Spook's: The Dark Army (The Starblade Chronicles) (15 page)

The next thing I remember, I was being dragged to my feet and pushed backwards. I staggered, lost my balance and crashed down onto the floor once more. I looked about me and saw that, but for the mage and the assassin, the room was empty. The Kobalos warriors had been dismissed, but I wondered what errand they had been sent on.

Lenklewth was still sitting at his table. It was the Shaiksa who had dragged me to my feet; he was holding a wide-bladed dagger.

The fire was now just embers in the grate and the air felt cold. The mage and assassin had changed into body armour, but I was naked to the waist, my upper garments stripped off me. Moments later I realized why.

Before I could react, the assassin stepped forward and, with the tip of the dagger, cut me across the chest from left to right.

The pain was sharp and burned like fire. I gasped in agony. Then I glanced down at the wound and saw that it was very shallow; only a faint line of small bright-red beads of blood showed where it was.

Before I could retreat, the Shaiksa cut me again, this time from right to left, making a diagonal cross. The pain I felt seemed out of all proportion to the wound, and I staggered backwards. However, I was determined not to show the agony I felt. I would not weep – though I couldn’t help letting out a groan and my eyes filled with tears.

The Shaiksa looked at me in satisfaction, readying the knife to cut me again. ‘The blade is specially treated with a poison that causes extreme agony. Already the tears are falling from your eyes. Soon you will scream and beg!’

I tried to summon one of the gifts that I had inherited from Mam. I would attempt to slow down time and halt it. If I could achieve this, then I could seize the Starblade.

Nothing happened. The pain was so intense that I could no longer concentrate. Any thought became impossible.

Looking along the cellar, I saw that the door in the far wall was slightly open. Could I reach it and escape? The Shaiksa was blocking my path, and I would never get past him.

It was then that my instincts took over. I realized that I had but one chance here. So when he attacked again, I leaped up and ran.

I ran towards the Starblade. It was still on the table in front of Lenklewth. The High Mage saw me coming but he didn’t move. For a moment I thought I’d taken him by surprise and hope soared within me. The blade was almost in my grasp when a blow sent me backwards onto the flags. I rolled over and over, away from the table.

Lenklewth hadn’t touched me; he had simply blasted me with mage-magic. I came up onto my knees, but before I could rise the Shaiksa assassin cut me on my back. This time, despite all my efforts, I let out a scream of agony.

I heard Lenklewth roar with laughter; he began to beat his fists on the table, just like his soldiers had done earlier. Trying to ignore the waves of pain, I staggered to my feet. The assassin came in fast, but I sidestepped. He missed and overbalanced, presenting me with an opportunity. I punched him hard on the left temple.

It had little effect. He shook his head like a dog after a swim, then straightened up; his cruel eyes watched me, a predator tormenting its prey.

‘So far my cuts have been light,’ he said softly, ‘but now they will be more damaging. I will start to slice away your flesh.’

I backed away, fear rising in my throat. He was an assassin, trained to kill, while I was unarmed and half naked, my flesh vulnerable to his blade. I looked around, wondering if there was a weapon in the room other than the Starblade. There were weapons on the wall but they were behind the mage.

There was nothing; not even a sliver of hope.

The room seemed to be growing ever colder. Was Golgoth exerting his power to acknowledge the sacrifice of my life?

Then, all at once, I heard a strange sound: the clatter of a blade. I glanced back in astonishment.

The Shaiksa had dropped his dagger onto the flags and was staring at me, an expression of bemusement on his face. A rivulet of red blood was running down the front of his armour, and I saw that a small dagger was buried up to the hilt in his throat. That hilt was a vivid green; it glittered like the dew upon dawn grass. As I stared open-mouthed, the rivulet became a river, splattering down onto the flags, and the assassin collapsed onto his knees and began to choke.

Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed a movement. It was less than a shadow; nothing more than a subtle change in the light. But the next moment someone was standing by the table, obscuring my view of Lenklewth.

As I gazed at the apparition, it turned swiftly and purposefully.

I saw that it was a girl. Her hair was gathered up on top of her head, which accentuated her high cheekbones; her dress, which came down almost to her ankles, was the dark green of December holly.

She was holding the Starblade.

It was Alice.

‘ALICE!’ I CALLED
out in astonishment.

She made no reply but threw the Starblade towards me and I caught it by the hilt; the moment I did so, she vanished.

I didn’t stop to wonder how she’d suddenly appeared from nowhere. All that mattered was that I had the sword in my hand and so Lenklewth’s dark magic could no longer hurt me. I had to concentrate on what needed to be done.

Wasting no time, I advanced towards the mage. As I did so, the fire flared up in the grate, the flames licking the tentacles of the statue of Golgoth.

The mage lurched to his feet, overturning his chair, and started to make complex passes in the air above his head while muttering a spell. His eyes showed what could have been desperation, though it was more likely to be anger at his inability to destroy me with his magic.

I ran at him, aware that I needed to finish this quickly, while I still had the strength to fight.

The mage darted towards the far wall; this time he seized a huge sword in both hands and stepped forward to meet my attack. He brought it across horizontally, just as he had with the axe when he had dashed the sword from my grasp.

Now I brought the Starblade up to block that scything stroke and there was the clash of blade against blade. This time my grip was firm, which boosted my confidence.

Then, as Lenklewth raised his weapon again, I gave two quick lunges in succession: one aimed at the throat, the second high on his left arm.

Both were blocked by his armour, but the force of the blows sent him staggering backwards. For a moment my weariness had been shed and I went after him, whirling and spinning as Grimalkin had taught me, coming in under his guard.

Again my sword was deflected by his armour but I pressed him harder. However, now my breath was coming fast, and my limbs seemed to be growing heavier.

Suddenly I heard a sizzling and saw that, behind the mage, the limbs of the statue were melting and dripping into the fire.

I realized that I needed to find a gap in Lenklewth’s armour or aim for his head. I had to do it quickly, before I became too weak to fight.

As I prepared to strike, I heard heavy boots running down the steps towards the cellar. My heart sank – I assumed that Kobalos warriors were coming to help the mage, but then I saw an expression of dismay on his face. These were human warriors wearing the blue tunics of Polyznia under their metal breastplates; half a dozen of them, splattered with blood from their battle.

I experienced a moment of triumph – and then the mage vanished.

At first, because these men only spoke Losta, I didn’t know what the situation outside was. For all I knew our enemies could be on their way. So we had to be quick – find Grimalkin then get out of the tower.

So I simply pointed upwards, calling out, ‘
Poska!
’ which meant ‘Follow!’ – one of the few Losta words I knew. I ran up the steps, checking each cell in turn, the men following at my heels. I pointed to the first empty one and said, ‘Grimalkin?’ hoping that they would understand.

The next five were also empty; then, through a grille, I saw a body on the floor, illuminated by a wall candle: it looked like the witch assassin.

The door was barred and locked. I drew back the bar then gestured impatiently, pointing at the lock. Two of the warriors hurried off immediately, but it was a least ten minutes before a key was found.

Grimalkin was tightly bound with twine and a gag had been stuffed into her mouth, kept in place by strips of cloth. Her bare arms were badly cut, but she was conscious and her eyes glared angrily.

In moments we had got her free. Once the gag was removed she coughed for a few moments before climbing to her feet and questioning the warriors in Losta.

Then she turned to me. ‘Prince Stanislaw is here with our full contingent,’ she told me. ‘He surrounded the kulad before advancing into the trees. The Kobalos warriors fought to the death; no prisoners were taken. But now we have little time before the rest of our enemies arrive in force.’

‘Ask them if Jenny is safe!’ I demanded.

Grimalkin did so and then nodded. ‘The girl is safe. The advance party took no part in the victory here of the larger army.’

We hurried out of the tower. The cellar steps were slippery with the blood of dead Kobalos. Outside there were more bodies, slain by Prince Stanislaw’s infantry.

It was a relief to be out in the cool night air. At one time I hadn’t expected to leave the kulad alive.

‘I would be dead now but for Alice,’ I told Grimalkin. ‘She saved me.’

‘Alice was here?’ she asked, a shocked expression on her face.

‘Yes – she appeared out of nowhere, threw the sword to me, then vanished again.’

‘You can tell me the full story later. First we need to speak to the prince.’

After Grimalkin had spoken to Prince Stanislaw we walked through the trees together, out of earshot. I told her exactly what had happened. Soon we reached the cinder path, still steaming with the heat from the geyser deep underground, and crossed over. We entered the trees again and I saw that despite the cold here there was no frost on the grass.

Finally I told the witch assassin what the Kobalos mage had said: ‘Lenklewth claimed he was able to see far into the future using a Kobalos method that was superior to scrying. He saw our plan; he also glimpsed the machinations of Lukrasta. He set a trap and lured us into it – but I want to know why he didn’t see how badly it would end for him – how he would be defeated, his men slain . . .’

‘Even the best of those who peer into the future cannot foretell everything – especially their own deaths,’ answered Grimalkin, her breath steaming in the cold air. ‘It is a blind spot that affects all seers, creating a fog around contingent events. He knew that our army would soon reach the kulad, but no doubt he thought he could defend it until the larger Kobalos forces arrived.’

‘Yes, I think he sensed an imminent attack,’ I added, remembering how the mage had suddenly come to his feet and the room had fallen silent. ‘He sent his warriors out to defend the tower.’

‘He was not far out with his timings, either,’ said Grimalkin. ‘Our enemies will be here before noon tomorrow – an army many times larger than our own.’

‘Alice must have been using magic to watch us,’ I mused. ‘Otherwise how did she know to intervene at the very moment I faced death?’

‘No doubt that is so,’ said Grimalkin. ‘Her control of dark magic grows ever stronger. But I wonder why she felt it necessary to leave so suddenly? I would like to speak to her . . .’ She sighed and then turned to me. ‘Come – let us go and talk to the prince again. We need to prepare for the coming battle, but this time leave the talking to me.’

‘What about Jenny?’ I asked. ‘I need to talk to her.’

‘First the prince, then Jenny,’ Grimalkin insisted.

We entered Prince Stanislaw’s tent; it was lit by thick wax candles in tall wooden holders. Wooden plinths bore carved stone heads of humans – probably previous rulers and heroes of Polyznia.

None of the other princes were present – only Majcher, Stanislaw’s high steward, a big man with a proud bearing who scowled at us. He never looked happy. I wondered if he was grieving for the death of comrades or maybe Prince Kaylar.

Prince Stanislaw addressed us in our own language. ‘Welcome,’ he said. ‘My scouts tell me enemy army approaches. It outnumbers us many times. It is shaped like crescent. Right horn lies between us and river. We cannot win, yet it is too late to retreat.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, we have no choice but to fight,’ I said. Then I gestured towards Grimalkin, who also spoke to him in our language.

‘We can save most of the cavalry and perhaps three quarters of the infantry,’ she declared. ‘But you must do
exactly
as I say. The enemy will soon encircle us. We need to break through and escape back across the river.’

The prince frowned. For a moment I thought he was about to object. Why should he follow her advice after such a disastrous attack upon the kulad; it had cost him many lives, not least that of Prince Kaylar.

But then his expression softened. The prince already knew the truth about me and he was shrewd. In spite of her recent failure he recognized Grimalkin’s martial abilities.

‘If we break out and cross river – what we do then?’ he demanded.