Solon crouched over a scratched-out pit with two sharp pieces of flint. In seconds, a fire burst to life in the centre of the cave, illuminating the damp space. Then he loosened his sword and slumped on to a flat rock next to the fire.
Carik set her quiver, her bow and a hunting knife on a rock that jutted out from the far wall like a tongue. She cupped her hand under the water that was trickling down the cave wall, and mixed a poultice of moss, mud and a powder she took from a pouch under her tunic, before caking the mixture liberally on her blistered hand.
As Solon tossed more kindling on the fire, thick grey smoke rapidly filled the small cave. Matt started to cough, doing his best to clear the haze building up around him.
Solon grinned. ‘All will be well, Matt. Be patient.’
He ducked to the corner of the cave and retrieved a tube made from a hollowed-out branch and coated on the inside with a black tar that glimmered in the firelight. Placed over the fire, the branch created a chimney that carried the smoke up and away, forcing it out through small fissures in the rock.
When the fire was blazing and the smoke under control, Solon pulled a leather pouch from his vest. Like Carik’s, it was full of dried plants and herbs. He broke off a chunk of what looked to Matt like a ginger root and handed it to him.
‘This will help dull the pain in your head.’
Matt was about to chew the root up when Solon slapped it from his hand. It landed, popping and sparking, in the fire.
‘It is to be put on your wound!’ said Solon, shaking his head in disbelief.
Carik burst out laughing at Matt’s ignorance. Matt couldn’t help himself and began to laugh too. He took another slice of the root. This time he did as instructed.
Minutes after applying the gooey substance from the inside of the root, he felt the deep cut on his forehead slowly go numb.
‘What happened to the white peryton?’ he asked at last, getting as close to the fire as possible without burning himself. He was soaking wet, freezing cold and every bone felt bruised from being tossed around in the raft. ‘The last I saw of her, you two were flying her over the wave.’
‘She brought us to safety above the waterline, and vanished,’ said Solon. ‘I’m not sure where she goes, deep into the island somewhere. Brother Renard and I unbound her from the island, to help save the village from the Norse attack.’
‘The Norsemen who attacked the monastery,’ said Matt, turning to Carik who was gathering more wood at the mouth of the cave. ‘Were they your people? Vikings?’
Carik still wasn’t doing a very good job at stifling her curiosity. Like the damp of the cave and the stink of their bodies, it continued washing over Matt in waves.
‘They were not my people,’ she said fiercely. ‘I was their slave. They took my mother as spoils of one of their victories when they conquered the islands north of Skye, when I was still at her breast.’
She tossed the wood into the fire, causing sparks to explode near Matt’s feet. He jumped back.
‘We need to find where your father has imprisoned my master Brother Renard,’ said Solon.
‘And where he’s taken Jeannie,’ added Matt.
‘Who exactly is this Jeannie?’ asked Carik.
‘She’s our—’
Matt stopped, not sure of how to explain who Jeannie was, and what she meant to him and everyone at the Abbey. He wasn’t entirely sure who she was now anyway. Not after everything that had happened that day.
‘She was the one who created the wave,’ he said finally. ‘She’s from my time, in the future. I think she is connected to the islands in some enchanted way. Maybe like the peryton is.’
Solon studied the fire. ‘We saw the destruction of the wave from the peryton. It surged through the monastery walls and destroyed the outer buildings, including our scriptorium.’ A shadow passed over his face. ‘Many manuscripts will have been destroyed.’
Matt could only guess at how long a single manuscript would have taken these monks to illuminate. One more thing to feel guilty about.
A thought struck him.
‘Solon,’ he said suddenly, ‘was The Book of Beasts kept in the scriptorium?’
Solon’s gaze was instantly as hard as a diamond.
‘What do you know of that manuscript?’ he asked warily.
If Matt was going to find and free Jeannie and have any chance of returning to the twenty-first century, he would need Solon’s help. Perhaps the help of the old monk Renard too. He’d have to trust them with what he knew about The Book of Beasts.
But where to begin?
‘My mum found a page from an ancient manuscript,’ he began. ‘The Book of Beasts. My sister and I googled it, and learned how it had been used in the nineteenth century to open Hollow Earth—’
Matt paused. He realized from Solon’s expression that he’d lost him at googled. He began again.
‘My mum found evidence of the book’s existence at the Royal Academy, in London.’
‘A royal academy?’ Solon asked curiously. ‘For a king?’
Not for the first time in recent days, Matt wished he’d paid more attention to history.
‘Kind of,’ he mumbled, deciding to fudge this bit. ‘She was a visitor to this academy and she found a page that proved the existence of a place called Hollow Earth. A place where Animare trapped the beasts and monsters from ancient times by drawing them into this manuscript, The Book of Beasts.’
Solon’s eyes sharpened in recognition. ‘My master, Brother Renard, told me a story right before your father arrived on the island. It was about the First Animare, Albion.’
‘You mentioned him earlier,’ said Matt.
Solon nodded. ‘Albion founded the monastery of Era Mina. He drew the first pages of The Book of Beasts. The mission of the monks since his death has been to continue this work, drawing the creatures into this manuscript and protecting their hiding place. The Abbot told me that when The Book of Beasts is completed, it will seal Hollow Earth forever.’
‘Yes!’ Matt exclaimed, drinking in this fresh information. ‘That’s it exactly! Where is it now?’
‘The Abbot took it from my master when Brother Renard’s mind began to break,’ said Solon. ‘For safekeeping. It may yet have escaped the wave.’
‘It’s not complete, is it?’ said Matt.
Solon shook his head. ‘There is one last beast to be sealed into Hollow Earth. The Grendel. It lives in the swamp near the Devil’s Dyke. Until it is drawn into the manuscript by a trained Animare like my master, Hollow Earth cannot be sealed. It is vulnerable to men like your father. We must finish it, but…’ Solon lifted his hands hopelessly. ‘My master’s mind is too fragile for such work now.’
Carik had crawled outside and now returned with her hands full of seeds, nuts and one or two squirming wormy creatures that made Matt’s stomach lurch despite his hunger. She handed each of the boys a handful of what she’d foraged.
‘These I can eat, right?’ Matt said weakly, trying not to look at what was in his hands.
Solon laughed and nodded. Matt tossed the whole lot into his mouth, chewed quickly, and tried to ignore the tickling in his throat as he swallowed. Carik crouched next to the fire, warming her hands, eating more slowly.
‘We need to get into the Abbot’s tower in the monastery,’ said Solon, tearing the legs off a beetle before popping it in his mouth. ‘If the Abbot had it before your father took him captive, he may have hidden it in his chambers.’
Carik winced visibly as she rolled out a straw mat next to the fire. Noticing, Solon scooped two fingers into the root he had used to numb Matt’s head wound.
‘Show me your injury, Carik,’ he said gently.
Carik pulled her tunic off her shoulder and turned her back to the fire, revealing a hole the size of a fist directly under her shoulder blade. Matt gawked at the thin translucent skin healing over the centre of the wound, barely concealing a pulsing hole in the girl’s flesh. The edges of the wound had been cauterized, the flesh puckered and pink around the hole. But the hole itself looked like no wound Matt have ever seen before. It wasn’t a bite, for there were no teeth marks. It wasn’t a tear, for there were no claw marks. It was a wound that appeared to be breathing on its own.
Carik let Solon apply the syrup to the membrane covering the wound and tug her tunic gently back into place.
‘What did that?’ asked Matt uneasily.
‘It is the mark of the Grendel,’ said Carik. ‘I was lucky my courage abandoned me. If I hadn’t turned my back to run, it would have sucked out my heart.’