Fury of the Seventh Son (Book 13)

by Joseph Delaney

  I shook his shoulder gently. He groaned; that was all. I called his name and shook him again, more roughly, but I still couldn’t get him to wake up.

  There could be witches in the garden! I suddenly realized. I ran back into my bedroom, snatched my silver chain from my bag, and thrust it into my breeches pocket. Then I went down the stairs, three at a time, grabbed my staff from where it leaned beside the back door, and sprinted out into the garden. Here, the mist was now much more than serpentine tendrils. It came up almost to my waist, rising like a tide as if intent on drowning the house and trees.

  So far I had simply felt befuddled, as if moving in a dream, but alarm bells suddenly went off inside my head. I was alert to the danger.

  Grimalkin!

  The Fiend’s head!

  I ran toward the southern garden and reached the boggart slab where I had last seen the witch assassin. She was still there, sleeping deeply, surrounded by the green mist, which writhed and coiled like a living snake about to crush its prey.

  But the sack was gone.

  Someone had entered the garden, using magic to make sure that we were all in a deep sleep. Even the boggart had succumbed.

  I had awoken in spite of the dark magic. Somehow I had been able to resist it. And now one of the other gifts I had inherited from Mam came to my aid once more.

  There was that flash of light inside my head, and the pain in my forehead. And instantly I knew the precise location of the Fiend’s head.

  It was being carried toward the western garden.

  I didn’t bother trying to awaken the witch assassin; she was probably still in no fit condition to help anyway. I released the blade of my staff and ran off through the trees in pursuit of whoever had seized the sack.

  Not a moment too soon! Ahead of me I saw a figure carrying it. It was a woman, and she was wearing pointy shoes. I lifted my staff like a spear. There was no room for mercy here. . . . Soon this witch, whoever she was, would have crossed the boundary, where others would be waiting to assist her. I had to strike now. I ran at her full pelt, aiming to drive the blade straight into her back and through her heart. But at the last moment she whirled around to face me.

  It was Alice.

  CHAPTER XXI

  A SCRAWNY BOY

  “I might have known you’d come after me,” Alice said. “You’re the only one I feared might be strong enough to resist my magic.”

  She carried the burlap sack in her left hand. Dark liquid dripped from it, spotting the grass. The stump of the Fiend’s head never stopped bleeding for long.

  Alice held her head high and met my eyes. There was no trace of shame or guilt in her demeanor, not the slightest acknowledgment of her betrayal. I couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she looked. Her face was radiant, her hair held up by a wooden clip. Her dress of dark silk hugged her body.

  More than ever now she resembled Bony Lizzie—though she lacked the habitual sneer and shifty eyes of her dead mother; she had only her dark beauty. Would the rest follow along eventually?

  “Why, Alice?” I cried, lowering my staff. “Why are you doing this? I thought the Fiend was your enemy. I thought you’d do anything to destroy him.”

  “It ain’t worth the effort trying to explain it to you, Tom. You’d never understand, so it’s best that I save my breath.” She turned and began to walk away, but I ran forward, grabbed her by the shoulder, and spun her round to face me once more.

  “No!” I shouted. “I deserve to know why you’re doing this. You’re going to tell me.”

  “You ain’t going to like it,” Alice said. “It’s simple, Tom. I went too far. I practiced my dark magic too many times, just as Agnes Sowerbutts warned me years ago. And now I’ve changed. I’m a malevolent witch. It don’t matter, because that’s what I was always doomed to become. I’d no chance of being any different because I was born bad— bad inside. Don’t bother to feel sorry for me.”

  “I don’t feel the tiniest bit sorry for you,” I said bitterly. “I just want to know why you’d want to help the Fiend and restore him to power.”

  “There are things that you don’t know, Tom. Just ask Grimalkin—she traveled far to the north and discovered a threat to us humans far greater than that posed by the Fiend. If we destroy him now, it will start something that will finish us all, one way or the other. It’s best that he rules, because the alternative is far worse, believe me.”

  I wondered why Grimalkin hadn’t told me that. When she was feeling better, I would ask her.

  “What could be worse than a new age of darkness, Alice? There’ll be demons roaming the land. The Old God Golgoth could bring perpetual winter. People would freeze to death—and starve, because it’d be too cold for crops to grow. We’re not just talking about men and women. What about all the children who’d die? Don’t you care about them?”

  “People can endure an age of darkness—it’s happened before. But they won’t survive the new dark god who’d replace the Fiend. He’s worshipped by creatures called the Kobalos, who ain’t human. He and his servants plan to wipe half the human race—the men—off the face of the earth. There’d be no mercy for male children, either. Only the women would live on in slavery. They’d be better off dead! So it’s better to put up with the Fiend.”

  “You say that Grimalkin detected this threat from the north. If so, why is she still fighting the Fiend? You both have the same information, so why is she behaving differently?”

  “You can guess the answer to that, Tom. Don’t need to think too hard, do you? Grimalkin is a law unto herself. She does what she pleases, whether it makes sense or not. The Fiend murdered her baby, and for most of her life she’s been driven by revenge. She doesn’t care what nightmare replaces the Fiend. She don’t care what horrors befall the human race. All that matters to her is destroying the Fiend and paying him back for what he did. Nothing else counts.”

  Alice’s words troubled me. Suddenly I remembered that I had heard of the Kobalos before. I’d read of them in the Spook’s Bestiary. What she said had a ring of truth, but I couldn’t accept that justification for what she was doing.

  “You’re just doing it for Lukrasta, aren’t you, Alice?” I jibed. “You no longer have a mind of your own—you’re in thrall to his power! Leave him, I beg you. It’s still not too late.”

  “I ain’t in thrall to anybody. Lukrasta and me are partners. We’re equals. We look after each other.”

  “How can you say that, when you’ve only just met him? We’ve known each other for years and been through so much. Isn’t our bond stronger?”

  “Sorry to have to tell you this, Tom, but the moment I met Lukrasta, something changed inside me. I’d been gathering my power and getting ready to attempt the Doomdryte ritual, and that tipped me over the edge so that I joined the dark. And when I opened the book, there he was—my other half, the mage I was always destined to be with. It happened in an instant, and now there’s no going back! Look at this!” Alice cried.

  She lifted her dress with her free hand and pointed to a circular mark on the outside of her left thigh.

  “Know what that is, Tom?”

  I shook my head, staring at it in dismay and knowing that what she was about to tell me would be bad.

  “When I was young, it was just a thin crescent, but each time I used dark magic, it grew. First it turned into a half moon and then a gibbous moon; the moment I met Lukrasta, it became full. It’s the sign that I belong to the dark. Note it well—it shows the truth about me!”

  “Leave him, Alice,” I begged, tears coming into my eyes. “We’ve always been close friends. Come back to me.”

  Alice’s face twisted with fury, and she allowed her dress to fall below her knees once more. Now it really was as if Bony Lizzie were looking out of her eyes.

  “Why should I leave Lukrasta for you? Why should I leave a strong man for a scrawny boy?” she cried.

  “We are meant to be together, Alice,” I told her, my throat tightening with emotion so that
my voice wobbled. Why did she have to be so hurtful?

  But I no longer believed what I’d just said. I could hear the pleading note in my voice, and I didn’t like it. As Alice replied, anger began to fill me.

  “You and me together? That ain’t possible!” she mocked. “Don’t make me laugh! What woman in her right mind would want to spend her life with a spook? Stop begging, Tom, it don’t suit you. But now I’m going to ask something of you. Spent a lot of time together, we have. You’re not my enemy, Tom, and you never will be. So please, just accept things.”

  “I’ll do whatever I have to do in order to stop you!” I shouted. “And as soon as I see the mage, he’s as good as dead!”

  “You’re little better than a child, with a child’s simple thoughts and needs. Keep away from Lukrasta, or it’s you that’ll die—or suffer an even worse fate. He’s not a man to meddle with. He don’t know the meaning of the word mercy. That’s why I came for the Fiend’s head instead of him. I didn’t want any of you hurt. Lukrasta wouldn’t have cared!”

  “Give me the sack, Alice. Just put it down on the grass, and I’ll let you go.”

  Alice laughed long and loud at that, the ugly sound echoing through the trees. “You can’t hurt me. One twitch of my little finger and you’d be burned to a frazzle, nothing left but ashes. No, I don’t even need to make a sign. Don’t need to speak spells either. Just have to think it, I do. If I wish it, you’ll be dead and gone.”

  “Do you think it’ll be that easy, Alice?” My voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Lukrasta tried to kill me on the steps, didn’t he? He tried and failed. I’ve Mam’s power inside me. I won’t die that easily, and you know it. And now it’s your turn. . . .”

  With those words I plunged my staff into the ground at my side and swiftly reached into my breeches pocket for my silver chain. Within a second it was coiled about my left hand, ready for throwing.

  Under the Spook’s guidance I’d spent many long hours practicing with my chain. I’d begun by casting against a post in the garden until I could encircle it over and over again, never once missing. Then I’d progressed to throwing the chain on the run, and then against other people I was chasing. Mostly my target had been John Gregory, but I’d also practiced with Alice.

  I took a deep breath, held it, and cast my chain at her now. She wasn’t moving. It was an easy shot. The silver chain whirled aloft, then descended, lit by a shaft of moonlight into a gleaming spiral.

  The result was excellent. It dropped down on target to enclose Alice perfectly. The lower section of chain pinned her arms to her sides, while the upper part tightened against her teeth to prevent her from speaking spells of dark magic.

  Alice gave a soft little cry before she was silenced by the chain, and she fell to her knees, staring up at me with wide eyes.

  My own eyes brimmed over with tears that trickled down my cheeks, and I gave a sob of anguish. How had it finally come to this? Never in my wildest and darkest nightmares had I envisioned binding Alice. Yes, I had practiced, but this was for real.

  And what would happen now? Must I put her in a pit? Must I do what I had often struggled to persuade my master not to do?

  I stared down at Alice, my vision blurred. Then I noticed that, despite the chain, her left hand was still holding the burlap sack. I reached forward to snatch it from her . . . and then it happened.

  Alice vanished.

  CHAPTER XXII

  A FIERCE, WARLIKE RACE

  THE silver chain fell in a coil on the grass. Alice had disappeared, taking the Fiend’s head with her.

  I stared at the place where she had been kneeling, apparently vanquished. How had she done that? Once bound with a silver chain, a witch was helpless. That was what my master had taught me, and all my experience told me the same.

  For Alice to escape in this way—to vanish—was an incredible display of dark magic. I wondered for a moment if it was simply some spell of illusion. But when I reached down and retrieved my chain, I was forced to accept what had happened.

  When casting a chain, I had to position it perfectly, so that it lay across a witch’s mouth, thus preventing her from hurling some spell against her captor. I had done that, but it had been useless against such a powerful witch. I remembered now what Alice had said about not even needing to utter spells.

  But maybe it still wasn’t over. I could use the most recent gift I’d received from Mam: the ability to locate people and objects. Could I find Alice? If so, I could surely follow the Fiend’s head.

  On my journey into Cymru I’d known exactly where it was at any one time. But when I tried now, concentrating on the image of the gory head in the burlap sack, nothing happened. I had no sense of it at all. Either the gift didn’t work all the time, or Alice was using some powerful cloaking spell. I suspected the latter.

  She had won; I had lost. Once again the Fiend’s head was in the possession of his servants.

  Thrusting the chain into my breeches pocket, I set off for the southern garden. The green mist had gone, the magic dispersed with it. Perhaps Grimalkin would now be awake.

  As I approached the boggart stone where I’d left her, I saw that she was on her feet. She limped toward me.

  I was amazed to see that she was able to put weight on that leg so soon. And it was an expression of alarm on her face, rather than pain.

  “It was Alice,” I told her. “She has the Fiend’s head. She used magic to put you into a deep sleep.”

  “But not you?” asked Grimalkin. “Her magic didn’t work on you?”

  “It made me groggy, but I recovered and went after her. I caught up with her at the edge of the garden. Not that it did me any good. I bound her with a silver chain, and she simply vanished. She has the head, and I haven’t a clue where she’s gone.”

  “She’s powerful. In Lukrasta and Alice we couldn’t have two more dangerous and powerful enemies ranged against us,” Grimalkin observed.

  “We talked for a little before I cast the chain. She claims she’s doing this for a good reason—she’s chosen to help the Fiend because if he’s destroyed, something worse will come about. She said you’d gone north and discovered a terrible threat. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

  Grimalkin nodded. “I always intended to, but there were other, more immediate threats that claimed priority. What she said is true, though. We should go and talk to Old Gregory, and then decide what to do.”

  I followed her through the trees toward the house. She was limping badly now.

  “How’s the pain?” I asked. “Is it more manageable?”

  “The pin hurts. It’s like a needle of fire boring into me. But I can keep it at bay, and the leg is healing fast. Soon I should be as before. Then it will be time to make our enemies pay.”

  I said nothing. We now had to number Alice among these enemies. I didn’t want to think of Grimalkin and Alice fighting to the death, but that was what it had come to.

  The Spook was already downstairs when we entered the kitchen. We sat at the table and talked there, two candles illuminating the room and casting our flickering shadows into the corners.

  I explained to my master what had happened. I left nothing out, because he was a stickler for detail. Finally I gave him a quick summary of what Alice had said, as far as I could remember.

  “Do you take this threat from the north seriously?” said the Spook, directing his question at Grimalkin.

  “Alice is right. Part of it she heard from my own lips. There is indeed a warlike race of creatures that has built a great city in the frozen wastes,” Grimalkin began. “In ancient times they went forth and waged war on the humans to the south. They enslaved the women and killed all the males. They are barbaric. They murdered their own females long ago. That much is certainly true.”

  “They killed all their women?” exclaimed the Spook. “Is that true as well? That’s insane! How do they continue their race?”

  “They enslave human women, breed with them, and also drink their b
lood. They have powerful magic, too.”

  “They’re called the Kobalos,” I interrupted. “There’s something about them in your Bestiary.”

  “Aye, lad, that there is. It’s something I once scoffed at, but now I’ve been proved wrong. Go and get it from the library!”

  I ran upstairs to fetch the Bestiary, then returned and handed it to my master. He quickly found the right page and began to read silently. After a few moments he looked up.

  “I got this information from a few notebooks that once came into my hands, supposedly from an ancient spook called Nicholas Browne. It seemed incredible; I wasn’t really convinced of their authenticity, but just in case there was some smidgeon of truth, I entered the information in the Bestiary with a comment that it couldn’t be verified. I’d have liked a closer look at those notebooks in light of what you’ve told me, but unfortunately they were lost in the fire. Here, lad,” he said, handing me the book. “Read the final paragraph aloud.”

  I did as he bade me.

  “The Kobalos are a fierce, warlike race who, with the exception of their mages, inhabit Valkarky, a city deep within the arctic circle.

  “The name Valkarky means ‘the City of the Petrified Tree’; it is filled with all types of abominations that have been created by dark magic. Its walls are constructed and renewed by creatures that never sleep, creatures that spit soft stone from their mouths. The Kobalos believe that their city will not stop growing until it covers the entire world.”

  “Remember what else Alice said,” Grimalkin reminded us. “They worship a god called Talkus who has yet to come into existence. Because of that, they occasionally refer to him as the God Who Is Yet to Be Born. The Kobalos are convinced that he is all-powerful and will lead them in a war against humanity that will never cease until all our males are dead and our females enslaved.”