The Book of Beasts Read online

  Against the backdrop of Jeannie’s lilting song and the slap of the water on the rocky shore, Matt began to climb the ladder. He felt a little like the prince about to rescue Rapunzel.

  THIRTY-NINE

  The turret room looked like a tableau from Madam Tussaud’s Chamber of Horrors.

  Jeannie was sitting on a bale of hay against one wall, her wrists and ankles in iron cuffs that were soldered to rings and mortared into the stones behind her. But the worst thing was the great iron mask encasing Jeannie’s head, with only a narrow letter box opening for her eyes. The mask was cuffed round Jeannie’s neck and, like her wrists and ankles, soldered to a heavy ring attached to the wall behind her. The air in the room was thick with dust. It was lit with one stinking tallow candle.

  Jeannie stopped singing the moment she saw Matt at the arrow slit.

  ‘Mattie, I’m OK. Don’t fret, son,’ she said in a hoarse whisper. Her love fluttered through the crevices in the stone tower and brushed Matt’s skin like a warm breeze. ‘And so are yer mum and Em. They got home fine.’

  Relief washed over him, but then such sadness that he could barely find his voice. He bit hard at the inside of his cheeks, determined not to cry. ‘I’ll get you free, Jeannie,’ he said. ‘I promise. I have help.’

  Jeannie stirred. ‘No, son, you won’t risk your life to save mine. What’s about tae happen, I set in motion the moment I came back to these early days and called up that wave from beneath the islands. I upset the balance of things, and I roused Albion.

  ‘The hollow in the earth far beneath the islands is a sacred enchanted place, a place out of time. The most powerful among our kind – those of us born on the islands and of the islands – are connected to this place in unique ways. Albion was the first, and he dwells now and forever with the beasts in Hollow Earth. During dangerous times, his descendants can communicate with him.’ She began coughing with a wretched wracking sound.

  Solon rattled the ladder beneath Matt’s feet. ‘Torches coming across the bay,’ he called. ‘Hurry. We need to flee this place.’

  Matt gripped the ladder more tightly. He couldn’t leave Jeannie like this.

  ‘But, Jeannie, if you’re such a powerful Animare, can’t you imagine a way out?’ he asked in desperation.

  ‘I’ve tried, son, but I think Malcolm has been poisoning me. I’ve stopped taking his food and water, but for the moment I can’t imagine anything fer tuppence and my hands are useless.’ She rattled her wrists against the iron rings on her wrists and fingers.

  Poison? Matt struggled to stay focused, to keep the terror at bay. ‘How is my dad doing all of this? He’s a Guardian, he can’t animate anything. He’s been bound in a picture for over ten years, for God’s sake!’

  Jeannie’s body was wracked again with another coughing fit. For a second the clouds shifted, and the little cell was illuminated by a shaft of moonlight piercing the arrow slit above Matt’s head. Upended on the hay next to Jeannie was a bowl and tankard. The hay under the tankard had turned purple.

  ‘Matt, you must come down,’ yelled Solon. ‘Our enemy is almost upon us.’

  ‘I won’t accept that we’re helpless against him,’ shouted Matt to Jeannie through the arrow slit. ‘There has to be some way to stop him. If we don’t, he’ll find the book and use the bone quill. Then he’ll control the beasts in Hollow Earth. It’ll change the future. It’ll change everything!’

  ‘I know, son, I know.’ Jeannie’s words were slurring a little. ‘There is only one way you might stop him.’

  ‘Tell me, Jeannie! Please!’

  Jeannie tried to turn her head, but it was impossible. ‘Trap the Grendel,’ she said. ‘Lead it into Hollow Earth. Finish The Book of Beasts. Complete the mission of the monks of Era Mina.’

  Matt thought he was going to be sick. ‘Jeannie, I can’t… I don’t know how to do that.’

  ‘When the time is right, son, you’ll know… you’ll know what you must do. Albion will help you. He’ll get you home.’

  Matt could hear oars now, splashing across the water towards the tower.

  ‘I want ye tae ken that I hoped when you and Em finally came home tae us, that we’d have much more time together,’ Jeannie whispered. ‘I’m awful sorry, son.’

  Matt shoved his hand through the arrow slit, desperate to reach Jeannie even though he knew it wasn’t possible.

  ‘Matt!’ Solon hissed. ‘There’s no more time!’

  ‘I have to go,’ Matt choked. ‘I must leave now. I’ll be back for you.’

  Jeannie’s head was drooping. The weight of the mask was too great for her to hold up for much longer. Her eyes seemed to grow smaller through the slit. Matt knew that behind the iron mask, she was smiling goodbye.

  ‘Be brave, son. And always know that I love you and Em like my own.’

  Tears streaming down his cheeks, Matt climbed back down the ladder.

  FORTY

  ‘We may need your galaxy weapon again,’ said Solon, pointing at the sea as Matt climbed down the ladder.

  Row upon row of Malcolm’s black knights were rising up out of the waves and heading towards them, the helix symbols on their breastplates shining with a brilliant white light.

  ‘No time, Solon, and nothing left to draw on,’ said Matt. He wiped his eyes, unsheathing the dagger Solon had taken from one of the sleeping monks and given to him. ‘We’ll have to fight.’

  ‘I can draw in the sand,’ Solon said suddenly.

  He dashed round to the other side of the tower, where he remained for several long moments. Then Solon skidded back, sending a spray of sand into the air. His pride was obvious in his wide grin.

  ‘I don’t know how long my animation will work,’ he said. ‘I suggest we leave the island immediately.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  Solon grinned more broadly. ‘I stopped the sea.’

  Matt stared. Malcolm’s black knights continued to rise out of the water, but the first row of figures was stuck in thick swamp mud and unable to move. This had a domino effect on each successive row, forcing them to crash into the one in front, exploding each row on contact, their toxic bodies dissolving into the sea.

  ‘Clever,’ said Matt, holding his fist up to bump Solon.

  Solon looked shocked. ‘You want to hit me now?’

  ‘Sorry, I keep forgetting you’re not Zach,’ Matt said, sheepishly lowering his hand. ‘Or Em.’

  Solon looked even more mystified. ‘You hit your family and friends?’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Matt, clapping the young monk on the back instead.

  He was about to climb into the boat when he paused and gazed at the floundering knights out in the water.

  ‘I think using the boat again is a bad idea. We’ll be pretty vulnerable out there.’

  Solon closed his eyes. Like a stealth drone, the peryton landed next to the boys in a squall of air and sand. Matt had never been so glad to see it.

  From high above the islands on the peryton’s wide white back, it was possible to see the pale glow of the rising sun over the Scottish countryside.

  ‘We don’t have much time before dawn to find your master,’ said Matt over the beat of the peryton’s wings. ‘Man,’ he added, rubbing his growling stomach, ‘I need porridge or a big slice of bread slathered with Jeannie’s jam.’ The thought of food, and of Jeannie trapped in that hideous mask, made his stomach pitch. He swallowed the tears before Solon could see.

  Solon pointed at a curl of white smoke from the hamlet outside the monastery’s walls. ‘Someone has returned,’ he said. ‘They will have food.’

  The peryton swooped into a steep dive, landing with the boys at the rear of a cluster of wooden buildings surrounding a field that was divided up into quarters, each growing a different crop. Two mangy goats were tethered to a nearby fence pole, a milking bucket tipped over beneath them. Matt could hear the low mooing of a cow, but he couldn’t see the animal anywhere in the cluster of buildings. The air reeked of peat
, pig fat, rotting vegetables and waste. A pain twisted behind Matt’s eyes. He suddenly felt dreadful.

  ‘You will get used to our odours,’ Solon said, amused as Matt gagged at the stench. ‘The privy is to blame.’ He pointed to a hole surrounded by straw and sacks of sand. ‘The muck is spread over the fields before planting in the spring.’

  To their right stood a long rectangular thatched structure with double wooden doors open at one end and a smaller arched door at the other. A mill wheel turned on the water at the burn nearby. Matt smelled something pleasant wafting through the open doors: bacon and woodsmoke. His stomach betrayed him once again.

  ‘This is James Guthrie’s cottage,’ said Solon, starting forward. ‘The miller. He lives here with his children, Fraser the gatekeeper and his daughter. Perhaps he will give us some food.’

  The main room in the miller’s cottage was warm and dark, the shutters on the windows closed against the chill of the morning. It was comfortably furnished with wooden chairs covered with sheep skins; deer pelts hung on the walls for insulation and an open sleeping loft stretched the length of the structure and was lined with straw. A sturdy table carved from pine was laid for a meal, and freshly baked bread was waiting on a warming stone in an open hearth in the centre of the long room. A pig was sitting on a spit above smouldering slabs of peat; a cauldron of mashed turnips was being kept warm on the fire. But the cottage’s inhabitants were nowhere to be seen.

  Matt stepped closer to the sizzling meat and inhaled. Carik’s fat rabbit felt like hours ago.

  ‘We have got to have some of this,’ he said.

  But Solon had moved past the hearth. Matt followed him. Despite his growing discomfort and his now thumping headache, he looked over his shoulder at the roasting meat. Maybe eating would make me feel better.

  At the farthest end of the room was a fenced pen, behind which stood the cow Matt had heard mooing earlier. He stopped in amazement, gazing at the cow and several squealing wild pigs.

  ‘The animals live in the same room as the people?’ he said in disgust.

  ‘Of course.’ Solon was gazing around the cottage with a frown on his face. ‘That cow and those pigs are more important to this family than some of their relatives.’

  Matt experienced an unsettling rush of emotion coming from his companion. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘You’re worried.’

  Solon lifted the gate to the animal’s pen and went inside.

  ‘The straw is fresh and the animals have recently been fed,’ he said, coming out again. ‘So where are James and his bairns? And the others that live here – Fraser and Jo, his daughter? My sister Margaret oftentimes cooks for them. They would never leave the hearth untended like this. This emptiness disturbs me.’

  Hunger was overwhelming Matt’s senses. It had been days since he’d eaten anything substantial. ‘I can’t think about anything else until I’ve eaten,’ he blurted.

  He unsheathed his knife, wiped it on his jeans and cut a thick slice of meat from the thickest part of the pig. Then he sat at the table, tore a chunk from the warm bread, wrapped it round the meat and crammed it into his mouth. The crispy skin on the pork burned his tongue, but it was worth it.

  ‘To roast a pig is a long process,’ Solon said, still looking around. ‘It’s early in the day still. This is all very mystifying.’

  Suddenly Matt doubled over in pain when a tall robed figure appeared out of the shadows of the animal pen.

  ‘Then allow me to explain,’ it drawled.

  FORTY-ONE

  Auchinmurn Isle

  Present Day

  Em knew she was being followed the moment she stepped off the garden path and turned into the rows of raspberry bushes that bordered Jeannie’s kitchen garden. The night was clear and the moon bright but, like most evenings in this part of Scotland, it was chilly and damp and every plant in the garden was heavy with moisture. At first Em thought she was feeling the heaviness of the humidity on her skin, but after a few more steps beyond the garden she was convinced she felt a presence nearby.

  She’d sneaked out of bed as soon as the Abbey had quietened, her body none the worse for the animated arrow wounds. Having listened outside Zach’s door until she no longer heard movement, she had then sneaked down the back stairs and out through a door she’d drawn and animated at the back of the pantry.

  Two more steps and she felt it again. Closer this time. A prickling on her skin, and a twinge in her mind. She quickened her pace through the bushes and cut back in towards the garden, ignoring the occasional scratch from the branches. She pulled up the hood of Matt’s sweatshirt, which she’d been wearing for days, smelling him in the fabric. She’d refused to let her mum wash it.

  Were those footsteps?

  Em glanced round. Jeannie’s garden was bordered with fruit trees in full bloom, but in the quarter-acre of tilled space, other than the prickly berry bushes behind which she now crouched, there were not many places to hide – even in the dark.

  Whatever it was, was moving closer. She had to find a hiding place, and fast. Quickly pulling her sketchpad from her pocket, she sat cross-legged in the darkness and began to draw.

  A trellis sprouted from the ground, complete with thick vines and roses growing through the latticework. Each rose had a tiny twinkle of light at its centre that looked ethereal, magical. The heavy scent of roses fought for Em’s attention with Jeannie’s lavender and sweet basil as she ducked behind the verdant tangle.

  She heard the telltale click of the garden gate and shivered, clutching tightly to the only item approaching a weapon that she had, preparing herself for something horrible to emerge from the shadows up ahead.

  Wisps of clouds floated past the moon. A gull screeched over the bay.

  A hand grabbed Em’s shoulder.

  Em pivoted and charged, knocking Zach flying into a patch of rhubarb.

  Get off me, Em!

  Em’s heart was hammering so hard she could barely hear herself think, let alone Zach as well. Jeez, I could have really hurt you, you idiot! What are you doing sneaking around in the dark?

  Oh, funny you should ask. Zach stood up, pulling leaves from his hair. And you couldn’t have hurt me with your sketchpad.

  Em brandished a pair of pinking shears and glared. I could have done some serious damage with these, though.

  Zach glared back, his thoughts flying fast and angry into Em’s head. What are you doing out here? You know we shouldn’t leave the Abbey after dark.

  I was taking a walk.

  With pinking shears and a sketchpad?

  Zach put his hands on Em’s shoulders. She felt the full force of his determination. The truth this time. You’ve obviously been taking this little walk for the last few nights.

  How do you know?

  Too much muck on your wellies and it’s only been wet at night.

  Em pulled away from him sulkily. You think you’re so smart, Sherlock!

  Picking up her sketchpad from under the rhubarb where it had landed, she waved Zach forward, resigned.

  If I show you something, it has to be our secret.

  Don’t you think your family has enough secrets to last a lifetime?

  ‘Funny,’ Em signed, punctuating her response with an extra gesture. I mean it, Zach: I need your word.

  Fine. In the meantime, what happens to that?

  He nodded at the animated trellis.

  Ripping out the page, Em shredded her drawing. The trellis blazed brightly for a few seconds, then, as if someone were snuffing out candles, each twinkling bloom puffed out one at a time. Finally, the trellis sank into the ground and disappeared.

  Keeping to the shadows, Em led Zach towards Jeannie’s potting shed.

  Two silhouettes standing at Sandie’s sitting-room window watched the light of Em’s trellis animation fade to nothingness.

  ‘What’s she up to?’ Vaughn asked.

  ‘I wish I knew,’ Sandie said, watching. ‘Simon and Renard have taught her well. She’s keeping a l
ot locked in her mind at the moment.’

  Outside the window an owl hooted. Sandie saw it glide out of a nearby pine tree, swoop to the ground and then rise into the night sky with a wriggling rabbit gripped in its claws. She felt like that rabbit: battered, torn and heading towards the end. Turning away, she took Vaughn’s hand and led him from the room.

  Out in the darkness, a thin line of light glowed round the potting-shed door.

  FORTY-TWO

  As they stopped at the door to the potting shed, Zach looked at Em.

  ‘If I know you’ve been sneaking out, your mum probably does too,’ he signed.

  ‘She’s afraid I’ll snap under the strain.’ Em lowered her hands. Telepathy was easier in the darkness. But I won’t. I’m stronger than that.

  She pulled the key for the shed from her pocket and unlocked the door. Before she opened it enough for them to slip inside, she put her hand on Zach’s chest.

  I need you to swear on your powers as a Guardian that this will be our secret. Otherwise there’s no way you’re seeing what’s in here.

  With her purple-streaked hair, her pale skin and her fierce determination, in that moment Em looked years older than thirteen. Zach nodded.

  I swear.

  Inside, the shed smelled of manure, motor oil and cut grass. The ride-on mower was parked to one side, and behind it stood a wall of rickety wooden shelves loaded with clay flowerpots, bags of seeds and a sundry assortment of gardening tools. A pitchfork, spade and two rakes stood in the corner.

  On the other side of the shed was a worn armchair and a stack of books. A small window covered in dirt and cobwebs was in the middle of the back wall, the hazy moon visible above the silhouette of Era Mina.

  You’re in here secretly reading?

  Zach was about to walk further into the shed when Em grabbed his arm.

  Stop! There are things I need to switch off.

  Zach watched as Em followed the extension cord plugged in behind a large clay pot and running along behind sacks of mulch, leading up to a projector and Em’s iPad on a shelf.