Auchinmurn Isle
The Middle Ages
Jeannie was still fading in and out like a badly tuned radio station inside Matt’s head. Matt concentrated, fixing her words in his mind as he heard them.
Call the Grendel up from the centre of the island. The Grendel was the first beast to rise out of the muck an age ago, so it must be the last one bound away. You must possess it, control it. With the help of the book, Hollow Earth will open to take it inside.
His hands were dirty. There was clay under his nails and between his fingers from the cave floor when he had fallen beneath the poisoned weapons of Malcolm’s tiny army.
Turning his head slightly, Matt could see Carik huddled in her corner again. Solon had gone. Malcolm sat away from them both, his arms hanging loosely on his knees, his head bowed, black liquid dripping from his mouth. Whether he was praying or sleeping, Matt did not know.
He worked at the clay stuck between his fingers, bringing it down to his fingertips. Then he used it to lightly sketch the Grendel on the corner of the parchment. Most of the image was hidden beneath his palm. He hoped the sketch was big enough.
He heard his mother’s voice in his memory.
The power and longevity of any animation is affected by a combination of intent and imagination, Mattie. You have to will it to life.
Matt had never wanted to animate a drawing more.
But, when he finished, there was no explosion of light anywhere in the cave. No lines of colour leaped from his drawing. Nothing. Only a faint throbbing in the base of Matt’s neck, and a painful flash of light behind his eyes. He clenched his jaw to avoid letting out a yell.
Someone was beside him. He felt a cool hand on his arm.
‘Carik?’ he whispered, trying to turn his head to see her.
She squeezed his arm lightly, comforting him. ‘Despite leaving me in that cave, I’m at your service.’
Malcolm’s head shot up. His tongue flicked from the side of his mouth to catch a drop of inky blackness on its tip as his hand waved Carik back to her corner. Matt felt her unwillingness to go.