Table of Contents
How to Read Spook's Symbols
Character profiles
Maps
By the Same Author
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
CHAPTER 1 THE MAENAD ASSASSIN
CHAPTER 2 THE SPOOK'S BESTIARY
CHAPTER 3 A CHANGELING?
CHAPTER 4 DECISIONS
CHAPTER 5 ALICE DEANE
CHAPTER 6 A DREADFUL PROPHECY
CHAPTER 7 THE JOURNEY BEGINS
CHAPTER 8 THE YOUNG LADIES
CHAPTER 9 WHAT I AM
CHAPTER 10 A DELEGATION OF THIRTEEN
CHAPTER 11 NIGHT ATTACK
CHAPTER 12 LAMIAS
CHAPTER 13 MY BLOOD
CHAPTER 14 PORTENTS
CHAPTER 15 THE APPROACH TO THE ORD
CHAPTER 16 FILL THE CUP!
CHAPTER 17 FIRE ELEMENTALS
CHAPTER 18 A BARGAIN
CHAPTER 19 YOUR FATE
CHAPTER 20 THE TRUTH OF THINGS
CHAPTER 21 A SHARP TOOTH
CHAPTER 22 LAST WORDS
CHAPTER 23 HIS FEARSOME MAJESTY
CHAPTER 24 IT CAN'T BE TRUE
Extract: The SPOOK'S WEBSITE
THE SPOOK'S MISTAKE
Character profiles
Tom
Thomas Ward is the seventh son of a seventh son. This means he was born with certain gifts – gifts that make him perfect for the role of the Spook's apprentice. He can see and hear the dead and he is a natural enemy of the dark. But that doesn't stop Tom getting scared, and he is going to need all his courage if he is to succeed where twenty-nine others have failed.
The Spook
The Spook is an unmistakable figure. He's tall, and rather fierce looking. He wears a long black cloak and hood, and always carries a staff and a silver chain. Like his apprentice, Tom, he is lefthanded, and is a seventh son of a seventh son.
For over sixty years he has protected the County from things that go bump in the night.
Alice
Tom can't decide if Alice is good or evil. She terrifies the local village lads, is related to two of the most evil witch clans (the Malkins and the Deanes) and has been known to use dark magic. But she was trained as a witch against her will and has helped Tom out of some tight spots. She seems to be a loyal friend, but can she be trusted?
Mam
Tom's mam has always known he would become the Spook's apprentice. She calls him her 'gift to the County'. A loving mother and an expert on plants, medicine and childbirth, Mam has always been a little different. Her origins in Greece remain a mystery. In fact, there are quite a few mysterious things about Mam . . .
THE WARDSTONE CHRONICLES
BOOK ONE:
THE SPOOK'S APPRENTICE
BOOK TWO:
THE SPOOK'S CURSE
BOOK THREE:
THE SPOOK'S SECRET
BOOK FOUR:
THE SPOOK'S BATTLE
BOOK FIVE:
THE SPOOK'S MISTAKE
BOOK SIX:
THE SPOOK'S SACRIFICE
THE
SPOOK'S
SACRIFICE
JOSEPH DELANEY
Illustrated by David Frankland
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ISBN 9781407049014
Version 1.0
www.randomhouse.co.uk
THE SPOOK'S SACRIFICE
A BODLEY HEAD BOOK
Published in Great Britain by The Bodley Head, an imprint of Random House Children's Books A Random House Group Company
This edition published 2009
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Copyright © Joseph Delaney, 2009
Illustrations copyright © David Frankland, 2009
The right of Joseph Delaney to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This electronic book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
ISBN: 9781407049014
Version 1.0
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
for Marie
THE HIGHEST POINT IN THE COUNTY
IS MARKED BY MYSTERY.
IT IS SAID THAT A MAN DIED THERE IN A
GREAT STORM, WHILE BINDING AN EVIL
THAT THREATENED THE WHOLE WORLD.
THEN THE ICE CAME AGAIN, AND WHEN IT
RETREATED, EVEN THE SHAPES OF THE
HILLS AND THE NAMES OF THE TOWNS
IN THE VALLEYS CHANGED.
NOW, AT THAT HIGHEST POINT ON
THE FELLS, NO TRACE REMAINS OF WHAT
WAS DONE SO LONG AGO,
BUT ITS NAME HAS ENDURED.
THEY CALL IT —
THE WARDSTONE.
CHAPTER
1
THE MAENAD ASSASSIN
I awoke suddenly with an urgent sense that something was wrong. Lightning flickered against the window, followed almost immediately by a tremendous crash of thunder. I'd slept through County storms before, so it wasn't that which had woken me. No, I had a feeling that some kind of danger threatened. I jumped out of bed, and suddenly the mirror on my nightstand grew brighter. I had a glimpse of someone reflected in it and then it quickly vanished. But not before I'd recognized the face. It was Alice.
Even though she'd trained for two years as a witch, Alice was my friend. She'd been banished by the Spook and had returned to Pendle. I was missing her but I'd kept my promise to my master and ignored all the attempts she'd been making to contact me. But I couldn't ignore her this time. She'd written a message for me in the mirror and I couldn't help but read it before it faded away.
What was a maenad assassin? I'd never heard of such a thing. And how could an assassin of any kind reach me when it had to cross the Spook's garden – a garden guarded by his powerful boggart? If anyone breached the boundary, that boggart would let out a roar that could be heard for miles, and would then tear the intruder to pieces.
And how could Alice know about the danger anyway? She was miles away in Pendle. Still, I wasn't about to ignore her warning. My master, John Gregory, had gone off to deal with a troublesome ghost and I was alone in the house. I had nothing with me that I could use in self-defence. My staff and bag were down in the kitchen, so I had to get them.
Don't panic, I told myself. Take your time and stay calm.
I dressed quickly and pulled on my boots. As thunder boomed overhead once more, I eased open my bedroom door and stepped cautiously out onto the dark landing. There I paused and listened. All was silent. I felt sure that nobody had enter
ed the house yet, so I began to tiptoe down the stairs as quietly as I could. I crept through the hallway and into the kitchen.
I put my silver chain in my breeches pocket and, taking up my staff, opened the back door and stepped out. Where was the boggart? Why wasn't it defending the house and garden against the intruder? Rain was driving into my face as I waited, carefully searching the lawn and trees beyond for any sign of movement.
I allowed my eyes to adjust to the dark but I could see very little. Even so, I headed for the trees in the western garden.
I'd taken no more than a dozen paces when there was a bloodcurdling yell from my left and I heard the pounding of feet. Someone was running across the lawn, directly towards me. I readied my staff, pressing the recess so that, with a click, the retractable blade sprang from the end.
Lightning flashed again and I saw what threatened. It was a tall thin woman brandishing a long, murderous blade in her left hand. Her hair was tied back, her gaunt face twisted in hatred and painted with some dark pigment. She wore a long dress, which was soaked with rain, and rather than shoes, her feet were bound with strips of leather. So this was a maenad, I thought to myself.
I took up a defensive position, holding my staff diagonally the way I'd been taught. My heart was beating fast but I had to stay calm and take the first opportunity to strike.
Her blade suddenly arced downwards, missing my right shoulder by inches, and I whirled away, trying to keep some distance between myself and my opponent.
I needed room in order to swing my staff. The grass was saturated with rain, and as the maenad came at me again, I slipped and lost my balance. I almost toppled over backwards but managed to drop down onto one knee. Just in time I brought my staff up to block a thrust that would have penetrated deep into my shoulder. I struck again, hitting the maenad's wrist hard, and the knife went spinning to the ground. Lightning flashed overhead and I saw the fury in her face as, weaponless, she attacked again. She was shouting at me now, mad with rage – the harsh guttural sounds contained the odd word that I recognized as Greek. This time I stepped to one side, avoided her outstretched hands with their long sharp nails and gave her a tremendous thwack to the side of her head. She went down on her knees and I could have easily driven the point of my blade through her chest.
Instead, I transferred my staff to my right hand, reached into my pocket and coiled the silver chain around my left wrist. A silver chain is useful against any servant of the dark – but would it bind a maenad assassin? I asked myself.
I concentrated hard, and the moment she came to her feet she was illuminated by a particularly vivid flash of lightning. Couldn't have been better! I had a perfect view of my target and released the chain with a crack! It soared upwards to form a perfect spiral, then dropped around her body, bringing her down on the grass.
I circled her warily. The chain bound her arms and legs and had tightened around her jaw, but she was still able to speak and hurled a torrent of words at me, not one of which I understood. Was it Greek? I thought so – but it was some strange dialect.
It seemed the chain had worked though, so wasting no time, I seized her by her left foot and began to drag her across the wet grass towards the house. The Spook would want to question her – if he could understand what she was saying. My Greek was at least as good as his and she made little sense to me.
Against one side of the house was a wooden lean-to where we kept logs for the fire so I dragged her in there out of the rain. Next I took a lantern down from the shelf in the corner and lit it so that I could get a better look at my captive. As I held it above her head, she spat at me, the pink viscous glob landing on my breeches. I could smell her now – a mixture of stale sweat and wine. And there was something else too. A faint stench of rotting meat. When she opened her mouth again, I could see what looked like pieces of flesh between her teeth.
Her lips were purple, as was her tongue – signs that she'd been drinking red wine. Her face was streaked with an intricate pattern of whorls and spirals. It looked like reddish mud but the rain hadn't managed to wash it off. She spat at me again so I stepped back and hung the lantern on one of the ceiling hooks.
There was a stool in the corner, which I placed against the wall, sitting well out of spitting range. It was at least another hour until dawn so I leaned back and closed my eyes, listening to the rain drumming on the roof of the lean-to. I was tired and could afford to doze. The silver chain had bound the maenad tightly and she'd no hope of setting herself free.
I couldn't have been asleep for more than a few minutes when a loud noise woke me. I sat up with a jerk. There was a roaring, rushing, whooshing sound, which was getting nearer by the second. Something was coming towards the lean-to and I suddenly realized what it was.
The boggart! It was rushing to attack!
I hardly had time to get to my feet before the lantern went out and I was blown onto my back, the impact driving the breath from my body. While I gasped for air, I could hear logs being hurled against the wall, but the loudest sound of all was that of the maenad screaming. The noise went on in the darkness, for a long time; then, but for the pattering of heavy rain, there was silence. The boggart had done its work and gone.
I was afraid to light the lantern again. Afraid to look at the maenad. But I did it anyway. She was quite dead and very pale, drained of blood by the boggart. There were lacerations to her throat and shoulders; her dress was in tatters. On her face was a look of terror. There was nothing to be done. What had happened was unprecedented. Once she was my bound captive, the boggart shouldn't have so much as touched her. And where had it been when it should have been defending the garden?
Shaken by the experience, I left the maenad's body where it was and went back into the house. I thought about trying to contact Alice with the mirror. I owed her my life and I wanted to thank her. I almost weakened, but I'd made a promise to the Spook. So, after struggling with my conscience for a while, I simply had a wash, changed my clothes and waited for the Spook to return.
He came back just before noon. I explained what had happened and we went out to look at the dead assassin.
'Well, lad, this raises a fair few questions, doesn't it?' my master said, scratching at his beard. He looked seriously worried and I couldn't blame him. What had happened made me feel very uneasy too.
'I've always felt confident that my house here at Chipenden was safe and secure,' he continued, 'but this makes you think. Puts doubts in your mind. I'll sleep less easily in my bed from now on. Just how did this maenad manage to get across the garden undetected by the boggart? Nothing's ever got past it before.'
I nodded in agreement.
'And there's another worrying thing, lad. Why did it attack and kill her later, when you had her bound with your chain? It knows not to behave like that.'
Again I nodded.
'There's something else I need to know – how did you know she'd got into the garden? It was thundering and raining hard. You couldn't possibly have heard her. By rights, she should have entered the house and killed you in your bed. So what gave you warning?' asked the Spook, raising his eyebrows.
I'd stopped nodding and was now gazing at my feet, feeling my master's glare burning into me. So I cleared my throat and explained exactly what had happened.
'I know I promised you I wouldn't use the mirror to talk to Alice,' I finished, 'but it happened too quickly for me to do anything about it. She's tried to contact me before but I've always obeyed you and looked away – until now. It was a good job I did read her message this time though,' I said a little angrily, 'otherwise I'd be dead!'
The Spook stayed very calm. 'Well, her warning saved your life, yes,' he admitted. 'But you know how I feel about you using a mirror and talking to that little witch.'
I bristled at his words. Perhaps he noticed because he let the matter drop. 'Do you know what a maenad assassin is, lad?'
I shook my head. 'One thing I do know – when she attacked, she was almost insane with fury!'
The Spook's Sacrifice Page 1
