Spook's: The Dark Army (The Starblade Chronicles) (13 page)

Now I gripped the Starblade tightly, knowing that it would protect me against his magic. As I did so, I wondered where Alice was. When I’d fought the Shaiksa assassin, she and Lukrasta had combined their magic to control me. They might do it again.

‘Yes, if he is your prisoner, I
do
wish to speak to him!’ Grimalkin declared angrily. ‘There is much to be learned. But why are
you
here?’

Lukrasta smiled and seemed about to reply, but then, from the antechamber, we heard a sudden scream and the sound of arrows being loosed. Grimalkin and I ran to the doorway, but the steam from the bath was now so dense that we could only see vague shapes that seemed to be struggling to stay upright. There were curses, a groan of pain, another scream, and then silence.

I thought Grimalkin would leap forward to join the fray – but to my surprise she took two rapid steps backwards and moved into a defensive crouch, long blades at the ready. She almost collided with me and I had to step aside hastily.

Then I saw what had caused her to retreat. A huge insect-like creature with a long snout was crawling towards us, its thin multi-jointed legs stepping delicately across the bridge. It was a skelt.

These deadly creatures had long, sharp bone-tubes which they used to pierce their prey and suck their blood. Standing upright, they were taller than a human.

The skelt was quickly followed by two more, which scuttled towards us. I realized that they must have been concealed in the scalding water.

Skelts had once been rare, but I had seen hundreds of these creatures in one of the domains of the dark. They had cut the body of the Fiend into pieces and carried them to a lake of boiling water, where they had disappeared.

I suddenly remembered that the powerful new Kobalos god Talkus was supposed to take the form of a skelt. For one terrible moment I feared that he might be here.

However, I had no time to reflect upon this: we quickly backed away into the mage’s room, and the skelts pursued us, water dripping from their bodies, tendrils of steam twisting up towards the ceiling. Why didn’t Grimalkin attack? I wondered. Were there too many? Did she fear the presence of Talkus too?

Then I heard a deep voice behind us. It wasn’t Lukrasta’s. It had a harsh, guttural quality . . . It wasn’t human.

‘Witch, you are not the only one able to shape-shift!’

I looked over my shoulder and saw, in the place of Lukrasta, a Kobalos warrior who must have been all of seven foot tall. He was clad in full armour, though his head was bare. The sight of his shaved face sent a tremor of fear through my body, for this was the mark of a mage.

My heart sank into my boots. It had to be Lenklewth, the powerful mage Grimalkin had hoped to avoid.

‘In me you have met your match!’ he hissed at the witch assassin.

She stepped towards him, blades at the ready, eyes glittering with fury.

He gestured with his left hand and, to my shock and dismay, Grimalkin fell to her knees, her blades slipping out of her grasp to fall upon the flags. Her face was twisted in agony and suddenly blood spurted from her nose and began to drip down her chin. Then red rivulets trickled from each ear.

I watched in horror. The mage had tricked us, drawing us up into his tower, and now he had brought Grimalkin to her knees with a mere gesture. She had seriously underestimated his capabilities. I had never seen her vanquished like this, reduced to such pitiful weakness. It was terrifying to witness such a thing.

Now he turned towards me and made a similar gesture. I felt nothing and I saw him frown. I realized that the Starblade was protecting me from his magic.

Grimalkin seemed to be struggling for breath, but then I saw that she was desperately trying to say something. At last she forced the words out with a spray of blood. ‘Kill him now!’ she gasped. ‘But you
must
keep hold of the sword!’

I raised the Starblade and stepped towards Lenklewth. My sword hadn’t enabled me to see through his illusion, but it would protect me against a direct attack by dark magic.

However, I was still not strong and hadn’t practised with the sword since I’d returned from death. I would no longer possess the skill and strength with which I’d defeated the Shaiksa assassin at the river ford. My arms trembled.

‘You have more resistance than the human witch,’ the mage rasped.

As a seventh son of a seventh son I had some immunity against dark magic but I knew that it was mostly the blade that was deflecting it. I had to hold onto it at all costs.

I heard a scratch-scratching on the flags behind me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that two of the skelts were behind me. The desk was between us, but more skelts were now scuttling across the bridge and entering the room.

The danger was increasing by the moment so, wasting no time, I swung my blade towards Lenklewth’s head. The Starblade felt heavy and unwieldy and I knew my blow would fail. Despite his size, he stepped back nimbly and avoided it with ease, then spun away and seized a huge double-bladed battle-axe off the wall. He crouched down, gripping it with both hands, waiting for me to attack.

As I advanced towards him, he straightened up to his full height, raising the axe high above his head, then swung it down at me in an arc. Had the blow landed, it would have cleaved me in two. I barely managed to step aside before it clanged against the flags.

I darted in before the mage could raise the axe again and aimed the Starblade at a point high on his shoulder where neck and shoulder armour joined. The blow rang against the metal but failed to find the vulnerable point. Again we circled each other. Already, after just one attack, I was breathing hard and my legs felt weak.

Grimalkin was on her hands and knees, head down. A small viscous puddle of blood and spittle was forming on the flags underneath her open mouth. She’d been rendered helpless by the mage’s powerful magic.

I knew I had to finish this quickly because I had little stamina. I was concentrating on my opponent, calculating my next move, when suddenly I felt a sharp stabbing pain in the back of my calf. I looked down and saw that a skelt had pierced me with its bone-tube. At that moment of distraction the mage struck. He swung his axe at me horizontally and I barely managed to block the powerful blow.

The Starblade went spinning out of my hand and clattered to the floor.

I quickly stooped to retrieve it, but I was too late; I was already beyond its protection.

The mage smiled, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Bile rose up in my throat. I was choking, drowning.

Within seconds I knew no more as Lenklewth’s magic cast me down into darkness.

I AWOKE WITH
a blinding headache; when I sat up, the world spun about me. I felt sick and struggled not to vomit.

After a few moments the worst of the nausea had left me and I looked around the small room in which I’d been imprisoned. There was no window, but a rusty spike on the wall to my left impaled a candle; the flickering flame showed me the dismal interior of my cell. The floor was flagged and the stone walls were splattered with blood. Many were old, dark stains, but some looked new. People had died or been tortured here.

In the corner lay a heap of dirty straw – my bed – and there was a hole in the floor. I got to my feet and walked across to examine it. Immediately I recoiled: it stank of urine and excrement. I knew what it was for – and knew also that before long I would be forced to use it.

Next I noticed a jug by the door. It contained water. My mouth was dry, but could I trust it? Could it be poisoned?

Why bother, I asked myself, when they could just use a blade to finish me off any time they wished?

I groaned when I remembered how easily I’d been defeated. How easily the mage had disarmed me! I felt ashamed. I should have kept hold of the sword. Grimalkin’s gift of the blade had been our one chance, and I had let her down. All that training had been for nothing.

But then my thoughts took me in another direction and I grew angry. Weak as I was, I shouldn’t have been put in that position in the first place. I’d warned Grimalkin, but she’d ignored it and kidnapped Jenny in order to make me bend to her wishes.

I walked over to inspect the wooden door. It was stoutly made, the lower half clad with steel. There were no bars – no way to see out of the cell; not even a keyhole. Back in the castle was the special key made by Andrew, the brother of my dead master, John Gregory. Andrew was a master locksmith and that key had allowed me to escape from other dungeons and places of confinement. But it wouldn’t have helped me here. No doubt the door was securely bolted on the other side.

I sniffed the water before taking a sip. It was warm, but tasted fine. Everything in this tower was warm. There must be some source of heat underground. Maybe there was a hot spring? I thought. Then I remembered the Fittzanda Fissure, where the ground shook and jets of steam spurted up from the ground. The tower could be built upon a similar area of volcanic instability.

Driven by thirst, I began to gulp the water down. After a few seconds I was almost sick and had to stop. So I put down the jug and began to pace backwards and forwards, trying to think.

We’d been defeated so easily. The Kobalos mage had set his trap and we had rushed into it like lambs to the slaughter. He had assumed the likeness of Lukrasta and I’d been totally fooled. My usual sense that something from the dark was near had failed me. Kobalos High Mages were exceptionally strong in their use of dark magic. What was even more worrying was the way that he had also duped Grimalkin and quickly overcome her with his magic.

In her desperation to learn the secrets of Kobalos magic, she’d been reckless. Jenny’s account had told us that the kulad contained a large force of enemy warriors, yet we had attacked it with just twelve men. And we hadn’t known for sure that the mage would be away in Valkarky.

I suddenly realized that in order to take on his likeness, Lenklewth must have known about Lukrasta. He must have met him – perhaps he had already destroyed him? I had no love for Lukrasta, but if he had been defeated already, it did not bode well for our chances of survival.

In the distance I heard a scream. It sounded female. Perhaps it was one of the human slaves the Kobalos called purrai? I knew that they treated them with great cruelty. Or had the scream been wrenched from Grimalkin’s throat? I wondered.

Only once had I heard her cry out in pain – when I had helped her mend her broken leg. To regain her former mobility she had used magic and a silver pin to the hold the broken bones together. When I had tapped the silver pin home she had screamed in agony. Silver causes great pain to a witch – she had to live with it for the rest of her life; this was the price she had to pay if she wanted to continue as a witch assassin.

However, I would not have expected her to cry out under torture. What terrible thing was being done to her in order to draw that scream from her lips?

No! No!
I told myself.
That cannot be. That cry cannot be from Grimalkin!

Agitated, I continued to pace to and fro, pausing just once to take another sip of water from the jug.

I’ve always been good at judging the passage of time; if I wake up in the middle of the night, I can usually estimate what time it is. But now it seemed as if my normal senses and abilities were blunted.

Nor could I tell how much time had elapsed between the moment when I was plunged into unconsciousness by the mage and the moment when I awoke in this cell.

I wondered if there was any chance of being rescued. The few warriors we had led into the tower would all be dead now, slain on the stairs by the Kobalos. Yes, it had been a well-executed trap.

But what of the hundred or so we’d left beyond the trees? My heart sank when I realized that we’d get no help from them. Surely Kobalos warriors would have already driven them off or killed them.

Jenny had been with them. She might already be dead.

Poor Jenny! She would never get her wish to become a spook. I had brought her here to her death or perhaps to something worse: enslavement by the Kobalos.

My heart plummeted even further when I thought of the danger to our army of seven thousand. Lenklewth had known we were planning an attack and would have made provision for them as well. No doubt a Kobalos army was now approaching from the north; soon they’d be surrounded.

I continued to pace up and down.

Time dragged on. Eventually, exhausted, I sat down with my back to the wall, facing the door. I fell asleep, to be awakened by the sound of the bolt being drawn across. The door was eased open and a woman stared into the cell.

I couldn’t see her face: there were others standing beside her holding lanterns and she was in silhouette. Quickly she ducked into the cell, set something down on the floor and retreated. The door clanged shut and the bolt was drawn across again.

I had noticed at least three other women, dressed in tattered clothing and armed with clubs. The one who had entered my cell had bare arms that were covered in scars. So they were purrai; the wounds were inflicted by the Kobalos as part of their training or perhaps as a punishment. These purrai were sometimes snatched from their homes by the Kobalos, but most were born in captivity.