Spook's: The Dark Army (The Starblade Chronicles) (8 page)

But the moment of danger passed. When it replied, it ignored Jenny and spoke directly to me. ‘
Anyone who tries to destroy the thing your purra speaks of is a fool. It would seize and annihilate both his body and his soul. It is a being called the “Targon”, which guards the gateways of fire that lead to the domain of Talkus.
’

‘So the well in the room is a portal to your god?’

‘
Yes – one of the three doorways that I created!
’ The ghost’s eyes gleamed with pride. ‘
This is the room where I studied and planned. The portal chamber is where I crafted and created the future.
’

‘Is there any danger that it could leave the attic and kill people outside?’ I asked.

The ghost shook its head. ‘
It is a guardian and cannot venture more than six feet beyond the gateway that it guards.
’

‘What about the other attics in the south wing? What do they contain?’ I asked.

‘
Echoes of what once existed but nothing of importance. Maybe there are also human ghosts. Some of your people were questioned and sacrificed there.
’

All at once the ghost began to fade.

‘Don’t go!’ I cried. ‘I want to ask you some more questions. And I’ll try to help you escape from here. Just answer this, please – if the rulers of Valkarky changed, could the war end? Could Kobalos and humans ever live in peace?’

‘
It would depend upon those who ruled and upon the structure of that rule
,’ the ghost of the mage said, becoming solid again, the hollow voice reverberating from the walls. ‘
The last king of Valkarky was not as militant as the Triumvirate. His father had fought wars against humans, and so had his father before him. But they were limited territorial disputes, whereas the Triumvirate now seeks unlimited expansion and wishes to kill or enslave humans. There would always be border disputes and skirmishes, but with different rulers, Kobalos and humans could live in peace most of the time. Yes, that is possible.
’

I quickly asked another question. ‘You named yourself as the architect who conceived of and shaped the Kobalos god, Talkus – and it is that god who now drives your people forward in this war. Is that what you wanted?’

The ghost flickered, but answered my question.

‘
War was not the purpose for which I shaped Talkus
,’ it replied. ‘
Thousands of years ago, my people carried out a great crime, an act of insanity. We slew all our females. I wished to rectify that act of madness.
’

I watched incredulity and horror flicker across Jenny’s face. That was something she must have read about in Nicholas Browne’s Kobalos glossary. However, hearing it from the ghost brought home the insane horror of that act. That defining moment had shaped the Kobalos society of today. It was a terrible tale, and was hard to believe. The Kobalos women had been taken to a vast arena and slain, their throats cut, their blood drained. It took seven days to complete the terrible task. It was, as the ghost admitted, an act of madness. By that act the Kobalos males had hoped to come to their full strength – they believed that the women made them weak, undermining the savagery that was the pure essence of a warrior.

Of course, they were then faced with the threat of extinction but had already planned a way to avoid that. Although humans and Kobalos are two distinct races, their use of magic made it possible to breed with human females – slaves which they call purrai. But only Kobalos males resulted from such unions.

‘
The god I began to shape would have helped us create our own females once more
,’ the ghost continued. ‘
Balance would have been restored and, in time, there would have been no need for us to use purrai. But the murder of the king and the coming to power of the Triumvirate changed all that. They reshaped the new god for their own ends – that of war, and the acquisition of greater and greater power.
’

‘Is it too late to change things again?’ I asked, stunned by that revelation. The dead mage had actually been benign and had intended for good to result from his act of creation.

‘
There are those among my people who already strive for such change. I have talked to them. My spirit cannot leave this place, but they can and do project their minds to me. An alliance is already working to overthrow the Triumvirate. It began with a small secret group called the Skapien, who are opposed to the slave trade. But recently there have been others in Valkarky who are more open and vocal in their opposition. Haizda mages are one of these dissenting groups, and as a result have been outlawed by the Triumvirate and are now being hunted down and exterminated.
’

‘It would be better to change the rulers of Valkarky than have a war,’ I said to the ghost. ‘You say you have contacts with the Kobalos who oppose the Triumvirate. Do you give them your support? Do you wish for the same thing?’

‘
I do
,’ replied the mage.

‘It would be useful for us to have contact with them too. Could you arrange that?’

I could see real possibilities here. There might be other ways than Grimalkin’s to end this threat. Perhaps the Kobalos could be changed from within?

The ghost did not reply. It simply vanished.

I was disappointed, but it was a beginning. I would return here and talk to the dead mage again. I nodded at the lantern, and Jenny adjusted the shutters once more, filling that dusty room with brightness.

Then we left, locking both doors behind us.

‘Could you have sent it to the light?’ Jenny asked.

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘But I am prepared to try – eventually, that is . . . I think we can learn a lot of useful information from that ghost. We’ll come back another night and try to speak to it again.’

Jenny yawned.

‘Are you tired?’ I asked.

She nodded, stifling another yawn.

‘Well, it’ll be at least another hour before you get to bed,’ I told her. ‘We have something else to do before then. When you follow this trade, night work is something you have to get used to!’

MY ENCOUNTER WITH
the daemonic thing in the well had been terrifying. I was still very nervous when Tom talked to the ghost of the Kobalos mage; I feared it might turn on us at any moment. Dead or not, it might still retain some magical power.

Tom had the Starblade, but I had no such protection. In any case, its magic had already let him down once. I was exhausted by both ordeals – the last thing I wanted was to face more ghosts. Surely they could have waited for another night?

However, I kept quiet – I didn’t want Tom to think less of me. I played the dutiful apprentice and followed him up the steps towards another of the attics.

‘You heard what the dead mage said about the other locked rooms?’ Tom asked, stopping and turning to face me. He was breathing hard, wheezing terribly. I was worried that he might be over-exerting himself.

I nodded. ‘Some are likely to contain the ghosts of humans.’

‘That’s right. We won’t be able to send them to the light because they’ll almost certainly be from these northern lands and won’t speak our language. We still have to see what needs to be done. Our job is to keep people safe from the dark and that applies even when we’re far from the County. That’s our duty, so we’re going to have to learn Losta – or at least enough of it to persuade a spirit towards the light.’

He turned and began to climb the steps again.

‘I know quite a few words already,’ I reminded him.

Tom nodded. ‘I see I have a bit of catching up to do,’ he replied with a wry smile.

At last he reached the attic and paused, struggling to get his breath back.

When we opened the door, we saw that there was no anteroom; just a large space that had clearly been used to torture prisoners. There was a brazier full of cold ashes, and on the wooden table lay a number of instruments: tongs, saws, hooks, blades and long thin needles – along with manacles to hold prisoners in position. I noticed the dark stains where blood had soaked into the wood. There were also manacles set into the wall, with stains on the wooden floor beneath them.

My stomach heaved at the thought of what must have been done to those poor human prisoners – up to ten of them could have been held here. Then I began to sense fragments of the horrific experiences the victims had gone through – flashes of contorted faces, sounds of moaning and screaming and a sudden overwhelming stench of blood.

I felt a sudden urge to get out of that room . . . But I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself.

‘Cut the light to a minimum, Jenny,’ Tom commanded.

I placed the lantern on the floor at my feet and adjusted the shutters so that once again the room was in darkness but for the small circle of light on the boards that surrounded it.

I didn’t like it in the gloom of that torture chamber. It was possible to imagine all sorts of things emerging from the darkest corners. But Tom knew what he was doing. Ghosts were less likely to appear when a room was well-lit.

We remained near the door, still and silent. Suddenly I shivered and sensed a presence in the room. I could see nothing, but from the left-hand corner beneath the furthest of the wall manacles came a faint groaning. Then, quite clearly, I heard the chains move against the stones – along with another sound like liquid running down the walls and dripping onto the floor. I could smell blood again.

There was a ghost present; the ghost of somebody in agony after being tortured. Instantly I knew a lot about the man. He’d been part of a small patrol testing the Kobalos lines. He was Polyznian, but he was not a subject of Stanislaw; his prince went by a different name. The ghost had been here many years, so maybe the ruler then had been Prince Stanislaw’s father or even his grandfather? Most of the patrol had been slain, but the rest had been captured, questioned and tortured.

I could sense the man’s anguish; something that went far beyond physical pain. They had cut him with blades coated in a poison that caused extreme pain. But even worse was his realization that he would never get out of this place. His family lived far to the south and he would never see them again. He had a small son and daughter and a child soon to be born. How would his wife, Karina, support their family without him?

I gave a sob and tears flowed down my cheeks, for the ghost didn’t realize how long he’d been here. By now his wife would probably be dead and his children grown old.

Tom gave me a kind look and put a finger to his lips, asking me to be quiet. I nodded and stifled another sob.

The next sound came from the table: a deep groan and then a shriek of agony. Then I heard the noise of a saw cutting through something – but it wasn’t wood.

The ghost was reliving the terrible moments of his torture and death. His captors were sawing through flesh and bone.

Unable to control myself any longer, I was sick on the floor at my feet. I didn’t dare look at Tom. I could smell the stink of my own vomit and I knew he could smell it too. I leaned back against the wall, shivering.

Tom pointed to the door. To my relief, I realized that we were leaving.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said as Tom locked the outer door.

‘You don’t need to be sorry, Jenny,’ he replied, his voice kind. ‘It obviously affected you very badly. You must have experienced far more than I did. All I heard was the rattling of chains and a faint groan. Then I saw a few other vague luminous shapes. But I know something really bad was happening on that table.’

‘They were sawing through his bones,’ I said, shaking with horror at the thought of it. ‘Why would they do that? What kind of a race are they?’

‘Humans can be just as bad,’ Tom replied, leading the way down the stone steps. He sounded weary. He was still a long way from regaining his former strength. ‘They were probably trying to get information from him – troop strengths and movements – in order to save the lives of their own soldiers. I suppose that war brings out the worst in everyone. Our own civil war back in the County was terrible and tore families apart, brother against brother.’

‘But must the ghost endure his death over and over again?’

‘Remember the dead soldiers I showed you on Hangman’s Hill? This was also probably a ghast rather than a ghost, Jenny – the fragment of that poor soldier’s soul left behind when it went to the light. But there must have been ghosts there too . . .’

‘Yes. One of the manacled prisoners missed his family – he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing them again. He had two children and his wife was soon to give birth to a third. I think he’d been really happy at home. If we could get him to concentrate on that, it might be the way to send him to the light.’

Tom nodded but he seemed distracted, lost in thought.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked him.

He shook his head. ‘I’m far from all right. And I think we’ll have to wait until next year to sort out those ghosts.’

I stared at him in astonishment.

‘We’re going home. In a few days Grimalkin expects me to ride out to attack the kulad – it’s madness. I’ve been thinking and worrying about it for days. The trouble I’ve had climbing these steps has convinced me. We’ll travel back to the County before the snows trap us here. We’ll go and tell Grimalkin now.’