The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection

by Joseph Delaney

  “There was nothing lawful about my capture,” the purra retorted. “They stole from me a piece of star ore that was in my possession. Other more important things were also confiscated. These you must return to me in order to receive my help.”

  So the purra had found the star stone. “Finders keepers” was the law in such cases, but the Oussa would not accept that a lone human, especially a purra who was so close to Valkarky, had any rights. A star stone was rare, very valuable, and much sought after. A weapon using such ore could be fashioned only by the most skilled of smiths, but properly worked, the result was a blade that never lost its edge and could not be broken. Even if the star stone had not been a factor, this purra would have been arrested on sight and either eaten or bound in slavery. That she had resisted meant certain death.

  By rights I should have left her to her fate, but I was filled with an overwhelming curiosity and wanted to learn more. I was also impressed by her bravery and combat ability in slaying four of the Oussa.

  “If you were free, how could you help me?” I asked.

  “You face trial by combat against a creature that you call the haggenbrood. It has never been defeated, so history says that you will lose and die—”

  I raised my hand to protest, but she continued speaking, a little more rapidly than before.

  “Don’t try to deny it. I know all about you—information from the mind of your little spy. I know the situation and have thought out what to do. I could take the place of one of the three girls bound to stakes in the arena—the one called Nessa is the closest to me in size. I hold her image in my mind, courtesy of your spy. Cut me free and give me a blade, as you intended for her. I will fight alongside you; consequently, the haggenbrood will die and you will be allowed to leave the city with the three girls.”

  “This is foolish,” I told her, aghast at the way she had entered my head. “I don’t know why I am wasting my time listening to you. Even if I could free you from this cell, do you not think that your substitution for little Nessa would be noticed?”

  The purra smiled and her whole body seemed to shimmer, and then I had a moment of dizziness. And there before me, the silver pins through her hands and feet, the silver chain twisted tightly about her neck, was Nessa.

  “Now do you believe?” she asked, speaking with the voice of little Nessa, the intonation and nuance completely correct. Quickly, I used magic to try and probe the illusion, but to no avail. The image of Nessa didn’t even waver.

  “How can you do this?” I demanded. “You have neither seen Nessa nor heard her speak?”

  “There are not merely words inside a head!” the witch retorted. “There are images and sounds. I took all that I needed from your little spy’s head. The rest I have been taking from your own mind even as we speak!”

  Angered by that, I attempted to slither into her mind. I intended to give her pain—just enough to make a scream. But I could not do it. There was some type of barrier there, one that I could not breach. She was strong.

  “I believe that you could indeed enter the arena in that guise and fool the spectators—even the high mages,” I admitted grudgingly. “But what makes you think that fighting alongside me would make our victory certain?”

  “I am Grimalkin, the assassin of the Malkin clan. I am a witch who can wield powerful magic; more than that, I am skilled in the arts of combat. I could defeat the haggenbrood alone if necessary.”

  I would have laughed at her arrogance, but I did not do so. I had never heard of the Malkin clan, nor of a witch assassin, but this purra radiated utter confidence and certainty. She really believed that she could do it. And had she not already slain four elite guards?

  “The real problem would be to get you out of here and back to my quarters before the trial,” I explained. “These dungeons are very secure. I only managed to reach this level because I can make myself very small, as you have already seen. I can slither through a crack or under a door. Can you do that?”

  She shook her head, and her whole body shimmered. Once again I was looking at the pointy-toothed purra. “I can create that illusion but lack the ability to change my size. If you ease the tightness of the silver chain around my neck, I will do the rest. But I still need three things from you in return.”

  “Name them,” I said.

  “First of all, I want my weapons returned to me. There are ten blades and a pair of special scissors. I also require the straps and sheaths that hold them. Second, I require the piece of star ore that was taken from me.”

  “It will be difficult enough to seize and return your weapons to you; to get the star stone will be impossible. It is very valuable and will now be under tight guard.” It had almost certainly been placed in the plunder room, the most secure vault in the city.

  “I want it. It belongs to me!”

  “A purra has no rights of ownership. Cease making that foolish demand and be content with your weapons.”

  “Mage,” she said mockingly, “it was a question of ownership that brought you to the extremely difficult position in which you now find yourself. From your servant I learned how you slew the high mage and the Shaiksa assassin to win the three girls back into your possession. I know that you are a formidable warrior, thus I offer you the respect that I would deny others. But we come from different races and cultures. In Pendle, where I live, there is no slavery, no ownership of people, and a female can own property. Thus we see things from different perspectives. Accept my rights and I will accept yours. And now we come to the third thing that you must bring me. It is a large leather sack that contains something very dangerous. Of the three things that I require to be returned to me, this is the most important.”

  “Then you must tell me exactly what it contains.”

  “It would be better for you to remain in ignorance, but I can see into your head, mage, and I know that curiosity is your greatest flaw. It was that trait I used within my spell of compulsion to draw you here. If I keep silent, you will meddle anyway. The sack contains the head of the Fiend, the most powerful of all the entities who dwell within the dark.”

  Her words puzzled me. I had never heard of anything called the Fiend. Nor did I understand what she meant by the dark. Beyond this world, there are domains of the spirits, such as Askana, the dwelling place of our gods—but as for Kobalos and human souls, where they go after death is unknown to us. They go up or down, and none return to tell of their experience—though most suspected it was better to go up than down.

  “What is the dark?” I asked.

  “It is the abode of demons and gods—and of their servants after death. It is the place we witches return to.”

  “Is the head of a god in the sack?” I asked.

  “Yes, he could be described as a god. There are many Old Gods, and intact, he is more powerful than all the others combined. The rest of his body is bound far away, so the head must remain separate, lest his servants succeed in resurrecting him. His vengeance would be terrible.”

  “I know nothing of your gods,” I told the purra. “We have many. My personal favorite is Cougis, the dog-headed god, but many of my people worship Olkie, the god of Kobalos blacksmiths, who has four iron arms and teeth made of brass. However, the greatest of our gods is called Talkus, which means the God Who Is Yet to Be. He is not yet born, but we all eagerly await his arrival.”

  The purra called Grimalkin smiled at me, showing her pointed teeth. “Your people have your truths, and my people have ours. We are very different in our beliefs,” she told me. “I will respect your faith, and in return, I ask that you respect mine. The head in the sack must be returned to me. That is the most important thing of all. But whatever you do, leave it within the sack. It would be extremely dangerous to remove it. If you wish to survive, you will need to curb your curiosity.”

  “First I must locate it,” I said, then pointed at the twitching rat. “Release him from your magic so that he can find the sack and the other items that you require.”

  The
purra nodded, and Hom suddenly stopped quivering and rolled over onto his little ratty feet, his whiskers twitching. I quickly gave him instructions: “I need the precise location of a number of objects taken from this purra by the Oussa,” I told him. “The most important of these is a large leather sack. Second, find the star stone. Additionally, there are a number of weapons, and the straps and sheaths that contain them. Report back immediately following the completion of your task!”

  He turned, and with an angry flick of his thin tail, he left the dungeon.

  “How long is it likely to take?” the purra asked.

  “Far less time than it will take to obtain what you have asked for. But he will not return here—although he has acute hearing and sharp vision, in that form he lacks the means to speak. So now I must leave and return to my quarters to hear his report from a self that can.”

  “Before you go, let us make the terms of the trade clear,” the purra said.

  I stared at her in astonishment.

  “I know all about the importance of trade to your people,” she continued. “If you do your utmost to return to me my stolen possessions and enable me to free myself, in return I will help you to slay the haggenbrood. What is more, once we leave this place I will do nothing to hinder what you consider to be your lawful business. Is it a trade?”

  “I need time to reflect upon that. I will consider the possibility.”

  “There is little time! Before you go, ease the noose around my neck. Do it now!”

  I shook my head. “No, I cannot do that yet. First I will try to get the items that were taken from you. If I achieve that, I will return and do as you ask.”

  I did not yet trust the purra. I needed to consider the situation more carefully. And, as I told her, I wanted to see if I could retrieve her possessions and thus fulfill my part of the trade.

  The brow of the purra furrowed with anger, but without another word, I made myself very small and slithered out under the door.

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE DEAD WITCH

  I returned to my quarters as swiftly as possible and waited there for Hom to make his report. Suddenly I felt very uncertain. The proposal made by the purra with pointed teeth had seemed reasonable at the time, but now, away from her, I felt foolish.

  How could I have allowed myself to negotiate with a mere female like that? Was it skaiium? The same thing had occurred when I’d talked to Nessa and she had pressed her forehead against mine. I had been influenced unduly and had then recklessly attempted the rescue of the youngest sister, killing a high mage and a Shaiksa assassin in the process and bringing me to my present situation. Now it was happening again with this strange purra.

  Or perhaps she was using some sort of magic to control my thoughts and actions? After all, I knew nothing of this witch and her magic; my usual defenses might not be effective.

  I took a deep breath and began to focus on the problem, putting aside my fears and attempting to assess the situation logically. There was no doubt that the human witch could create a magical illusion strong enough to pass herself off as Nessa. I had been prepared to release the girl to distract the haggenbrood momentarily—so why not do the same with this purra? She was the assassin of a witch clan, and to slay four of the Oussa demonstrated that she was a formidable warrior.

  I also knew that I could enter her dungeon again undetected and loosen the noose about her neck—that was all she had asked. I did not understand how she could then escape and reach my quarters in order to accompany me into the arena, but that was her problem. If she failed to do so, I would simply take the three sisters and keep to my original plan.

  The homunculus came out of his hole and clambered up onto the chair again.

  “Make your report!” I commanded.

  “The weapons and the star stone are in the plunder room of the triumvirate,” Hom announced.

  The plunder room was accurately named—that was where I had expected the items to have been placed. It was effectively the treasury of the triumvirate, the place where confiscated goods of special interest or value were stored. It was well guarded; too well guarded . . . virtually impregnable. It would be impossible for me to retrieve the first two items required by the human witch.

  “Did you find the location of the leather sack?” I asked.

  “It was disposed of—thrown down one of the rubbish chutes.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. How could something considered to be so important by the pointy-toothed purra have been discarded as worthless? I wondered.

  “Yes, the sack was opened and found to contain a severed head in such an advanced state of decomposition that it was sealed and dumped very quickly.”

  “Give me the location of the chute!” I demanded. No doubt the rotting head it contained was an exceedingly loathsome, stinking abomination, but the purra considered it to be the most important of her possessions. Once I explained the impossibility of getting hold of the rest, it might be enough to satisfy her. Retrieving it should not prove difficult.

  “District Boktar North, level thirteen, chute one hundred seventy-nine,” Hom replied.

  “I will go there immediately. Have one of your selves meet me there and take me directly to the sack.”

  It did not take me long to reach chute one hundred seventy-nine, which was working at full capacity. From above, it had the appearance of a huge concave half cylinder with an oval hole at its center. From the pipes overhanging it, all types of refuse were being disgorged into the gaping mouth of the stinking chute: mostly bones, slime, offal, and excrement.

  The white skoya was covered in yellow-brown slime with clots of green, and I was glad that I did not have to climb down into the chute itself; there was a system of ladders provided for the maintenance workers. Their job, in addition to attending to the pipes and keeping the flow fast and free, was to descend into the area directly beneath the chute and use shovels and carts to spread out the refuse. Otherwise the growing mound beneath would eventually block the flow.

  I negotiated the series of ladders. Looking down, I could see just one solitary Kobalos pushing a laden cart as he walked away from the flow from the chute. The presence of a haizda mage down here might be reported, so I didn’t want to be noticed. There might be up to a dozen Kobalos employed at each chute, but each had to move his load some distance away. If I was lucky, no one would see me. Thus I decided to conserve my magic and dispense with the cloaking spell.

  Hom was waiting obediently at the foot of the ladder, his thin rat tail twitching energetically. Without waiting to be told, he immediately scampered away and I followed, trudging through the muck and getting my boots dirty. It wasn’t long before we reached our objective. Finding it was easy; the problem was that someone had gotten there first. There were two figures in the distance, and one was holding the sack. They were engaged in conversation, and at first they did not notice my approach.

  But when I was within about twenty paces away from them, the one with the sack spun round to face me.

  To my astonishment, I saw that it was a purra, but not one from Valkarky—she was a stranger. Unlike the one with pointed teeth, she wore a skirt that came down to her ankles, with a dirty fox-fur jacket buttoned at the neck. She was barefoot, with slime squelching up between her toes, and her face was twisted with hatred.

  I wondered if they were accomplices of Grimalkin—other human witches. If so, might they have similar magical powers and fighting abilities?

  “Drop the sack and go!” I commanded. “You have no business in our city, but you may keep your lives.”

  The other purra was some distance behind the first and I couldn’t see her clearly, but I heard her cackle with laughter at my words.

  The nearer purra threw the sack to one side, drew a knife, and began to stride toward me, a purposeful expression on her face. She began to mutter under her breath, and I realized that she was indeed a human witch and was trying to use magic against me. Within seconds, her appearance changed dramatically. Her
tongue protruded about an arm’s length from her mouth; it was forked like that of a snake. Next her face twisted into something bestial: large fangs grew down over her bottom lip, almost reaching her chin, and her hair became a nest of writhing snakes.

  I was not sure what the purpose of the transformation was. Perhaps it was intended to distract me in some way. There was no doubt in my mind that the witch had become marginally uglier than before, but it did not affect my concentration in the slightest.

  I stepped backward, focused my mind, and before the knife came within range of my body, I drew my saber and struck her head clean from her shoulders. She collapsed in a heap, blood spurting from the stump of her neck. I kicked the head away and prepared to face the second witch.

  This one approached me slowly. She was cackling again, as if she found the whole business highly amusing. “I can keep my life, can I?” she crowed. “And what life would that be?”

  For a moment I did not understand her meaning, but she was closer now, less than ten paces away, and I could smell loam, rot, and dead flesh. The matted hair was crusted with dried mud, and I could see maggots wriggling within it. Then something writhed and slowly emerged from her left ear. It was a fat gray earthworm.

  I focused my hearing on her and concentrated. She was wheezing slightly but not breathing in any natural way, and there was no heartbeat. It could mean only one thing.

  She was correct: she had no life. She was already dead.

  She attacked, running directly toward me, hands outstretched, claws ready to rend my flesh.

  I am fast, but the dead witch was faster. Her sudden attack took me by surprise, and the claws of her right hand missed my eye by a whisker.

  Her left hand didn’t miss, though. It clamped hard upon my own left wrist. I tried to pull it free, but the grip tightened. Never had I encountered such strength. I punched her in the face with my free hand, but she didn’t even flinch. Her fingers were like a tightening metal band cutting through flesh to squeeze the bone. My numbed hand released the saber, and it fell into the slime.