THOMAS WARD
ALTHOUGH I’D NEVER seen one of the zanti, I’d read Grimalkin’s notes on the creatures.
They were one of the entities she’d grown and studied from samples taken from the tree home of the haizda mage I’d slain, experimenting to determine their strengths and weaknesses. They were one of many different battle-entities created by Kobalos mages to attack humans.
Their foreheads and cheeks were covered with black scales and the small eyes were wide-set. Those scales were tough. The zanti were much smaller than the varteki, also designed for battle, and were used for close combat.
As they advanced, the creatures cocked their heads from side to side, making small jerky movements like birds. There seemed to be no more than seven or eight of them, but others might well be lurking in the shadows. The ones I could see were armed with long blades and short axes – though the tunnel was narrow, with room for only one of them to attack at a time. This was something that tipped the odds in my favour.
I set my lantern, bag and staff down on the ground. Then I strode forward, drawing the Starblade from its scabbard.
I lunged at the foremost creature; it was fast, and its axe parried my blade. I couldn’t see much, but I struck again, slicing away its thin left arm close to the shoulder. It screamed and retreated, another stepping forward to take its place.
I quickly despatched the second, swinging hard from left to right, and had the satisfaction of feeling the blade bite deep. A third came for me, and then a fourth, but I dealt out death to each creature that opposed me.
Suddenly, acting as one, the remaining zanti turned and fled.
Despite their retreat, I still felt uneasy. These creatures had surely given up too easily. No doubt this had been a patrol, now heading back to summon reinforcements; they would probably choose a better place to fight – one where they could bring their weight of numbers to bear.
Alice had said that help was on its way, though. Behind me, beyond the entrance to the tunnel and the graveyard, my enemies lay in wait. Surely no aid would be coming from out there. Where else could it be waiting but in the tower above? Instinct told me to keep going.
It was then that I sensed a movement at my back. I turned and lifted the lantern, and saw the unmistakable outline of another entity. I’d been right to be mistrustful of the pool: danger had indeed been lurking in its depths. A skelt was scuttling towards me on its many legs; others were surging along the tunnel behind it, their bone-tubes extended threateningly.
They had waited for me to move on before emerging, thus cutting off my escape route. I was trapped; there was now danger ahead and behind.
I sheathed the Starblade, snatched up my staff, bag and lantern and ran forward along the tunnel. Ahead of me, the door that led up into the tower now stood open. It was almost like an invitation. No doubt the zanti were waiting on the other side.
I went through cautiously and held up the lantern to illuminate the darkness. I could see the passage ahead and the cells on either side where the Malkins used to keep their prisoners. Were there zanti lurking inside, ready to ambush me?
I closed the door behind me and, taking the key from my breeches pocket, pushed it into the lock. I had to jiggle it about before it would turn, but that key rarely let me down. The door was now locked, and I felt confident that it was stout enough to keep the skelts at bay. That was one threat dealt with, but how many zanti lay ahead of me?
I moved cautiously down the passageway, checking the cells one by one. At the first two I paused to ready my staff and glanced left, then right. They were empty but for the bones of those who’d died in captivity, so I moved forward to the next, which was also empty.
But the fourth …
The first thing that warned me was the stench of blood. Then I peered in and saw a mound of bodies. They were dead witches, their sightless eyes wide open, their faces a rictus of pain and terror. They were covered in blood, which had formed a red moat around them. I realized that they had died very recently. The blood was still dripping from them.
Closer inspection told me that the bodies belonged to more than one of the Pendle clans. Two of the clans had no obvious distinguishing marks: there was no way to judge from her dress or her weapon whether a witch was a Malkin or a Deane. But the Mouldheels always went barefoot, and I noticed that some of the dead witches were not wearing pointy shoes. Nor had these been lost in combat – I could see the hard callouses on the yellow soles. It was then that I recognized one of the dead Mouldheels. It was Beth, Mab Mouldheel’s sister. I stared down at her.
Was this the help that had been on its way? I wondered. Had the zanti massacred these witches? If so, how many of the creatures awaited me in the tower?
It was then that an unbearable thought slipped into my head.
What if Alice had been slain too? What if her corpse formed part of this mound of the dead?
Then I caught sight of something so terrible that I swayed and almost fell. One of the legs sticking out from the pile of corpses was wearing a pointy shoe I recognized.
It looked like Alice’s.
CHAPTER 23
THE REFUGE OF THE WITCHES
THOMAS WARD
FRANTICALLY I BEGAN to pull the dead off the heap, sliding their bodies to the ground, working my way down towards that foot in its pointy shoe.
When I reached it, I let out a sigh of relief, my whole body trembling. The shoe was very similar to the ones Alice wore, but it wasn’t hers.
I continued to slide witches off the pile, carefully checking each dead face, looking for Alice but desperately hoping that I wouldn’t find her.
At last the grim work was done and I paused for a moment, allowing my breathing to return to normal.
I stared down at the corpses that were now scattered across the cell and felt a tear trickle down my cheek; I shivered with cold and emotion. At last I took a deep breath and brought my body back under control, then picked up my staff, bag and lantern and left the cell. Cautiously I glanced into each of the remaining cells. Apart from a few skeletons and the odd bone, all were empty.
I went on and entered the huge circular chamber at the centre of the cellar. I could hear the sound of dripping water – the ancient tower was surrounded by a leaking moat and this room lay deep underground. But I was alert for other sounds; anything that might indicate the presence of zanti.
The chamber was mostly as I remembered it. Five pillars hung with chains and manacles supported the high ceiling. Two things were missing, though: the wooden table with its instruments of torture and the metal brazier where the witches heated up their knives, tongs and pincers.
Maybe the Malkins had stopped torturing their enemies … But I dismissed the thought immediately. It was unlikely that they had changed. Surely the bitter conflict between the clans had continued. I thought back to the mound of corpses – formed from witches from all three clans. This surely meant that Alice had succeeded in forming some sort of alliance between them so that they had united against our common enemy. Though in this case they had not prevailed.
I looked at the stone steps that circled the walls of the tower; they led up to the trapdoor that gave access to its upper reaches. This door stood open now. Had the zanti climbed through it or were they still on this level? There were other passageways and other cells here; they could be lurking anywhere.
Relying on my instincts, as my master had taught me, I decided to climb up into the higher levels of the tower. Surely Alice had to be somewhere up there. At the trapdoor I peered upwards, but it was pitch black. Anything could be lurking there. I put down my staff and bag and lifted the lantern, holding it to the opening until I saw the damp curve of the wall beyond.
Nothing was moving. All I could hear was dripping water. I poked my head and shoulders through and then held the lantern high. The steps spiralled on upwards, but they were deserted. Apart from the sound of dripping, there was silence.
Setting my lantern, bag and staff down on the flag
ged floor beyond the door, I climbed through. Then, all at once, I heard a noise from above – a metallic clang.
I froze where I was and waited, but the sound wasn’t repeated. I gazed up at the narrow spiralling steps that disappeared into the darkness far above. They looked very slippery. The green slime that covered the walls had extended to the stairs: no doubt more and more water was seeping through the stones from the moat above. The higher I got, the more dangerous it would become. A slip might well be fatal.
I remembered that Jenny hadn’t been too happy with heights; these slippery steps would have made her nervous – though she’d been brave; she would have climbed them anyway. It would have been so good to have her alongside me now. Two heads were always better than one when assessing danger. I missed her.
I picked up my things and climbed slowly, keeping my right shoulder hard against the wall and trying not to look down into the stairwell. Cells lined the staircase, so I needed to be watchful. The zanti had to be somewhere.
It was cold, and my breath steamed in the air ahead of me. Approaching the first cell, I held the lantern up to peer inside. It was empty, and so was the next. At last I reached the cell I remembered so well. My brother Jack and his wife and child had been held captive here, brought to Pendle by the witches who had raided their farm. This cell was empty too.
I paused and glanced down the stairwell to my left. The floor was already a long way below.
I continued to climb, my footsteps echoing off the stones. I was nearing the top now. There wasn’t much further to go. What would I find when I got there? I wondered. I wanted Alice to be waiting for me, but I didn’t hold out much hope of that. My heart was racing with dread. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her again. The help she’d promised hadn’t arrived, and then I’d found all those dead witches. If all was well, Alice would surely have known that I was on my way; she would have come down the steps to greet me. The fact that she hadn’t didn’t bode well.
I wondered what could have stopped someone with such powerful magic at her disposal. Maybe it had been an overwhelming force – hordes of zanti or Kobalos warriors. Or it might have been Balkai, the most powerful mage of the Triumvirate, who had no doubt created the dangerous tulpas I’d encountered, but he’d yet to show his face.
Only one possibility was worse: the direct intervention of Talkus.
The trapdoor at the top of the steps was open; it was strange that it wasn’t locked and guarded, I reflected. I climbed through into the storeroom, which was full of provisions – sacks of potatoes, carrots, swedes and turnips – and then headed into the large room beyond; the place where the Malkins lived and worked at their spells. I stood there for a moment, looking around. The chamber was full of witches.
There were at least two hundred Pendle witches gathered there, though apart from the drone of snores the room was quiet. Most of them were sleeping. There was a smell of sweat and cooking, and the place was cluttered with sacks and mattresses and dirty plates.
In the far corner, thirteen witches sat cross-legged in a circle on the floor. They weren’t speaking, but their faces were fixed in concentration. One or two of them I recognized. In the air above them, something was shimmering. I realized that this was the Malkin coven creating some form of magical spell.
Heads were starting to turn towards me now. No doubt the trapdoor hadn’t been guarded because they thought there were witches on watch below. They didn’t yet realize that they’d all been slain.
Two witches were standing to one side, and they both approached me immediately. The first I didn’t recognize: she was tall and fierce, and scowled at me as if we were deadly enemies. At her belt she carried seven long blades, and a thin wooden tube hung from a chain around her neck. She reminded me a little of Grimalkin. Was this the new assassin of the Malkin clan? I wondered.
However, I knew the other witch, who was barefooted. It was Mab, the young leader of the Mouldheels. She had long pale hair and green eyes and was quite pleasing to look at – though I knew that she wasn’t to be trusted; she was a blood witch, and sometimes the stink of her breath was worse than a dog’s.
She smiled at me. ‘Good to see you, Tom. My, how handsome you’ve grown! Where’s Beth, that ugly sister of mine? Glad she found you and brought you up here safely,’ she said, looking over my shoulder as if expecting to see her sister at any moment.
There was no easy way to break the news to her. Her other sister had died fighting on our side at the Battle of the Wardstone. Now the second twin was dead.
‘I’m sorry, Mab, but I have some bad news. Your sister is dead. She and all the other witches that were sent to help me were killed by the zanti before I arrived. Their bodies are in the cells below.’
Mab let out a terrible wail and covered her face with her hands. The other witch clasped her left hand around the hilt of one of her long daggers; she looked as if she wanted to cut my heart out.
‘Where’s Alice?’ I asked her, ignoring her hostile expression.
‘Someone came to claim her,’ the witch replied, a malicious smile on her face. ‘She had more important things to do than hang around waiting for you. She went off with the mage Lukrasta.’
CHAPTER 24
MAKRILDA, THE WITCH ASSASSIN
THOMAS WARD
I JUST STARED at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. How could Alice have gone off with Lukrasta when he was dead?
Then, all at once, I was assailed with doubt. Was he dead? That’s what Alice had told me, but could she have been lying? The fact that I’d been rushing to Alice’s side had cost Jenny her life. I couldn’t bear the thought that she had betrayed me after all.
No, I reflected, it was more likely that the witch before me lied.
‘Is that the truth?’ I asked, directing my anger at her.
‘Be careful, Spook. It is dangerous to call me a liar,’ she hissed. ‘I am Makrilda, the assassin of the Malkin clan. Your thumbs would make a good addition to my collection of bones. So don’t give me an excuse to cut them off!’
I was filled with an anger so extreme that I lost control of myself. Instead of taking a deep breath and containing my wrath, I stepped forward and struck her hard on the right shoulder with my open palm. She staggered backwards but quickly regained her balance.
A moment later she was holding a blade in each hand.
Makrilda attacked. She was fast …
But I was faster.
As she charged towards me, I struck each of her wrists with the base of my staff and knocked the blades out of her grasp. Then I thrust my staff out, positioning the tip behind her left ankle, using a trick I’d learned from Bill Arkwright.
When our shoulders made contact, she went sprawling backwards. I stood looking down at her. I knew I would never have managed to down Grimalkin so easily.
But it wasn’t over yet. She came back up onto her knees, already reaching for two more blades.
All at once Mab came between us. ‘Stupid, this is!’ she cried. ‘We are supposed to be allies.’
I nodded and lowered my staff, ashamed. I shouldn’t have reacted like that, but too many bad things had happened recently. I wasn’t myself.
‘Look, I didn’t intend to imply that you’re a liar,’ I said to the witch assassin as she got to her feet. ‘I am sorry if I offended you. It’s just that I find what you say very hard to believe.’ I was trying to stay calm. ‘I believed Lukrasta to be dead.’
‘Very much alive, he is, Tom,’ Mab said, rubbing her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. ‘He has hands made out of silver, but they’re wick with life and move just like flesh, skin and bone. He spent a long time talking to Alice, and then they both vanished without a word to anyone. No doubt they had more important things to do than stay around to help us. My sister died trying to save you – it was Alice who asked her to lead those witches on a rescue mission – and then she didn’t even stay to find out if you were all right!’
Alice had told me that
the Kobalos had chopped off Lukrasta’s hands, so the story of the silver hands supported Makrilda’s claim. He’d probably replaced them using his powerful magic. A whole mix of feelings surged through me; the first one was jealousy.
Alice had gone off with Lukrasta again. However, I told myself, she was an earth witch and served Pan. If the god had insisted, she might have had no choice.
The second feeling was fear.
A disturbing thought drifted into my mind. I remembered the two tulpas I’d encountered. Each time I’d been completely taken in. What if Lukrasta was a tulpa too?
Then there was another disturbing possibility. The Kobalos mages were skilled at creating illusions and deceit. What if Balkai had taken on the shape of the human mage? After all, in northern Polyznia, Lenklewth, another Kobalos mage, had once taken on Lukrasta’s shape. The illusion had been good enough to fool me and Grimalkin. It seemed that Alice might well now be in the clutches of our enemies.
An uneasy truce now existed between Makrilda and me. She kept giving me resentful glances and I knew that one day she would seek revenge for what I had done. Not all the witches had been asleep, and the seated coven had also witnessed our fight. Makrilda had been bested by a spook and her pride would be hurt. She could only regain face by killing me.
However, I had more important things to worry about now.
The Malkin coven had decided that attack was the best form of defence. Instead of seeking out and repulsing the zanti who had invaded the lower levels of the tower, they had sealed and locked the lower trapdoor to prevent them from reaching the section that lay above ground. Now they were planning to attack their enemies outside the walls, and would start by taking back what was left of Goldshaw Booth, the Malkin village.
We made our way to the huge main door of the tower, and I heard the clang and clank of chains as the drawbridge mechanism was deployed. It was slowly lowered across the moat, then bolts were slammed back, freeing the door.
Makrilda led the charge, and the Malkins surged out across to the far bank – fierce, black-gowned women clutching blades, some tied to long poles. They were followed by Mab and the Mouldheels, then a few Deanes, and then me. I was prepared to fight, but I was wary. I sensed a hint of desperation in this attack.
Spook’s: Dark Assassin (The Starblade Chronicles) Page 14
