Spook’s: Dark Assassin (The Starblade Chronicles)

by Joseph Delaney

  There was no reply. Alice probably had no water or mirror that she could use nearby. I’d be wasting my time trying to use the small mirror from my bag. So she was probably employing some other kind of magic to communicate with me. Maybe it only worked one way; it seemed there was no way for me to tell her what I thought.

  When Alice had asked me to hurry to Malkin Tower, I’d been only too happy to do so. But she had gone off with Lukrasta before I’d even arrived. Now she expected me to make an even longer journey to a second tower – the one in Cymru. Was she playing games with me?

  Two towers – that was one tower too many!

  Alice was able to use the space between worlds, so I wondered why she couldn’t come and talk to me here. And why did she want me to go to Cymru? Lukrasta was the last person I wanted to see.

  One thing made up my mind for me. I’d spent several days with an exact replica of Bill Arkwright. It had looked like Arkwright and it had talked like Arkwright. It had been totally convincing. Then Nora had proved to be a tulpa too – no doubt also a creation of Balkai. I wondered if this was happening again. I’d believed that Lukrasta was dead … but what if he was dead and had been replaced? Alice might be in real danger.

  I had to go and help her.

  Soon I was striding down the Ribble Valley through the rain and the pitch black. I reached the Samlesbury Bridge just before noon. The rain had eased, but the low clouds promised more to come.

  Alice was waiting on the eastern side of the bridge. She looked as beautiful as ever, dressed in green and brown, the colours she’d adopted since becoming an earth witch. But her expression was serious. I longed to fling my arms around her and hold her tight; however, I halted a couple of feet away and waited for her to speak, feeling wary. I was worried that she had betrayed me – though I was still full of love for her.

  Suddenly she smiled at me, and a moment later she was in my arms. I’d expected sadness and commiserations. Didn’t she know what had happened to Jenny?

  ‘Do you know that Jenny’s dead?’ I asked her.

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Dead? Oh no, Tom! How did that happen? I’ve been trying to keep an eye on you by using my magic but the last few days have been really difficult and dangerous. I was distracted.’

  ‘She was poisoned by a water witch.’

  She hugged me even more tightly. ‘I’m so sorry, Tom. Poor Jenny.’

  ‘Had you been there, you might have been able to save her,’ I said bitterly.

  ‘We were fighting off an attack. I would have been too late. I’m sorry, Tom,’ Alice said with a sigh.

  ‘Mab’s sister Beth is dead too. Those witches you sent down into the dungeons to help me were slaughtered by zanti. If you hadn’t left so suddenly, you might have been able to help. I’ve travelled a long way and by a roundabout route to reach you,’ I told her, my voice reproachful. ‘You’ve led me quite a dance. So tell me what’s been happening. Why did you leave the tower with Lukrasta just before I got there? Couldn’t you have waited?’

  Alice didn’t reply, and we ended our hug without our usual kiss.

  ‘Let’s talk as we go,’ she suggested. ‘We need to go to Cymru as soon as possible.’

  ‘Then why don’t we just use the space between worlds?’ I asked. ‘You did that when you left Malkin Tower with Lukrasta.’

  ‘Too dangerous, Tom. They almost caught us – I can’t risk it again. Their mages are lurking there, hoping I’ll do just that. They’re ready for us. We’ll just have to walk.’

  ‘But why are we going there anyway?’ I wondered.

  ‘For the very best of reasons, Tom. We can use that tower to destroy Talkus.’

  As we headed south, it started to rain again and Alice began to tell me what had happened.

  CHAPTER 27

  THE KOBALOS GOD

  GRIMALKIN

  THE GHOST OF the Kobalos mage questioned by Tom and Jenny had spoken of ‘gates of fire’ and soon, still in the form of a silver sphere, I came to the first of these. It shone brighter than the sun, although I felt no heat as I passed through its flames. In the form of a sphere, I had no eyelids to protect me and my vision grew dark.

  There were three gates in all; after going through the third I raced on through the pitch black for what seemed like an age, wondering if it was true darkness or whether my vision had been destroyed. I lost all track of time – had I been trapped in the portal? Perhaps it was a circle; perhaps I would be stuck in this tunnel for all eternity … But at least the tentacled guardian had not followed me.

  At last I emerged into dim light. Above was a purple sky, and I found myself floating over a circular plateau strewn with rocks, surrounded on all sides by high cliffs. It seemed like an arid desert, though at its centre was a lake that bubbled and steamed.

  I drifted higher to get a better view – and noticed things moving around its perimeter; were they skelt servants of Talkus? I floated closer to investigate. Yes, I was right: skelts were scuttling along the shore as if on patrol.

  But where was Talkus? I wondered. Where was his lair?

  Then it came to me. I remembered that skelts could tolerate boiling water; how they had once hidden themselves in the steaming water of a kulad, a Kobalos mage tower, before emerging to attack me. Talkus was hidden somewhere in the depths of that boiling lake.

  In the form of an orb I could pass through walls without harm. The gates of fire had not harmed me either … but could I dive below the simmering surface?

  There was only one way to find out. I dropped down and entered the water without a splash.

  It boiled and bubbled, forming a grey and white haze so that I could see nothing. I continued to sink deeper and deeper – and then suddenly the water became crystal clear.

  Below me lay a wide rocky plain, but my destination was unmistakable: a large circular dark opening, similar to the entrance to the portal in the castle turret. But here, instead of the four couches, four large skelt statues stood guard, gazing up and outwards, bone-tubes extended threateningly towards me or any other interloper who dared to approach the entrance.

  For one moment I thought I saw them twitching, ready to attack, but it was merely a distortion of the water. Moments later I had passed beyond them and entered the dark tunnel – where, suddenly, water gave way to air. I looked back up at the surface that hung directly above me, not one drop falling. I could see myself reflected in it, an orb glittering like quicksilver.

  I floated down until I came to an immense cavern: the lair of Talkus.

  The Kobalos god was below me. To my surprise I saw that he didn’t resemble a skelt at all. He was roughly human in shape, but enormously broad and muscular. A line of razor-sharp bones protruding from the flesh ran the length of his spine, culminating in a long thick tail tipped by a murderous-looking bone blade. Instead of skin he was covered in purple scales, but it was his stature that surprised me the most; he was maybe four times the size of a man.

  Talkus was sitting with his head in his huge clawed hands, leaning against the wall of the cavern. The situation was just as Lukrasta had described: the receptacle that housed the god’s soul floated close to the smooth walls, a red, throbbing, irregular-shaped mass of tissue, purple veins snaking across its surface. It was attached to Talkus’s belly by a long umbilical cord. Gradually he was absorbing the soul into his body. Soon it would fill him with power and greater consciousness … but the process was not yet complete. He needed the soul-stuff that remained in that pouch. Without it, he would achieve only a fraction of his true potential.

  I realized that Lukrasta was right: if I took the pouch, the god would be forced to follow me. I sank to the ground and shifted into my human shape, looking up at the huge figure. His eyes were closed; he didn’t seem to know that I was there.

  Then, as I approached, Talkus suddenly opened his eyes and glared at me, his face twisting in anger. He lurched up onto his knees and reached out towards me, as if to seize my head and crush my skull. For such a l
arge entity he moved very fast.

  But I was faster. I drew a blade, seized the thick cord and cut through it very close to his belly. It spurted blood and the god screamed, agony contorting his features. I held onto the fleshy tube, wrapping it around my hand as tightly as possible, then returned my blade to its scabbard.

  As the furious god reached out for me again, I changed back into an orb. I had no idea whether I would be able to carry Talkus’s bag – after all, I now had no hands to grasp it – but as I soared away, the fleshy receptacle came with me, the cord attached to the orb.

  As I rose, I saw another orb falling towards me: my reflection. Then we collided, and I plunged up into the water. Seconds later I emerged from the lake and entered the portal. Somewhere ahead of me, I knew, was the daemon guardian. Would it sense my approach and try to block my exit? Would Talkus give some kind of warning?

  I sped through the three gates of fire, my vision darkening once more. Gradually my eyes cleared and I glanced back, but saw no evidence of pursuit. Perhaps Talkus was unable to follow me in humanoid shape – in which case I would be unable to lure him back to the tower. But even if I failed in that, I knew that I must have damaged him. I had the pouch that he needed so badly.

  All at once I glimpsed the writhing tentacles of the guardian directly ahead. Eight baleful red eyes stared at me. But I was small and fast and I soared past the scaly body, through the doorway, and was free – though now I realized that I’d be unable to escape through the stone wall of the tower: I could pass through; the bag could not. Unless I could find an exit, I would be forced to leave it behind. Then I would have achieved nothing.

  I floated down the stairway, dragging it behind me. To the side were narrow windows, just wide enough to fire an arrow through, but they were not wide enough for my needs.

  At the bottom of the steps stood a door, where I changed back into my human shape, turning the handle with my free hand. To my surprise, it wasn’t locked, but as I dragged it open, a Kobalos guard swung at me with his sabre, eyes wide with fear.

  I avoided his clumsy slash with ease and drove a long blade straight into his throat. His scream ended in a gurgle and he slumped at my feet. Immediately I heard the thunder of approaching footsteps, but I was now free of the castle. A second later I was back in the form of a sphere, soaring aloft, searching for the beam of light from the cauldron. Still there was no sign of Talkus.

  I floated down the beam until it became a tree-lined path; now in my human shape, I walked along until I reached the crossroads. Thorne was standing behind the cauldron and she waved to me as I approached.

  ‘That’s an ugly thing you’re holding, Grimalkin!’ she exclaimed as she stared at the purple-veined pouch, which was pulsing like a heart. The tube attached to it was slimy and hard to grip; blood dripped from the end.

  I smiled grimly. ‘Within this sac of flesh is the soul-stuff of Talkus – I must take it to Lukrasta’s tower.’

  ‘You can’t go yet,’ Thorne warned me. ‘The sun still hasn’t set there.’

  I looked down the opposite path and saw that the top of the tower was bathed in the orange light of the setting sun while its base was in shadow. Still, I wouldn’t have long to wait.

  ‘I’ll walk along and go through at the earliest opportunity,’ I told Thorne as I passed the cauldron and set foot on the other path.

  CHAPTER 28

  THE SILVER FINGERS

  THOMAS WARD

  ALICE HAD MUCH to tell me.

  Pan had insisted she work with Lukrasta again to implement his plan to destroy Talkus. It cut into my heart like a knife, but I understood that she’d had little choice in the matter: their combined strength was needed to combat the god.

  ‘Grimalkin is going to help. She isn’t trapped in the dark like other dead witches,’ Alice told me. ‘She can visit the Earth and strike at our enemies – but only during the hours of darkness.’

  I listened to this news in astonishment, but there were even more incredible things to discover.

  ‘Grimalkin is going to steal a piece of Talkus’s soul and take it to Lukrasta’s tower in Cymru. The plan is that the god will follow her and be trapped there by the mage.’

  Things were coming to a head. If this could be achieved, it might well bring the war to an end. Without their god, the power of the Kobalos mages would be much diminished.

  But could a mage even as powerful as Lukrasta really do that? I wondered. Could he trap a god?

  ‘What if Talkus can’t be contained?’ I asked as we strode through the driving rain, hurrying towards the tower.

  ‘That’s a risk we’ll just have to take,’ Alice replied. ‘He won’t have reached his full strength; he needs the soul-stuff that Grimalkin has stolen. If he’s desperate, it might make him reckless. When we’ve contained him, Lukrasta will move the tower into a different time and expel him there.’

  ‘Will he move to the past or the future?’ I asked.

  ‘The future is difficult because it’s unstable,’ Alice explained. ‘As you know, it changes moment by moment. And even if we leave him there – what if he survives? He’d still be a threat as time carries us towards him. In hundreds or even thousands of years our descendants might have to face him again. It has to be the unchanging past. If we can trap him there, his imprisonment will last until the end of the Earth itself. Lukrasta’s plan is to drop him into the molten rocks that once covered the surface of this planet. Then he will either be immediately destroyed or trapped in the rock strata when it cools.’

  ‘Do you trust Lukrasta, Alice?’ I asked, staring at her intently.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I? He wants the same things we do, Tom: the destruction of Talkus and the defeat of the Kobalos. We’ve got to work together on this – otherwise all human males will be slaughtered, the females taken into slavery. Yes, he does want to stop that – I’m sure of it.’

  ‘How can you be sure that it really is him? What if it’s a tulpa like the angel you created?’

  ‘That was mostly an illusion; we only saw it from a distance. I’ve stood right next to Lukrasta. I’d know if it wasn’t him.’

  ‘Are you sure about that, Alice?’ I asked. ‘You’d better hear what happened to us. Remember Bill Arkwright, who we thought had been killed in Greece? He came to Chipenden claiming he’d survived and wanted to work from the mill again. He was totally convincing. Jenny and I thought we were actually walking and talking with Bill Arkwright. You would have been fooled too, Alice. But he was a tulpa. He even taught Jenny how to fight with a staff,’ I added.

  ‘What happened?’ Alice said, looking concerned.

  ‘He wanted to get his hands on the Starblade,’ I told her. ‘Once he had it, he would have killed us both. The horrible thing was, the creature really thought it was Bill Arkwright. He didn’t know he was going to kill us. Once it began to doubt its own identity, however, it was all over. I named it to its face as a tulpa, and it fell apart before our very eyes. Something similar happened when Jenny was being treated for the poisoning. A servant called Nora was supposedly trying to help her, but she proved to be a tulpa too. She thought she was Nora, but she killed people anyway – she almost got the Starblade away from me.’

  I looked around and saw that the rain was easing again, the clouds blowing away to the east.

  Alice smoothed her wet hair back from her forehead. ‘It’s worrying to hear that their mages can create something like that, but just supposing Lukrasta is a tulpa – why have him come up with a plan to hurt Talkus like this?’ she asked me. ‘What possible purpose could that serve? It don’t make any sense, Tom. I can see you’ve good reason to worry, but you can put those troublesome thoughts aside now. Trust me – Lukrasta isn’t a tulpa. Pan certainly thinks he’s dealing with Lukrasta. Could a tulpa fool a god? It ain’t possible. Let’s just concentrate on what needs to be done.’

  Hearing the certainty in Alice’s voice allayed my concerns a little. Maybe my fears were groundless … Though my instincts told m
e that something was wrong, and they’d rarely let me down.

  We rested briefly before continuing south, crossing the Mersey and then skirting the walled city of Chester and fording the River Dee. Then we headed west into Cymru.

  I suddenly felt sad: the last time I’d undertaken this journey my master, John Gregory, had still been alive. It was on the way back to the County that I’d been surrounded by enemy witches and faced death. Grimalkin had saved me, but now she was dead too. One of them had been my master and friend; the other had been my ally – and yes, my friend too. Now they were both gone; I felt lonely and empty inside.

  However, I’d learned that Grimalkin could leave the dark and visit the Earth, so maybe I’d see her again. That made me feel a little better.

  A little before sunset on the second day after leaving Pendle, the tower finally came into view. I glanced at the ruined chapel on the hill to the east. Both buildings were sited on a ley line.

  Last time I was here I’d fought witches on the steps that led to the tower. I’d been totally outnumbered and would have been slain for sure, but as I was on the ley line, I had managed to summon the boggart, Kratch, which had become a vortex of fire and had slain every single witch. I remembered a tide of blood flowing down the outside steps, carrying with it the pointy shoes – which was all that remained of them.

  I had no clue what would happen inside the tower now, but if necessary I’d summon the boggart again.

  Alice and I picked up our pace. As we approached, I glanced up at the balcony where I’d once watched Lukrasta kissing her. There was nobody there now, and no lights showed at any of the windows. The place seemed deserted.

  ‘Will Lukrasta be waiting for us inside?’ I asked.

  ‘If he’s not, he’ll soon show up,’ Alice replied.

  I reached up and felt for the hilt of the Starblade where it protruded from my shoulder scabbard, as if touching it for luck, though I knew it was more for reassurance; to confirm that it was still there. Without it I would be almost powerless against the dark magic that might be hurled at me.