Spook's: The Dark Army

by Joseph Delaney

  About the Author

  Joseph Delaney lives in the heart of boggart territory – his very own village has one called the Hall Knocker, which was laid to rest under the step of a house near the church. In fact, over the twelve years he has been creating the world of the County Spook, Joseph has encountered two boggarts, a ghast and a ghoul – all of which have provided ripe source material for his spine-chilling tales.

  Many of the locations in the Spook’s books are based on real places in Lancashire, and the inspiration behind the stories often comes from local ghost stories and legends.

  josephdelaneyauthor

  josephdelaneybooks

  Also by Joseph Delaney

  SPOOK’S

  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

  BOOK SEVEN:

  THE SPOOK’S NIGHTMARE

  BOOK EIGHT:

  THE SPOOK’S DESTINY

  BOOK NINE:

  SPOOK’S: I AM GRIMALKIN

  BOOK TEN:

  THE SPOOK’S BLOOD

  BOOK ELEVEN:

  SPOOK’S: SLITHER’S TALE

  BOOK TWELVE:

  SPOOK’S: ALICE

  BOOK THIRTEEN:

  THE SPOOK’S REVENGE

  THE SPOOK’S STORIES:

  WITCHES

  THE SPOOK’S BESTIARY

  THE SEVENTH APPRENTICE

  A NEW DARKNESS

  ARENA 13

  Read on for a sneak peek at the opening

  pages of the next book in the series.

  THE DARK ASSASSIN

  1

  I Am Grimalkin

  I AWOKE IN darkness, shivering with cold, my mind numb and void of memories.

  Who am I?

  I was lying on my back, staring up at a pitch black starless sky. The new moon hung low on the horizon and it was the colour of blood.

  Suddenly, my identity surged back.

  I am Grimalkin.

  I was dead. I was in the dark. I remembered how I had attacked Golgoth, the Lord of Winter, running towards him with my blades. I’d known that I could not win, but I’d bought time for Alice to fight back.

  There had been a moment of freezing cold and intense pain; then I had fallen into the dark. My life as a witch assassin on Earth was over.

  I had a moment of regret.

  Never again would I be the witch assassin of the Malkin clan. Another would take my place. Neither would I be able to help humans in their fight against the Kobalos. I felt saddened at the thought of the human females who were still slaves of the Kobalos. I had sworn to free them but now could not keep that vow. I hoped that my allies left behind on Earth would still prove victorious. But I could do nothing to help. Death was final.

  It was hard to accept that but I shrugged. What had happened could not be changed. I had to let the past go and deal with my new situation.

  What opportunities would the dark present?

  I sat up slowly and looked around. The ground was damp and flat, with a few dead trees and patches of scrub. There were lights in the distance and the faint outline of buildings. They looked like the cottages found on Earth.

  But this was not Earth. So how would it differ from the world I knew? What new dangers would it present?

  I began to walk towards the nearest of those lights, aware now of the straps that criss crossed my body.

  I was pleased to find my blades in place: short ones for throwing and long ones for fighting at close quarters. I felt under my left armpit. My scissors were also in their sheath. There would be other dead witches here; enemies I had encountered in the past and perhaps new adversaries too. Would I be able to take their thumb-bones to increase my own strength? Was the dark like Earth in some respects? Or did it have different rules regarding dark magic?

  I saw a silhouette approaching, walking purposefully towards me. Had one of my enemies already discovered my whereabouts? I drew a short blade and balanced it in my hand, preparing to throw it.

  But then the figure – a girl, I saw – called out to me. ‘Grimalkin? Is that you?’

  I smiled and sheathed the blade. I knew that voice. We had fought together. It was the girl I’d been training to become a witch assassin like me. Her name was Thorne and we had been close.

  Tears are a waste of time. They achieve nothing. But I wept when my enemies slew Thorne. And afterwards I took my revenge. I hunted down every one of her killers.

  I looked at her hands. She had died when her thumbs had been cut away, but now they were whole.

  ‘It’s good to see you, child,’ I told her.

  ‘It’s good to see you again, Grimalkin,’ she replied. ‘But I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. The dark’s a terrible place. It is hard to survive.’

  ‘But you have survived, child. I trained you well. Now you can teach me what I need to know of this place.’

  ‘That’s why I came. When a soul arrives here the first hours are the most dangerous. I’ll help you if you will allow it.’

  ‘I would be a fool not to follow your guidance,’ I said with a smile.

  Now the trainee would train her trainer so I followed her towards the distant lights.

  We emerged into a narrow cobbled street. At first glance it could have been somewhere in the County – Priestown or Caster perhaps. But the baleful blood moon only lit one half of it, and the cobbles were a shiny black rather than grey; I saw an open drain on our left.

  Dark, old blood trickled along it. It could have come from a slaughterhouse or a butcher’s shop. But I sniffed and knew instantly that it was not from animals.

  It was human blood and I could smell its coppery taint in the damp air.

  On either side of us were houses with small windows illuminated by candlelight, their interiors occluded by black lace curtains that twitched like spider webs.

  Were eyes peering from behind those curtains? I felt sure that they were. If so, were they spies, dead humans, witches or other creatures of the dark?

  Dead people shuffled along the street towards us. Some showed evidence of the way they had died. There was a man staggering forward with a wide gash in his throat like an extra mouth; he was moaning with pain and the wound was dribbling blood.

  If the manner of your death was carried over into this dark domain of the dead then I should be in bloody fragments. Because that’s how I’d died, blasted into shards of flesh and bone by Golgoth, the Butcher God.

  I glanced sideways at Thorne. Why did she still have her thumbs? Why was I whole? There was much to learn here.

  I lived for challenges. I thrived on combat. This was a whole new world to understand and eventually dominate. My interest was aroused by its potential.

  Death might even be better than life!

  Then I noticed that the dead walked with their eyes fixed on the cobbles. It was as if they dared not look others in the eye.

  ‘Why do they walk like that with their eyes cast down?’ I asked.

  ‘They do that so as not to draw attention to themselves,’ Thorne explained. ‘These are weak souls who are mostly just prey.’

  ‘The prey of what?’ I asked.

  But before Thorne could answer I heard a screech in the distance and simultaneously a big bell began to boom, a terrible tolling that vibrated through the soles of my feet.

  Was it some kind of warning? I started to count the peals.

  Thorne looked anxious. She pointed to a narrow alley and ran towards it. I followed her into its shadows. At the thirteenth peal the tolling of the bell stopped. In the new silence I could hear screams and wails of terror from every direction.

  ‘What is happening?’ I demanded.

  ‘That bell se
rves more than one purpose,’ Thorne explained, ‘but it signals an immediate threat. Now predators are permitted to hunt whoever they like. It’s best to hide until a single chime signals that the period of danger is over.’

  ‘What predators?’

  ‘They are legion and take many forms. Look! There’s one above us now!’ Thorne cried, pointing upwards.

  Something large swooped low over the alley giving a raucous screech. It hovered directly above our heads and I could see it bathed in the light of the blood moon. It was like a giant bat with glowing eyes and long, bone-tipped wings terminating in clawed hands.

  ‘They hunt in packs and we’re their chosen prey!’ cried Thorne. ‘It will be directing other predators towards us. Hopefully the bell will chime soon, ending the danger.’

  Anger flared within me. It was not my way to cower in an alley like this, hoping for a bell to save me. I listened carefully. There were cries of fear and pain all around but their greatest concentration was in the direction of the blood moon and they were accompanied by screams of agony. That was where most of the predators and victims must be gathered.

  I turned, gestured that Thorne should follow me and began to run towards the baleful red moon; towards those cries and screams.

  ‘No!’ cried Thorne. ‘That leads to the basilica square. That’s the killing-ground!’

  I continued to run, gathering speed through the narrow streets, each turn taking me closer to the sound of the screaming. I could hear Thorne running close at my heels.

  ‘Please, Grimalkin, listen to me!’ she called. ‘There are too many to fight. They will rip us to pieces. You can die again in the dark. But this time you become nothing. You fall into oblivion!’

  ‘Better to be nothing than to cringe in fear!’ I retorted.

  Now I was sprinting, easing the first of my blades from their leather sheaths. I reached the square. It was a vast flagged area with the great stone edifice of the basilica rising up beyond it, buttresses and dark walls far larger than those of Priestown Cathedral.

  Who prayed within? To which dark entities did they offer worship?

  To the fore of the basilica, the square was a scene of carnage. The flags ran with blood and there were bodies everywhere, some dead, others still twitching or attempting to crawl to safety. The air was full of winged predators that swooped and tore, slaying with ease. Screams rent the air, but loudest of all was the infernal beating of huge wings.

  One saw me and glided towards, me eyes glowing, talons outstretched. I hurled a blade into the creature’s throat and it fluttered to the ground, blood spraying from its open mouth.

  I raised two of my long blades high above my head and yelled out a challenge.

  ‘Here I am! Attack me if you dare!’

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Thorne’s face full of alarm and fear. Had the dark diminished her so much?

  The winged predators flocked to where I was standing, and soon I was spinning and whirling, doing my dance of death, slaying my enemies with each stab and thrust of my blades.

  Out of the corner of my left eye I saw the alarm on Thorne’s face change to grim determination. Soon we were fighting back to back. I laughed as we slew our enemies.

  I was in the dark but nothing had changed.

  I was still Grimalkin.

  THE KOBALOS THREAT

  Grimalkin’s Assessment

  The Threat from the Cold

  As the Kobalos expand outwards from Valkarky, the cold will travel with them. The climate of the Earth will change, brought about by their own magic, which has been increased by Talkus.

  Their god is growing in strength, and is beginning to dominate a number of the Old Gods, some of which are willing to serve him. At present, the foremost of these is Golgoth, the Lord of Winter, who will be only too happy to use his powers to ensure that green fields, and forests are replaced by snow and a permanent sheet of ice. There is a threat of a new Age of Ice.

  The cold, with temperatures below freezing, is the natural element of the Kobalos. Yet some of their mages behave in a puzzling way. The High Mages like to position their towers over hot springs and bathe in near scalding water. Either they enjoy the heat, or they they are demonstrating their courage and hardiness. The haizda mages, who usually live far from Kobalos territory, actually hibernate through the three coldest months of the winter. So why do they retreat from the cold into sleep?

  These are mysteries that need to be solved.

  The Threat from Kobalos Magic

  The complex hierarchy of mages poses a variety of threats. As yet we do not even know how many distinct categories there are. We have some knowledge of High Mages and haizda mages, but the others are unknown and mysterious.

  Their spells too are largely unknown to us. According to the manuscript of Browne, the ancient Spook, Kobalos mages can create a tulpa – a thought given physical reality in the world. Such a tulpa might only be limited by the imagination of its creator. What daemons and monsters might they unleash against us?

  There is also their skill with chemical and biological magic. Pendle witches have in recent years created such creatures as Tibb, a seer born of a pig. It took the combined magic of two clans, the Malkins and the Deanes, to achieve that. But this was nothing compared to the threat and power of a battle-entity such as a vartek.

  Lukrasta and Alice may help to counter this, and I have arranged for additional help. Using a mirror, I have already contacted some of my sister witches back in Pendle. I hope that they will soon join us and use their collective magic against the Kobalos.

  The Threat from Kobalos Weapons

  Unfortunately, Grimalkin did not have the chance to write this section of her report before she died. But because of our failure to seize magical artefacts from the mage’s kulad, she had already decided to use a variety of weapons that she had studied in other lands during her extensive travels. The new infantry manoeuvres seem a worthwhile defensive tactic. The ice chariots also seem promising. They would cut through the Kobalos army like a knife through butter. But I have no idea if Grimalkin managed to construct any of those chariots before she returned to the County to help us in the struggle against Golgoth.

  Tom Ward

  The Threat from the Domains of the Dark

  The Kobalos mages appear not to recognize the dark as we know it and call it by a different name – Askana – though it seems to be a different way of interpreting the same thing. In addition to the place where witches and other servants of the dark go after death, each of the Old Gods has his or her own domain, a dwelling place within the dark.

  Both Alice Deane and Tom Ward have visited the domain which seems likely to be the home of Talkus. It certainly contains many skelts, which is the shape their god assumes. When Tom Ward was on the Wardstone, the skelts continued the process which he had begun – that of destroying the Fiend. They cut up his body and carried the pieces into a boiling lake. Alice is convinced that Talkus was waiting there, newly born, and that he consumed the Fiend and absorbed his power.

  Talkus is now increasing the strength of his mages – though I fear that he may leave his domain and come directly into our world. Witches summoned the Fiend to Earth. The Kobalos mages might well be able to do the same. That is my greatest concern.

  THE DARK ARMY

  AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 448 10146 7

  Published in Great Britain by RHCP Digital,

  an imprint of Random House Children’s Publishers UK

  A Penguin Random House Company

  This ebook edition published 2016

  Copyright © Joseph Delaney, 2016

  Cover illustration copyright © Two Dots, 2016

  Interior illustrations copyright © David Wyatt, 2014

  Extract from The Dark Assassin © Joseph Delaney, 2016

  First Published in Great Britain

  The Bodley Head 9780370332239 2016

  The right of Joseph Delaney to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in acco
rdance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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