Spook's: The Dark Army

by Joseph Delaney

  I sat there with the sun on my face; its rays felt warm through the glass. But I knew that beyond these walls the air was chilly – soon it would be winter. I wanted to go home before the weather closed in and made that impossible.

  The days were getting shorter and in just a few hours the sun would set. I didn’t welcome the night. Darkness made me uneasy now. The sound of a mouse scratching under the floorboards set my heart racing and my nerves jumping with anxiety. My apprenticeship had gradually allowed me to overcome such fears, but all at once it was as if all my training had been for nothing.

  How could I function as a spook in this condition? How long would it be before I returned to full physical and mental health? Had I truly died? Sometimes everything seemed unreal. I had to touch the stone walls and press my fingers against the wooden door in order to convince myself that they were solid. Was I actually back in the world or really still dead and suffering in the dark?

  By an effort of will I forced myself not to dwell on such thoughts. Grimalkin tells me that I was certainly dead – but if so, I could remember nothing of it.

  At the moment I struck the blow that gave me victory, I was aware of the Shaiksa assassin’s sabre thrusting towards my body. I tried to twist away. I could have done it – I should have avoided that fatal counterstroke – but my lower body was seized with a sudden paralysis.

  I remember feeling a terrible pain, then looking down and seeing the blade, knowing that I couldn’t hope to survive such a wound. I was cold and numb and terribly afraid. I didn’t want to die.

  Grimalkin believes that dark magic was used against me. She suspects that it was Lukrasta; she also suspects that he orchestrated my return from death – that the winged being which tore me from my coffin was his creature. I felt angry and remembered how I defeated him in combat but then spared his life. What a fool I’d been to do so! I’d fought Lukrasta in his tower and won. His magic couldn’t work against me while I wielded the sword that Grimalkin forged.

  So what had changed?

  I’d never seen Grimalkin look so uneasy. It was surely because the Starblade hadn’t protected me against dark magic – something she now viewed as her personal failure. She wasn’t accustomed to being thwarted and it disturbed her deeply.

  I thought about that failure and it brought another type of uncertainty and pain to me.

  Alice was once my close friend. How could she have put me through such a terrible experience . . .?

  There was a double rap on the door interrupting my dark thoughts. It opened wide, and a guard briefly stepped forward and bowed before stepping back to allow another to enter.

  It was Jenny, my apprentice, and she was carrying my notebook.

  I smiled at her reassuringly, attempting to hide my true feelings. She was fifteen, just two years younger than I was – to the day. She looked like a healthy farmer’s daughter: she had a bright, cheerful face, mousy hair and freckles. Her left eye was blue and her right eye brown; that was unusual enough, but there was something about the expression in her eyes that set her apart from other girls. I still couldn’t work out what it was but it was there all right.

  I had already tested her by taking her up onto Hangman’s Hill near the farm where I was born and brought up. I’d let her face the ghasts, the soul fragments of the soldiers who’d been hanged there generations ago at the end of the Civil War. She’d shown bravery and sensitivity to their plight. It had been enough for me to take her on as my apprentice.

  She was probably the first girl ever to become a spook’s apprentice. According to my master, the minimum qualification for the job was to be a seventh son of a seventh son, like me. This meant that you could see and speak to the dead and had some immunity against witchcraft. So far I had been given no proof of what Jenny claimed to be – a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter – because she’d been raised by foster parents who knew nothing of her original family. But she did have gifts that I had seen in action: she could empathize with people and learn how they felt just by looking at them. It wasn’t quite mind-reading but it was close. She could also make herself very hard to see – not true invisibility but something very near.

  ‘Sit down,’ I invited, gesturing to the space on the seat next to me.

  She did so and smiled at me. ‘How are you feeling? You look pale.’

  ‘I feel like I’ve been kicked in the belly by a mule, but apart from that I’m fine!’ I forced a smile onto my face, then noticed that Jenny’s hands were trembling. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.

  Despite her smile I could tell that she was upset. ‘I’m glad you’re getting better,’ she said as a tear trickled down her left cheek. ‘I hope you don’t mind – I’ve made some entries in your notebook covering the three days that you . . .’

  Instead of completing her sentence, she handed it over and I turned to her first page of notes and began to read. After a few minutes I closed the book and looked at her.

  ‘It’s a very detailed account,’ I said. ‘As you know, I usually just make brief notes then write a full version in another book – sometimes weeks later.’

  I’d spoken without thinking and immediately cursed my stupidity. The girl was upset enough without my being critical and making her feel worse.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I hope you don’t mind. Doing that each night helped to ease the memories of what had happened. I wrote it in your book because I believed you were gone for ever. I was trying to finish the story of your life.’ Jenny gave a sob and both eyes began to leak tears.

  I leaned forward and rested my hand briefly on hers. ‘I don’t mind you writing in my book. Don’t worry – I’ll look at it later,’ I said. ‘It’ll be good to read another version of what happened after my fight with the assassin. Grimalkin told me some of it but she didn’t go into such detail.’

  Jenny nodded. ‘Isn’t that an amazing sight?’ she said, pointing to the thousands of men below. ‘They say more are arriving every day.’

  ‘Grimalkin isn’t impressed,’ I said. ‘She says the Kobalos have an army many times larger than ours. They will have savage creatures, “battle-entities”, that are far stronger, larger and more deadly than humans. Remember those terrible creatures called varteki that we killed near Chipenden?’

  We had fought young ones back in the County. They were huge many-legged monsters, able to burrow underground and spit globules of acid that could burn through flesh to the bone in seconds.

  ‘We may face fully grown versions. They’ll break through our lines in moments. When we flee, the slaughter will begin.’

  Grimalkin had spent time in the lair of the mage I’d killed. She had grown a number of creatures from the samples she’d found in the tree, hoping to discover their strengths and weaknesses. But two varteki had escaped the pentacle in which she’d contained them. They were burrowers and difficult to catch. We had barely been in time to slay the second one and prevent it from laying waste to the village of Topley close to the farm where I’d been born and brought up.

  ‘But I thought she wanted to cross the river and invade. Wasn’t that her plan?’

  ‘She wanted to probe with a much smaller force,’ I explained. ‘She hoped to cross quickly into Kobalos territory, learn what she could and then get out. What’s being planned is more like a full-scale attack and she feels we’re bound to lose.’ I shivered, and a sudden pain deep in my belly made me gasp.

  Jenny came to her feet, looking concerned. ‘I’ll leave you now. You should rest. Are you hungry?’ she asked me. ‘We’re being treated very well. Anything we request, we get. Shall I order something for you? We’re like royalty!’

  ‘Don’t get above yourself!’ I said with a smile. ‘I’m the prince and you’re just a cheeky servant girl! But the truth is, I don’t have much appetite.’

  It was worse than that. I felt nauseous and the last thing I felt like doing was eating. But perhaps I’d be better with something inside me.

  ‘Please ask them to send me a l
ittle bread and cheese,’ I said.

  Jenny smiled and patted my shoulder, and then left me alone with my thoughts.

  Within five minutes a servant had brought me a basket containing bread, butter, a wedge of cheese and a glass of a light ale. I nibbled at the cheese, staring down at the army that encircled the castle. The cheese was hard and bland – nothing like the tangy, crumbly County cheese I loved. But eating made me feel better and I began to feel drowsy.

  As I was thinking about sleep, the door suddenly opened and Prince Stanislaw strode into the room. I made to rise and greet him, but he gestured that I should remain where I was. He dragged a heavy ornate chair across from the far wall and sat down opposite me.

  The prince was not handsome, but there was a dignity about him and now, when he smiled at me, he exuded warmth. I liked him, and certainly respected him. But now I detected something different in his demeanour – though I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was.

  He opened his mouth to speak and I wondered why Grimalkin was not present to interpret for me. I quickly found out.

  ‘You are feeling better, no?’ he asked.

  My mouth dropped open in astonishment. ‘I thought you didn’t speak our language . . .’ I said.

  He shrugged. ‘I do not speak well, but I can say enough. I understand more what I hear than I am able to reply. To rule, you must learn. I study many languages. You learn more by listening than speaking, no? So that is what I do. I have learned much already by listening to your conversations with the sorceress. I know you false. I know you to be farmer boy, not prince.’

  TOM WARD

  ‘WELL? IS THAT not so?’ he demanded, raising his eyebrows. ‘You no more a prince than I am wolf!’

  One of Prince Stanislaw’s many titles was the Wolf of Polyznia.

  Grimalkin had pretended that I was a prince. I hadn’t liked the deceit, but she’d argued that it was the only way to get Prince Stanislaw to allow me to fight the Kobalos champion.

  ‘Then why did you allow me to fight?’ I asked, silently cursing my foolishness in going along with Grimalkin’s plan.

  ‘My magowie said you must fight. He said the angelus say that.’

  ‘The angelus?’

  ‘The creature which fly. The creature with wings which give you new life.’

  I nodded. ‘I’m truly sorry that we deceived you – but we felt it was necessary: you’d never have listened to a commoner. What now?’

  The prince shrugged. ‘Is it true that you just farmer boy? How can that be? If so, how you fight so good like that? Why you come here?’

  ‘I was raised on a farm – so, yes, I am a farmer’s lad – but I’m also the seventh son of a seventh son. I can talk to the dead and I have some protection against dark magic. Because of that I was trained as what we call a “spook” and my job is to fight the dark and deal with ghosts and malevolent entities. The Kobalos god, Talkus, is from the dark as well; his followers threaten the whole of humankind, not just your northern principalities. If they win here they will advance south and eventually overrun my own land. As for my ability to fight – I was trained by Grimalkin, who’s just about the greatest warrior I’ve ever seen. So we came here to help vanquish our common enemies. Despite our deceit we meant well.’

  Stanislaw nodded and let out a big sigh. ‘Then let it be as sorceress’s plan,’ he said at last. ‘We will attack Valkarky. Eat – go strong. Get ready. In two weeks we ride.’

  Later, I had a third visitor. Grimalkin arrived clutching a long roll of parchment. I gave her an account of what the prince and I had said to each other.

  ‘I cannot believe I did not see that!’ she exclaimed, shaking her head. ‘I should have known that he was just pretending not to understand. How can I have been so blind?’

  I could see her agitation. She could usually see through to the truth of people and situations. That was the second thing she’d got wrong. First the Starblade had failed to protect me against dark magic, and now this. The witch assassin was not used to making mistakes.

  ‘It’s turned out the same in the end,’ I said. ‘As the prince said, we’ll cross the river in two weeks. I need to get fit. At the moment I can hardly walk. I can’t imagine how I’m going to recover sufficiently and be able to ride at the head of an army in such a short time. I’d probably be better off going back home to the County to regain my heath.’

  ‘There isn’t time for that,’ Grimalkin said, showing her pointy teeth in displeasure. ‘You will soon be stronger. But first we must plan and make these princelings bow to our will.’

  She walked across to the small table, unrolled the parchment and held it flat on the wooden surface, securing it with four pins. It was an old map, the outlines faded to yellow, but there had been more recent additions in black ink.

  ‘This is the Shanna River,’ Grimalkin said, tracing it with her forefinger. ‘Here, to the north, is the Fittzanda Fissure, a region of volcanic instability. It was once the boundary between human and Kobalos territories. And there, far to the north, is the huge city of Valkarky, the heart of the Kobalos strength. We are not going there. It would be suicide at this stage.’

  Valkarky was the great city of the Kobalos; they believed it would grow until it covered the entire world.

  ‘So where are we going?’ I asked wearily.

  She pointed to what was no more than a cross on the map in black ink, a position far to the south-west of Valkarky, not far north of the Fissure.

  ‘You have studied Browne’s glossary of the Kobalos?’ she asked.

  It was something that Grimalkin had found on her travels. Browne was an ancient spook who had studied the Kobalos. It was a key list of Kobalos terminology. I’d made a copy and hoped to update it with any new knowledge that we acquired on this expedition.

  I nodded.

  ‘Then you know what a kulad is?’

  ‘It’s a fortified tower,’ I said. ‘Nicholas Browne says they’re also used as slave markets.’

  ‘That is true,’ said Grimalkin. ‘I visited one during my travels last year; it was mostly used to sell and buy slaves. But there are others which Browne was ignorant of. Each of these is ruled by a mage – they are private dwellings, seats of power and repositories of Kobalos mage magic. This one is special!’ she exclaimed, jabbing at the cross on the map with her finger.

  ‘It is called Kartuna and is the private kulad of a mage called Lenklewth. He is one of the triumvirate of mages who rule Valkarky – the second most powerful of the three. If we are lucky, he will be in the city and we will not need to face his magic. When we cross the river, we will ride towards Valkarky for a while – to fool the Kobalos scouts who will be observing and recording our movements. But then we will quickly veer westwards to attack and hopefully seize Kartuna.

  ‘Give me some time within that tower and I could learn much that might lead to the eventual defeat of our enemies. So we grab what we can and then retreat back across the river. Then we will ride home to the County as I promised. But we do not tell Prince Stanislaw about the retreat or it will threaten both his ambitions and his pride. He must believe that we are making only a short detour before pressing on to Valkarky. Once he sees what we are up against, he will be only too glad to retreat, believe you me.’

  I wasn’t convinced that Grimalkin was right. ‘Are you sure about that? He’s a brave man and seems very determined to fight.’

  ‘Remember the varteki?’ she asked.

  I nodded.

  ‘Well, the two you encountered were young and small in comparison with the full-grown adult version. The Kobalos may deploy hundreds of such creatures. In the face of that, even the brave prince will retreat!’

  ‘Have you told him about the kulad?’

  ‘Not yet. I will leave that to you. Gather your strength. At the end of the week we will have a meeting with all the princelings, a council of war. There you must be the one to take command. You have returned from the dead and filled them with hope and confidence of certain
victory. They’ll expect you to be decisive and lead them with confidence. Would you like to practise now what you will say?’

  I nodded, and allowed Grimalkin to rehearse me in my manner of delivery and how best to explain our supposed intentions. It would be difficult. My words and manner would have to persuade real princes to do as I ordered. And the strategy wasn’t even mine – it was devised by Grimalkin.

  I resented my role in this. I did my best to conceal my feelings from her but I was becoming more and more angry.

  Once again I was being manipulated.

  TOM WARD

  I SLEPT A lot but I had no energy. Despite that, I made it my business to continue Jenny’s training as best I could. I felt increasingly guilty about having brought her here; I certainly didn’t want her to feel that I was neglecting my duty to train her. I had to make her as good a spook as I possibly could.

  Late each afternoon I gave her a lesson in my room. I talked while she took notes. Towards the end of the third lesson she suddenly asked me a question.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s strange having a witch like Grimalkin for an ally?’ she wondered.

  I’d been teaching her about the dark, explaining the dangers from water witches. In an attempt to make it more interesting and hold her attention, I’d given her an account of my time working with John Gregory in the north of the County and our encounters with Morwena, the most powerful water witch of them all.

  ‘It’s true that it isn’t in our traditions. My master was against it at first, but after a while even he saw the need for alliances with witches such as Grimalkin. She’s saved my life on more than one occasion. I was being hunted by Morwena in the dark. I was alone on the marsh, nothing ahead for me but death, but then Grimalkin came to my aid and together we defeated the water witch.’

  Jenny didn’t look convinced.

  ‘We’ve had enough theory for today,’ I told her suddenly.

  ‘I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime!’ Jenny retorted. She smiled but meant every word.