on the burning smoke. The dark sorcerer was
already up and striding across the deck. Farden swung his blade up,
but the man blocked it again, and again, but on the third swipe the
blade sliced across his chest and cut a long gash through his
sailor’s tunic. Karga yelled and reeled backwards. Farden was
quickly on his feet.

‘You want to see some magick?’
He spat salty rain to the side and ripped his hood back in
defiance. His eyes blazed with white fire.

Up by the wheel Heold’s face
drained of colour and his shout chilled everyone on board.

‘WAVE!’

And with that Farden’s world
seemed to pause.

His arms lifted through the
slowing rain, single droplets sliding over his hands like clear
mercury. A lightning bolt tore the sky and froze, paused in an
eternal second. The air buzzed with magick and Farden could feel
the tattoos burning white with heat and fire on his back. He braced
himself on the slippery deck and felt the weight of the spell push
him against the wet wood with a slow squelch in his boots. The mage
took a deep breath and stared into Karga’s glowing eyes. There was
a paralysed look of fear suspended on his face. Farden looked up as
flame trickled over his wrists, watching the rogue wave arch in
slow-motion over the masthead above them. For the briefest of
moments time stopped and the world around him became quiet. But it
was short-lived and as the deck began to shake beneath his boots
the roaring started, and time caught up with itself.

With a blinding flash of
searing heat a tower of fire erupted from beneath the deck and
ripped through the wood as if it were mere paper. Karga flew from
the splintered deck screaming, swathed in flames, and disappeared
into the sea. Farden reeled backwards as the spell billowed upwards
through the mast and the sails and into the face of the wave. Fire
met water in an explosion of burning debris and steam, and then the
wave hit the deck.