Auchinmurn Isle
The Middle Ages
Matt had lost his bearings entirely.
They were waist-deep in water now, their pace slowing considerably. At one point the water had reached as high as their chests, and they’d had to doggy-paddle through it. The tunnel pressed in on them, dark and cold and growing ever smaller.
The tunnel suddenly opened up, offering a pocket that was less a chamber than a rock formation. It was enough to give the boys a chance to catch their breath.
‘Almost there!’ said Malcolm, as if they were out hiking in the countryside, heading towards a picnic instead of a terrible unknown.
He’s mad, Matt realized. Unbound after ten years inside a painting, his father had clearly lost his humanity as well as his face.
Malcolm pushed them on. His excitement was growing palpable. Matt quietly animated a compass on what was left of the lining in his jacket. Hiding it beneath his sleeve, he watched the needle bounce around and settle. They were tramping west.
Matt couldn’t believe it. They couldn’t be heading west. West was the bay. West was water. Deep water.
They’d now been gone all of the night and most of the morning. He wondered if Carik was searching for them. He was beyond tired now, running on adrenaline and fear.
The disturbing mechanical sound Matt and Solon had heard reverberating under the grounds of the monastery suddenly began echoing up ahead. Whatever was making the noise was moving towards them. The tunnel walls shook. Dirt and stones began to drop from the roof, raining on them.
‘Pick up the pace, boys,’ Malcolm advised. ‘I don’t want to have to dig you out from a cave-in.’
The tunnel ended in a sheer drop to a vast cavern. From their position on the precipice, Matt stared into the chamber below. Ancient cave etchings met his eyes. A hellhound snarling in relief. The peryton, its wings so lifelike they appeared to be fluttering.
‘I know where we are,’ he said in astonishment. ‘I was here in the summer. This is Solon’s Cave.’ He stared at his white-faced companion. ‘It’s named after you.’
Solon looked terrified. ‘This is the place of the portal to the world of the beasts,’ he said. ‘This is where I brought the peryton into the world above, with my master’s help. It’s how we saved the village when the Vikings came.’
‘Awesome!’ said Matt, for a second forgetting the danger they were in, forgetting the threat to Solon’s family, with the overwhelming sense of being a part of history.
He didn’t forget for long. Rolling out of the darkness beneath them was an enormous mechanical monster like nothing Matt had ever seen.
At the centre of the beast was trapped the body of a man.