Spook's: The Dark Army (The Starblade Chronicles) (3 page)

I knew that Tom’s mam had been a healer and a midwife but to my astonishment Grimalkin had revealed that she had also been a lamia. She had passed on to Tom the ability to heal himself. But surviving death was something far beyond that.

‘Who used the magic?’ I asked.

Grimalkin didn’t answer. Was she even listening to me? I wondered. She seemed to have retreated into her own private world. I heard a murmuring outside, and rather than repeating my question I went over and lifted the tent flap. Scores of warriors stood outside, staring at the tent.

I returned to Tom’s makeshift bed. He was breathing slowly, in a deep sleep, but looked as if he might open his eyes at any moment. I wondered fearfully if he could really be himself after such a trauma? He might have been tipped into insanity or have no recollection of his former life.

‘There are ranks of warriors outside. What do they want?’ I asked Grimalkin.

She sighed, drew back the blanket and inspected Tom’s wound again. She spoke so quietly that I had to lean closer to catch her words. ‘They want this sleeping “prince” to lead them across the river and destroy the Kobalos. They have seen Tom defeat the Shaiksa; now they have witnessed his return from the dead, an even greater accomplishment. They want what I wanted. We have reached the position I hoped for all along. But someone else has brought us to this point; someone who had already planted the seeds of this harvest months before we arrived here with Tom; someone who has seen the larger picture of events and schemed to bring about this very situation.

‘Months?’ I asked. How could she know this?

‘The winged being has been appearing to the magowie for some time. It has been controlled by someone who hides in the shadows so that I cannot see him.’

‘Do you know who it is?’ I asked, suddenly afraid. I had thought Grimalkin was the great schemer, but now, it seemed, there was someone too powerful for even her to detect.

‘I know only one person capable of such powerful dark magic,’ she said. ‘A human mage I have encountered before. His name is Lukrasta, and he once served the Fiend. His purpose now is to ensure the survival of humanity and the destruction of the Kobalos.’

‘Tom told me a little of Lukrasta – isn’t he the dark mage his friend Alice now works with?’

‘Yes, that is the one,’ the witch assassin admitted, her face grim. Her mouth twitched, and I wondered if she was afraid . . .

‘But don’t we all want the same outcome, then?’ I asked. Surely this mage Lukrasta would be a valuable ally.

‘Lukrasta is indeed fighting on our side against the Kobalos – but sometimes the means he uses are too terrible, and the goal is not worth it,’ Grimalkin replied, shaking her head. ‘I watched the final stage of Tom’s struggle with the assassin very carefully. He fought perfectly, exactly as I had trained him – but as he delivered the killing blow, he made an elementary mistake. His stance allowed the Shaiksa to deliver the killing thrust.’

‘But the Kobalos warrior was highly skilled. Are you sure Tom made a mistake? Anybody can make a mistake in the heat of battle, surely?’

‘I am
certain
, child,’ Grimalkin retorted angrily, showing her sharp teeth. ‘Tom Ward would never have made such an elementary mistake of his own volition. I think his actions were influenced by some magical force. He had to die so that these warriors could witness his resurrection; they are now more likely to follow him into battle obediently and without question. The winged creature and the prophecies made by the magowie . . . it all fits together only too well. We have been used as part of a clever scheme, pawns in a much larger game.

‘Think
what
has been done and
how
it has been done!’ she spat. ‘Tom has suffered to meet the needs of this mage. He died a painful death and perhaps an even more painful resurrection. We are all expendable. Tom Ward and Lukrasta are enemies. Last year they fought, and Tom won. There is something cruel and vindictive about what has been done here – in hurting Tom, the mage has exacted a painful revenge over his rival.’

‘How is Lukrasta Tom’s rival? Is it because of Alice? Does Tom still care for Alice?’ I hoped he didn’t – it couldn’t be good for a spook to be so close to a witch.

Grimalkin smiled bitterly. ‘Alice and Tom were very close – he is hurt by her absence. Now she is closer to Lukrasta than she ever was to Tom. Yes, they are truly rivals for the friendship of Alice.’

For a while I did not reply. I’d never seen the witch assassin so upset before. I could feel myself wilting under the fierce heat of her anger. Then at last I screwed up my courage and asked the question that had been bothering me.

‘How could Tom have been manipulated by a magical force during his battle with the Shaiksa? He was wielding the Starblade that you forged for him. You both thought that made him invulnerable to magic.’

‘It should have done so. I believed that it would protect against any dark magic intended to harm him – magic wielded by both humans and Kobalos. That is what worries me. The magic used against Tom was more powerful than the blade. I suspect that Lukrasta and Alice combined their magical power to achieve that.’ Grimalkin’s hands were trembling slightly – but was it from fear or anger?

After a while she spoke again, her tone softer and friendlier. ‘You look tired, girl – you have been through a lot. I will watch over Tom. Go back to our tent and sleep. I will ask the prince to provide you with an escort through the camp.’

I hesitated. I was reluctant to leave Tom. I really wanted to be there if he woke up, but Grimalkin was staring at me, and I was forced to look away from her fierce gaze.

Within the hour I was back at our own little camp, watched over by a couple of the prince’s guards. I was tired, but I fed and watered the horses before crawling under my blanket. Almost immediately I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It was late morning when I awoke and went outside. I saw that the guards were gone, as had most of the nearby tents. There was no sign of human activity.

I was puzzled and tempted to investigate further but the horses badly need to be exercised, so I put aside my curiosity and dealt with their needs first, riding them along the riverbank. It was a fine bright morning and I enjoyed the gallop. I was so pleased that Tom seemed to have a chance of recovering, but that was balanced by what Grimalkin had told me of Lukrasta and Alice. How could Alice be Tom’s friend and yet conspire to cause him such pain?

As I approached the camp again, I saw the witch assassin striding towards me between the remaining tents.

‘Where is everyone?’ I asked.

‘They’ve set off for a castle belonging to Prince Stanislaw. We are to stay there for a time while we strengthen our forces and prepare to cross the river into the Kobalos lands.’

Her words filled me with utter dismay. I couldn’t believe that they were still planning the attack. I’d been hoping that Tom would be able to travel back to the County.

‘What about Tom? Is he conscious?’

‘No, he is still in a very deep sleep. He is being carried there on a cart, watched over by the prince’s guards. We need to strike camp and follow.’

The journey to the castle took us through a great forest of tall spruce and pine trees. How I longed to be back amongst the oaks and sycamores of the County. When Tom recovered he would surely need a period of convalescence. He certainly wouldn’t be strong enough to ride at the head of an army. Grimalkin had talked of crossing the river to attack the Kobalos, but perhaps I could persuade him to go home? I would certainly try my best.

Grimalkin was not best pleased when the castle finally came into view. ‘This is no place to position an armed camp! It will be impossible to defend!’ she exclaimed.

Set on high ground, rising out of the haze from hundreds of campfires, the castle was a beautiful and impressive sight, surrounded by pine trees and wild meadows. However, it lacked the moat and high defensive walls of castles that I’d seen back in the County.

‘No doubt Prince Stanislaw uses it as a base to hunt boar and deer,’ she continued. ‘It’s a place to entertain his nobles and other princelings. We should have gone further south, closer to the capital. Our Kobalos enemies might seize the initiative and attack first.’

I had only seen one of the Kobalos so far – the assassin that Tom had defeated in single combat. Yet I knew that many of their warriors dwelt across the river, and that even greater numbers lived in the great Kobalos city called Valkarky. Their intention was to kill all human men and boys and enslave the women. The threat they posed was terrifying.

They had their powerful new god, Talkus, whose birth had encouraged them to invade human territory.

He had also drawn other Old Gods to his side.

The most formidable of these allies was Golgoth, the Lord of Winter who shared the Kobalos’ love of the frozen wastes; he was a god who threatened to bring ice and snow to the whole world creating a new Age of Ice. These gods, the Kobalos and their battle-entities were the dark army that we faced.

When we reached the castle, we were treated with courtesy and our horses were fed and watered. Somehow they found room for them in the crowded stables. The castle was very full as well. The rulers of the other principalities had brought their warriors to join the cause and resist the expected Kobalos attack, and each had been given quarters there. The consequence was that I had to share a small room in the southern turret with Grimalkin.

Still, our room had two narrow beds. I was grateful for that because in sleep Grimalkin can be terrifying. Sometimes she cries out as if in agony or speaks harsh angry words in some foreign language; most scary of all is the way she sometimes grinds her teeth together and growls deep in her throat.

Time passed slowly and I moped in my room, making notes on what had happened and writing this account in Tom’s notebook. Occasionally I broke the tedium with a brisk walk in the cold, pacing back and forth within the courtyard. I really wanted to explore the grounds, but the soldiers camped there were loud and boisterous, and I avoided them.

Grimalkin seemed to spend all her time by Tom’s bedside, but when I tried to see him, she wouldn’t let me enter the room.

Then, on the third morning, she came and told me that Tom was conscious and wished to speak to me.

So this will be my final entry in his notebook.

I am happy to return it to him, but I wonder what will happen now. Will he want to go home? I really hope so. I am about to find out.

ALICE TURNED AND
smiled at me. We’d just cooked two rabbits in the embers of our campfire. Now we were eating them, the tender meat almost melting in our mouths.

I smiled back. She was a really pretty girl with nice brown eyes, dark hair and high cheekbones. It was easy to forget that she’d been trained in witchcraft by a witch called Bony Lizzie. But we’d just survived a terrible threat from the dark and Alice had helped me – so rather than imprison her in a pit, the Spook had given her another chance. I was taking her to stay with her aunt at Staumin, to the west of the County.

We finished the rabbits and sat in silence. It was one of those comfortable silences where you didn’t need to speak. I felt relaxed and happy; it was good to just sit there next to her, staring into the warm embers of the fire.

But suddenly Alice did something really strange. She reached across and held my hand.

We still didn’t speak and stayed like that for a long time. I looked up at the stars. I didn’t want to break away but I was all mixed up. My left hand was holding her right hand and I felt guilty. I felt as if I was holding hands with the dark – I knew the Spook wouldn’t like it.

There was no way I could get away from the truth. It was very likely that Alice was going to be a witch one day. It was then that I remembered what Mam had said about her – that she’d always be somewhere in between, neither wholly good nor wholly bad.

But wasn’t that true of all of us? Not one of us was perfect.

So I didn’t take my hand away. I just sat there, one part of me enjoying holding her hand, which was comforting after all that had happened, while the other part was overcome with guilt . . .

All at once I found myself lying in my bed. My heart sank like a stone.

It had all been a dream about what had happened years earlier during the first months of my apprenticeship.

I’d enjoyed those moments with Alice, but now I remembered more recent events. Our close friendship had lasted years and I’d truly loved her – it was Alice who had brought it to an end. She’d betrayed me and gone off with the mage, Lukrasta. The pain of it was still as fresh now as the moment it happened.

Alice had become a witch. She had gone to the dark. I had lost her for ever.

I looked at the weak sunlight streaming into the room and shivered. They still hadn’t returned my clothes and, pulling the heavy woollen gown about me, I left my bed for the first time since regaining consciousness. Once again I remembered the sudden pain as the sabre entered my flesh; I remembered falling into the darkness of death.