A New Darkness

by Joseph Delaney

  Then I spotted something else of interest. There were two bottles of red wine on the table. I knew that they were of human origin because I recognized the labels.

  I plucked one of the books from the lowest shelf and opened it. The text was strange and resembled no language I had ever encountered. This creature could read but was clearly from somewhere far from the County.

  What was I dealing with here?

  As I returned the book to its place on the shelf, something spoke behind me. I say “something,” because although it spoke our language, its voice was guttural, harsh, and rasping; too alien to belong to a human being.

  “It is nice of you to come to visit me, human. I am hungry, and your presence saves me the need to hunt!”

  For a moment I froze and my heart began to pound with fear, my mouth becoming dry as I realized that I had been tricked. I had assumed that I would be in control, would take the creature by surprise, but it must have known all along that we were watching its tree. It had pretended to leave and then doubled back once I’d entered its lair. I had heard no warning cry from Jenny—she must have failed to see it returning.

  I quickly turned to face it. At first I found it difficult to make sense of what I saw. It was dressed in a long black coat fastened with white buttons that could have been made from bone. Its hands were covered in dark fur and its face resembled that of a wolf, but it had been shaved so that, apart from the elongated jaw and sharp teeth, it had a human quality, and the eyes were intelligent. The expression was human too: it showed a mixture of amusement, scorn and arrogance.

  But the most significant thing about the strange entity was its size. This was nothing like a squirrel. It was at least as tall as me. Then I remembered what Jenny had said about her “beastie”—something that I’d dismissed at the time.

  It could alter its size.

  And I was trapped in here with it.

  I stared at the creature, my confidence ebbing. It opened its mouth a little, and saliva began to drip from its jaws as if it was anticipating the first taste of a tempting meal. I was now on the menu. It would drain my blood if I didn’t stop it.

  “I’m here to put an end to your murdering ways,” I told the creature, trying to take the initiative. But my voice wobbled with fear as I spoke.

  “Murder, little human? What do you mean? I have killed nobody here yet. You will be the first.”

  “You’ve killed three girls. Don’t try to deny it.”

  “Ah, girls—you mean purrai! That is not murder. Such females exist simply to obey, and their lives may be taken at whim. I am surprised you do not agree. I had a great thirst, so I drank their blood. It is my right and the way of things. Purrai have no rights.”

  I was appalled by his words, so casually spoken. “What you do in your own land is abhorrent to me,” I told him. “But you are in the County now, and what you have done is a crime here.”

  The creature gave a grotesque smile, opening its elongated jaws to show its teeth. “Your land will soon belong to my people! Then your women will abide by our laws. As for the men and boys, they will all be dead.”

  The words spun around inside my head. I’d been given a warning, but I could think about that later. Now it was time to act!

  Swiftly I reached into my breeches pockets and grasped what I had stored there. In my left hand I clutched salt; in my right, iron. Salt burns entities from the dark; iron drains away their power.

  I hurled both handfuls at the creature, and the two clouds, one light, the other dark in color, came together perfectly on its head. This was often enough to destroy a boggart; it could also temporarily disable a witch, making it easier to bind her with a silver chain. But my target reacted in a way I’d never seen before.

  The creature sneezed once, then shook its head. Next it gave me a bestial smile as the cloud of salt and iron settled at its feet.

  “That was interesting, human,” it rasped. “I have never before been attacked in such a strangely ineffectual fashion. It was a total waste of our valuable time, for we soon shall be very busy together. I will take and you will give. I will have pleasure and you will have pain, until not one drop of your blood remains.”

  At first I’d felt alarmed, but I was now getting my fear under control. I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and prepared to deal with this beast in a different way.

  My silver chain was in the left pocket of my gown. I brought it out already coiled about my left wrist. Then, in one fluent gesture, I flicked it toward the creature.

  My cast was perfectly executed. The chain formed a helix above its head, then dropped to bind it from head to knee, one part lying directly across its teeth. This would have been the perfect cast were I dealing with a witch. If this beast was capable of uttering dark magic spells, it would prevent it from doing so.

  I thought it was over.

  I truly thought that I had won; that the creature was tightly bound.

  I smiled. Now I would carry it back to the Chipenden garden and bind it in a pit there.

  But I had completely underestimated my adversary.

  I had just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

  It escaped from the silver chain in a similar way to a skelt. Skelts are large predatory water creatures that can fold their long bony limbs into small crevices to hide while waiting for prey to come within range. A skelt would contract its body and easily shrug off any chain that bound it.

  But I wasn’t expecting that now. I was terrified when my opponent suddenly grew smaller, so that the chain dropped off its body and lay in a useless coil upon the floor. Then, within seconds, the creature had inflated itself so that it was far bigger than me—at least nine feet tall. Its eyes glowed red, blazing with fury, and its jaws opened wide.

  Jenny’s “beastie” had transformed into a monstrous beast.

  I stepped back in alarm, but it quickly reached out to grab me by the shoulder, dragging me toward its huge mouth. I tried to resist, but it was tremendously strong. Saliva dripped from its jaws again. I thought that it intended to start taking my blood there and then, but instead it breathed hard into my face.

  I was enveloped in a sweet, spicy smell. Instantly the world spun about me, and I fell into darkness.

  My last thought as I lost consciousness was that if it knew about me, it probably also knew about Jenny. She too would be in danger.

  6

  Help Me, Please

  I awoke in a very different room, although I guessed I was still inside the oak tree. I could see the curve of the nearest wall, and a smell of damp wood assailed my nostrils.

  This was indeed the lair of a beast.

  I saw no table, no shelves, and no lambskin rugs. Instead, there was a heap of bones in the corner and a faint smell of blood.

  It looked like a dungeon. There were chains hanging from the ceiling. I was lying on my side and was aware of movement to my left, something strange that I couldn’t identify. What was happening? I wondered.

  I felt befuddled. My head was throbbing and my vision was blurred. Only very slowly did I start to make sense of what I was seeing.

  Finally, with a jolt, I understood the true horror of the scene before my eyes.

  Jenny was hanging from the ceiling by her legs; her head, which was about three feet from the floor, was facing me. Her legs were bound together, her hands tied behind her back. The creature was sitting with its back to me, slightly to one side of the girl, and in its mouth was a thin transparent tube. The other end of the tube had pierced the girl’s neck.

  That tube was bright red. It was using it to drink her blood.

  I tried to move, but I found that I was totally paralyzed. I could only stare in horror as the beast drained her blood.

  Then Jenny opened her eyes and stared at me, her face twisted with terror. She was conscious. She knew exactly what was happening to her.

  She mouthed something to me. I didn’t understand, but then she repeated it:

  Help me. Help me.
>
  Desperate to go to her aid, I struggled to rise. But my body didn’t respond; it no longer obeyed my brain. Sweat began to pour off me as I tried desperately to overcome whatever rooted me to the spot. It was like a nightmare that went on and on without end. Jenny shuddered and groaned, and the beast continued to drink her blood. And all the while, I could do nothing.

  But all nightmares come to an end—unless they end in death. Gradually, feeling began to return to my limbs. It began in my extremities, with pins and needles, which spread up my arms to my torso, followed by a burning sensation, as if my limbs were being consumed by fire.

  After a while the pain subsided, and I tried moving my fingers. I didn’t want to alert the creature, but it seemed that my whole body was now capable of movement.

  What should I do? I couldn’t allow the beast to continue draining Jenny’s blood, but I had no weapon at hand and it was extremely strong, even without any magical abilities it possessed. It had breathed into my face and caused me to fall unconscious.

  What else could it do? I wondered.

  Had we been on a ley line, I would have summoned the boggart. The pact between us specified that it would answer my cry for help, and in return could take the blood of my enemies. I was sure that it would have made short work of this beast. But my knowledge of the area told me that we were far from the nearest line.

  I looked about me. Next to the bones I noticed half a dozen empty wine bottles. They could be improvised as weapons, but I would have to move quickly. My joints might be stiff and slow to respond after my time lying unconscious on the floor. Moreover, I reflected, even blows directed at the creature’s head might not be enough to incapacitate it.

  Whatever the risks, I had to try. Surely Jenny could not endure what was being done to her for very much longer. Soon, as a result of the blood loss, her heart would weaken and cease beating altogether.

  Just as I’d made up my mind to act, the decision was taken away from me. The creature slowly drew the transparent pipe out of Jenny’s neck and rose to its feet.

  Was she dead . . . ? I studied her anxiously and was relieved to see that she was still breathing. Once more her eyes opened wide, and she mouthed the words: Help me, please.

  Without even a glance in my direction, the beast crossed the room, pushed open the door, and left. Presumably it thought I was still unconscious. I could hear the wind sighing through the trees. It must have left through an outer door in the trunk, one at ground level.

  Now was my chance to free Jenny and make our escape before the monster returned. There was a possibility that it was playing some sort of game with me. Perhaps it had realized that I could move and was waiting to ambush me outside, ready to take pleasure in ending my hopes of escape.

  But I had to take a chance. I started to get to my feet. I would release Jenny and escape! I could do it.

  However, I barely had time to move before that hope was dashed. The door opened again and the beast came in—leaving it slightly ajar. I could see a jagged vertical line of pale yellow light. The moon must have risen.

  The beast went over to Jenny and sat down beside her, ready to insert the pipe into her neck once more.

  I racked my brain, desperately considering every possible course of action, then rejecting them one by one. I realized that there was only one thing I could do now; I had just one chance to save Jenny. I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice. How could I let her die?

  I scrambled to my feet and lurched toward the door. I pushed it open and ran out into the night air. I glanced back once and saw Jenny staring out at me with a pleading look on her face, thinking that I had abandoned her.

  I steeled myself and ran on, glancing back once or twice. To my relief, the creature had not followed me.

  This was fortunate: I staggered as I ran, and the breath rasped painfully in my throat. The beast’s magic had sapped my strength, and I would have been easy to catch.

  Two minutes later, I crossed a stream and bent down to slake my thirst with cold, clear water. After that I felt a bit better, and as I ran my strength gradually returned; I picked up the pace. By now the moon had disappeared behind a cloud, but I knew the way well, and the darkness hardly impeded me at all.

  At last I crossed into the Chipenden garden and ran toward the house. I didn’t bother to go inside. I needed only two things—a lantern and a spade. I snatched both from the lean-to where the tools were kept and headed for the western garden.

  This was where my master was buried.

  Despite my sorrow and revulsion at what I had to do, I had no choice.

  I had to dig up his coffin.

  7

  The Starblade

  AFTER my master’s death at the Battle of the Wardstone, Grimalkin wanted me to keep the Starblade and accompany her to face an even greater threat that she had scryed—from a savage people to the north, the Kobalos. I’d had no stomach for any more fighting and had offered the sword to her, but she had refused. However, I had made sure that it would never fall into the wrong hands. While the protection against magic worked only for me, the ore was very valuable and rare and could be crafted into a different weapon for someone else. I had hidden the sword in a place where only someone strong enough to get past the boggart would have been able to reach it: under my master’s coffin. At the time, I couldn’t imagine ever desecrating the grave to retrieve it.

  Now, however, I had urgent need of it. I lit the lantern and hung it from a low branch so that it cast its light over the area. Then, with tears running down my cheeks, I attacked the grave, throwing spadefuls of soil over my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I called out as I worked, my words addressed to John Gregory, my dead master. “I’m so sorry!”

  What a fool I had been. Could I not have foreseen such a situation when I would need protection against dark magic?

  The Starblade should give me a chance against the beast, a chance to save Jenny. I was sure of it.

  At last there was the thud of metal against wood. I’d dug down as far as the Spook’s coffin. Now, despite my need for haste, my digging became less frantic and more careful. I didn’t want to damage the casket in which his body lay.

  I dug to one side and, once my pit was level with the bottom of the coffin, threw aside the spade and scooped soil away with my hands, trying to excavate underneath it. I was careful at first, because the blade of the sword was really sharp. But then, realizing that time was running out, I threw caution to the wind.

  But I couldn’t find the sword!

  I broke out in a cold sweat. Had someone stolen it? I wondered. How could that have happened when the boggart guarded the garden?

  I wondered if Grimalkin had taken it with her after all. That night, after burying my master, she had worked her magic to lessen the disfiguring scar where the mage Lukrasta had sliced open my face. Afterward we had both slept, and then, after saying a brief farewell, she had taken her leave. She’d had time to dig it out and put back the soil; after all, I had offered it back to her. It was her right to take it, but how dearly that might cost me now . . . without it, I would be vulnerable to this creature’s powerful magic.

  Hope fading, my fingers continued their desperate search beneath the coffin. At last, to my relief, they touched metal. But pulling the sword free wasn’t easy. My fingers found the edge of the blade, and that was enough to cut them and draw blood. I struggled to free the hilt, aware that the threat to Jenny was growing with every passing second. At last I got a firm grip, and moments later I had pulled the blade out of the soil and was sprinting back in the direction of the beast’s lair.

  Would I be in time to save Jenny? I feared that she might already be dead.

  Once again the moon was out, and by its light I saw the oak tree ahead, clearly visible from a distance, a colossus that towered over the rest of the wood. I stopped running a couple of hundred yards short of it and continued more cautiously.

  Speed was important, but I didn’t want to giv
e the creature any warning of my arrival. Surprise might make all the difference here.

  The wood was totally silent. Nothing moved in the undergrowth. I could hear nothing from the huge tree, either.

  Gripping the sword in my right hand, I approached the massive trunk, searching for the ground-level door. I expected to find it closed and perhaps impossible to open. In that case, I would hammer on the trunk. I would lose the element of surprise, but I would at least draw him out, away from Jenny.

  But, to my surprise, it was still ajar—just enough for me to insert the fingers of my left hand. I took a deep breath and eased the door open very slowly. The beast had its back to me, and Jenny was still hanging by her feet. But the creature was no longer using the pipe to draw blood from her neck. Its jaws were clamped about her shoulder, and it was snarling as it shook her body. Blood had soaked through her dress. It had bitten her all over her torso.

  Filled with rage, I stepped inside and raised the sword, ready to strike.

  Suddenly the creature let go of Jenny and, without bothering to turn and face me, addressed me in its rasping voice. It had known all along that I was entering its lair.

  “What a fool you are to return here, little human! Do you care so much for a mere purra that you are willing to sacrifice your own life in a futile attempt to save her? You are breathing hard—you have been running. Did you fear that she would die unless you hastened back? Her blood is sweet and I sip it sparingly, savoring every mouthful. She will live for many days before I finally drain her.”

  The creature rose to its feet and turned to face me. It had shrunk and was now barely taller than me. When it spoke, I saw that its teeth and lips were stained red with Jenny’s blood.

  “Once sated, I would have hunted you down and slain you anyway. In truth, by returning, all you have done is hasten your demise. Though I have to admit, I am puzzled. I used boska to render you unconscious—a magic that has never before failed me. When I breathed into your face, it seemed as effective as usual. But the spell should have lasted for many days, unless I administered an antidote. How can it be that after just one short hour you have returned to consciousness?”