Spook's: The Dark Army (The Starblade Chronicles) (12 page)

She nodded and began her story. Most of our force dismounted and gathered around. Every so often Grimalkin halted Jenny’s account so that she could translate it into Losta for the others.

Long before she had finished, Prince Kaylar’s son was on his knees, tearing his hair and weeping at the news of his father’s death. It was a terrible tale – it seemed likely that Jenny was the only survivor of the patrol.

I assumed that Grimalkin would call off the attack on the kulad – or at least wait for the rest of our army to arrive. Instead she spoke quietly to me, proposing an immediate advance with only a dozen soldiers.

‘It seems very risky!’ I told her. ‘We need some way to call for help if we get out of our depth. We could use a triple whistle to summon the others.’

Grimalkin agreed, but I was still unhappy with her proposal and told her bluntly of my fears.

‘What if they know we’re here?’ I said. ‘They might have known of Prince Kaylar’s approach in advance. How can we hope to do better with so few? There must be hundreds of warriors in the kulad.’

The witch assassin stared at me, clearly angered by my challenge. ‘It is a risk we must take!’ she spat. ‘Time is against us – a large Kobalos army even now is riding towards us. I
must
have the knowledge that lies in that tower. That is what matters. Tell them now!’ she said, gesturing towards the gathering. ‘Tell them what must be done!’

Filled with misgivings, I obeyed, and the witch assassin then translated my orders.

So it was that Grimalkin and I led a force of just a dozen men towards the kulad.

Jenny was left behind. She didn’t object. She’d been scared badly by her encounter with the Kobalos.

Grimalkin strode beside me, outlining her plan. The tower was surrounded by a high wall and a moat that could be crossed by a drawbridge. It was the only way in. While she approached the wall, we were to stay among the trees and keep perfectly still. Once she had gained access, we were all to follow at her signal. Most of the Kobalos would be quartered below ground. The only way we could win was by attacking swiftly. We had to reach the very top of the kulad where Kobalos High Mages routinely had their quarters. Once there we could defend that position while she learned what she could.

We halted just short of the first trees, and turned to face Grimalkin. She spoke to the warriors in Losta, repeating what she had already told me. Then she closed her eyes and began to mutter. She was casting a cloaking spell to hide our approach.

As her muttering rose into a light musical chant, I glanced at the men who were coming with us. Six of them had longbows: these were very accurate at a distance, but were also deadly at short range – they could pierce the toughest armour. I knew all this because Grimalkin had spent hours taking me through the capabilities of our forces. The other six were swordsmen, the cream of our army. One was a champion and had been due to face the Shaiksa after me.

A cinder path led into the wood; I noticed that it was steaming, creating a mist that reached up into the branches of nearby trees. Why should that be? Why should the ground be hot beneath it?

I’d no time to consider this further because Grimalkin had completed her spell and was ready to advance. We entered the trees to the left of the path. I took the lead, Grimalkin at my heels, with our small band following in single file. We moved cautiously, making as little noise as possible. There was no wind and it was very gloomy, with cloud now obscuring the moon.

I sensed the dark mass of the tower ahead, then heard the snort of a horse; the sound came from somewhere to the left of the tower, and it was followed by a whinny. I signalled that we should halt, my heart lurching with anxiety. Were there Kobalos warriors ahead, waiting to attack us?

‘It’s just the stables!’ Grimalkin hissed into my ear. ‘They’re inside the wall. Keep going towards the kulad!’

I felt angry with myself. I was too jumpy – I still hadn’t got over the trauma of my death. It had sapped my confidence and set my nerves on edge.

Finally we came to the edge of the trees and saw the tower directly ahead. It was constructed from huge blocks of dark purple stone that dripped with water. Keeping within the trees, I led us to the right, towards the cinder path.

Grimalkin put her hand on my shoulder and whispered once more into my ear. ‘I’ll try to gain entry to the kulad now. Keep the men back until I signal that it’s safe to follow.’

I turned to the warriors and gestured that we should crouch low. Then I pointed first to Grimalkin and then to the kulad as if ordering her forward.

She stepped boldly onto the path and approached the high wall; it didn’t drip like the tower, but glistened as if covered in beads of sweat. I saw that the drawbridge was up and wondered how she planned to cross the moat.

In seconds the answer became clear, and I heard the warriors around me gasp in astonishment. It was no longer Grimalkin who stood there with her back to us, facing the drawbridge. It was a huge Kobalos warrior dressed in full armour. And when she called out, it was not in her own voice but in a harsh deep guttural tone of command.

From conversations with the witch assassin back in the County, I knew that this was not true shape-shifting but a spell of illusion – though it was totally convincing. She
was
to all intents and purposes a Kobalos warrior!

No reply came from the tower, but she got the answer that we all wanted. With a clank of chains, a rasp of metal and a creak of wood, the drawbridge began to descend. Once it was in position, Grimalkin stepped closer to the moat and waited. With shrieks of tortured metal, the portcullis began to rise. When it was fully up, she crossed the drawbridge, passed through the gate and disappeared from view.

We waited for several minutes and I started to become anxious again. Had she been discovered? Had something happened to her? The Kobalos mages had powerful magic. Would Lenklewth, the second most powerful mage in the Triumvirate, somehow know of her deception?

I needn’t have worried. Grimalkin reappeared under the portcullis. She had reverted to her own shape once more and beckoned us forward. We ran across the drawbridge and gathered inside the wall. There were several Kobalos bodies on the ground, and they had died violent deaths at her hands.

I noted the looks of astonishment on the faces of our men. They were clearly impressed by what she’d achieved.

I’d hardly had time to take that in when Grimalkin pointed to the open door of the tower. At a word from her, three of our archers took up their positions, guarding the door and protecting our rear. The others followed us quickly into the tower.

A staircase led upwards in a widdershins spiral, but the ceiling continued uninterrupted above our heads, so we couldn’t see how far up it went or whether our enemies were waiting to ambush us. There were no landings – just openings that gave access to each floor. I could smell new wood – the floors appeared to be of fairly recent construction.

Grimalkin pointed upwards and I took the lead, racing up the steps, the Starblade gripped in my left hand. We climbed very swiftly, our boots thundering on the wood. At the first floor Grimalkin put a hand on my shoulder to pull me to a halt and I heard her sniff three times. She was long-sniffing for danger, trying to detect Kobalos who might be concealed above – though I felt no chill running up and down my spine; no sense that the dark was nearby. Hopefully, that meant that Lenklewth was not in his kulad.

Apparently satisfied that all was well, the witch assassin released my shoulder and I led the way to the next floor. As I passed the opening, I glanced into a large room. It was empty, and the polished wooden floor looked very new. I wondered why it wasn’t furnished.

The next floor was the same, and the one after that. But then there was a disturbing noise from behind us: the shriek of metal; the clank of chains. The portcullis was being lowered.

The three archers had been instructed to guard the gate. The noise could mean only one thing: they were already dead or out of action. Our enemies were behind us.

Grimalkin signalled that we should halt and listen. Suddenly we heard boots pounding up the wooden stairs towards us.

She turned quickly and snapped out an order in Losta. I knew that there wasn’t time for her to translate for my benefit, but the men froze for a moment and looked doubtful. They were wondering why
she
was giving the orders, so I nodded in agreement and the soldiers obeyed.

At our rear, two of our three remaining archers turned to face the approaching Kobalos and knelt, nocking their arrows and pulling their bows taut. Behind them three of our swordsmen crouched down, weapons at the ready.

‘Let me take the lead,’ Grimalkin said. ‘There may be magical traps ahead. I will trigger them but if I’m immobilized be ready with the Starblade.’

I pointed upward as if giving her the order to take the lead.

Grimalkin ran up the steps and I followed with the remaining soldiers. Now Grimalkin and I had only one archer and three swordsmen to help us penetrate the lair of the mage.

The next floor was empty, and the next. There were other doors in each room, but Grimalkin didn’t bother to check these. Whatever lay behind them, she had no doubt established that they presented no danger.

I began to wonder if there was anybody at all in the upper floors. It now seemed likely that our attack had been foreseen. The Kobalos might have abandoned the top rooms of the tower, trapping us and sending warriors up the spiral staircase after us; more warriors than we could ever hope to defeat.

I was at Grimalkin’s shoulder when we reached the top floor – the place where she thought Lenklewth stored his magical artefacts.

We emerged into a small tiled antechamber which led to an open door.

When we peered through, the large room beyond it seemed to be filled with mist. The witch assassin entered slowly and I followed, gripping the Starblade. Half of the room was occupied by a huge sunken bath filled with what appeared to be very hot water. Clouds of steam rose from it, so dense that Kobalos could have been lurking unseen in the corners of the room. Then I saw that a small bridge crossed the bath and led to another door.

Grimalkin stepped forward and sniffed loudly three times. She took a second slow step. I could tell from her cautious approach that she was still wary.

The thought came to me that something might be hiding beneath the surface of the water. It looked extremely hot, but that meant nothing. A Kobalos High Mage, or one of his creatures, might be unaffected by scalding water.

Grimalkin stepped onto the bridge and took a couple of paces forward. I followed, looking down nervously at the steaming water. She signalled to the four warriors behind us to remain where they were.

We crossed the bridge and went through the door into a spacious room with a flagged floor. At its centre stood a large oak desk, the edges inlaid with strips of silver. Weapons were displayed on all four dark-panelled walls: axes, sabres and spears – along with weapons I had never seen before, some a bit like County scythes, but curved into spirals.

The room was empty. Thankfully, the mage was not at home. We looked about us, examining our surroundings. Some of the carved wall panels depicted warriors and battle scenes; the image on one was duplicated in the single large painting that hung on the wall – that of a huge Kobalos warrior on horseback. It was extremely life-like and seemed to demand our attention. We both stepped forward to examine it more closely.

The warrior’s left eye was transfixed by a long spear that was protruding from the back of his head; he was falling off his horse.

‘That is the last king of Valkarky,’ said a deep voice from behind us. ‘He was killed by that lance which they called the
Kangadon
, meaning the Lance That Cannot Be Broken. It was afterwards that the Triumvirate of High Mages began their rule!’

It could have been the Kobalos High Mage, who had made himself invisible.

But I knew that voice . . .

We both turned to confront the speaker.

I stared at him in astonishment and then anger. It was the dark mage Lukrasta.

‘
WHERE IS THE
Kobalos High Mage?’ Grimalkin demanded, glaring angrily at Lukrasta.

‘He is very close,’ he replied, a touch of mockery in his voice. ‘Would you like to speak to him?’

I stared at my enemy, the one who had taken Alice away from me. A long moustache hung down over his lips, which were very pink as if suffused with blood; they were parted in a smile, revealing sharp white teeth.

He was on our side – an ally in the fight against the Kobalos – but I still considered him my personal enemy and struggled to keep my feelings in check. I met his arrogant eyes and anger flared through me.

The last time we’d met we had fought with swords. I’d won and he had been at my mercy, but Alice had begged for his life. I’d listened to her, though this was not the only thing that had influenced my decision to spare him. Part of me – the part that came through my lamia blood – had wanted to kill him. However, from my father I’d inherited a sense of right and wrong. The mage had been at my mercy, but I was unable to slay him in cold blood.