Spook’s: Dark Assassin (The Starblade Chronicles)

by Joseph Delaney

  As I walked, Jenny filled my thoughts. I would never see her again. How I wished she was walking beside me now, giving me cheek!

  It was terrible to lose an apprentice, but I knew that over a third of the boys my master trained had died violent deaths while fighting the dark.

  I had to get used to it.

  It would happen again.

  CHAPTER 20

  LUKRASTA’S PLAN

  GRIMALKIN

  THE CAVERN SHIMMERED before my gaze. It was good to be able to see it. After being caught in the sun, I’d feared that I would be permanently blind. Warm air swirled sluggishly, stirred by heat that radiated like the hot breath of a giant from the mouth of the glowing forge.

  Entranced, I watched the god Hephaestus crouch over an anvil, his shadow monstrous against the wall of rock behind him. Sweat glistened on the knotted muscles of his naked upper body and his bulbous eyes were fixed in intense concentration. He was one of our allies and was now working at Pan’s behest.

  Three enormous bellows worked in sequence, pumping air deep into the coals to make them glow first red, then white. Whether they worked by magic or whether unseen hands squeezed them I could not tell.

  Huge hammers rested against the wall, but the one Hephaestus held was relatively small, his blows rapid and delicate. He was working a ball of silver alloy, shaping the first of the hands that would replace those cut from Lukrasta by his Kobalos torturers.

  ‘This is astonishing,’ I whispered to Thorne. ‘I have skills of my own, and as you know, child, I have always forged my own weapons. But my expertise is nothing compared to what we are witnessing now.’

  ‘It’s not like you to put yourself down, Grimalkin,’ she replied. ‘He has great skill, certainly, but so have you. It is true that he forged the hero swords which were used to slay the Fiend, but you crafted the Starblade. Isn’t that an even more formidable weapon?’

  ‘Do you think so?’ I asked with a smile. ‘Only time will tell the truth of that.’

  ‘Is the pain lessening?’ she asked, staring into my eyes, her own full of concern.

  ‘It is healing, child. The pain is something that I must deal with.’

  My face had indeed been damaged. When the sun seared into it, my vision had darkened – though I’d already visualized the location of the third Shaiksa and was able to slay him before fleeing those deadly rays.

  On my return to the dark my face had been covered in huge weeping blisters and I had been blind, but Pan had brought me a healer, one of the few Old Gods who are our allies. His name was Asclepius, and he carried a rod about which a snake was coiled. He was tall, thin and gaunt, with a shock of white hair, and looked more like a pale ghost than a powerful living entity.

  He had given me a choice: ‘There are two options,’ he’d said. ‘Which one do you prefer – slow painless healing or that which is rapid and agonizing?’

  ‘The latter,’ I told him.

  Asclepius spoke no more, but simply touched my eyes and lay cool hands upon my cheeks. Finally he tapped me three times upon the forehead with the rod and I heard the snake hiss.

  Then the agony began.

  Only now was the pain starting to fade, but my face had healed without scars and my sight was as good as ever. Asclepius had also tended Lukrasta, but that task had proved to be far from easy. He had hoped to regenerate his severed hands, but that was beyond him.

  However, with the help of Hephaestus the mage would soon have silver hands that promised to be even better than the originals. Then he would be forced to return to Earth: there is a limit to the length of time a living human, even if they have the powers of a witch or a mage, can remain in the dark.

  Where would he go? I wondered. Back to his tower in Cymru, where he had spent time with Alice?

  Pan was sitting on the roots of our tree home, a single raven perched on the branch above his head. No doubt it was a Watcher who served him. It looked more alert than he did. His eyes were closed, but he gestured that Lukrasta should speak.

  Thorne and I stood aside as the mage outlined his plan. He wore a hooded gown, and those who didn’t know he was a mage might have taken him for a spook. As he spoke, he gestured with his new hands. They were a wonder to behold – the fingers flexed as if formed of supple and sensitive skin, flesh and bone rather than silver alloy.

  ‘We need to strike directly at their god, Talkus,’ he said. ‘Remove him, and the war against the Kobalos will be almost won. He is their motivation as well as the source of their newly powerful mage magic.’

  ‘What do you propose?’ Pan asked, opening one eye, his voice full of weariness. He was still very weak; he was panting away like a dog on a hot afternoon and seemed utterly exhausted. I felt sure that, whatever Lukrasta proposed, Pan would agree to it.

  By contrast, the mage now appeared strong and full of energy. He had fully recovered from his terrible ordeal as a prisoner of the Kobalos. His thick hair shone and tumbled out from under his hood onto his shoulders. His lips, partially obscured by his moustache, were suffused with blood. I had rescued an emaciated, broken man, but now he appeared youthful, his whole body strong and vigorous. It was a tremendous change in so short a time – no doubt brought about by the healing abilities of Asclepius combined with the power of his own magic.

  ‘I intend to lure Talkus to my tower in Cymru. Using the store of magic that I have accumulated there, I can move the tower through time. I will bind him, then transport him into an epoch in which he is far from comfortable and abandon him there. But in order to achieve that, I will need Alice to join her magic with mine once more.’

  ‘Is Alice to have no say in this?’ I demanded.

  ‘Alice will see the need for our renewed alliance,’ Lukrasta said, glaring at me. ‘Besides, we have been very close friends and I am sure she will want to continue the relationship.’

  ‘She is with Tom Ward now,’ I remarked coldly. ‘I think you might be misjudging the situation.’

  Pan had opened both eyes now; he glanced at me and then at Lukrasta. ‘What you propose could lead to victory, so it is well worth attempting. I will command Alice to do as you ask,’ he told him.

  On the face of it, Alice and Lukrasta should indeed unite and attempt to destroy Talkus. But there was something wrong here, I thought … something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I had grave misgivings.

  ‘You have an important part to play in luring Talkus to my tower, Grimalkin,’ Lukrasta said, smiling at me in a supercilious way.

  ‘Then tell me what it is,’ I said coldly, itching to draw my blades and cut the smirk from his face.

  ‘There is a castle in Polyznia where I believe you spent some time. Tom Ward’s apprentice explored an attic high in a turret there and found a portal that leads to Talkus’s lair. I want you to enter this attic and provoke the god into pursuing you, leading him to my tower, where everything will be prepared to receive him.’

  ‘That portal is guarded by a powerful daemon. Tom’s apprentice, Jenny, barely escaped with her life,’ I pointed out.

  ‘That will surely prove to be of little hindrance to you, Grimalkin. Once the daemon erupts from the portal, slip past him and enter his domain. They say you like a challenge – one that tests your mettle. What more could you want than to grab a god by his tail?’

  ‘What makes you think that he will pursue me? Why should he do that?’ I asked Lukrasta.

  ‘You will have taken from him something he values greatly – the greater part of his soul!’ he replied.

  ‘And how may I seize his soul?’

  ‘Part of his soul lies within his body. That you cannot touch. But the bulk of it is still contained within a fleshy pouch connected to him by a tube – somewhat like a child within a mother’s womb drawing nutrition into its body through the umbilical cord. Once Talkus has absorbed the whole of his soul-stuff from that container, he will be at full strength. But until then he is vulnerable. Seize the pouch and he must follow. Lure him to my tower and I will d
o the rest.’

  I turned to Pan with a frown. ‘If he follows me, then he must surely pass through your domain. Will you allow that?’ I asked him.

  ‘He will follow you to Lukrasta’s tower, but will take a different route from you,’ he stated flatly. ‘He will not attempt to pass through here.’

  I nodded, realizing that it was useless to protest. I could see no flaw in the plan: if I could lure the god to Lukrasta’s tower and he did as he planned, we would have won. Deprived of their new god, the power of the Kobalos and their mages would surely wane.

  So I said nothing, and within the hour Lukrasta had left the dark and gone to meet Alice. Then they would head directly for his tower in Cymru.

  ‘I don’t like it, Grimalkin,’ Thorne said, once we were alone. ‘It’s easy for him to talk, but you will be the one in danger. I wish I could help you, but that shamanistic skill is difficult – I’ve still some way to go.’

  ‘Keep persevering. Eventually you will succeed. But I must attempt this task alone, child. If I could think of a better way, I’d put it forward. We’ll just have to make the best of things.’

  CHAPTER 21

  WITHIN THE DEVIL’S TRIANGLE

  THOMAS WARD

  I STRODE NORTH along the western flank of Pendle. My intention was to pass the village of Downham – the route my master had always preferred.

  By now my sadness at Jenny’s death had turned to rage. It was so unfair. Why had it happened? I kept wondering what I could have done differently. With the growing anger came guilt to weigh me down. I should have given her injury priority, I thought bitterly. I knew of at least two healers who worked north of Caster. I should have taken her there immediately.

  But no – in my eagerness to press on towards Malkin Tower and Alice, I had brought about Jenny’s death. I would make my enemies pay for that mistake. I still had the Starblade. If I could find the Kobalos god, Talkus, and get close to him, I could use the sword to slay him. Once I was reunited with Alice, that would be my chief objective. There had to be a way to accomplish this … and I would find it.

  At first Pendle was hard to make out, but then the moon rose in the east, and suddenly, as I finally approached the outskirts of the village, the hill was before me, rearing up like a huge, threatening beast.

  My master, John Gregory, had once commented that its shape reminded some people of a beached whale – although, having never seen one, that was of little help to me. Another comparison was to an upturned boat. But if you had to come up with a single word to describe Pendle, it was ‘menacing’.

  It was no coincidence that the majority of the County witch clans had made their homes close by. Some parts of the Earth had their own inbuilt power and were particularly suited to the use of dark magic; Pendle was certainly one of these.

  Malkin Tower stood in a clearing in a wood east of the hill. From its battlements, rising high above the trees that surrounded it, you could look down on the wood and see Pendle Hill beyond it. But the majority of the tower’s interior lay below ground. There were dungeons where the Malkins used to torture their enemies. John Gregory had once worked his way through the cells one by one, sending the dead to the light.

  However, I had no intention of going directly through the village of Downham. There might be Kobalos there – or their spies. It was best that nobody knew I was here. Once, Downham had been clear of witches. A strong priest called Father Stocks had kept the area safe, but he was dead now and things might have changed for the worse.

  The clans were always at each other’s throats. Why should things change? I thought. It wasn’t too far-fetched to suppose that some might even be on the side of the Kobalos. There were witches who were so greedy for dark magic that they’d do anything to get it, and the Kobalos mages certainly had plenty to offer.

  I knew that the further south I travelled down that eastern flank of the hill, the more dangerous things would get. Witches generally stayed further south in what’s sometimes called the Devil’s Triangle. Three main villages lay within the triangle: Bareleigh, Roughlee and Goldshaw Booth. The last of these had already been attacked and burned – there would definitely be Kobalos there; maybe they’d have some witch allies too.

  After about half an hour I glanced east to where the moon illuminated the treetops of a small wood in a valley. This was Witch Dell – one of the most dangerous places in the whole district, the home of many dead witches. Most were weak and could only crawl about catching mice and eating slugs and worms. But there were also a couple of really strong ones who might be out hunting tonight. I just hoped they’d choose Kobalos warriors rather than me for their prey – I didn’t want anything slowing me down. Nevertheless, if anything from the dark got in my way, I was more than ready for it.

  At last I spotted my destination – the stark outline of Malkin Tower rising out of the clearing at the heart of Crow Wood. The sight of it brought back so many memories, most of them bad. I remembered Agnes Sowerbutts, Alice’s aunt, who’d been slain by our enemies close to that tower. I’d last met her in Witch Dell; she was now one of the dead witches there. Was she still in the dell? I wondered. Witches didn’t last for ever there; they slowly disintegrated, bit by bit.

  As I approached the wood, I smelled smoke and saw distant campfires at its periphery. It could be witches, I thought; maybe even those who were enemies of the Kobalos. But Alice had told me that our allies were already inside the tower. It was too risky to approach the fires, so I headed away from them, taking a longer route.

  I soon found myself in an abandoned churchyard choked with bushes and saplings. I knew that there was a way in that avoided the densest part of the thicket. The place hadn’t changed much since my last visit. Tombstones stood at crazy angles, most of them hidden by the wild, unchecked growth, and I glimpsed the ruin of the church through the trees – just two low walls were still standing.

  I approached the small building that lay directly ahead of me. A sycamore tree had sprouted up through the roof, bringing most of it down. Four years ago, when I’d first visited this place, it had been a young tree, hardly more than a sapling. Now it rose high above the walls. This ruin was a sepulchre built long ago for a rich family. Some of their bones still lay there. I’d have to climb onto one of the shelves and squeeze down over the ledge into the tunnel.

  Suddenly I remembered what poor Jenny had said. I wondered if the tunnel was still a secret. Or were my enemies waiting to ambush me there?

  Before entering the sepulchre, I took the lantern from my bag and lit it, adjusting the shutters so that it cast its light upon the ground. Then I rummaged around for the special key that John Gregory’s locksmith brother had made, and placed it in my left breeches pocket.

  However, I found that, as usual, this first door wasn’t locked. I walked in, moving the shutters on the lantern so that the chamber of bones was partly illuminated. There was a stench of rot and decay here. Most of the stone shelves contained complete skeletons, but on one, the bones had been dislodged. I eased first my bag then my staff through the gap and let them go. It wasn’t a long drop. The first section of tunnel was low.

  It was a tight squeeze for me to fit through, but even so I didn’t risk removing the Starblade. Anything could lurk down there in the darkness; the moment when I was squeezing through into the tunnel would be the most dangerous of all. Blades or teeth could be lying in wait for me – though the Starblade would keep me safe from Kobalos dark magic.

  I crawled onto the cold shelf and, leaving the lantern behind me, dropped into the tunnel head first, tensed for a sudden attack. Moments later I was kneeling at the bottom, trying to control my rapid breathing and looking up at the oblong of yellow light from above. The ceiling was low; there wasn’t enough room for me to stand.

  I reached up through the gap and eased the lantern down into the tunnel, holding it up so that I could see ahead. At the moment there seemed to be no danger. Perhaps the tunnel was still a secret. I just had to hope so.

&nbs
p; Grasping my staff and lantern in my left hand and my bag in my right, I crawled forward. I’d never liked this first section of the secret passageway. There were no supports holding up the roof; just a tremendous weight of earth that might collapse at any moment to trap and suffocate anyone below.

  At last the tunnel emerged into an earthen chamber, where the ceiling was high enough for me to stand. The next section of tunnel was just as I remembered it: tall enough for me to walk and supported by stout wooden props. It was very narrow, but soon it widened out into an oval cave with a small stagnant lake at its centre.

  This pool had once been home to a wight, a creature created by witches by binding the soul of a drowned sailor to his bloated body. It had guarded the tunnel, but had been slain by a lamia witch; now it was safe to pass.

  The path skirted the lake to the left; it was muddy and slippery so I walked carefully. Suddenly, close to me, the water brightened and I saw Alice’s face looking up at me. She was frowning as she mouthed a message:

  ‘You’re in danger, Tom. Please take care. Help’s on its way.’

  Then she vanished, and I was left staring down into the stagnant pool. What if there were skelts down there – or even water witches? I wondered. It was certainly possible. I knew that it was extremely deep and might well contain a threat.

  I headed away from the water, on into the narrow tunnel, holding the lantern high in my right hand, my bag and staff in my left. I hadn’t taken more than a couple of dozen paces when I saw something moving directly ahead of me.

  At first glance the figures appeared to be human rather than Kobalos; they were coming towards me and I soon identified them.

  They were incredibly thin, with spindly arms and legs. Their mouths dripped with saliva, and hung open to reveal long, needle-like teeth …

  CHAPTER 22

  A MOUND OF BODIES