The Spook 9 - Slither's tale (26 page)

I was forced to retreat in order to bring the animal back under control. By the time I had done so, Grimalkin was already charging towards me, two blades held aloft, glittering with reflected light from the morning sun. But I had time to draw my sabre and urge my own mount forward so we came together hard and fast.

Neither of us managed to inflict any damage upon the other, and we came about quickly and began our second charge. The witch passed very close by on my left, and thrust at me viciously with a blade. However, using the last of my reserves of shakamure magic, I had already formed a magical shield and, positioning it perfectly, deflected her weapon, lunging towards her head as I did so.

She leaned away and I missed my target, but the tip of my sabre cut her shoulder, drawing blood. At that my heart
sang
with joy. Next time we passed I would finish her!

But as I faced my enemy again, I saw that now she wielded only one knife. Her other blade hadn’t shattered against my shield, so why had she put it away? Perhaps the wound I had inflicted upon her left shoulder meant that she could no longer hold a blade with that hand? No, she now held this one in her left hand.

Then I concentrated my vision and noted that in her right hand she now carried the skelt sword – the weapon that had broken the Kangadon. It would do the same to my shield. Nor was I comfortable fighting against a blade with a hilt fashioned in the image of Talkus; he who, once born into this world, would be the most powerful of all Kobalos gods.

It was ominous. Did it signify my death? I wondered.

It did no good to think upon such things now; so, gathering my resolve, I spurred my horse forward once more. Closer and closer we approached, the hooves of our mounts sending a fine spray of snow up into the air. Blood was running down Grimalkin’s left shoulder, but she was smiling.

My sabre would cut the smile from her face! I thought.

Then another horse was between us, forcing me to change direction, veering away to the left. It was Nessa. She galloped after me and we came to a halt some distance away.

I glanced back and saw that the witch had reined in her horse and was staring at us.

‘You fool!’ Nessa cried. ‘Stop this at once or she will kill you. You don’t have to die here. Return to your haizda and let us go on our way in peace.’

I was outraged by her words. She had called me a ‘fool’! Who was she to speak to me in this manner? But before I could vent my anger, Grimalkin had brought her mount alongside Nessa.

‘Keep away!’ she warned, pointing the skelt blade towards me. ‘Our trade is over, little mage, and you are no longer safe!’

‘
You
claimed to be one who kept to her word!’ I retorted angrily.

‘I
did
keep my word!’ the witch insisted. ‘Did I not keep my promise and help you to slay the Haggenbrood? And once we left your abominable city, I did nothing to impede what you consider to be your lawful business.’

‘You just play with words!’ I shouted. ‘I told you that I intended to sell Nessa in the slave market, as was my right. She was my chattel. And you replied that you would not hinder me in that.’

‘You sold a slave in Karpotha and thus discharged your duties under the law of Bindos. That is what is truly important. The fact that I was that slave matters nought. It was done and, with our trade completed, I was free to liberate the slaves from the kulad. And know this and remember it well: I cannot allow your people to continue to hold human slaves!

‘I declare war on the Kobalos. I go to forge the Star Blade, but once my business with this is done,’ she cried, holding up the sack, ‘I will return with my sisters and we will pull down the walls of Valkarky and kill all the Kobalos within! So remain at your haizda, mage! Keep away from that cursed city and you might live a little while longer! But now, lest we fight to the death prematurely, I would ask you a question. Why
did
you return to Karpotha and witness what I had done?’

‘I returned to the cliff and sheltered from the storm,’ I answered.

‘That necessitated your delay but you did not need to return to the kulad. I know why you went back. You intended to buy Nessa’s freedom. Is that not so?’

I was shocked by Grimalkin’s words. How could she know this?

I nodded.

She smiled. ‘So in that case, what has been lost? Nessa has the freedom you intended for her and it has been achieved at no financial or legal cost to yourself. Now I will return some of these women to their own lands. Others, even if born in the skleech pens, will be found homes amongst humans. As for Nessa, I will reunite her with her sister. In the meantime you will go home and prosper. You are looking forward to returning to your haizda – is that not true?’

I nodded again; then, finally finding my voice, I lifted my sabre and pointed it towards her. ‘One day there will be a reckoning between us – I promise you that!’

‘And I return that promise, so go in peace, Slither. One day we will surely meet again, but there is no need for us to spill more blood this day. I will go and attend to my own business. In the meantime, ready yourself for my return. Gather your resources, hone your fighting skills and strengthen your magic. Then we will meet and fight to the death, thus proving once and for all which of us is the stronger. I will take great pleasure in defeating such a formidable warrior. Is it a trade?’

‘Yes! It is a trade!’ I cried, lifting my sabre in salute.

Her words were wise. My magic was gone and must be replenished with blood. Better to face her when I was once again at the height of my powers. I looked forward to it.

She smiled, showing her pointed teeth, then rode her horse back to the head of the column.

Nessa remained where she was. ‘Is that true? Did you really intend to buy me back and give me my freedom?’ she asked.

‘It is true, little Nessa. Grimalkin does not lie, although I think she finds too much freedom within the terms of a trade. I am more concerned with the precise letter of the contract.’

Nessa smiled. ‘But I think she kept closely to the spirit of the agreement. Is that not true?’

It took me almost a week to reach my haizda again. The journey was delayed somewhat because, on the evening of the third day, I suddenly grew exceedingly thirsty. So great and immediate was my need that I was forced to plunge my teeth into the neck of my horse and drain its blood.

Usually I am able to resist such impulses, but the long days and nights of restraint – when I had stopped myself from leaping on one of Nessa’s plump sisters and drinking until she died – suddenly took their toll. After such prolonged discipline there must be release. It is only natural for a Kobalos.

Winter is approaching once more, and I am preparing for my customary hibernation. I have spent the short summer in my haizda, drinking blood, reaping souls, sharpening my skills as a warrior and strengthening my magic. Now the final stage of my preparations will take place as I sleep.

I will be ready for the return of the witch. Whatever the outcome, I look forward to combat with Grimalkin. It will mark the pinnacle of my endeavours as a warrior mage. She has threatened the city of Valkarky. Although there is little love between me and certain of its inhabitants, I have an allegiance to my own people.

Perhaps I will be the means to end that threat.

Slither

Each day the sun crosses the sky a little closer to the horizon; soon the short summer will draw to a close.

Now my uncle knows the full story of how Susan died and how I was carried off to be a slave. It made him angry but also fearful. He says that the world is cooling and it makes him apprehensive. He remembers the tales of his grandparents; ancient fearful stories passed down through the generations.

When Golgoth, the Lord of Winter, last awoke, the ice expanded and the Kobalos beasts travelled south with it, slaying the men and boys but sparing the women and their daughters and carrying them off to be slaves. My uncle believes that it will happen again; but he prays that it will not be in his lifetime.

My aunt and uncle are good-hearted and have given shelter to Bryony and me; this is my home now. We work hard, but I also worked hard on Father’s farm. Little has changed in that respect.

The time since my poor father’s death has been terrifying and traumatic, but it has opened my eyes to just how big the
world
is and shown me that there are so many unknowns, so many new things to learn.

In a way that has made me restless and discontented with the routines of life. I would like to travel and see more of the world.

Maybe I have not seen the last of Grimalkin or of Slither. It is just a hunch, but I believe that one day our paths will cross again. I hope so . . .

Nessa

Slither’s Dream

Little Nessa beckons me

By tapping on her silken knee.

She’s trapped behind a prison grille

So I think to bend it to my will.

That iron grille is tall and wide

And spans the room from side to side

From floor to ceiling and wall to wall,

And though at present I am not tall,

My haizda magic’s very strong;

It coils and twists and flicks the grille

Until the metal quivers, twists and yields

Like poppies dancing in the fields –

For that grille’s alive, no doubt of that;

It’s lithe and stretchy like a cat.

Now it opens very wide

And I beckon Nessa to my side.

As we climb the twisty tunnel stairs,

Nessa holds my hand and purrs,

But a shadow begins to grow and coil

Like a serpent slick with poisonous oil,

Like the withering breath of a daemon lord

Or a thing un-blest that raps on boards.

But my silver blade is very sharp,

It weaves strange patterns in the dark.

Its curvy point is sharp and long

More thirsty than my slithery tongue.

A fainter heart might here have prayed,

But I stand my ground

And draws my blade!

One shatek screaming in the night

Has startled armies into flight,

For a shatek’s brood share a single soul

Taking many forms with a single goal,

And its whole’s a creature called a djinn

An entity that’s spawned to spin

A web of darkness round the sun

And puncture with a probing pin

All pleasures that be clothed with skin;

It’s nursed its envy in the dark

And clothed its hope with a leprous bark

Like the dark Jibberdee of Old Combesarke!

And little Nessa it did see

And carried her off against her will

To imprison her behind that grille.

By that it aimed to summon me

To a final battle ’neath its tree.

For above this pit a great tree stands

That casts a shadow across the land;

It grows above the shatek’s lair

At the very top of the thousandth stair

And bears fruit of such slimy green

That would taint the womb of a virgin queen.

Its leaves they twist and turn and glower

And fall each spring in a malevolent shower

To poison soul and wither breast

And churn the soil so the dead can’t rest.

But my silver blade is very sharp,

It weaves strange patterns in the dark.

Its curvy point is sharp and long,

As thirsty as my slithery tongue.

So I wield my blade

And my blade’s my song!

Six feet begin to tap on stone

With a click and a snap of flexing bone,

As with agile flesh and cunning leers

They seek to multiply my fears.

But I whirl my blade with a swish and hiss

Because I’ve been there and I’ve done this;

I’ve seen the sand that hides the stains,

I’ve seen the corpses bound with chains,

I’ve seen the daemon lord called ‘Hob’,

And I’ve heard the falling virgins sob.

For I know the pit where his mother lies,

Smelled the blood, heard the drone of flies,

Seen the vultures haunt the skies.

And I know this dance,

I know its pattern well,

Even better than the path to Hell!

So I lift my blade and licks my lips

Until six eyes pop like orange pips

And I shuffles left and I shuffles right

And weaves strange patterns in the night.

First blood to me as I takes a head

With a blow so swift it out-speeds dread,

Then quick as thought I strikes again,

And two heads roll now as a pair,

And squelch and bounce from stair to stair

Deep down in the bowels of the shatek’s lair.

O boastful lord of this ancient tree,

What a fool you be to mess with me!

For I’ve tortured sharks in the deepest seas

And made them vomit boggarts’ knees;

I’ve savaged eagles in their nests

And bit the bones from ogres’ chests;

I’ve hunted vampires in the east

And laughed in the face of Satan’s priest.

O boastful lord of this ancient tree,

This is what Nessa swore to me:

That our love was like a petal tree,

And ere the sun falls in the sea

I’ve promised Nessa she’ll be free!

But he tries once more to cut me down

With a twist, a leer and an evil frown.

But I shuffle left and I shuffle right,

And strike a blow with all my might.

And through helmet, hauberk, shield and breast,

My blade it cuts from east to west.

Faster than falcon stoops to prey

My blade it cuts that fiend away.

O boastful lord of this ancient tree,

What a fool you were to mess with me,

For even in death I’m bound to win

Despite my darkest secret sin,

For I’ll go to a world called Kinderquest,

A sphere where even the damned are blest.

Where they can rest for a thousand years

In a deep warm sleep beyond all fears,

Until when bored with ‘safe and dark’