The Spook’s Revenge: Book 13 (Spooks) (26 page)

Now their number was only twelve; not the thirteen required for a true coven. Their power must surely have been diminished.

I moved again, ready to attack the Fiend, who was now twisting his head from side to side as if in pain, seemingly oblivious to the struggle around him. The green mist completely encircled the Wardstone, and now I could neither see nor hear anything of the battle.

But then the other witches rallied, and joined together in a new chant. I heard Kratch scream; it was a cry torn from him by pain but filled with rage too. There was only one thing I could do: follow the boggart’s advice.

I scrambled further up the rock, drawing with my left hand one of the hero swords forged by the Old God, Hephaestus – the dagger known as Bone Cutter. At the top, I emerged near to the Fiend’s left leg, continuing on towards his barrel of a chest. He still seemed preoccupied, so he failed to see the threat that I presented. And then – by luck or fate; call it what you will – I was gifted a chance.

His left hand ceased its rubbing and rested for a moment at his side, palm uppermost. I stabbed down with the blade, right through it. I expected it to come to a stop, but instead it bit deep into the rock and held firm.

The Fiend let out a bellow of rage and attempted to tug his hand free, but Bone Cutter was embedded to the hilt in his bleeding palm, the blade stuck fast.

I scrambled up onto his chest and jumped down the other side. His right wrist was still tied to the rock, so my job was easier. I drew the Dolorous Blade, and thrust that through his right hand. Now that he was immobilized, I drew the third, bigger hero sword – the Destiny Blade. I wondered now if, all along, its true destiny had been to end the power of the Fiend. Was that why it had been forged so long ago? Had this been its ultimate purpose?

At this moment I knew instinctively what must be done: I used the blade to sever the thumbs – of first the left and then the right hand.

I quickly turned my attention to the huge head and, gripping my blade with both hands, swung it down on the neck with all my strength. The Fiend thrashed from side to side, and screamed and howled, making my task difficult. Then, in his agony, he began call out threats.

‘Do this and all men will die!’ he roared. ‘Do this and all women will curse your name!’

I ignored his bluster and continued to strike down with the sword. It took three blows to sever the head from the body. It rolled away down the slope, lodging in a crevice.

I made no attempt to cut out the Fiend’s heart, but did the next best thing: once again I lifted the sword with both hands, then plunged it down into his chest. The blade went straight through him and buried itself deep in the Wardstone.

The great roar of agony seemed to come from the very earth itself rather than from the Fiend’s mouth. The ground began to shake and the whole rock suddenly surged upwards, so that I was thrown off my feet and cast down onto the ground, winded.

I had done all I could – but would it be enough to destroy the Fiend?

As I came up onto my knees, I saw steam rising from all three blades, and there was a sudden sickening stench of burning flesh. Another scream came from the ground, which trembled and convulsed. Then I got to my feet and gazed in astonishment as the sword hilts glowed red and melted.

The Destiny Blade began to drip molten metal onto the Fiend’s chest, while the ruby eyes of the skelt embedded themselves in his flesh. Dolorous and Bone Cutter did likewise, bubbling and dripping, the rubies forming two unnatural eyes in each of the open clutching palms.

I turned away in revulsion, the bile rising in my throat at the smell. But one part of me felt a sense of triumph at what I had accomplished. I wished that Lukrasta and Alice could have witnessed this. Alice had dismissed me as a child; I wanted her to see what this ‘scrawny boy’ had achieved.

There was nobody here to help me – I still couldn’t see what was happening below me. Now I needed to collect the head and thumbs and flee. But before I could do so, the rock shifted again, throwing me to my knees. My head struck something, and I tasted blood in my mouth – and then I fell into blackness.

When I recovered consciousness, I glanced up and saw the headless body of the Fiend still lying on the Wardstone. The air was very warm; far too hot for the end of October in the dank, chilly County.

I looked about me. There were pieces of the dead witches scattered across the rock, though I could see no sign of Kratch. He had defeated the witches and no doubt drained their blood, but had he been destroyed in the process?

I could hear no sounds of the battle. Had the two sides ceased fighting and dispersed? The green mist had finally gone, but when I looked below the Wardstone, I got a shock. The country around seemed to be somewhere quite different – a large flat plain ringed by walls of sheer rock. I saw mountains in the distance, some snow-capped, others smoking. Were these volcanoes? I wondered. I had visited Greece, but had never seen a fire mountain – though my master had told me about them. In the distance was what looked like a lake; it boiled and bubbled, with steam rising from its surface.

The sky was clear, but no sun, stars or clouds were visible; yet there was enough light to see by. This was nothing like the world I knew. So where was I?

Had the Wardstone travelled through time, carrying me with it? The Spook had suggested that this might be possible. If so, I’d surely been transported to a very early era in the earth’s history. According to my master, the ancients believed that it began as a molten sphere and cooled down very slowly.

Then I remembered what Alice had said would happen to our world after the Fiend was gone. Was this the future . . . the earth shaped by a new dark god?

This place was surely too inhospitable to support any kind of life – though no sooner had that thought entered my head than I spotted something moving by the shore of that boiling lake. I tried to make some sense of what I was seeing. What could possibly live here? Then I saw that there was not one but many of these things, and they seemed to be moving towards me.

They looked like small insects, though I soon saw that it was only distance that made them appear small. When I realized what they were, I was afraid. They were skelts – a host of them, all heading towards the Wardstone.

One part of me wanted to run. But if I left the Wardstone, it might move on through time again and leave me behind to die in this inhospitable place.

The skelts were getting closer now – there were too many of them to count. I could see their multi-jointed legs and the long bone-tubes that they plunged into their victims to drink their blood.

Finally, in the face of that advancing horde, my nerve broke and I prepared to flee. I glanced around, planning my escape route, but saw skelts advancing from all directions. Within moments I would be completely surrounded.

I PUT MY
hand on the hilt of the sword that Grimalkin had given me. Apart from the silver chain tied about my waist, it was the only weapon I had left – the three hero swords, having done their job well, were still impaled in the Fiend’s body.

The first of the skelts reached the base of the rock, stepped up onto it with its thin legs and began to climb towards me. I watched it warily but didn’t draw my sword. I felt weary, weakened by the heat and my exertions in the battle. The skelt paused less than a yard from me, regarded me with its two red eyes, and gave a little twitch of its head, its long snout quivering slightly. Then it moved on, heading for the Fiend.

It scuttled up onto his chest, settled close to the wound made by the sword and plunged in its bone-tube. Instantly the tube turned red: the skelt was drinking the Fiend’s blood. Soon others were passing me to join the first, driven by a terrible hunger. But each one that came close to me paused and gave the same twitch of the head.

What did it mean? Whatever the reason for this behaviour, I was just grateful not to be attacked.

Within minutes, the huge body was hidden by a mass of writhing, twitching, ravenous skelts. Did the Fiend truly feel pain? I wondered. Was he still conscious, his spirit trapped within the flesh of that gigantic body?

It was difficult to judge the passing of time, but at last the feeding frenzy ended. One by one, the skelts left the Fiend’s body, passing by me in single file as if I weren’t there. As they did so, I stared at each of the creatures in fascination and wonder.

Each carried a small piece of the Fiend in its mouth. Until that moment I had never thought of skelts as having teeth – for they had that terrible bone-tube; but below this I now saw a mouth full of small, needle-sharp teeth. With a combination of teeth and bone-tube, they had ripped away what they wanted.

I suddenly realized that these creatures were carrying out our plan. Each took away a small piece of flesh or a fragment of bone in its mouth. I had maimed and incapacitated the Fiend, making this possible. What I had started, they had finished. It was strange to think that they had become my partners in the final destruction of the Fiend.

They moved away towards the lake, carrying their prizes. I watched until they had receded into the distance. Then, one by one, they disappeared into the boiling water, taking the remains of the Fiend with them.

I looked at the place where he had been bound to the rock. All that was left was a few stains and damp patches. Could that really be the end of him? Had the combination of the hero swords and the skelts really destroyed him?

It seemed likely. After all, it would be almost impossible for the Fiend’s servants to return him to power if all those pieces of his body were hidden.

All at once I remembered the Spook. My master had died to make this possible. I felt very sad, but he had played a large part in this outcome. We had won.

I sat on the rock for what seemed like ages. I was hungry, but even more thirsty; the air was growing warmer and my mouth was parched.

In the distance I saw what appeared to be a waterfall cascading down the rock face. From there, a stream cut across the valley and flowed into the lake. I knew that eventually I would be driven by my thirst to leave the Wardstone.

But what would happen, I wondered fearfully, if the rock moved through time while I was away? I could be trapped here until I died. So I tried to ignore my thirst and thought about the passage of time here. No doubt the Wardstone didn’t
appear
to leave its place on the County fells for long. But time might pass differently here. There was no knowing how long I might be trapped in this scary, inhospitable place.

At last, as I watched, a green mist began to cover the landscape; first the lake and then the cliffs were hidden from view. Then the rock lurched and I was thrown forward onto my face. I felt dizzy and nauseous. Once again, I lost consciousness.

I awoke with a headache, lying face-down on the ground. The first thing I was aware of was the change in temperature. It was cold and I lifted my head, hoping to see the County, for the rock below me was now covered in a white frost.

But despite the cold air and whining wind, I had certainly not returned home. The sun sat on the horizon, perhaps five or six times larger than I had ever seen it before, and a dull orange. There were no clouds, but it seemed much dimmer than usual. I found I was able to look directly at it – something I’d never been able to do with the County sun, in one of its rare appearances between rain clouds.

I was thirstier than ever, but I forced myself to stay where I was and look around. The ground below me was flat and grassy but coated with a thick hoar frost. In the distance I saw a hill and, atop that, a dark tower. It looked very similar to the one in Cymru, where I’d found the Fiend’s head.

And then I spotted a dark figure approaching from the direction of the tower. Long before she came near, I knew that it was Alice.

At last I stepped down from the rock to meet her, my feet crunching on the frosty grass. Her face betrayed no emotion at all. I couldn’t tell whether she was angry, or even glad to see me – although I thought the latter unlikely. We both came to a halt a little distance away from each other.

Alice was wearing a long black coat trimmed with fur and fastened with a broad leather belt. It looked expensive – something that a titled lady might wear. She appeared so different to the girl I’d first met; then she’d worn a tattered dress tied at the waist with a piece of string.

But there was one thing that hadn’t changed. She was still wearing pointy shoes.

‘I hope you’re satisfied,’ she said, her voice colder than the frosty air.

‘You mean what I did to the Fiend? I don’t regret that one bit.’

‘Don’t you? That’s because you don’t know what you’ve done. We saw it all in a mirror. You stabbed him with the blades – with the skelt blades, mind. Don’t forget the skelts! And then that big rock that has your name carried you off into the dark—’

‘Into the dark?’ I interrupted, astonished at her words.

‘Ain’t no doubt about it – I been to that bit of the dark myself. It’s one of the domains. Lots of different domains, there are, most of ’em controlled by one of the Old Gods. Haven’t you thought about what happened after you stabbed him? Doesn’t that worry you?’