Spook’s: Dark Assassin (The Starblade Chronicles), Page 2

  The Kobalos mages had also tried to summon Golgoth, the Lord of Winter, into the County. Had they succeeded, we would have been plunged into a permanent winter, the countryside left frozen and weakened by famine. Only with the help of the Old God, Pan, and Alice’s powerful magic had we managed to prevent that. Despite this, I’d never felt so vulnerable; never felt less able to do my duty and protect the County from the dark.

  ‘You take care too, Tom. Ain’t going to be away for more than a week, I promise you,’ Alice told me now.

  We hugged, kissed again, and then she set off for Pendle. She was wearing a green dress and a short brown jacket as protection against the chill air. It was early spring, but as yet there was little warmth in the sun. As she walked away, I glanced down at her pointy shoes, the mark of a witch. Alice had finally gone to the dark, but she wasn’t a witch who practised bone, blood or familiar magic – she was an earth witch, perhaps the first one ever. She served Pan and drew her magic from the Earth itself.

  Just before she reached the edge of the slope, she turned and waved to me. I waved back, and then she was out of sight. Already missing her, I turned back to the garden and headed for the practice post.

  As I did so, I saw a silver chain falling towards it, spinning widdershins – against the clock. It formed a spiral, tightening upon the post in the classic manner, achieving a perfect spread from top to bottom. Had that post been a witch, she would have been bound from head to knee, the chain tightening hard against her teeth to prevent her from chanting spells.

  ‘Well done, Jenny!’ I called out.

  Jenny was my apprentice. I knew that my own master, John Gregory, would never have taken her on. To become a spook’s apprentice you had to be a seventh son of a seventh son.

  Jenny was a girl; as far as I knew, she was the first girl ever to have been trained by a spook. She claimed to be a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, but I’d never been able to verify that because she’d been brought up by foster parents. Still, I could not deny that she had gifts that were useful when fighting the dark – different ones from mine. She could make herself almost invisible and possessed such great empathy that she could almost read people’s minds.

  I looked at her as she stood there smiling. Her face was freckled and she had different-coloured eyes – the left was blue, the right one green.

  ‘Well, what’s your score?’ I demanded.

  ‘I’ve managed fifteen successes in twenty attempts! A couple more weeks of this and I’ll be better than you!’ she said cheekily.

  That success rate was good, but I would have preferred a little more respect from my apprentice. The trouble was, I was only two years older than her; in August I’d be eighteen and she’d be sixteen. We even shared the same birthday – the third. My own apprenticeship had come to a premature end when my master had been killed fighting enemy witches.

  Suddenly a sound drew our attention. It was the pealing of the bell at the withy trees crossroads. Our garden was guarded by the boggart, Kratch, which meant that it was dangerous for outsiders to venture in, so those in need of help stayed clear; they usually went to the crossroads and summoned me by ringing the bell.

  ‘It’s spook’s business,’ I said softly.

  The last couple of days had been quiet, but I’d known that it couldn’t last. There were always local threats from the dark in the County. This time the danger might come from the Kobalos.

  ‘Can I come with you?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘No, Jenny, it’s best that I go alone. You carry on practising here. You’ll need to work a lot harder if you want to be as good as me!’

  Here in the garden the boggart would keep her safe against most things, I knew. Beyond its boundaries it was a different matter.

  I was carrying my staff, but I also had the powerful Starblade in a scabbard on my back. As long as I held it or had it on my person, dark magic couldn’t harm me.

  ‘But if it means a journey, can I go with you to sort out the problem?’ Jenny persisted.

  My apprentice had to be trained, and that meant sharing the danger of our craft. So I nodded and, with a grin, she went to retrieve my silver chain and prepared to cast it at the post again. I supposed that I had to let her learn, just as I had …

  As I strode out of the garden and headed towards the sound of that pealing bell, a wave of sadness washed over me. Things had changed so much since I’d begun my own apprenticeship. Not only was my master, John Gregory, dead; Grimalkin, the assassin of the Malkin clan, had been slain by Golgoth. Although she was a witch, she’d been a strong and powerful ally who had taken the lead in fighting the Kobalos. I would almost go so far as to say that she had become a friend. She’d certainly saved my life on several occasions. It was Grimalkin who had forged the Starblade for me, and then trained me in its use. She would be greatly missed.

  As I walked, I glanced up at the fells that rose far above the village – Parlick Pike and Wolf Fell. Their summits were still white with snow which sparkled in the sunlight.

  As I reached the withy trees, the pealing of the bell ceased. Whoever was ringing it must have heard my approach. People were often nervous when waiting to speak to a spook, not sure what to expect from the man who wore a cloak and carried a staff and a silver chain. Sometimes those nerves got the better of them and they left before I arrived.

  I headed into the shade of the trees and saw a stocky figure standing by the bellrope, which was dancing and swaying at his side. He wore a black gown and hood and even carried a staff – he was dressed like a spook! Who could it be? This man was surely too broad to be Judd Brinscall, who worked the territory north of Caster.

  I halted close to him, and he suddenly pulled back his hood to reveal his face.

  The shock of what I saw took my breath away.

  It was impossible.

  I was gazing at a dead man …

  CHAPTER 2

  TRAINING A GIRL

  THOMAS WARD

  BILL ARKWRIGHT HAD died in Greece fighting a rearguard action against the dangerous fire elementals which had pursued us. He’d taken up a position between us and their deadly flames, thus buying time but sacrificing his life so that the Spook, Alice and I could escape.

  In appearance, this was certainly the Arkwright I remembered – the man who, at the request of John Gregory, had given me six months’ training to toughen me up.

  He had a shaven head, striking green eyes and a sturdy body that suggested great strength. The rowan staff he carried differed from mine, which had a retractable blade; his was tipped with a twelve-inch blade with six backward-facing barbs, three on each side. By his side lay a heavy bag at least twice the size of the one I usually carried.

  Yes, this was the exact likeness of the Bill Arkwright I remembered from life. I had once encountered what I thought was Arkwright’s ghost, its face badly burned, as if by a fire elemental, but the man who stood before me had no scars whatsoever.

  Instantly I was on my guard. This could be a trick. Kobalos High Mages were expert shape-shifters.

  I cast my staff down on the ground and drew the Starblade from its scabbard, gripping it with both hands and pointing it at the figure before me

  ‘Throw down your staff and kneel on your hands!’ I commanded.

  ‘Well, Master Ward, what sort of a welcome do you call this!’ the figure growled angrily, sounding just like Bill Arkwright. ‘I’ve travelled a long way to greet you, and what do I get for my pains? I’m threatened with a rusty sword!’

  ‘It’s the only welcome you’ll get until I’m sure you’re who you say you are,’ I retorted.

  The Starblade wasn’t much to look at, I knew, but it was incredibly sharp and strong. If I wielded it with confidence, it could slice through the toughest armour. It would also defend me against any dark magic that might be used against me here. The witch assassin, Grimalkin, had imbued it with her powerful magic.

  Rather than obeying my command, the man held his staff at an angle of forty-five d
egrees, in the defensive position. Then he sucked in a breath and suddenly attacked, bringing the weapon round in an arc, aiming at my head.

  But suspicion had made me ready. I raised the Starblade to block the blow, and with barely a shudder the sword cut into his staff as if it was butter, slicing it neatly in two. I paused, not pressing home my attack. Arkwright had taken aim with the base of his staff rather than the blade, so he hadn’t intended to kill me.

  He threw the two pieces of staff away in disgust and glared at me.

  ‘I’ll tell you just one more time. Kneel on your hands!’ I shouted angrily.

  ‘Well, Master Ward, I’m prepared to humour you for a while. But if you know what’s good for you, you won’t try my patience too far.’

  The man who called himself Bill Arkwright slowly knelt down on the ground, glaring up at me sullenly, his hands at his sides.

  ‘Now kneel on your hands!’ I ordered.

  For a moment I thought he was going to refuse, but then, with a scowl, he did so.

  ‘We have a problem,’ I told him. ‘I believed you to be dead, slain in Greece years ago. If you survived, then why wait so long to come here and show yourself?’

  ‘You have the gifts of a seventh son of a seventh son,’ he said calmly. ‘What about that sense of cold that tells you something from the dark is close by? Do you feel it now? If you don’t, I’m not from the dark and well you know it!’

  From somewhere to my left, in the shadows of the trees, came the raucous cry of a raven. I forced myself not to be distracted, despite the racket it was making. I focused all my attention on the figure kneeling on his hands.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Then I’m not from the dark – it’s as simple as that!’ Arkwright insisted.

  I thought back – I had never actually seen his dead body in Greece.

  ‘Nothing is simple any more,’ I told this man. ‘Many times I’ve been close to the dark and never had that warning. It doesn’t always work, especially with the powerful Kobalos mages. You could be one of them.’ I’d already encountered a human who’d turned out to be one of the High Mages – second in rank and power only to the Triumvirate that ruled the Kobalos.

  ‘Then we have a stand-off, Master Ward. So how can we resolve it?’ Arkwright asked me.

  ‘Let’s start with some explanations from you. How did you survive the encounter with the fire elementals? Then, assuming you did so, why did it take you so long to return here? The help of another spook would have proved useful over the past years. So where were you when you were needed?’

  ‘I was badly hurt when I fought those daemonic elementals to give you time to escape,’ Arkwright said angrily. ‘For a while I lost my sight, but the damage was more to my mind than my body. I wandered in Greece for a long time, not caring if I lived or died. I begged like a dog … I turned to drink again. You remember that old weakness of mine, Master Ward?’

  I nodded. Bill Arkwright had been addicted to red wine, but he’d overcome his need. It was plausible that he’d lapsed into his old ways. Many people addicted to alcohol did exactly that.

  ‘It took me a long time to kick the habit and find myself again. But at last I did, and embarked on the long sea voyage from Greece. There were rumours of war – a threat from the north – but little hard information was to be had. When I reached the County, I learned that John Gregory was dead and that his apprentice, Tom Ward, was the new Chipenden Spook. So I’m here to offer my services. Better late than never, eh?’

  ‘If you really are Bill Arkwright, your help will be very welcome. But I have to be sure. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen and experienced; the deceits that have been perpetrated.’

  I had been the pawn of others too many times. For all I knew, I could be confronting Balkai, the most powerful of the Kobalos mages, in human form. His magic couldn’t harm me while I had the Starblade, but I had to be vigilant … How could I ever be certain that this was indeed Bill Arkwright?

  As I reached forward and tugged the bellrope, I heard the beating of wings: the raven had taken flight. I hoped that Jenny would hear the ringing bell and, knowing that I was already at the crossroads, come and investigate. Maybe her gift of empathy could help me get at the truth.

  ‘Who are you calling?’ Arkwright asked me, looking up at the bell swinging above us.

  ‘Jenny, my apprentice.’

  ‘Did I hear you correctly, Master Ward? Your apprentice is called Jenny? You’re training a girl?’

  CHAPTER 3

  LITTLE CAT

  THOMAS WARD

  WE STOOD GLARING at each other in silence until I heard Jenny approaching through the trees.

  She walked quickly towards us, a figure full of youthful energy. But when she noticed my prisoner kneeling on his hands before me, she began to slow down. She came to a halt, her eyes glancing at the two pieces of rowan staff on the ground.

  ‘Is he a spook?’ she asked me.

  ‘Perhaps,’ I answered. ‘He looks like a spook called Bill Arkwright who once trained me for six months. But I fear that he is really something else. Is he a Kobalos mage?’

  There was a silence as Jenny stared at the man in front of us.

  ‘He looks like Arkwright and he talks like Arkwright. But I believed Arkwright to be dead,’ I went on. ‘Now, after years away, he turns up out of the blue. He has a plausible story to account for his absence, but we can’t afford to take any chances. So you tell me what you think. Use your gift of empathy. Tell me what the inside of his head looks like.’

  ‘Empathy!’ sneered the man kneeling before us. ‘So she has gifts like we do, only hers are different. Is that it? Next you’ll be telling me that she’s the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter!’

  ‘I am!’ Jenny moved a little closer to him.

  He shifted his weight so I jabbed the point of the sword towards his throat. ‘Keep still. I’ll assume the slightest move to be a threat!’ I warned.

  ‘This may not work,’ Jenny said uneasily. She frowned, then closed her eyes in concentration. She stood there for a few seconds, then opened her eyes wide and jabbed her finger towards the kneeling man.

  ‘He has a temper! He’s very angry with you for doubting him. He likes a drink too. That temptation is always there. He’ll never be free of it – there’s a lot of pain deep inside him. He’s all mixed up, I think. He’s dangerous too, with a ruthless streak. He loves dogs but he hates witches!’ she finished, turning to look at me.

  ‘That’s a good summary of the Bill Arkwright I knew. But is it really him? Is he human or Kobalos?’ I asked.

  ‘Witches and mages are hard to empathize with. He seems human enough to me,’ Jenny replied.

  ‘But maybe a clever Kobalos mage could shield his mind with the thoughts of someone else,’ I said, thinking aloud.

  ‘Surely there are some things that such an impersonator wouldn’t know,’ said Arkwright. ‘We’ve a lot of history between us, Master Ward. What about the months I spent training you? Ask me a question that only I would know the answer to.’

  The first question came to mind very quickly: ‘How did you teach me to swim?’ I asked.

  ‘I threw you into the canal! Cold, wasn’t it? But it worked!’

  I stared at the man and nodded. Then I thought of something that only the real Bill Arkwright could know. He would find this painful, but it had to be done.

  ‘There was something about the mill where you lived that I found really strange. It was a situation that most spooks wouldn’t have tolerated,’ I said, studying him closely.

  Pain clouded his eyes and he let out a deep sigh. ‘I had ghosts there. Spooks usually rid buildings of any such entities – that’s part of their job – but I hadn’t. I know you didn’t like it, Master Ward, but as you finally discovered, the ghosts were those of my parents, Abe and Amelia. I kept their coffins in their bedroom at the top of the house. My father was killed when he fell from the roof. My mother couldn’t bear to live without him so s
he threw herself under the waterwheel.

  ‘Because she was a suicide, she couldn’t cross to the light, so my father’s ghost chose to stay with her so she wouldn’t be alone. I’d done my level best to send them to the light, but I failed – as did our master, John Gregory. But it was you, Master Ward, who won their freedom. At great risk to yourself, you made a bargain with the Fiend and he released my mother. Then they were both able to go to the light. I’ll be eternally grateful for that.’

  I nodded. Only Bill Arkwright could know these details. Surely it had to be him.

  Jenny and I exchanged glances, and I nodded. Then I turned back to Arkwright.

  ‘We managed to destroy the Fiend, but now we have a worse enemy,’ I told him. ‘I’d be happy to have your help. I’m sorry for doubting you.’

  I sheathed the Starblade and held out my hand. Bill Arkwright gripped it and I hauled him to his feet.

  The boggart made the breakfasts, but other meals were down to us and neither Jenny nor I was a particularly good cook. However, Bill Arkwright was – my mouth still watered when I remembered the fish he’d cooked back at the mill – and that evening he served up a delicious chicken casserole.

  I still felt a little ill at ease with him, but as we sat eating our supper in the kitchen, I tried to bring him up to date with all that had happened. While we talked, Jenny remained silent, no doubt sensing his attitude to girl apprentices.

  ‘What happened to my three dogs?’ Arkwright asked suddenly.

  ‘Blood and Bone are still alive and well. They’re with a spook called Judd Brinscall who’s living at the watermill and covering your old territory. But their mother, Claw, is dead,’ I told him. ‘She was killed in the same battle as John Gregory.’

  I was surprised when Arkwright didn’t comment on the death of his dog. He simply nodded and said, ‘They’re my dogs and I want them back with me. And I think I’d like to take a look at the mill.’

  Bill Arkwright had specialized in hunting water witches across the nearby marsh and had used his big wolfhounds to help him in this task.