Spook’s: Dark Assassin (The Starblade Chronicles) Page 4

  Beyond her stood another altar, this time dedicated to Xanatu, the deity of snakes and poisons; he had the body of a man but the head of a serpent. Looking around, I saw that there were over fifty plinths here, each an altar to a god of the dark. And there, in the distance, right in the centre of the chamber, was an empty platform, the largest of them all. This was where the statue of the Fiend had stood; following his destruction, it had been removed.

  I wondered again at the absence of worshippers. Surely some should be here, praying to their chosen god.

  The chamber was roughly circular and there were doorways spaced evenly around its circumference – maybe more than a score. All but two were shrouded in darkness.

  I led Thorne towards the first of the illuminated openings. As we approached, I heard a dull rhythmical thudding sound. I drew one of my long blades and peered inside.

  There, within the small chamber, was the daemon Beelzebub, sitting on a high dais with his back to the wall. Only one candle flickered with yellow light, but it was enough to reveal the situation at a glance. It immediately accounted for that thudding sound. The daemon was banging the back of his head against the stone wall.

  His face was twisted in agony, but this was not only caused by the banging. Beelzebub was holding out his hands, and the wounds where his thumbs had been dripped blood. He was experiencing terrible pain and was in no position to threaten us. I glanced at the two large bones on Thorne’s necklace. In slicing them off his hands, she had reduced him to this pitiful state.

  I smiled at her. ‘You did well, child!’ I said.

  But there was a second figure in that room – a female – though she scarcely appeared human. Perhaps only a third of the size of a normal adult, she was clothed in a slimy dark dress and her face was twisted and stretched, almost as if it had been melted and re-shaped. Her tongue protruded from her mouth, and her neck was impossibly elongated as it jerked right then left, right then left, catching each globule of blood that dripped from Beelzebub’s two wounds.

  ‘It’s Old Mother Malkin!’ Thorne exclaimed.

  I knew the story of Mother Malkin. She had once been the strongest of the Malkins and had terrorized the County, roaming far and wide, and only rarely returning to Pendle. Tom Ward had clashed with her in the early days of his apprenticeship, knocking her into a river with his staff and drowning her. But she was so strong that she had returned in a rare undead state, soft and malleable, able to ooze into a victim’s ears and possess his body.

  There are two ways to make sure that a witch cannot return from the dead: burn her or eat her heart. Tom had done neither, but in trying to escape she had taken refuge in a pigpen at the family farm, and the huge hungry swine had devoured her for him. As a consequence, she had been hurled into the dark, where she was trapped for all eternity.

  As I watched, the daemon’s blood suddenly ceased dripping – though he continued to hit his head against the wall. Now I could hear two other sounds: his whimpers of pain and the buzzing of the flies above him. Now I remembered that one of Beelzebub’s titles was the Lord of the Flies.

  Old Mother Malkin looked up, dismayed by the drying up of the blood. She lifted her long gown, which was soaked in the stuff, and sucked greedily at the hem. Neither she nor Beelzebub seemed to be aware of our presence.

  Moments later the blood began to drip again, so I put my hand on Thorne’s shoulder and led her away.

  ‘The gate was here last time, and that daemon controlled it,’ she told me. ‘Don’t think it’s here now, though. Don’t sense it at all. He can’t even control himself, can he?’ she said, nodding at Beelzebub.

  ‘Then we’ll try the next chamber,’ I said, leaving the room.

  ‘Shouldn’t we put them out of their misery?’ Thorne asked.

  I shook my head. ‘Let them suffer. They deserve it. For them, the dark has truly become what humans call Hell.’

  I approached the second illuminated doorway with caution. This might hold a real threat. I glanced through, and saw one person in the chamber – a witch whom I knew of old.

  It was Bony Lizzie, Alice’s mother; she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring into space.

  She looked up as we entered, and the blank expression on her face flickered into life. I had expected to see fear there, but instead I found hope.

  There had been no fondness between Lizzie and me, but given that we were from the same clan, perhaps she expected us to help her now. Did she think we would be her new allies? Thorne had told me that in the dark, predators often combined strength, but Lizzie’s remaining companions, Beelzebub and Old Mother Malkin, were now useless to her.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Grimalkin,’ she said, smiling falsely. She looked a little like Alice, and had no doubt once been pretty, but her years as a cruel malevolent witch had shaped her face into a sly caricature.

  ‘Is it good to see me as well?’ Thorne challenged. ‘Last time we met, you attacked me and Alice. No doubt you would’ve destroyed us both, unnatural mother that you are. But things didn’t go as you expected, did they? I took Beelzebub’s thumbs and still wear them around my neck. I slew the abhuman, Tusk, too. Your two remaining allies are in no position to come to your aid. How you are fallen! This is where you belong, so don’t seek to greet us in friendship now!’

  Lizzie did her best to smile at Thorne, but instead radiated a shifty malice.

  I readied myself to repel an attack from the witch. Thorne had told me that dark magic didn’t work here, but Lizzie had always been strong and fast, using her fingernails to take someone’s sight or slit their throat.

  ‘Stick together, we should, and help each other,’ she said craftily. ‘We three be from the same clan and ’tis a dangerous place here. Can’t you forgive the past? What’s done is done. We should think ahead. Make plans for our mutual benefit.’

  I didn’t believe a word that came out of her twisted mouth. Thorne’s eyes blazed with fury and she launched herself at Lizzie, blades unsheathed, but I pulled her back. She hissed and struggled for a moment, then stopped when I put my hand on her shoulder and smiled at her. Then I asked Bony Lizzie for information.

  ‘Where are the worshippers? Why are the altars out there abandoned?’

  ‘Everyone’s scared – and with good reason,’ she replied, taking a step backwards and regarding Thorne warily. ‘The gods don’t respond to sacrifices ’cos there’s a big battle coming – it’ll decide everything. Some say Talkus will win – he’ll make his altar on that big plinth that used to belong to the Fiend. But the gods keep changing their minds about whose side they’re on, so the dead stay away. Better to be absent than on the losing side, don’t you think?’

  ‘But you haven’t gone, Lizzie. Why have you stayed here?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve nowhere else to go now. It ain’t safe out there. Morwena used to protect me once, but she’s gone too, slain by one of those cursed skelts that serve Talkus.’

  ‘We’re looking for the gate, Lizzie – the portal to get us out of here. Do you know where it is?’

  I watched as a cunning look came into Lizzie’s eyes; she clambered to her feet and took a step towards us. ‘That gate leads to the Fiend’s domain. A dangerous place that be, with lots of things fighting each other. Not somewhere anyone with sense would stay. And what about after that? If you found the gate, where would you go then?’

  Thorne answered for me. ‘I know where the second gate is. Then we’d follow the narrow path between domains.’

  I still had my hand on her shoulder – I could feel the tension in her body. She was itching to put an end to Lizzie, but I didn’t want that; this witch could be useful to us.

  ‘If you take me with you out onto the path, I’ll show you where the portal is,’ Lizzie offered eagerly.

  ‘We’ll take you with us, Lizzie, don’t you worry. Just show us the portal,’ I agreed.

  Thorne glared at me in amazement. No doubt she’d have liked to extract the information by causing Lizzie pai
n, but this was easier and quicker. If we gave the witch enough rope, she would hang herself. All we had to do was be alert for treachery and deal with her the moment she tripped up.

  ‘Follow me, sisters!’ she crowed, and led the way out of the chamber.

  Thorne spat after her, just missing her left heel, but I simply smiled and winked.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE DAEMON TANAKI

  GRIMALKIN

  BONY LIZZIE LED the way through one of the other, dark, doorways. We followed a passageway for ten minutes or more, taking the left turn at each fork.

  ‘We’re getting near!’ said Thorne, wrinkling her nose. ‘I can smell the gate. We’ll be able to see it soon.’

  She was right. Ahead, in the darkness, I could just make out a very faint maroon glow. Then, as we got nearer, I saw two hoops, each spinning widdershins, against the clock – black and maroon, maroon and black, shifting between those two colours. I could smell it too now – a sickening stink of rotten eggs.

  It was the gate. Within the circles, another domain was just visible – the one that had once belonged to the Fiend. I could see the inside of a building: flags, stone walls and what looked like a cauldron.

  Beckoning to us, Lizzie headed through the portal; I noticed that as she dived through, her legs stuck out at odd angles. But despite that awkwardness, she passed through the gate successfully.

  ‘I’ll go next in case Lizzie’s planning some sort of treachery,’ I said, and dived through the spinning hoop, landing on hard flags before coming to my feet before Lizzie, who was moaning and rubbing her skinned knees. Thorne appeared just a second later, and I began to take stock of my surroundings.

  We were in a large kitchen full of cauldrons, pans and cooking utensils. It seemed to be deserted.

  ‘This is part of a huge castle,’ Thorne said. ‘We’ve a long walk ahead of us, but I know the way to the next gate – the one that will take us out onto the path between domains.’

  So, with Thorne in the lead and me bringing up the rear so that I could keep an eye on Lizzie, we set off. Thorne certainly hadn’t exaggerated the distance, but she knew where she was going. After descending three flights of stairs to a covered courtyard, we were faced with a choice of three passages, but without hesitation she led us along the central one.

  After some time we came to the edge of a vast dark grey lake and followed a narrow path bounded by a curved stone wall along its shore. We hadn’t emerged into the open air. Again there was rock not too far above our heads.

  ‘Everything in this domain is underground,’ she said, pointing upwards. ‘There is no sky – it makes me feel uncomfortable as if there’s a great weight above about to fall and squash me. Here, the biggest risk we face is skelts – I discovered the danger when I was with Alice,’ Thorne continued. ‘They’re probably still around. This was the Fiend’s domain, but no doubt the servants of Talkus occupy it now.’

  ‘There’ll be worse things here than skelts,’ Lizzie said with a cackling laugh. ‘Let’s hope we don’t meet one of them.’

  I didn’t comment. It seemed to me that Thorne was more likely to be right. Skelts lurked near water and might well be hiding beneath the surface of the lake.

  As we walked, the roof of rock receded until it was much higher and on our left was a huge cliff, within it a dark, cave-like entrance.

  ‘Through there is the Fiend’s throne room; that’s where we killed Raknid, the spider daemon,’ Thorne said. ‘We haven’t far to go now. Last time we searched for hours, but now I know exactly where the gate is.’

  I looked closer, but said nothing. I saw that what I’d thought was a cave was actually a doorway in the outer wall of some huge building. We entered and turned into a narrow passageway. Thorne led us at a rapid pace. She seemed confident but I just hoped that the gate hadn’t moved.

  My fears were groundless: soon I saw it ahead – the same faint maroon glow, the two spinning hoops – and smelled the stink of rotten eggs. We went through as last time, emerging onto a white path that floated off into the darkness. Above was a sky without stars. I glanced over the edge and saw an abyss dropping away below us.

  I gestured ahead. ‘Is that the way to Pan’s domain?’

  Thorne shrugged. ‘We’ve reached the path, and that’s the most important step. It doesn’t matter which direction we take now; forward or back, this will eventually lead us where we want to go. It may take some time, and will involve passing through many other domains. Nothing is certain because domains shift relative to one another. If we’re lucky, Pan’s domain could be the first we come across.’

  So we set off along the white path in the direction we were facing, with Thorne in the lead again. Once again I walked behind Lizzie: I didn’t trust her. Surely, I thought, given the risks she faced, she didn’t want to visit Pan’s domain. Where did she hope to go? Had she some other domain in mind; some haven she hoped to find?

  Every so often the way led into a tunnel or a cavern before emerging over the abyss once more, but we saw no domains. I was thankful: each one would be home to one of the Old Gods or some powerful daemon who would threaten us.

  As another gigantic slab of rock came into sight ahead, the gleaming path entering a cave at its base, I heard a distant rumble of thunder. Thorne halted and turned to face me, a look of fear in her eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

  Again that thunder rumbled. This time it was louder; it sounded much nearer.

  ‘Last time I heard that sound it presaged the arrival of the daemon called Tanaki. We only escaped because Alice blinded him with her magic, burning and melting his eyes.’

  I knew of that daemon. Tanaki had fathered the wolf-like creature that had tried to slay me two years earlier; I had been on the run, carrying the Fiend’s head in a sack, attempting to keep it out of the clutches of our enemies.

  ‘Run!’ cried Thorne, starting to sprint towards the entrance to the cave.

  She had hardly taken two steps when, with a tremendous roar, Tanaki appeared between us and safety.

  The daemon was a colossus, legs straddling the path, head fifty feet above us. It bore some resemblance to the son I had already encountered. The jaw was elongated and full of jagged wolf’s teeth, but its furry body was human in shape, with huge hands that ended in murderous talons.

  But one thing gave me hope: I knew that this daemon had great powers of regeneration, but Alice’s magic must have been extremely powerful.

  I saw that its eye sockets were empty. It was still blind.

  Suddenly, to my dismay, Bony Lizzie ran forward, crying out in a loud, shrill voice, ‘Here they are, right behind me! Here are your enemies. Their ally, the assassin Grimalkin, slew your son. The girl, Thorne, was the accomplice of the witch who blinded you! I brought them to you as you asked. Here they are. Take them and give me my reward!’

  So it was as I had expected: Lizzie had planned to betray us all along.

  Without any need for communication, Thorne and I stepped ahead of Lizzie and, ignoring her, ran past the daemon as it reached down towards the path with a monstrous taloned hand. That grasping hand passed just over our heads. I had killed Tanaki’s son, the kretch, and then Thorne had slain the creature a second time, here in the dark, consigning it to oblivion. Now Tanaki sought revenge, but it was blind and, guided by the information Lizzie had given it, the huge hand swept on towards the witch.

  She screamed as the blind daemon grasped her and brought her close to its face. I looked up and saw her jaw working as she opened her mouth to tell Tanaki of its mistake.

  But she uttered no words: perhaps she was being crushed, the air driven from her lungs. Whatever the reason, the moment to do so passed, and now Lizzie would never speak again.

  The daemon bit off her head, swallowed it, then threw her body into the abyss. Now she was twice-dead and consigned to oblivion.

  We ran through the splayed legs of the sated Tanaki and reached the safety of the cave. Glancing back, I saw t
hat it was still feeling around the path with its fingers, searching for another victim.

  We went on through the cave, hoping to reach Pan’s domain before the daemon discovered our whereabouts.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE DOMAIN OF PAN

  GRIMALKIN

  WE FOLLOWED THE white path until a small green disc no larger than a star appeared in the distance. It grew and grew – until I saw that there was an immense oasis of trees and grass floating in the darkness before us. This was surely Pan’s domain, I thought.

  I felt a shiver as we stepped off the path and began walking through the trees. Pan was our ally in the fight against the Kobalos and their god, Talkus, but we were interlopers here, and he would not appreciate this intrusion.

  The sky was dark and there was no moon, but the green light was everywhere. It radiated from the ground, the grass, the ferns and the trees. Green was Pan’s colour; the colour of life itself.

  I hoped that it would be his benign boy form that we encountered; he’d be playing on his pipes, and we’d be able to talk to him. His other shape was so terrible that we might find ourselves driven mad or consumed by the flames of his wrath.

  ‘This will be very dangerous,’ Thorne said, echoing my own thoughts. ‘Pan may exact a terrible price. What was the price he asked of Alice? Was it as bad as she expected? She was very afraid.’

  ‘It was even worse than she feared,’ I replied. ‘Pan demanded that she work with the dark mage Lukrasta, and join her power with his to fight the Kobalos. It meant that she had to leave Tom Ward. She obeyed Pan without explaining her actions to anyone, and a rift grew between her and Tom. She did not tell him the true reason for what had occurred until much later. But Lukrasta is dead now, slain by the Kobalos mages, and she and Tom are reconciled.

  ‘Then what will he demand of us for entering his domain uninvited?’ I was indeed concerned as to what it might be.

  Thorne turned and tried to reassure me. ‘He is our ally and should welcome our offer of help. Though it’s true that gods are notoriously wilful and unpredictable.’