Spook’s: Dark Assassin (The Starblade Chronicles)

by Joseph Delaney

  ‘Would you want to take over that area again?’ I asked him.

  ‘Why not, Master Ward? After all, I worked the area north of Caster for years – I’m an expert at dealing with creatures from the dark that live in water. Even John Gregory deferred to me when we dealt with water witches.’

  ‘Judd is a good man – he’s settled into your old role now. You left the mill to John Gregory, and when he drew up his own will he left this house and the one at Anglezarke to me for as long as I should practise the trade of a spook. He gave the use of the watermill to Judd, who now thinks it’s his for life.’

  ‘But I’m not dead, so that part of the will is void, isn’t it? Couldn’t Judd take over the winter house up on Anglezarke Moor?’ Arkwright asked, forking a large piece of chicken into his mouth.

  I shrugged. ‘I suppose he could. It would be good to have three spooks working this part of the County.’

  ‘Would you come with me to the mill? It might make things easier. After all, this Brinscall has never met me. I don’t think I’d take kindly to someone asking me to kneel on my hands again.’

  ‘We could set off tomorrow if you like,’ I suggested.

  Arkwright shook his head. ‘I’ve been travelling for weeks, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to rest here for a few days first. Besides, there’s something needs doing. Could you lend me a staff while I sort out a new one?’

  ‘Of course – I always keep a few spares. What is it you plan to do?’ I asked.

  Arkwright had been ignoring Jenny. Now he fixed his eyes on her for the first time. ‘I propose to see what this young lady is made of. It seems strange to me, a girl being trained as a spook. It would have troubled John Gregory, as well you know. But you’ve taken her on and she needs to be able to survive—’

  ‘Don’t refer to me as “she”!’ Jenny retorted angrily. ‘She’s the cat’s mother!’

  ‘Well, you’ll get your chance to pay me back, little cat – that’s if you’re good enough. Tomorrow I’ll give you a taste of what I taught your master. I’ll teach you to fight with a staff. So get ready for some whacks and bumps!’

  Bill Arkwright was as good as his word. Late the next morning I watched them face each other in the garden, staffs held in the diagonal defensive position, blades retracted.

  Jenny looked pale. I suspected that she was scared.

  Arkwright’s expression was mean. ‘Let’s see what you’ve got, girl. You attack; I’ll defend.’

  She rushed in and swung her staff at his head. He blocked it with ease. She tried again – with the same result. Then she backed off and took a deep breath, looking ready to give up – though I knew that my apprentice had more spirit than that.

  Fighting with a staff was one aspect of her training that I’d neglected. It had been the same when my own master taught me. He’d given me the basics, but passed me on to Arkwright to learn the finer arts of fighting with staffs and to be toughened up.

  Jenny suddenly ran at him, swinging her staff like a maniac, aiming blow after blow. Not one of them landed, despite the speed and fury with which they were delivered. By now she was red in the face, but Arkwright blocked each attack with ease. Then, almost casually, he struck back for the first time, making contact with her left arm, just above the elbow. She gave a cry and dropped her staff.

  Bill Arkwright shook his head. ‘Now you’re defenceless. You must never drop your staff, little cat. And there was no need to do so then. I hit your left arm. No doubt it was numb – I probably hit the nerve; that was my intention – and your fingers couldn’t maintain their grip. But what about your right hand? I didn’t hit that arm, did I? So there was no need to let your staff fall. Never drop it. That weapon might be all that stands between you and death! Even one-handed, it can be wielded with deadly effect. Now pick it up and we’ll try again.’

  He worked with Jenny for over an hour, correcting her stance and showing her how to feint and deceive an opponent before delivering a surprise blow. But he never struck her on the head; he went a lot easier on her than he had when training me. She might have ended up with a sore arm but she suffered no other cuts or bruises.

  ‘We might make something of you eventually, Mistress Jenny!’ Arkwright said at last with a grin. ‘I’ll give you another lesson tomorrow. Now, Master Ward, would you mind if I cut myself a length of rowan wood for a replacement staff? This one you loaned me is good enough, but I prefer something larger.’

  ‘Help yourself,’ I told him. ‘I’m sorry I damaged the other one. There are several rowan trees in the western garden.’

  Jenny and I watched as he cut a branch and trimmed it. Then he removed the fearsome blade from the broken half of his original staff and bound it into position on the new one.

  ‘I pity the water witch who gets in the way of this!’ he said.

  Arkwright had been ruthless in his dealing with such denizens of the dark. Unlike John Gregory, who’d put witches in pits indefinitely to keep the County safe, he’d sentenced them to only a year or two underground. Once their sentence was served, he dragged the witch out of the pit and killed her. Then, in order to ensure that she didn’t come back from the dead, he would cut out her heart and throw it to his dogs.

  ‘Where is John Gregory’s grave?’ Arkwright asked suddenly. ‘Is it by the local churchyard or did you put him to rest near the Wardstone?’

  Priests didn’t usually allow a spook to be buried in hallowed ground; their bodies were occasionally blessed, but were always laid to rest just outside the perimeter of a cemetery. I’d done what I knew my master would have wished.

  ‘He was brought home. He’s buried in the western garden,’ I said. ‘Would you like to see his grave?’

  Arkwright nodded, and the three of us walked towards it.

  ‘You’ve put the grave right next to the seat!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘It was his favourite spot,’ I replied.

  This was where he had taught his apprentices. It had a great view of the fells rising above the trees. He would pace back and forth, teaching me all things spook’s business while I sat there taking notes.

  Bill Arkwright stared down at the inscription.

  HERE LIETH

  JOHN GREGORY OF CHIPENDEN

  THE GREATEST OF THE COUNTY SPOOKS

  ‘You chose the words yourself, Master Ward?’ he asked.

  I nodded and caught Jenny’s eye. She looked sad. She had never met John Gregory, but she was no doubt picking up those feelings from me.

  ‘You chose well,’ said Arkwright. ‘Nothing truer was ever written.’

  CHAPTER 4

  THE SAFE HOUSE

  GRIMALKIN

  COMBAT HAS ALWAYS absorbed and enthralled me. As I fought the daemon chykes on the bloody flags in front of the tall basilica, I lost track of time. The fighting seemed to take place in a timeless present and I was lost in the joy of combat.

  Much to my disappointment, it came to an end with a single peal from the great bell.

  The predators immediately took flight, the tumult of their beating wings fading into the distance as they soared over the basilica to leave the sky above us empty. But the cobbles still ran with blood, and more than a dozen chykes lay there, dead or dying.

  ‘I know a place where we could take refuge for a while and talk,’ Thorne said. ‘It’s a safe house.’

  I stared at her. ‘Alice told me that when she was here in the dark you also took her to a safe house. Is it the same one? The one where you betrayed her?’

  Alice had ventured into the dark in order to retrieve the Dolorous Blade, a special weapon that could bring about the destruction of the Fiend. She had been met by Thorne, who had promised to help her.

  She had lied – though she had later saved Alice’s life and had more than redeemed herself through her subsequent deeds. I’d intended to show my displeasure, but I felt sure that she could be trusted now.

  Thorne looked down, unable to meet my gaze. ‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘it is the same one.
I’m ashamed of what I did. But I hope that Alice told you the full story …’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, I know that after that betrayal you proved yourself loyal and trustworthy. Take me to this safe house. We have much to discuss.’

  Soon we were sitting cross-legged, facing each other beside a huge pit of murky water in a gloomy damp cellar – just as Alice had described.

  A single torch flickered upon the wall; Thorne had her back to it so that her face was in darkness.

  ‘Do you forgive me for what I did here?’ she asked me.

  ‘Alice forgave you. That is enough. But she never explained the reason for your betrayal,’ I replied.

  ‘I was lonely and afraid. The dark’s a terrifying place and I’d have done almost anything to escape. But there was something that motivated me even more than fear and misery: my ambition; a dream that I strived to fulfil. I’d hoped to become the greatest witch assassin of the Malkin clan, surpassing even your achievements, Grimalkin. Death had taken that opportunity from me. I was offered a chance to go back to Earth; a chance to realize my ambition. For that I betrayed Alice and I’m truly sorry.’

  ‘Put it behind you, child. Alice told me what you did later – how you helped her; how you faced up to the daemon Beelzebub and took his thumb-bones. But to return to Earth and live one’s life again – that is an astonishing thought. Is that possible or did they lie to you? Can a dead witch really leave the dark and live on Earth again?’

  Thorne shrugged. ‘I was promised that by Morwena.’

  Morwena had been the most powerful of the water witches. With the help of Tom Ward, I’d defeated her and sent her soul into the dark.

  ‘Alice said that Morwena was slain here,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, she was slain for a second time here in the dark. A skelt stabbed her with its bone-tube – it went right through her neck and emerged from her mouth. Then it drained her of blood. Now she’s ceased to exist. That is the danger that faces all of us here.’

  ‘Did Morwena say how your return to life would be accomplished? Did she herself possess such powerful magic?’ I asked.

  Thorne shook her head. ‘Morwena was strong, but even she couldn’t have managed that. Only the power of the Old Gods could achieve it. That’s what she told me, anyway. She said that it was only possible if two such gods, working together, willed it.’

  ‘Which of the Old Gods would she have invoked?’

  ‘She didn’t say, but I assume that the Fiend was one of them. I was a fool to listen to her. Even if it were possible, she’d never have kept her promise,’ Thorne said, shaking her head.

  ‘But what if it is possible, child? What if we could be returned to Earth?’

  ‘I’d love to go back too. I feel that I was cheated of my life.’

  ‘Then perhaps we could both return. If I made it possible, would you fight against our enemies alongside me?’

  ‘Of course I would – but how would we accomplish that?’ Thorne asked.

  ‘I can think of one god who might help – Pan,’ I replied.

  Pan was the enemy of Talkus, the god of the Kobalos, and his ally, Golgoth. He might be willing to help me. But first I had to find him.

  ‘Do you know where in the dark the domain of Pan is?’ I asked Thorne.

  ‘The domains are constantly shifting. They never stay in one place for long. But given time, I could find it. First we’d have to find a way out of this domain. There’s just one gate, but it’s not always in the same location. At the moment it’s somewhere inside the basilica. It gives off a faint maroon light, which is much easier to see in the dark. Then there’s the smell – it stinks of rotten eggs. No, there’ll be no problem finding that gate, but I’ve enemies there – Bony Lizzie, for one; and of course Beelzebub will be seeking revenge too.’

  ‘What exactly do we face? Who else was present when you took his bones?’ I wanted to know.

  ‘Tusk, the abhuman, was there. He’s strong and very dangerous, but I stabbed him through the forehead with my scissors and he is no more,’ Thorne told me. ‘Old Mother Malkin was with Lizzie, but I don’t see her as a threat. I forgot – there’s another thing you need to know: magic doesn’t work inside the basilica. If it did, Beelzebub would have blasted me before I could get anywhere near him. But he does have some abilities that transcend magic – they’re part of him, and he used them to control the gate. Despite the loss of his thumb-bones he might still do so. He and Lizzie will be the main threats we face.’

  ‘You can leave them to me, child,’ I said. ‘If they stand in our way, they’ll wish they hadn’t. All you need to worry about is getting me to that gate so that we can escape from here. But before we go I’d like to know a few more things about the dark. When we entered this town and walked down that first cobbled street, I saw that some of the dead still bore the wounds that had caused their demise. It’s as if they carried them over into the dark. So why am I not reduced to bloody pieces, as I was when Golgoth slew me? And you – why have you still got your thumb-bones, Thorne?’ k'12

  ‘When I first came here, I had no thumb-bones – it made it hard for me to hold my weapons, let me tell you! Sometimes I even used my toes! But after I took Beelzebub’s thumb-bones, mine were returned to me – I’m not sure why. And I don’t know how you managed to enter the dark in one piece. Maybe Pan will tell you.’

  I smiled. ‘That’s all the more reason to seek him out, then. But tell me more about these predators. How are things organized here? Is it kill or be killed? How are the prey chosen?’

  ‘They are usually weak souls who select themselves for that role – they are easily taken by the strong … Do you thirst, Grimalkin?’ Thorne asked me suddenly.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘My mouth is very dry.’

  ‘Well, the water here will do nothing but make you vomit. There is only one source of nourishment in the dark and that’s blood. Blood witches would be more at home here – even though, back on Earth, they drink only small amounts of blood during their magic rituals. Here it must be consumed in far greater quantities. On Earth we bone witches ate the same food as humans and preferred our meat cooked. Here we must drink a lot of blood. At first I found it very difficult.’

  ‘Is there no other way?’ I asked, wrinkling my nose in disgust at the thought.

  Thorne shook her head. ‘If you don’t drink blood, you will become weak and die the second death. It’s as simple as that. Blood is also the currency here. It can be obtained in special shops and hostelries, but at a price – weak souls are employed to seek out victims or give information on their whereabouts. The strong don’t need to compromise themselves in such a way. They take blood directly from chosen victims. Drink the blood of a strong witch and you’ll acquire her strength.’

  ‘Then Lizzie had better not cross my path,’ I retorted. ‘If I must drink blood, it might as well be hers!’

  CHAPTER 5

  WHAT HUMANS CALL HELL

  GRIMALKIN

  KEEPING TO THE shadows as best we could to avoid the glare of the blood moon, Thorne and I returned to the basilica along narrow cobbled streets. The greatest moment of danger was when we crossed the open flagged space to reach the shelter of its walls, but the bell remained silent and the air empty of chykes. I would have liked to kill a few more, but we needed to conserve our strength for what lay ahead.

  We climbed the precipitous stone steps that led to a door at the top; the one entrance that Thorne thought wouldn’t be guarded or locked – and indeed, she simply pushed it open and we stepped through into darkness.

  ‘I’ve been in here before, so I’ll lead the way,’ she said. ‘There’s a spiral staircase leading below ground.’

  I followed her down the steps, descending widdershins, unable to see anything. There was no dangerous stairwell that we could topple into, but the stairs were steep and narrow, and my shoulders brushed against cold damp stone on either side.

  We came out onto a narrow ledge above what might have been a vast natural cavern, b
ut for the statues and carvings on the walls, which were illuminated by torches. The floor was a long way down, and it seemed to me that it must lie considerably lower than the square in front of the basilica.

  Thorne pointed downwards. ‘Can you see those altars below?’ she asked.

  I peered down and saw a number of structures on the distant floor. Some were square; others round or oblong. ‘Which gods do they honour?’ I kept my voice low, but it still echoed faintly from the walls of that huge place.

  ‘Most of the deities from the dark are represented there. One statue – that of the Fiend – has been removed, now that he’s ceased to exist. But he had a domain of his own and it’s very close to this one. If we succeed in passing through the gate, that’s where we’ll end up. Of course, there’s no danger from him now, but other entities will have taken up residence there. On my last visit I came across skelts.’

  ‘Why is there nobody below? Where are the worshippers?’

  ‘Each deity is worshipped at different times – though there should certainly be devotees tending the altars.’

  ‘So they could be lying in wait for us?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s a possibility,’ answered Thorne. ‘When I came here with Alice, we were ambushed and fell into their hands. That was because Morwena’s magic was powerful enough to detect our presence even from a distance. But she’s dead now. I don’t expect any others will know that we’ve entered the basilica.’

  I was not reassured by her words. I didn’t like the emptiness of the floor below. Something was wrong. I sensed danger …

  We descended a further flight of steps cautiously and emerged onto the floor. I glanced at the nearest altar, where I saw an effigy of Hecate, the so-called Queen of the Witches – although none of the Pendle clans had ever recognized her as such. She was depicted with a regal, imperious smile, but her eyes were cruel. Black lilies were strewn at her feet, filling the cauldron at the base of the plinth. That cauldron was believed to be the source of her power.