The Spook's Sacrifice

• 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
  

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

J
OSEPH
D
ELANEY

Illustrated by David Frankland

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

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

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for Marie

T
HE HIGHEST POINT IN THE
C
OUNTY
IS MARKED BY MYSTERY
.
I
T IS SAID THAT A MAN DIED THERE IN A
GREAT STORM, WHILE BINDING AN EVIL
THAT THREATENED THE WHOLE WORLD.
T
HEN THE ICE CAME AGAIN, AND WHEN IT
RETREATED, EVEN THE SHAPES OF THE
HILLS AND THE NAMES OF THE TOWNS
IN THE VALLEYS CHANGED.
N
OW, 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 —

T
HE
W
ARDSTONE
.

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 entered 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 nodded. 'Maenads rarely venture from
their homeland, Greece. They're a tribe of women who
inhabit the wilderness there, living off the land – eating
anything from wild berries to animals they find
wandering across their path. They worship a bloodthirsty
goddess called the Ordeen, and draw their
power from a mixture of wine and raw flesh, working
themselves up into a killing frenzy until they are ready
for fresh victims. Mostly they feed upon the dead but
they're not averse to devouring the living. This one
had anointed her face to make her appear more
ferocious; probably with a mixture of wine and human
fat – and wax to hold the two together. No doubt she'd
killed someone recently.

'It's a good job you managed to knock her down and
bind her, lad. Maenads have exceptional strength.

They've been known to tear their victims to pieces
using just their bare hands! Generations of them have
lived like that, and as a result they've regressed so that
now they're barely human. They are close to being
savage animals but they still have a low cunning.'

'But why would she sail all the way here to the
County?'

'To kill you, lad – that's plain enough. But why you
should pose a threat to them in Greece I can't imagine.