The Book of Beasts by John Barrowman Page B

concentrated on tossing another log on the fire.
    â€˜I will be fine.’
    Carik ducked out into the forest, leaving Matt and Solon alone at the fire.
    â€˜We probably could have animated a meal,’ said Matt into the silence.
    Solon looked at him in horror. ‘We don’t use our skills for the mundane and the ordinary.’
    â€˜But it’s who we are,’ said Matt, surprised at Solon’s reaction.
    â€˜Our powers are a gift from nature, from the islands themselves.’ It was clear that Solon was offended. ‘To violate that gift would be dishonourable. A sin.’
    Matt rolled his eyes. ‘Sometimes, you have to break rules in order to make things better for people.’
    â€˜But what if, by breaking the rules, you cause more damage than leaving things the way they were?’
    Matt thought about this. ‘I suppose that’s the chance you take. When you break rules you have to be prepared to live with the consequences.’
    Solon prodded the fire. ‘And are you?’
    â€˜Am I what?’
    â€˜Prepared to live with the consequences of your actions? Of bringing your father to this time and place and the threat he represents to your future?’
    Matt concentrated on the other Animare’s emotions, teasing them out from the hunger and the exhaustion. The fire spat and crackled between them. He sensed concern and anxiety. No judgement. Solon had no quarrel with Matt or his choices – poor though many of them had been.
    â€˜I’m prepared,’ said Matt.
    Solon pulled his dagger from his sheath, offering it to Matt. ‘Then I will help you destroy him,’ he said simply. ‘I will help you defeat your father. Take this as a gesture of my allegiance.’
    The bronze hilt of Solon’s dagger was etched like the wings of the white peryton. Turning the dagger over in his hands, Matt appreciated its weight. Then everything changed.
    As if he was holding a tuning fork, Matt felt the dagger’s reverberations ripple up his arm and across his shoulders as a cacophony of images exploded in his mind.
    At first he couldn’t distinguish or separate them from the conflagration of light and colour. It was as if someone had edited a bunch of film clips together, and was running them all at once at super speed in Matt’s head.
    One image stood out. Matt being dragged through a labyrinth of passageways and dark caves… and blood. Lots of it, leaving a trail behind him.
    â€˜It’s… it’s stunning… and, uh, heavy,’ he said quickly, unwilling to reveal to Solon the images he’d just seen.
    â€˜It belongs to my master, Brother Renard. He told me it was forged from the dark deposits of Hollow Earth, and it belonged to Albion himself.’
    Matt had no idea how the ancient dagger had shown what it had, but he knew it was displaying something of his future. Pressing the dagger back into Solon’s hands, he looked directly at him.
    â€˜I need to talk to your master. Right now.’
    â€˜I’m afraid,’ said Solon sadly, ‘that’s not going to be easy.’

THIRTY
    Auchinmurn Isle
Present Day
    Two days after Vaughn’s return from London, things began to go missing from the Abbey. Two cup-sized clay bowls from Simon’s prehistoric Beaker collection. An altar triptych, kept in the sitting room, depicting the Old Testament story of Daniel in the lion’s den. Two framed maps of the island and an assortment of old books.
    Worried that the Abbey’s perimeters had been breached by burglars, Vaughn had taken the boat out to check the islands were secure. Simon planned to walk the perimeter of the compound, to be sure that no one had broken through the animation shield.
    â€˜I can’t understand it,’ said Renard in irritation, striding into the kitchen, his glasses on top of his head and holding his long white hair from his face. ‘I’ve lost that folder with the medieval