Origins Of The Magdon: Vercovicium, Page 3

  Rubbing his hands across the stubby horns the bone felt wrinkled and ribbed, but again it felt warm to the touch. The ends of the horns were rough and uneven; they felt sharp and jagged.

  There was a noise against the wall of the cavern from where Archy had wandered. Absorbed by the curious creature he dismissed it and continued to inspect the remains. Composing himself, Archy scrambled his hands blindly into his satchel and withdrew his journal. The cover was already scuffed and showing the telltale signs of use.

  Opening the book, flicking through to the centre pages Archy quickly sketched what he could see roughly across both pages.

  Archy was no artist, but his quick sketch rendered a good familiarity for the mysterious creature’s remains. As he put the finishing touches to his rendition of the animal skull, he noticed the tabletop of the altar appeared pitted with scratches and carvings.

  Looking closer Archy jotted down the Latin inscription on the surface of the platform that read:

  Hic est occisi monstrum est occidit ut Magdon LXXXIV Legion Romae . Gladio custos Romani iacet iuxta cadaver bestiae.

 

  As he checked his copy of the inscription Archy tried his best to translate it, reading the words aloud in English to himself.

  ‘Here lies the slain monster the Magdon that slaughtered the Eighty-Fourth Legion of Rome. Slain by the sword of Rome’s Guardian that now lies beside the body of the beast.’

  Archy looked up from his translation and scanned the altar top. He was disappointed to find no sign of a sword. Moving full circle around the remains, he slipped the journal back into his satchel.

  Having made it around the entire altar he had given up hope when another noise behind him tried to grab his attention. As Archy turned his head to look, he caught the glint of metal in the corner of his eye, beneath the massive chest of the creature’s remains. With a measure of excitement and caution, he moved his hand towards the shining metal but stopped as the recognisable sound of a skull rolling across the floor behind him completely took his attention.

  Archy looked across the cavern in horror as the pile of skulls and bones began to move. Somewhere amongst the middle of the pile, he saw one particular skull start to rise from the rest.

  He was not alone; his heart raced and his mind swam.

  From the pile of skulls, a complete skeleton began to rise slowly. Pulling itself free from the pile of bones it shook off the remnants of other skeletons as it stood. The human skeleton was side on; instinctively Archy held his breath.

  The arisen skeleton seemed to sniff the air for a moment and then slowly; purposefully it turned its head to face towards Archy and the altar. Seeing the skeleton face on was terrifying than he had expected and an uncontrollable yelp escaped him.

  Immediately the skeleton crouched itself down and launched itself from the pile of bones and stalked towards Archy with purpose.

  Chapter Six

  Facing the Nivag

  ‘What are you?’ Archy screamed as the skeleton stalked towards him.

  ‘Nivag, Nivag…’ it just repeated as it moved towards him.

  The Nivag was an evil sight. Where Archy had seen it from the side, only able to see the bones and skull on its left side, when it had turned to face him it had shown a different face. One full half of the Nivag remained human to a degree. Half a face of leathery skin wrapped around the bone and a single solitary eye rolled around in the socket almost lazily.

  Lips snarled on the right side of the toothy mouth but with each word the bones would knock together noisily. Every other footstep as it walked towards Archy was the sound of bone hitting the stone. The other step sounded dampened by the skin and fabric still wrapped around the human side of it. Tattered clothes hung from an unknown era awkwardly from the skinned side of the Nivag. Its movements were laboured and awkward but it still moved where logic told Archy it should not.

  Archy was genuinely terrified as the gaze narrowed and the skinned leathery face turned into a menacing snarl.

  ‘Nivag.’ The creature growled and broke out into a sprint across the remaining distance toward him.

  Instinctively Archy leapt onto the altar and threw himself over the remains on the top. He caught his foot on the bulging chest and fell roughly to floor dragging the heavy remnants of the monster from the altar.

  The skeleton landed in a heap on top of him and Archy struggled to free himself from the mass of bones and matted fur.

  Pulling himself free from the knot of bones Archy looked up and saw the Nivag jump onto the altar. It perched itself on the jet black stone staring menacingly down at him.

  It was the stuff of nightmares. The Nivag leant precariously over the edge of the altar and moved its face down towards Archy. He could smell decay and death. The skin looked tight and wrinkled, discoloured by death and dried beyond normality. The vibrant blue eye that rolled in the socket was now fixed squarely on Archy as he lay frozen in place.

  The Nivag did not speak now. He could feel no breath from the creature as it leant close to him and Archy tried his best to hold his composure although his heart raced with fear.

  Out the corner of his eye Archy once again saw the shimmering reflection of flame on metal. It was the blade of the sword that had been beneath the chest of the creature on the altar. Unlike before the sword sat buried by his leg beneath the pile of bones that surrounded him.

  Fighting the temptation to scream and run Archy held the gaze of the fearsome Nivag as it seemed to pour its attention into him. Slowly, keeping his movements unseen he walked his fingers across the floor until his fingertips found the guard and grip of the sword. Moving as quickly as he dared, Archy wrapped his hand around the grip and felt the pommel at the base of his palm.

  Archy reacted on instinct as the Nivag suddenly reached out towards him with its leather-skinned hand. Drawing the sword from beneath the mass of bones and fur Archy swiped it through the air and sliced cleanly through the forearm stretched out towards him.

  The lower arm fell lifeless to the floor and the Nivag recoiled in shock, squealing as it grabbed the stubbed arm with its bony hand.

  ‘Get back.’ Archy yelled as he rolled himself free from the remains and bones.

  The Nivag only laughed. A guttural and mocking laugh that gargled in its hollow chest.

  ‘My Magdon master, she shall be avenged.’ The Nivag spat and once again launched itself towards Archy.

  Unlike before the Nivag was filled with purpose instead of curiosity. The face contorted with venom and concentration. It moved with poise and purpose. The Nivag dodged from left to right and easily countered Archy’s attempt at a second strike with the sword. Stepping to Archy’s side the Nivag threw itself against him sending him crashing to the floor and the sword clattering from his grip.

  Desperation filled him as the Nivag spun and threw itself like a maniac at him. Rolling roughly away Archy made for the sword again, but the Nivag was faster. As Archy reached for the shining blade, the Nivag kicked the sword away. The sword moved from his reach and the razor sharp tip sliced into Archy’s right palm. He pulled it to him in reaction to the intense searing pain.

  ‘Avenge her.’ The Nivag screamed as it closed down Archy once more.

  Archy was in no doubt that whatever the Nivag was would stop at nothing until it had killed him. With little option Archy prepared himself and as the Nivag towered over him, he thrashed his legs out and swiped them across the boned and skinned shins of the Nivag.

  It was caught by surprise and with no time to react the half-human half-skeleton monster tumbled roughly to the floor.

  Archy was on it in a heartbeat and the two of them rolled roughly across the floor from side to side. Each of them struggled to gain an advantage over the other. The smell of death clouded over Archy; he fought back the desire to be sick at the smell.

  Finally, the intertwined combatants rolled against the altar and suddenly the skinned side of the Nivag erupted into flame. Archy had been completely unaware they ha
d thrown each other across the narrow channels of burning oil during their fracas. When they had the Nivag had been the one to sink into the oil, soaking its tattered clothes in the viscous oil.

  Archy felt the tight grip of the monster suddenly release. It leapt away from him madly. Screaming and yelling the flames engulfed the material that hung from the right side of its body. The Nivag was now a ball of screaming fire as it ran frantically around the cavern until finally, it turned to face Archy.

  Taking the time to stare from behind the curtain of flames it spoke one last time before it threw itself against the floor and sank as the stone beneath it dropped. The words echoed long after the screams of the monster had faded.

  ‘I die so the Magdon may survive. You will die here too.’

  As the echo faded, a new sound replaced it, the sounds of stone moving. Suddenly the cavern began to quake.

  Chapter Seven

  A narrow escape

  Archy’s eyes went wide as the cavern began to shake violently and the stone ceiling started to crumble above him. The body of the Nivag still burned across the room but had not moved since it had fallen to the floor. Disorientated from his scuffle with the monster Archy struggled to find the stairwell leading out of the cavern.

  The floor shook violently as Archy realised the cavern was collapsing in around him. Struggling to stand Archy steadied himself against the quaking floor and moved awkwardly towards the stairwell and the two burning bowls of oil.

  As he stumbled across the room, Archy bent down and snatched up the sword that had almost certainly saved his life. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t greed or anything of the sort that made him retrieve the sword. It was more a feeling that the sword had served him well and that to leave it to be buried beneath the rumbling earth would have been an injustice.

  Tucking the blade through the belt of his trousers Archy scrambled and staggered against the violent shaking. He moved awkwardly towards the staircase leading back to the surface. His ascent of the stairs was troubled and laboured. More than once the violent shaking threw him to the ground and at one point he almost tumbled back the length of the stairs to the floor of the room.

  Steadying himself, Archy fought to breathe through the falling stone and dust that clouded around him.

  Archy finally caught sight of the daylight above peeking through the hole in the stone wall that had been his entrance. The falling dust and debris threatened to bury him before he reached safety but Archy tried all the same.

  By the time Archy climbed the last few steps, he had found himself crawling and could barely squeeze himself through the unnatural gaps and voids created by the falling stone. Eventually, he felt the warm summer air as he dragged himself desperately towards the hole.

  His fingers scrabbled for a grip, but the stone was just out of reach. Finally, the ceiling above the stairs gave way and he felt the heavy earth collapse against his legs trapping him in place.

  Feeling the pressure of the collapsed structure pressing down, Archy snatched for breath. Instinctively his fingers still clawed at the rough edges of the stones, but he could find no purchase or power in his failing body to pull himself free from his stone tomb.

  As the pressure grew, each breath became harder. Slowly the world began to close in. Archy fought to stop the darkness closing in around him.

  As Archy struggled to take one last breath he knew he this was the end. He knew then it had been a mistake clambering through the hole and into the darkness. All he had gone through, all he had seen meant nothing now as the breath left his lungs and his brain fought for its last chance to save him.

  Taking one last look at the light beyond Archy resigned himself to his fate and waited for death.

  ‘No, you don’t!’ A voice yelled from beyond the light.

  Archy only half heard the words.

  As if in a dream Archy felt something grasp his hands and felt himself being pulled roughly from his claustrophobic tomb. The earth moved around him and the light that swam in front of him now welcomed him as he was transferred slowly and roughly out into the light.

  Beyond the wall, the entire team had come scrabbling down the hillside once the quake had set in. It had not taken them long to find the source of the rumbling, shaking the earth. As they had arrived, Archy had begun to emerge from the closing hole in the wall. Between the shrieks of some and muttered curses at Archy’s stupidity enough of them composed themselves to scramble and help pull the trapped boy from his crumbling tomb.

  As Archy fell roughly to the floor he regained enough of his senses to open his eyes and try to make sense of the world. He heard more than he saw. He recognised the voice of Mole and thought perhaps the old bushy-browed professor as they spoke somewhere above him.

  ‘What were you doing you fool?’ It was the professor, a much gruffer and sterner voice than Mole.

  ‘Come, we need to get George here and get Archy to a hospital.’ Mole’s voice seemed to fade as he was speaking, somehow it sounded as if Archy was moving away from them.

  ‘I fear it may be too late for that, foolish boy.’

  Archy couldn’t remember anything else of what he heard. He felt lifted into the air and a rough rocking feeling that he thought must have been the hastened horse ride to the hospital.

  When he finally stirred enough to realise he had survived, he found himself in a warm hospital ward wrapped in fresh linen. He knew he was safe from the crushing rocks and the burning monster below.

  A nurse attended him, but Archy was not completely present when he awoke. He remembered her warm and comforting voice as she helped him sip fresh water from a cup.

  ‘You’re very lucky to be alive young man.’ She said to him. ‘Your father will be here soon and I expect he will be very relieved to see you.’

  ‘I doubt that.’ Was the only reply Archy could muster before he once again sank back into an uncomfortable feverish state.

 

  Chapter Eight

  Flash and fever

  Archy was in a feverous state for a week after the events at Vercovicium. For the entire time, his father paced the halls of the ward fearing the worst for his son. In his delirious state Archy knew nothing of his father’s sudden feeling and caring for him.

  Instead, Archy was plagued by nightmares centred on the burning remains of the monstrous Nivag creature and the crumbling cavern that had housed it. Each time the evil creature spoke the threat and menace echoed inside his fevered brain that struggled to bring him back to consciousness.

  Every time the Nivag died and fell to the floor in a burning heap the threat echoed menacingly.

  ‘I die so the Magdon may survive, you will die here too.’

  So the Magdon may survive?

  Archy tried to understand the meaning. The skeleton on the altar must have been the Magdon of which the inscription and the Nivag spoke, but it was dead. The bones had tumbled to the floor when he had clambered roughly over them. There was nothing to tell him even the ungodliest of creatures could have survived the cavern collapsing.

  His only conclusion in the depths of his feverish dreams was that whatever the remains had been, it had not been the only one. Considering the terrifying and devilish Nivag that had emerged a skeleton spectre from the remains of the Roman legion he dared not dream what the Magdon may look like. In his mind, he tried to ignore the oversized bones and horned skull that had adorned the altar.

  His father watched him desperately through the days of Archy’s burning fever and hours of incoherent ranting about monsters and fire. Everything Archy mumbled had been cast aside as fevered hallucinations. Little did anyone know the truth of his fevered words.

  Eventually, after six days of fever, it finally broke. On the morning of the seventh day, Archy awoke to the sound of birds and the snoring of his father who slept in the chair beside his bed.

  ‘Father?’ He croaked, his throat uncomfortably dry. ‘Father?’

  The words disturbed Nicholas from his slumber and dragging his
glasses back up his nose an uncommonly rare smile painted itself across his stern face.

  ‘My son,’ he gasped as a single tear rolled down his cheek. ‘I will get the nurse immediately.’

  The show of emotion by his father was unheard of. Awaiting the old man’s return with the nurse Archy recalled the only other time he had seen his father cry, at his mother’s funeral. The fact Archy’s peril had invoked emotion only filled him with his own. By the time his father and the nurse returned Archy was wiping his tears from his cheeks.

  ‘I told your father the fever would break; he has been very anxious.’ The portly nurse was warm and caring as she checked Archy.

  When the nurses and doctors had completed their rounds Archy’s father finally returned to his usual self. As the doctor walked away from the bed he turned to face Archy. There was no sign of the momentary emotion he had seen earlier that day.

  ‘Just what do you think you were doing boy?’ The familiar scornful voice was once again back. ‘I send you half way across the country, into the tutelage of my friend and you go and all but destroy his works.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to…’ His father cut him off abruptly with a wave of his plump hand.

  ‘Enough,’ he barked. ‘You never mean to do anything. I send you away for the opportunity to grow and develop yourself how you feel to be right and you do this. Clearly, I was wrong believing you were responsible or mature enough.’

  ‘You have no idea what I have been through, what I have seen.’ Archy barked back angrily. ‘You sent me there to try and prove to me that I wasn’t ready for the big world and I would be best following your footsteps.’

  ‘And I was right. A young man ready for that world would hardly find himself facing death on a simple summer excursion.’

  ‘I will never be like you.’ Archy’s words were shouted with more venom than he had intended and for a split second, he saw a wave of hurt wash over his father.