We came to a halt less than five steps from where she waited.
‘Well? What have you decided?’ she demanded.
As arranged, Thorne stepped in front of me and I placed a hand on each of her shoulders.
‘Thorne has agreed to sacrifice herself so that I may fight our enemies on Earth once more. All I ask is that you drain her blood quickly and hurt her as little as possible.’
Hecate smiled. ‘There will be no pain at all, Grimalkin. I will be gentle. Let the girl come to me!’
Thorne stepped forward as bidden. I had already used some of my magic to create an illusion. Hecate would see the daemon’s bones still attached to Thorne’s necklace. She would not realize that I was wearing them until it was too late.
When Thorne reached her, the witch queen put a hand gently on her head and bent her neck so that her throat was accessible. She opened her mouth wide and smiled, anticipating the taste of the girl’s blood. But as her teeth approached Thorne’s neck, her expression suddenly changed to one of fury.
The illusion I had created could not stand such close scrutiny from one so powerful.
She snarled with rage.
But it was already too late.
Thorne had plunged my favourite dagger into Hecate’s heart. She then twisted it three times, as I’d instructed. By then I was at her side; I seized Hecate by her long hair and bashed her head as hard as I could against the edge of the iron cauldron. I had hoped that it might crack like an egg, but to my disappointment it remained intact and I feared that the struggle would be difficult and prolonged.
And so it proved. It would not be easy to slay the Queen of the Witches.
She fought back with terrible strength, placing her hands around my throat and choking me. But I am Grimalkin and am not so easily defeated.
Thorne was still piercing Hecate’s body again and again, and that distracted her sufficiently for me to change my grip from her hair to her shoulder. With a tremendous heave I thrust her head down into the cauldron so that it was submerged beneath the surface of the boiling liquid. For a few moments I managed to keep her under – but still she fought back and threw me off before hurling Thorne to her knees.
Now Hecate was a terrible sight to behold. I did not know the ingredients of the bubbling concoction, but its effects on her were terrible. Apart from her eyes, every bit of flesh and hair had been removed from her head. Now there was a white skull atop a neck still retaining its flesh and sinew. But those fierce eyes still glared from their sockets and I felt the goddess gathering her powers and preparing to blast us into nothingness. I tried to draw my blades and attack, but it was as if an invisible wall lay between us. Hecate had summoned a magical barrier. I could not take a single step towards her.
I had just one chance to turn defeat into victory. I reached for the necklace around my neck, and with my left hand I stroked the bones of Beelzebub.
The daemon’s strength flowed into me, and suddenly I felt strong again. I surged forward, breaking through Hecate’s barrier. Then I thrust her skull back deep into the cauldron and bit her shoulder, just below the neck, sinking my teeth deep into her flesh, my face only inches from the boiling liquid.
I sucked her blood into my mouth. It was surprisingly sweet and tasted more like honey than blood. Still she fought, but the more she struggled, the faster I drank, gulping down her blood – until at last I felt her begin to weaken.
As I drank, I felt transformed. I was still Grimalkin, but I was also something much more.
I drank and drank until no more blood was to be had. As I drained the final drops, I felt Hecate’s body shudder; above my head I heard the beating of wings as the three ravens took flight. I lifted the Queen of the Witches and pushed her down into the boiling cauldron.
Standing well back, Thorne and I watched as the huge iron vessel hissed and churned, spurting liquid into the air. But finally the fierce bubbling became a mild simmer; eventually the surface calmed, reflecting the moon like a mirror.
Moments later, stripped of every piece of skin, flesh, sinew and clothes, the skeleton of Hecate floated to the surface. Thorne and I had triumphed, but now we’d need another god to partner Pan and aid our return to Earth. Swiftly, wasting no time, I used my scissors and snipped away Hecate’s thumb-bones.
I held them out to Thorne. ‘Take these in exchange for what you so freely gave,’ I invited her.
‘No, Grimalkin. They are yours. You slew Hecate, not I,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘I slew the bear!’ I laughed. ‘But we slew Hecate. Without your help I could not have prevailed. Take them – I insist. I have the blood of Hecate within me and I now own her power!’
Thorne accepted the bones, and we sat on the grass at the edge of the crossroads while she carefully drilled each of Hecate’s thumb-bones before threading them onto her necklace.
We walked back down the path towards a second confrontation. Pan was sitting on one of the huge gnarled roots that radiated from the great tree. He was alone. No animals sat at his feet; no birds perched upon his sagging shoulders. Apart from his clothes of brown bark and green grass, his pointy ears and curly toenails, he might have been any unhappy young boy.
As we approached, he looked up and shook his head. ‘Why did you do it, Grimalkin?’ he asked wearily.
‘Firstly, because I am the assassin of the Malkin clan, and although I am dead, I still consider it my duty to seek out and slay our enemies. Secondly, in exchange for her help she demanded the blood of Thorne, which I considered vindictive, vengeful and unreasonable. So I took her blood instead. Thus we have slain Hecate.’
‘You certainly are dead, Grimalkin, and the Malkins will find another assassin to replace you. You should not have slain our ally. You wished to fight our enemies back on Earth, but who will now join with me to send you there? I asked other gods, but they refused.’
‘I am still Grimalkin,’ I told Pan. ‘But I am now much more. Hecate visited the Earth at will. Perhaps I can do the same.’
But as I spoke, Pan vanished without replying.
‘We have become the slayers of gods!’ Thorne exclaimed enthusiastically, beaming at me.
‘Perhaps that’s what we were always meant to be, Thorne,’ I told her.
‘Whom shall we slay next?’ she demanded.
Talkus was the obvious choice, but first we had to find him.
CHAPTER 13
FEMALES ARE ANIMALS
GRIMALKIN
WE TURNED AND walked back down the path towards the crossroads. I peered into the cauldron. The surface was still calm. Of the bones of Hecate there was now no sign. Perhaps they had dissolved.
I felt strong and confident, and filled with an energy far greater than I had ever enjoyed back on Earth. I placed my hands upon the rim of the cauldron and felt the burning pain that iron inflicts upon witches. I ignored it and concentrated, sensing the vast power within. I began to draw upon it, adding to the strength I had drained from Hecate.
I glanced down the path that I was facing. Hecate’s death meant that she could no longer work with Pan to return me to Earth … but she had controlled the destiny of others, sending their lives down different paths. Could I use the paths to carry me back to Earth unaided? After all, Hecate had visited Earth to receive the obeisance of her subjects at the four main witches’ sabbaths.
If she could do it, then why shouldn’t I do the same? I had taken her blood into my dead body and I possessed her magical cauldron. Did I even need the help of Pan? I wondered.
I turned to Thorne. ‘I’m going to attempt to return to Earth,’ I told her.
‘Take me with you, Grimalkin,’ she demanded.
‘Later, Thorne,’ I said, my hand on her shoulder. ‘Let me check that it is possible first.’
I concentrated, drawing more power from the cauldron. The pathway ahead of me began to shimmer, then moved widdershins, against the clock. The four paths were now spinning like a wheel with the cauldron at its hub. It was hard not
to grow dizzy, and I heard Thorne gasp at the spectacle. But the area around the cauldron was stationary. As long as we didn’t move, we were safe.
Suddenly I saw that there were more than four paths. As I watched, they multiplied, each of the four replicating madly. Faster and faster they spun; at the end of each I could see different scenes: villages, cathedral spires, seascapes and farms. Each path led somewhere – there seemed to be an infinite number of destinations.
Where did I want to go on my first journey back to the land of the living?
Valkarky! Why not? I would spy upon the city of my enemies.
No sooner had I made that decision than the multitude of paths began to spin more slowly; there were now fewer of them. When the vortex came to a halt, I could see only the original four. I gazed down the narrow path ahead of me; in the distance, beyond a line of trees I saw the city of Valkarky gleaming as white as snow – beneath a dark sky. This was important: I knew that I could not visit Earth during the hours of daylight. I knew that it was after midnight there; seven more hours remained before the dawn.
‘That is where I am going!’ I said, pointing towards the city. ‘This will be my first journey back to Earth.’
‘Please take me with you, Grimalkin!’ Thorne begged again. ‘I am willing to accept the risk.’
‘I will do so when I’ve completed this visit,’ I told her. ‘Be patient, child. Besides, you have an important task to perform. Stand here and guard the cauldron so that I may return safely. Warn off any who dare approach, but if the threat is too great, call out my name. I will hear that warning and speed back to your side.’
Thorne nodded, then lowered her eyes in disappointment. I smiled at her, knowing that I needed to test my abilities and determine the limits of what I could now do.
I considered my options. I could strike at the Triumvirate – the three highest Kobalos mages who ruled the others. But perhaps it would be wise to start with something easier. Perhaps I should just enter Valkarky and see if I could wander around undetected.
It would be foolish to let hubris, the sin of overweening pride, be my undoing. Lukrasta had been the most powerful of human mages, and Alice’s magical power was probably greater than that of any other witch. Yet they had both underestimated the Kobalos High Mages and had been lucky to survive. I would not make the same mistake.
I began to follow the path, concentrating hard, attempting to choose the spot where I would come down – within the shadow of the city wall.
As I reached the end, I suddenly felt myself falling. As Hecate had warned me, the pain of transit from the dark to Earth was indeed terrible. As I plummeted like a stone, my blood seemed to boil, burning me from within, while my skin was seared, as if by frost. My bones warped and twisted, my sinews stretching as if my whole body was on a torture rack that sought to dislocate my bones.
While alive, the most terrible pain I had ever suffered was when the silver pin was inserted to mend my shattered leg. This was far worse.
I hit the ground hard, then crouched and vomited onto the cold earth. Slowly the pain subsided, but it was many minutes before I was able to stand, and my legs shook. I realized that this was when I would always be at my most vulnerable – I had been wise to choose the cloaking shadows of the city wall.
I looked about me. Where was the path that led back to the dark? Without it I could not return before the sun rose. I looked up and saw it shimmering in the air, a faint tube of purple light about fifty feet above my head. Reaching it would be a problem, I realized.
Then I became aware of something strange. I was no longer breathing; nor did I feel any need to take a breath. My body was strangely still. I placed my hand against my chest. My heart was not beating.
It was just as Hecate had warned. Still, what did it matter?
I could move.
I could think.
I could slay my enemies.
I was still Grimalkin.
I had come to Earth in the far north, deep within the Arctic Circle, by the very walls of the Kobalos city, Valkarky. But there were no guards around; no patrols; nothing that presented any danger to me.
I had deliberately chosen a section of wall that was still under construction. High above me, outlined against a bright swathe of stars, the sixteen-limbed creatures known collectively as the whoskor writhed and twitched as they worked to extend the city. They used skoya, a soft stone, as building material, which they exuded from their mouths and worked with dexterous limbs.
The Kobalos believed that their city would never stop growing; that it would extend beyond their domain of ice and snow to cover the whole Earth. Not a single blade of grass would remain.
No wonder Pan was the enemy of the Kobalos and their gods. He was the deity of nature and life; he could not allow the world to be reduced to this.
I looked up and saw the whoskor working diligently above me, so absorbed in their never-ending task that there was little likelihood of their noticing me.
It was time to test my abilities.
I had travelled much during my life on Earth and studied many different types of magic. A Romanian witch had taught me elements of shamanism, but I had only developed my skill fully in one aspect: I had learned to project my soul from my body. But would it still work now that I was no longer alive?
Using my will and uttering the words of the spell in the correct cadence, I attempted to cast my soul forward from my body. I soon became a small glowing orb of silver light. But when I glanced down, to my surprise, there was no sign of the body that my soul had temporarily abandoned.
Where had it gone? If it had vanished, how could I return to it? But once more I exerted my will and found myself standing below the high walls of the city.
Now I understood. I was dead and part of the dark. My powers were different now. I could do more than simply project my soul, leaving my body vulnerable to enemies who might stumble across it. I could now shift my shape immediately into that of an orb.
So that was one problem solved. When it was time to return to the dark, I could simply soar back up to the pathway.
There was another skill I wanted to test. When I’d lived on Earth, the ground that I walked upon and walls that enclosed me had been solid. What would happen now? Would it be the same here?
I willed myself back into the form of an orb and floated towards the city wall; then passed right through it. The stone was very thick, and for moments I could see nothing, but then I found myself in a long straight corridor. I drifted to the end and entered a large chamber.
Immediately I realized that I was in one of the skleech pens where the Kobalos kept their purrai. It was full of enslaved human females. They were dressed in rags and their faces and arms were filthy. Most were chained to the wall, some in what must have been very uncomfortable positions. Their eyes were mostly closed in sleep, but a few were staring into the centre of the room, where three females were on their knees.
They were being questioned by two burly Kobalos warriors; two more watched from the side, smirking, obviously enjoying what was taking place.
What the women had done wrong I never did discover. It might well have been part of their training: the Kobalos inflicted pain as an example to other slaves.
I floated up to the high ceiling of the chamber to watch. Suddenly one of the warriors struck a woman across the face with great force. Her head jerked back, and she groaned and began to sob.
‘Be silent!’ roared her attacker in Losta, the language of the Kobalos. ‘We inflict pain and you suffer, but you are not permitted to cry out or show that you are hurting. Do you understand?’
The woman continued to sob, and suddenly he drew a knife and cut her deeply on the forearm. She screamed, and blood began to seep from the deep wound.
The warrior’s response was to hold the blade against her other arm. ‘I’ll give you one more chance to be silent. Do you need a second cut from my blade?’
The woman stifled her cries as her blood dripped onto the
floor. I was boiling with rage at such inhumane treatment; I would have liked nothing better than to slay her tormentor on the spot.
But if I were to do so, what then? If I killed these guards, all the women in this skleech pen would surely face reprisals. They would be tortured or slain.
So I watched and waited and endured the anguish of being a helpless witness to such barbarity. It was three hours before the guard was changed, when I followed the four Kobalos out of the pen, eager to pay them back. I kept my distance as they walked down a series of dark passages, joking about what they had just done.
‘Females are animals – only through pain can they learn true obedience,’ one declared. His companions laughed and slapped him on the back.
Keeping close to the ceiling, I soared along the tunnel beyond them and took up position at the next gateway, quickly returning to my human shape.
Then I drew my blades.
The nearest torch hung some distance away and the entrance was in shadow, but perhaps they saw the light gleaming from my blades because the four large warriors came to a sudden halt.
‘This animal is your death,’ I said quietly. ‘It is your turn to learn obedience. Come to me now and die!’
The first one launched himself at me. He was faster than I’d expected and agile for his size. But it availed him not. I deflected his blade and buried my own in his throat so that the blood that had given him life gushed out to splatter the wall and floor.
The other three attacked together. I could have killed them slowly, inflicting maximum pain to pay them back for what they had done to the woman. But they posed no serious challenge. I finished it there and then, affording them the mercy of a quick death.
So far this had been easy, but I was under no illusion that it would always be so. These were just ordinary warriors; it would be a different matter to defeat a High Mage or the Kobalos god, Talkus. Still, I’d tested my capabilities and strength, and all seemed satisfactory. My first venture had been successful and I had learned much.
Spook’s: Dark Assassin (The Starblade Chronicles) Page 8
