The Spook's Sacrifice (17 page)

Two things happened simultaneously. There was a
click and something shot forward above my head and
speared the creature in the throat. He slumped to his
knees, choking, and then fell to one side. After a long
shuddering breath he was still.

Alice came to my side; she was holding my staff. The
click I'd heard was her releasing the blade, which was
now covered in blood. Now the Spook and Arkwright
came running back into the chamber. They looked at
the dead creature and then at Alice.

'Looks like Alice just saved your life, Master Ward,'
Arkwright said as I climbed shakily to my feet.

The Spook said nothing; as usual he begrudged
Alice any praise. Just then there was a groan from the
far corner of the chamber: another of the Ordeen's
servants began to stir.

'Those witches haven't been as thorough as we
thought,' John Gregory observed. 'Let's move on.
There's no sense in staying here a moment longer than
we need. Time is short – and who knows what lies
ahead?'

Beyond the door was another passageway, which
led upwards once more. We began to climb, the Spook
in the lead. Suddenly he raised his hand and came to a
halt, then pointed to the wall on our left. A small
glowing sphere, a bubble of translucent fire, was floating
there at head height. It was no bigger than my fist,
and at first I thought it was attached to the wall. As I
watched, it floated across the passage and disappeared
into the stones.

'What was that?' I asked. 'A fire elemental?'

'Aye, lad, I suppose so. Having lived in the wet
County all my life, I've not set eyes on one before.
From what I've read they can be very dangerous
indeed, but because of all the water that's fallen on the
Ord – and found its way inside – it should be some
time before they become fully active. All the more
reason to press on just as fast as we can! Where's
Seilenos? He knows all about such things . . .'

'He's dead,' I explained, shaking my head sadly.
'Despite Mam's warning, he ate the food and drank
the wine at the table, and he was killed by one of the
daemons.'

'Greed killed the poor man,' said the Spook gravely.
'The County way is the best when facing the dark. It's
a pity. We badly needed his expertise here.'

The passage continued to rise even more steeply,
and once again we encountered a stone wall barring
our way with an opening to the left. Inside the next
chamber the lantern revealed more stone slabs with
daemons lying upon them. All had been slain in the
same way as the others and there was a lot of blood,
but as we advanced between the slabs, Alice gave a
gasp of horror.

This time, the witches hadn't found things so easy.
One of their own number was dead. There wasn't
much left of her either. All that remained was her legs
below the knees and her pointy shoes. Above them her
body had been reduced to black ashes, which were still
smoking. The air was tainted with the stench of burned
flesh.

'What did that?' I asked. 'That glowing orb we saw
before?'

'That or something like it, lad. Some sort of fire
elemental for sure. Let's hope it's moved on elsewhere.
The Ord is coming to life faster than we hoped,' said
the Spook, and then his eyes widened in alarm.

A ball of fire had appeared in the air five paces
ahead of us. It was much more threatening than the
translucent orb we'd seen earlier. This was slightly
larger than a human head and was opaque, throwing
out flames, pulsing rhythmically, alternately expanding
and contracting. It started to glide towards us,
growing rapidly as it did so.

The Spook struck at it with his staff and it retreated
a little way before approaching again. Once more he
thrust at it, missing it by less than an inch, and it shot
forward over our heads at tremendous speed and
broke against the far wall in a shower of orange sparks.

Striding quickly forward, the Spook led the way out
of the chamber. I glanced back and saw that the fiery
orb had re-formed at the base of the wall and was
starting to float towards us again. Beyond the
doorway, stone steps led steeply upwards and we
climbed as fast as we could. I glanced back again
anxiously, but the elemental didn't seem to be following
us. I wondered if it was confined to the chamber in
some way. Maybe its duty was to guard it?

The steps curved up in a spiral. Were we already
inside one of the three spires? I wondered. There was
no way of telling because there were no windows. I
was becoming increasingly nervous. Even if we did
succeed in destroying the Ordeen herself, this route
was full of elementals . . . and who knew what other
creatures? We'd have to come down these steps again,
and by then anything that lurked in the shadows
would probably be fully awake and dangerous. How
could we make our escape?

Moments later we encountered another threat. A
dead Mouldheel lay before us on the stairs, identifiable
from her bare feet and ragged dress. Where her head
and shoulders had been, a glowing orange fire
elemental shaped like a starfish writhed and
crepitated, moving slowly downwards to consume the
remainder of her body. It was one of the asteri
the Spook had warned me about.

'Looks like it dropped onto her head as she passed
beneath it,' he observed. 'Not an easy way to die . . .'

Pressing our bodies back against the stone walls, we
went on, giving the dead witch and her terrifying
slayer as wide a berth as possible. But then the Spook
pointed ahead. There were four or five similar
elementals clinging to the high ceiling, pulsing with
fire.

'Not sure whether it's best to move slowly or run for
it,' he muttered. 'Let's try it slowly and keep close
together. Ready with your staff, lad!'

The Spook took the lead, with Alice following him
and Bill Arkwright bringing up the rear. We held our
staffs at the ready. My mouth was dry with fear. We
climbed slowly and steadily, passing beneath the first
two star-shaped elementals. Perhaps these were still
dormant or had been affected by the deluge? We could
only hope . . .

Just when we thought we'd escaped the danger, we
heard a hissing sound and a large elemental dropped
straight towards the Spook's head. He whirled his
staff, and with a shower of sparks the blade cut it into
two pieces. They fell onto the steps behind us. I
glanced back to see them crawling towards each other,
attempting to re-form into one creature again.

We hurried on but kept checking the ceiling for
danger. At last we reached a landing. Facing us were
three cavernous doorways, and I realized that these
must be the entrances to the three towers.

'So which way is it to be?' asked the Spook, staring
at each flight of steps in turn.

'It's anybody's guess!' Arkwright replied with
a shrug. 'This place is so big – we'll run out of time
before we can search it all. It doesn't look
good.'

'Alice could sniff out the danger,' I suggested.

The Spook frowned – clearly he considered that a
use of the dark.

I spoke quickly before he could refuse. 'Mam would
want us to use every possible means in order to
survive and slay the Ordeen!'

'And I've already explained that I don't like all your
mam's methods and don't choose to employ them
myself!' my master snapped.

'Let Alice do it,' I begged softly. 'Please . . .'

'I think we've little choice but to let the girl try,'
Arkwright said.

The Spook closed his eyes as if he was in pain; then
gave a barely perceptible nod.

Alice immediately went to the foot of the central
flight of stairs and sniffed loudly twice. 'Can't tell
what's up there,' she admitted, 'because that's the way
the witches went. They've tainted the air, so I ain't able
to tell what's beyond them.'

'Then it would make sense to take those steps,'
suggested the Spook. 'At least then we might get
some warning if they run into trouble. Won't they
have sniffed it out as the safest route anyway?'

But before Alice could answer there was a sudden
scream from the central tunnel and we could hear
someone running down the steps towards us. The
Spook raised his staff and there was a click as he
released the retractable blade.

A moment later, a shrieking witch ran out onto the
landing, her hair on fire, her pointy shoes clattering on
the marble floor. I doubt she even saw us. Still screaming,
she continued down the steps and was lost from
view. Then a second one appeared, a barefoot
Mouldheel, one of Mab's followers. Arkwright
intercepted her, grabbing her ragged sleeve and
threatening her with his staff. Her eyes were filled with
terror, her face grimed with soot, but she seemed
unhurt.

'Let me go!' she cried.

'What happened?' he demanded.

'Fire daemons! We had no chance. They're dead. All
dead!'

With that she tore herself free and ran on down the
steps. If she was right, all the witches were dead – even
Grimalkin and Mab. The power of the Ordeen was such
that they hadn't been able to sniff out the danger and
they'd been no match for the fire elementals.

Alice checked the left-hand stairs and shook her
head. 'Danger up there!' she said. At the right-hand
opening she nodded slowly. 'Seems all right . . .'

So we began a cautious ascent, the Spook once again
taking the lead. We seemed to be climbing for ever: my
legs grew weary and felt as heavy as lead. It was
terrifying to imagine this whole structure passing
through a portal, full of dark entities – some of them
unknown and not even recorded in the Spook's
Bestiary. And what if the Ord were suddenly to return
through the portal, carrying us all with it? It was a
scary thought and I wished we'd done what was
necessary and were on our way out rather than
penetrating ever deeper, with a host of unknown
dangers ahead of us.

At last we reached the top of the stairs, to be faced
with a large, circular bronze door. On it was embossed
a huge skull. There was neither lock nor handle, but
the Spook placed a hand against the carving and
pushed. The door slid open soundlessly. Holding the
lantern high, he stepped into a small octagonal room.
We looked around in puzzlement. There was no other
door. What was this place? What function did it serve?

Almost immediately I received an answer. This was
a trap! Suddenly the ground opened beneath my feet
and I heard Alice cry out in fear. Then the lantern went
out, my stomach lurched, and I fell into nothingness.

I landed on soft earth, the impact driving all the breath from my body and
jolting my staff and bag out of my grip. It was totally dark – I couldn't
even see my hand in front of my face. I got to my knees. There was mud beneath
me, the dampness starting to soak into my breeches. I called out to the Spook
and Alice but received no reply.

However, I wasn't alone. I sensed a movement in the
darkness close by. Whatever it was travelled on more
than two legs, scuttling delicately towards me. With a
start, I felt something touch my ankle just above my
boot. It was a gentle touch, almost a caress, and I
wondered for a moment if perhaps this was something
I didn't need to fear after all. But then that first delicate
contact became a grip of steel, and I felt sharp teeth
tearing into my leg. I waited for whatever it was to bite
through to the bone, even sever my foot, but it began
to drag me along behind it. I didn't dare resist.
Helpless, I bumped across the ground, then felt the
surface beneath me change, becoming hard and cold.
I could hear the legs of the creature clicking and
clacking across it. Then it stopped, released my
leg and scuttled away.

Nearby, people were laughing. I had the impression
that their laughter was directed at me, in an attempt to
provoke me in some way. I lay perfectly still and said
nothing. I'd lost my staff and bag in the fall, and but for
the silver chain in my breeches pocket, I was
defenceless.

Suddenly the ground beneath me began to sway
alarmingly and I heard the creaking of chains.
Instinctively I sat up and stretched out my hands at my
sides for support. The mocking laughter seemed to be
receding below me. Either that or I was somehow
being carried aloft. The sounds became fainter and
fainter, then faded away altogether. There was a slight
movement of air on my face now. I
was
moving
upwards into the darkness!

Feeling like a tiny mouse in a cat's basket, I kept
perfectly still and silent. The slightest movement might
precipitate an attack. Anything could be lurking in the
darkness and I didn't want to draw attention to myself.
But then I became aware of shapes about me: it was
growing lighter. I had feared the dark, but the light
now showed me how hopeless my predicament was.

The surface beneath me was metal, pitted with rust
and scratches. As the light intensified, I saw that I was
sitting in a deep circular metal dish, suspended from
the apex of the spire far above me. Three rusty chains
were fastened to its outer edge: apart from its great
size, it was very much like the bait-dish spooks used to
lure a boggart into a pit. Was I bait for some creature –
some large predator? I wondered fearfully.

There were other chains nearby, and they also
seemed to be in motion. Above me I heard a deep
rumble. How far was I from the ground? As I moved to
peer over the edge of the dish, it began to sway alarmingly.
Below was a yawning gulf. And all around me I
could see other dishes rising up into the spire. I was
trapped. There was no way down.

The walls were also getting gradually closer as
the spire narrowed. Now I could see the texture of the
stones – and something else: there were creatures
clinging to the walls – so many that they resembled a
colony of insects, the teeming centre of a hive. What
were they?

The higher I rose, the closer the curved walls pressed
in towards me; suddenly I understood exactly what I
was seeing. My heart lurched with fear. I was gazing at
a great horde of lamia witches, the vaengir.

There were hundreds of them. Each had four limbs,
the heavier back ones armed with savage claws; the
forelimbs resembling human arms with delicate
hands. A pair of black insectile wings were folded
across their backs, concealing an inner, lighter pair.
After the deluge they were fluttering them in order to
dry them. Outside, on the plain, it would soon be dark,
and once their wings were dry they'd be able to leave
the Ord and venture out of the cloud shield to attack
Kalambaka and the monks of Meteora.

I could see the lamias watching me through their
heavy-lidded eyes, gaunt-cheeked and restless; they
were eager to feed. The rumbling from above grew
louder, changing slowly into a grinding and clanking
that hurt my eardrums. I looked up. Above me was a
huge spindle, which was spinning slowly, hauling up
the chains, drawing the metal dishes upwards.

I glanced down at the other vessels and saw that
there were human forms sprawled in some of them –
whether alive or dead I couldn't tell because they were
too far below me. None of them seemed to be moving.
Suddenly I understood . . .

We were food for the lamias! Food to give them
strength for their flight! The horror of what I faced set
my whole body trembling. I was going to be torn to
pieces. Slowly, taking deep breaths, I forced my fear
to subside. There were other people to think about.
Were the Spook, Arkwright and Alice in the same
situation as me, being drawn aloft to feed the ravenous
lamia hordes?

There was a jerk, and the grinding and rumbling
ceased. I looked down again and realized that I was
right in the centre of the tower, the highest of about
thirty dishes.

Then I felt my dish begin to ascend once more. I
glanced at the other dishes below me but they weren't
moving; I was leaving them behind. Moments later I
passed a large static metal cylinder wrapped with
rusty chains, one of the mechanisms by which the
other dishes had been lifted. I must be suspended from
some different system. Now, above me, I saw something
that looked like a boiling black cloud, much like
the one above the Ord, but inside it. I flinched away as
I drew nearer. It filled me with fear. A moment later I
was within it, unable to see my hand in front of my
face. The dish came to a halt and I was suspended
there for several moments in absolute darkness.

Then the black cloud began to recede, thinning as it
did so, and I was able to see my surroundings. I was
still within the rusting metal vessel. Below was the
yawning void through which I had ascended. I had
been drawn up into a small room of black marble; it
was no more than a cube, with no doors or windows
and only two items of furniture: a large circular mirror
on the wall to my left – and a throne.

I began to tremble because I'd seen that throne
before, in the spring, before I'd met the maenad assassin,
or even heard about the Ordeen. It was the one the
Fiend had been sitting in when I'd talked to him on the
black barge back in the spring. It was intricately
carved: on the left arm was a fierce dragon, its claws
lifted aggressively; on the right was a fork-tongued
snake, its long body trailing down the side of the
throne to coil about the claw-footed leg.

I stepped out of the dish onto the marble floor, looking
straight ahead, afraid to glance down at the gulf
below. As I did so, a sudden chill ran the length of my
spine; a warning that I was in the presence of a
dangerous servant of the dark. I knew what was
happening because it had happened to me before. I
couldn't move. I wasn't even breathing but felt no
compulsion to do so. Time had stopped. Stopped for
me as well as for my immediate environment. That
could mean only one thing. The Fiend . . .

And suddenly there he was, sitting on that ornate
throne, once more in the shape of Matthew Gilbert.

'I'm going to show you something now, Tom,' he
said, his voice filled with malice. 'The future. What
will happen in the next few hours. Only you can stop
it. Look into the mirror!'

I felt my heart surge in my chest. I was breathing
again but all around me was utter stillness. Although I
felt free to move, time was still frozen. Unable to help
myself, I did as he commanded and looked at the
mirror. Everything grew dark, and for a moment I felt
myself falling, but then I was looking down on the metal
dishes from somewhere just above, able to see them all,
my eyes clearer and sharper than they'd ever been.

Some dishes were filled with blood; others held
people. Flesh and blood – it was all food. Food for the
lamias. I could see the Spook in one; he wasn't holding
his staff and looked old and frail, gazing upwards with
terrified, despairing eyes. In another was Alice,
gripping the edge of the dish with white knuckles. But
Mam wasn't there, and somehow that gave me hope.

No sooner had that thought entered my head than I
heard the beating of many wings and the flock of
vaengir flew down onto the dishes with outstretched
claws. They formed a dark ravenous mass of thrashing
wings, obstructing my view, but I heard Alice cry out.

I was helpless, unable to go to her aid. I could do
nothing for any of them; not even cover my own ears to
block out the awful sound of screams and tearing flesh.

Now the view changed and I was outside the Ord,
watching the servants of the Ordeen ride out of the
gates. There were thousands of them, scimitars and
spears at the ready, their elongated faces fixed with
cruel intent. They were all male; of the females there
was no sign. Time seemed to speed up, and I saw them
approaching Kalambaka, overtaking the warriors who
had fled the Ord. These they cut down without mercy
or lifted up in order to drink their blood before casting
the broken bodies back into the dust. Behind them
came the maenad hordes, gorging upon the flesh of the
dead and dying.

In the walled town they attacked all those who had
been unwilling or unable to flee. Unarmed men and
women suffered the same fate. Children, even babies,
were torn from their mothers' arms, drained, then
dashed against the blood-stained walls. Once again,
maenads pounced on the broken bodies and tore at the
flesh of the victims. Next I saw the vaengir swoop
down upon the monasteries of Meteora; their lofty
heights were no protection against such a ferocious
aerial attack. I saw bodies fall like broken dolls; the
floor of the
katholicon
ran with blood. No more would
hymns soar like angels to fill the dome; no more
would the monks' prayers strengthen the light. The
Ordeen was now free to emerge anywhere she chose.
Now the County too was at risk.

'That is the future, Tom!' cried the Fiend. 'The events
I showed you will begin to unfold in just a few
moments, beginning with the deaths of your master,
Alice and Arkwright. That is, unless you take the
necessary steps to prevent it. I can help you. I require
something from you, that's all. I simply want you to
give me your soul. In return I offer you a chance
to destroy your mother's enemy.'

The vision faded and I was left staring at my own
reflection. I turned back towards the Fiend. 'My soul?'
I asked in astonishment. 'You'd own my soul?'

'Yes, it would belong to me. Be mine to use exactly
as I wished.'

Own my soul? What did that mean? What were the
consequences? To be dead and trapped for ever in a
living hell? In the dark itself?

The face that stared at me from above the throne was
no longer smiling. The eyes were hard and cruel.

'Three days from now, if you survive, I will come to
collect your soul. That will give you time enough to do
your mother's will and reach a place of safety. I will
not kill you. No, the terms of this contract are such that
when I come for you as agreed, your breath will leave
your body and you will die, your soul falling into my
hands. And your soul will endure in my possession
and be subject to my will. The hobbles that bind me
will no longer be important. I will not kill you myself,
so my rule here will not be limited to a mere hundred
years. You will have agreed to forfeit your life so you
will be removed from the world of your own volition.
Thus I will be free to use my own devices to work
towards eventual domination of this world. It will take
time, a long time, but I am patient.'

I shook my head. 'No. It's madness. You're asking
too much. I can't agree to that.'

'Why not, Tom? It's the obvious thing to do. Make
that sacrifice and surrender your soul into my keeping.
You will achieve so much: I can give you the chance to
avert all the deaths I've shown you. And you will
prevent any future danger to the County. It's your
decision, Tom. But you saw what is about to happen.
No one but you can stop it!'

Only by agreeing could I prevent the deaths of Alice,
Arkwright and the Spook. And thousands more would
die, the Ordeen would triumph, and seven years from
now, when she took revenge on Mam and destroyed
everything and everyone she held dear back home, it
would be the turn of the County to endure a similar
fate. But to prevent that I'd have to suffer the loss of
my own soul. It was a terrible thing. But would the
sacrifice be worth it? What did the Fiend mean by a
'chance'?