Spook’s: Dark Assassin (The Starblade Chronicles) Page 10

  ‘We both believed that was so, but the Kobalos mages and their god, Talkus, are masters of deceit and illusion. It has taken me until now to penetrate their deception and we are only just in time to save him. Soon he truly is to be put to death. What better test of your new powers than to rescue the mage? We badly need his magical strength.’

  Lukrasta was the most powerful human mage who had ever walked the Earth; he would no doubt be a useful addition to our forces, but I did not trust him. He cared only for power. Would he expect to work closely with Alice again? Would this mean that, once again, Pan would ask Alice to abandon Tom?

  If that was the case, I felt sorry for Tom Ward, but this was not the time to debate such matters. I knew that I must put aside my own concerns and work for the greater good. To defeat the Kobalos we would need all the help we could get.

  Thorne and I headed back towards the cauldron.

  ‘Please take me with you, Grimalkin!’ Thorne begged me again.

  ‘You are not yet ready, child. I cannot do so until you have learned those skills. This will be very dangerous: to reach Lukrasta I will need to become an orb and pass through solid stone. That is something you cannot yet do,’ I told her, frowning.

  She hung her head, and soon the paths were spinning, and I was walking towards Valkarky once again, concentrating on the exact spot where I needed to be.

  I felt that lurch in my stomach, as if I was falling, and then an intense feeling of nausea and cold. But the pain was much less severe than it had been on the previous occasion. Perhaps Hecate had exaggerated it. Maybe I would grow accustomed to the sensation.

  Instinctively I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was standing in a narrow stone corridor. To right and left were doors that led into the cells. This time the purple tube lay at ground level. I would be able to simply walk into it. But what of others such as Kobalos mages? Could they do the same? I wondered. Or would it be barred to them, or perhaps hidden from their sight?

  Every twenty paces wall torches lit the passageway. However, I was a creature of the dark and must use darkness to my advantage. So I exerted my will and snuffed out all the torches within sight, plunging the area into gloom.

  I could still see; everything was outlined with green edges – though I could also make out a flicker of yellow torchlight from the third door on the left.

  I glanced up and down the corridor; it was still deserted. Wasting no time, I headed for the cell, where I sensed the presence of Lukrasta. I concentrated, transforming the substance of my being and shifting my shape into that of a small orb, then floated through the solid wooden door.

  I changed back into my human shape and gazed about me. For a moment I could make no sense of what I saw.

  The large cell was lit by a torch fastened to the far wall. It reminded me of a blacksmith’s shop: in the near corner by the door stood a glowing brazier. I could feel its heat as I entered. The walls were hung with an assortment of tools: axes, blades, tongs, hammers and saws. There were also chains hanging from the ceiling and a large anvil.

  It was a torture chamber.

  When I stepped further in, passing beyond the warmth of the brazier, I felt the damp chill in the air and smelled tar. Suddenly I noticed that some of the tools were stained with blood; there were dark patches of it on the dank stone walls and a large pool on the flags. Equally ominous was the executioner’s block that stood there.

  Where was Lukrasta? I wondered. Was I too late? Had he already been slain?

  Then I noticed, in the shadows beyond the candle flame in the far corner of the cell, what I at first took for a bundle of dirty, crumpled rags. I stepped nearer and realized that it was someone chained with his back to the wall, head slumped forward onto his chest so that his face was in darkness.

  It was Lukrasta.

  His hands had been amputated and the stumps were black – caked with tar to staunch the bleeding and prevent infection; whoever had done this wanted to keep him alive for further torture. It must have been agonizing to have your hands chopped off and your arms plunged into hot tar. The shock would have killed most men, but he had been strong.

  Studying him more closely, I realized that this was no longer the case. He was emaciated, the flesh wasted, the bones protruding.

  ‘Lukrasta!’ I called, and he looked up, revealing his face to the candlelight. He had the same long moustache, but it was stained with blood and there were streaks on his chin. His lips had been stitched together.

  He appeared bewildered, and stared at me, his eyes widening, looking like a madman. Could he have been driven insane by what he had suffered, or was it just confusion at my unexpected presence in his cell? No doubt, as one of the dead revisiting the Earth, I was terrifying to behold.

  Then I saw the marks on Lukrasta’s neck: a variety of scars – some old, others very recent; one was a red hole still dribbling blood and fluid. They had been draining him. Was that part of the torture or a means of finding out about his capabilities?

  Well, he was still alive, but I wondered if it was too late to make use of him. How could this shadow be of use to us in our struggle against Talkus and his mages?

  One by one, I snapped the chains that bound him at the neck, legs and body. While I worked, Lukrasta stared at me, his eyes wild. He tried to speak, but he sounded like a wounded animal. Whether it was an attempt to tell me something or an expression of anguish I couldn’t tell. So I used one of my short blades to cut the stitching and free his lips.

  ‘What dark thing are you?’ he cried, his face twisting in terror. I knew then that his cry had been one of fear.

  By way of answer I snuffed out the torch on the wall and drained the brazier of heat so that in seconds it was filled with cold ashes.

  Then I turned and approached him.

  ‘I am Grimalkin!’ I hissed into his ear. ‘Be silent while I remove you from this place!’

  I helped him to his feet, but his whole body was shaking and he hardly had the strength to stand. I knew that guards might arrive at any minute, so, wasting no more time, I hefted him over my shoulder in the manner of a spook carrying a witch, legs to the front. He was surprisingly light.

  I could pass through the solid door, but he could not. Now that I had completed the more difficult part of my task – locating Lukrasta in his cell – I was no longer concerned about alerting enemies to my presence. I could fight my way to safety. I struck the door hard with the palm of my hand, reducing it to splinters.

  I stepped through the gap, carrying my burden out into the corridor. The noise brought guards running through the darkness, but unfortunately for them they lay between me and the portal. It was easy to despatch them. They never saw their death coming.

  Still carrying Lukrasta, the blade in my left hand dripping blood, I passed through the purple portal and returned to the dark.

  CHAPTER 16

  THE WATER WITCH

  THOMAS WARD

  I THOUGHT THAT my very last moment on Earth had come.

  But before the skelt could reach me, something hit it hard, sending it flying.

  It was Blood, the wolfhound.

  Now the skelt lay on its back, its eight multi-jointed legs waving in the air. The dog was bravely trying to get a grip on the creature’s throat, but was in danger from the legs, which were trying to close about her. Wasting no time, I came to my feet and drew the Starblade. The skelt’s body had two segments; I struck with all my strength at the point where they joined.

  The sword sliced right through the hard shell, cutting the creature in two. Its front part convulsed as the wolfhound tore at its throat, blood spraying over both of them.

  Jenny came running to my side, eyes wide and fearful. I returned the Starblade to its scabbard, then took my staff and bag from her. I clicked my tongue at Blood and she came to my side obediently.

  ‘Good dog!’ I said, patting her head as she licked the skelt blood from her jaws. She had overcome her former nervousness and had just saved my life.
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  I looked at Jenny. ‘There could be other skelts nearby. We need to move fast!’ I told her, heading along the stream towards the canal. Most of the creatures were probably still clustered around the gap in the fence; maybe a few were circling the boundary, but with luck the one we’d just killed was the only one. We had a chance to escape.

  Soon we were scrambling up the slope onto the west bank of the canal. We hurried south along the towpath, our feet crunching on the cinders. I knew that there was a ley line that ran parallel with the canal several miles to the east. It would have been safer to follow that. However, its route led across farm ditches and fences. That would make for slow progress. The canal was faster, and for the first part of our journey I was relying on speed to get us clear of the skelts that might even now be in pursuit.

  Up here on the canal bank, which was higher than the fields on either side, the mist was so thick that I couldn’t see more than three or four feet in front of me. But above our heads, all was clear; I could see the moon and stars.

  There was little chance of getting clear of the mist until we were well east of Caster, further from the sea. I was striding along at a furious pace when suddenly I heard a scream and then a bark behind me.

  Alarmed, I turned and saw Jenny struggling desperately. She’d fallen over and one of her legs was in the water. Blood was at her side, growling at something in the canal, and Jenny was jabbing into the water with her staff; she looked terrified.

  As I reached her side, I saw the hand that gripped her ankle; the sharp talons told me immediately that it was a water witch. The creature’s face lay just below the surface of the water, long hair writhing like tentacles, predatory eyes glaring up at me.

  These creatures had once been human females, but over long ages had become more like beasts. They were more instinctive than rational, and incredibly ferocious and strong. They could drag you down into the water and drain your blood before you’d even had time to drown. Or they could flay your skin and open you up to the bone, severing your limbs as rapidly as Grimalkin with her snippy scissors.

  Jenny was struggling to keep the witch at bay with her staff. The dog was trying to help, but Jenny’s ankle and the witch’s taloned hand were underwater.

  In this situation, rowan staffs were the most suitable weapons: I took mine in both hands, released the blade and jabbed hard towards the witch’s face. Jenny was moaning with pain but still continued to stab down towards the witch. One of our blades must have cut the creature, because within seconds the water had begun to darken with blood, and she released the girl and swam away.

  I dragged Jenny clear and quickly knelt to examine her ankle. To my dismay, the skin was broken in two different places where the witch had gripped her.

  Wounds from water witches could easily become infected. Had Alice been here, she’d have simply used her herbs to ward off harm. However, looking more closely, I saw that Jenny’s wound wasn’t deep, so I simply cleaned away the beads of blood as best I could.

  ‘Are you all right to continue?’ I asked, helping her to her feet. ‘Do you need to rest for a while?’

  She frowned. ‘I’d like to keep moving, but do we have to stay close to the canal?’ she asked. ‘The witch might come back. It could be waiting ahead of us. Maybe there are others.’

  ‘I was going to follow the canal almost as far as Caster, but I’ve changed my mind. You’re right. It’s far too dangerous. We’ll cross at the next bridge and head east towards the ley line.’

  There was no doubt in my mind that the skelts had been used against us by our Kobalos enemies. I wasn’t sure about the water witch. They always lurked near water – having your ankle grabbed by a water witch was one of the routine hazards of walking the towpaths of this area. But gods, daemons and other entities from the dark were no doubt aligning themselves under the rule of Talkus. It was better to leave the canal now, just in case that applied to the County water witches as well; more could arrive at any minute.

  There were lots of bridges across the canal and we were soon able to reach the far bank and then follow a farm track that led eastwards. After five minutes we were approaching the farm, and dogs started to bark in the distance. However, Blood was well-trained and didn’t respond.

  We skirted the barn and farmhouse and took to the fields, our pace slowing. Sometimes we were able to climb gates or use a stile, but more often than not we were forced to negotiate a fence or struggle through a hedgerow.

  My next task was to judge when we’d reached the ley line – at which point we would follow it south. Such lines passed through churches, standing stones and other markers. For example, the second one that Jenny had mentioned, which ran approximately north–south through churches in Priestown and Goosnargh, also passed through Chingle Hall, which had a reputation for being the most haunted house in the County. Strange things happened on ley lines. However, they were invisible, so my best bet was to spot a church spire above the low mist.

  I was grateful now that my master, John Gregory, had drummed into me the importance of knowing the landscape of the County. Under his direction I’d spend hours studying the maps. My knowledge of the locality told me that the church of St Michael’s should soon come into view. Sure enough, I soon spotted its tower to the northeast.

  ‘What direction are we heading in, Jenny?’ I asked.

  ‘East,’ she replied promptly.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because you told me that’s the direction we were taking!’ she exclaimed cheekily. ‘But I can also tell that by the position of the stars.’

  ‘Yes, they tell us that we are still heading east. So once St Michael’s church tower is directly on our left, we’ll turn right and go south. It’s a crude alignment, but it’s the best I can do. Even if we’re not actually walking the line, we’ll be somewhere near it, and if I have to summon Kratch, he’ll find us or guide us towards him.’

  We were soon heading south as I’d described. I turned to Jenny and asked her, ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘My ankle’s throbbing, but I’ve felt worse,’ she replied.

  We continued on through the night. At dawn I called a halt for ten minutes. We were hungry, but all I had was some crumbly County cheese. Normally Jenny would have turned her nose up at it, but she ate her share without a word of complaint. The poor dog would be hungry, but I couldn’t allow her to hunt in case she attracted attention.

  We stood there, munching, unable to sit down because the ground was so soggy. We hunched together under a hawthorn hedge, close to a stagnant ditch full of muddy water.

  ‘Where are we now?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘Somewhere to the northeast of Caster, but we’re taking the long way round. As I said, following ley lines isn’t always the fastest route to a destination,’ I said.

  ‘Well, at least the mist is clearing now,’ she commented.

  Looking around, I saw that it was starting to lift and thin. In the grey light I could see halfway across the small field. Trees were starting to appear out of the gloom, their leafless branches like monstrous grasping arms. There was not the slightest breeze. Nothing was moving.

  Suddenly, from within the ditch came a flash of light. I stepped closer and, peering down into the grey water, saw that a small area hardly larger than the palm of my hand was brighter than the rest. It brightened further, and an image quickly began to form.

  It was Alice’s face.

  My heart leaped in happiness at the sight of those beautiful brown eyes staring up at me, though her expression was very serious. There was no hint of a smile of greeting.

  Witches used mirrors to communicate over long distances, but only the most powerful could use the surface of water in this way. Not only that: Alice had somehow known precisely where I was.

  She began to mouth her message. There was no sound, but by now I was good at reading her lips.

  It was not good news:

  ‘Ain’t safe to go back to Chipenden, Tom. They’re lyin
g in wait for you. Come to Pendle and fight with us. Kobalos mages and warriors have attacked and burned Goldshaw Booth. We’ve taken refuge in Malkin Tower. We’ll make a stand there. Join us, please. I miss you, Tom.’

  Things sounded bad. Goldshaw Booth was the village of the Malkins, who were the most powerful of the Pendle clans, and yet they’d been unable to defend it. Was it just the Malkins who had taken refuge in the tower or had they admitted the other clans as well? I wondered. Had Alice managed to secure the alliance of the Pendle witches that she’d sought? Their combined magic would be needed to counter the power of the Kobalos mages. I wondered how big a Kobalos force was in the area.

  I realized that Alice was in terrible danger – I needed to reach that tower as soon as possible. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her. If the witches had been forced to retreat, the enemy must have powerful mages with them – perhaps even Balkai, the most powerful member of the Triumvirate.

  I knelt down close to the patch of shining water, intending to question Alice, but I didn’t get the chance. Her face had already faded from view.

  ‘What did Alice say?’ Jenny asked, frowning down into the ditch.

  I came to my feet and told her. ‘We’re heading directly for Pendle,’ I added, beginning to pace up and down nervously, my insides churning with anxiety at the thought that Alice might be in danger.

  ‘They’ll be lying in wait for us there too!’ Jenny exclaimed. ‘But now there’ll be even more of them.’

  ‘Maybe, but I know Pendle well. We’ll find a way to avoid them.’

  ‘Alice must know exactly where we are or she couldn’t have done that,’ Jenny said, pointing at the ditch. ‘How else could she have found us? If she knows that, then there’s a good chance the Kobalos mages will too – especially Balkai. We’ll never reach that tower.’

  ‘There’s a secret tunnel that leads into the tower,’ I told her. ‘I’ve used it before – more than once.’

  ‘But will it still be secret?’