‘You have the strength and ability to do this, Alice,’ Grimalkin told me. ‘Use your magic to enhance your concentration and complete the incantation. Then, with what you draw from the Doomdryte, you will be able to destroy the Fiend.’
I just stared at the witch assassin, not knowing how to reply. What she said was probably true. The power of the book and my own magical strength combined could well be enough to do what was necessary.
But at what cost to myself?
Would it be better to allow myself to be sacrificed, after all?
But then Grimalkin told me something that made me put aside my own concerns.
‘I also come to meet you with news of a great danger,’ she said. ‘I have been on a journey far to the north, where I encountered a strange non-human species called the Kobalos; they have powerful mages, able to wield strange magic that may eventually pose a threat to the County. They have the ability to create monstrous creatures, and enslave human women because they have no females of their own.’
‘No females? How can that be possible?’ I asked.
‘They murdered all their own long ago,’ Grimalkin replied. ‘I fear that soon they will burst out of their northern territory and embark upon a war that will have dire consequences for humans. They will kill all our men and boys, and our women will become slaves. It is vital that we deal with the Fiend quickly and put an end to him once and for all. Once that is done, we can begin to prepare for that new threat. Alice, we must use the Doomdryte!’
It fills my heart with sadness to have approached so close to the house of Old Gregory without being able to greet Tom. I have missed him so much . . . When Grimalkin guided me away from Chipenden, I thought my heart would burst with the pain of it.
But she is right. She has convinced me that we must use the Doomdryte. And this is something that we can tell neither Tom nor his master because they would strive to prevent it.
I believe my magic will enable me to bring sufficient concentration to bear upon the recital of the long spell so that I may complete it successfully. That done, I will use the power I have acquired to destroy the Fiend.
But I know that the consequences for me will be terrible.
The mark on my skin will quickly become a dark full moon.
I will be bound to the dark for ever, a thing without conscience, compassion or a shred of human feeling.
That is a more terrible sacrifice than to die at the hands of Tom Ward, but it is the course that I have embarked upon.
For now, the witch assassin and I are living in a ruined cottage not too far from the Spook’s house. It is the place where I once stayed with Lizzie while she plotted the death of John Gregory, hoping to free Mother Malkin from the pit in his garden. It is from that cottage that I once set out and met Tom for the first time.
Now it is the place where I will triumph or die in the attempt.
I must be brave.
I must do what has to be done.
My name is Alice.
About the Author
Joseph Delaney is a retired English teacher. He has three children and nine grandchildren and is a wonderful public speaker available for conference, library and bookshop events. His home is in the middle of Boggart territory and his village has a boggart called the Hall Knocker, which was laid to rest under the step of a house near the church.
Most of the places in the Spook’s books are based on real places in Lancashire. And the inspiration behind the stories often comes from local ghost stories and legends.
THE WARDSTONE CHRONICLES
BOOK ONE:
THE SPOOK’S APPRENTICE
BOOK TWO:
THE SPOOK’S CURSE
BOOK THREE:
THE SPOOK’S SECRET
BOOK FOUR:
THE SPOOK’S BATTLE
BOOK FIVE:
THE SPOOK’S MISTAKE
BOOK SIX:
THE SPOOK’S SACRIFICE
BOOK SEVEN:
THE SPOOK’S NIGHTMARE
BOOK EIGHT:
THE SPOOK’S DESTINY
BOOK NINE:
SPOOK’S: I AM GRIMALKIN
BOOK TEN:
THE SPOOK’S BLOOD
BOOK ELEVEN:
SPOOK’S: SLITHER’S TALE
BOOK TWELVE
SPOOK’S: ALICE
COMING SOON
BOOK THIRTEEN:
THE FINAL BOOK OF THE WARDSTONE CHRONICLES
ALSO AVAILABLE
THE SPOOK’S STORIES: WITCHES
THE SPOOK’S BESTIARY
As the final battle with the Fiend approaches, you might like to remind yourself of where the Wardstone Chronicles all began. Keep reading for an extract from
WHEN THE SPOOK arrived, the light was already beginning to fail. It had been a long, hard day and I was ready for my supper.
‘You’re sure he’s a seventh son?’ he asked. He was looking down at me and shaking his head doubtfully.
Dad nodded.
‘And you were a seventh son too?’
Dad nodded again and started stamping his feet impatiently, splattering my breeches with droplets of brown mud and manure. The rain was dripping from the peak of his cap. It had been raining for most of the month. There were new leaves on the trees but the spring weather was a long time coming.
My dad was a farmer and his father had been a farmer too, and the first rule of farming is to keep the farm together. You can’t just divide it up amongst your children; it would get smaller and smaller with each generation until there was nothing left. So a father leaves his farm to his eldest son. Then he finds jobs for the rest. If possible, he tries to find each a trade.
He needs lots of favours for that. The local blacksmith is one option, especially if the farm is big and he’s given the blacksmith plenty of work. Then it’s odds on that the blacksmith will offer an apprenticeship, but that’s still only one son sorted out.
I was his seventh, and by the time it came to me all the favours had been used up. Dad was so desperate that he was trying to get the Spook to take me on as his apprentice. Or at least that’s what I thought at the time. I should have guessed that Mam was behind it.
She was behind a lot of things. Long before I was born, it was her money that had bought our farm. How else could a seventh son have afforded it? And Mam wasn’t County. She came from a land far across the sea. Most people couldn’t tell, but sometimes, if you listened very carefully, there was a slight difference in the way she pronounced certain words.
Still, don’t imagine that I was being sold into slavery or something. I was bored with farming anyway, and what they called ‘the town’ was hardly more than a village in the back of beyond. It was certainly no place that I wanted to spend the rest of my life. So in one way I quite liked the idea of being a spook; it was much more interesting than milking cows and spreading manure.
It made me nervous though, because it was a scary job. I was going to learn how to protect farms and villages from things that go bump in the night. Dealing with ghouls, boggarts and all manner of wicked beasties would be all in a day’s work. That’s what the Spook did and I was going to be his apprentice.
‘How old is he?’ asked the Spook.
‘He’ll be thirteen come August.’
‘Bit small for his age. Can he read and write?’
‘Aye,’ Dad answered. ‘He can do both and he also knows Greek. His mam taught him and he could speak it almost before he could walk.’
The Spook nodded and looked back across the muddy path beyond the gate towards the farmhouse, as if he were listening for something. Then he shrugged. ‘It’s a hard enough life for a man, never mind a boy,’ he said. ‘Think he’s up to it?’
‘He’s strong and he’ll be as big as me when he’s full grown,’ my dad said, straightening his back and drawing himself up to his full height. That done, the top of his head was just about level with the Spook’s chin.
Suddenly the Spook smiled. It was the very last thing I’d expecte
d. His face was big and looked as if it had been chiselled from stone. Until then I’d thought him a bit fierce. His long black cloak and hood made him look like a priest, but when he looked at you directly, his grim expression made him appear more like a hangman weighing you up for the rope.
The hair sticking out from under the front of his hood matched his beard, which was grey, but his eyebrows were black and very bushy. There was quite a bit of black hair sprouting out of his nostrils too, and his eyes were green, the same colour as my own.
Then I noticed something else about him. He was carrying a long staff. Of course, I’d seen that as soon as he came within sight, but what I hadn’t realized until that moment was that he was carrying it in his left hand.
Did that mean that he was left-handed like me?
It was something that had caused me no end of trouble at the village school. They’d even called in the local priest to look at me and he’d kept shaking his head and telling me I’d have to fight it before it was too late. I didn’t know what he meant. None of my brothers were left-handed and neither was my dad. My mam was cack-handed though, and it never seemed to bother her much, so when the teacher threatened to beat it out of me and tied the pen to my right hand, she took me away from the school and from that day on taught me at home.
‘How much to take him on?’ my dad asked, interrupting my thoughts. Now we were getting down to the real business.
‘Two guineas for a month’s trial. If he’s up to it, I’ll be back again in the autumn and you’ll owe me another ten. If not, you can have him back and it’ll be just another guinea for my trouble.’
Dad nodded again and the deal was done. We went into the barn and the guineas were paid but they didn’t shake hands. Nobody wanted to touch a spook. My dad was a brave man just to stand within six feet of one.
‘I’ve some business close by,’ said the Spook, ‘but I’ll be back for the lad at first light. Make sure he’s ready. I don’t like to be kept waiting.’
When he’d gone, Dad tapped me on the shoulder. ‘It’s a new life for you now, son,’ he told me. ‘Go and get yourself cleaned up. You’re finished with farming.’
When I walked into the kitchen, my brother Jack had his arm around his wife Ellie and she was smiling up at him.
I like Ellie a lot. She’s warm and friendly in a way that makes you feel that she really cares about you. Mam says that marrying Ellie was good for Jack because she helped to make him less agitated.
Jack is the eldest and biggest of us all and, as Dad sometimes jokes, the best looking of an ugly bunch. He is big and strong all right, but despite his blue eyes and healthy red cheeks, his black bushy eyebrows almost meet in the middle, so I’ve never agreed with that. One thing I’ve never argued with is that he managed to attract a kind and pretty wife. Ellie has hair the colour of best-quality straw three days after a good harvest, and skin that really glows in candlelight.
‘I’m leaving tomorrow morning,’ I blurted out. ‘The Spook’s coming for me at first light.’
Ellie’s face lit up. ‘You mean he’s agreed to take you on?’
I nodded. ‘He’s given me a month’s trial.’
‘Oh, well done, Tom. I’m really pleased for you,’ she said.
‘I don’t believe it!’ scoffed Jack. ‘You, apprentice to a spook! How can you do a job like that when you still can’t sleep without a candle?’
I laughed at his joke but he had a point. I sometimes saw things in the dark and a candle was the best way to keep them away so that I could get some sleep.
Jack came towards me, and with a roar got me in a head-lock and began dragging me round the kitchen table. It was his idea of a joke. I put up just enough resistance to humour him, and after a few seconds he let go of me and patted me on the back.
‘Well done, Tom,’ he said. ‘You’ll make a fortune doing that job. There’s just one problem, though . . .’
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
‘You’ll need every penny you earn. Know why?’
I shrugged.
‘Because the only friends you’ll have are the ones you buy!’
I tried to smile, but there was a lot of truth in Jack’s words. A spook worked and lived alone.
‘Oh, Jack! Don’t be cruel!’ Ellie scolded.
‘It was only a joke,’ Jack replied, as if he couldn’t understand why Ellie was making so much fuss.
But Ellie was looking at me rather than Jack and I saw her face suddenly drop. ‘Oh, Tom!’ she said. ‘This means that you won’t be here when the baby’s born . . .’
She looked really disappointed and it made me feel sad that I wouldn’t be at home to see my new niece. Mam had said that Ellie’s baby was going to be a girl and she was never wrong about things like that.
‘I’ll come back and visit just as soon as I can,’ I promised.
Ellie tried to smile, and Jack came up and rested his arm across my shoulders. ‘You’ll always have your family,’ he said. ‘We’ll always be here if you need us.’
An hour later I sat down to supper, knowing that I’d be gone in the morning. Dad said grace as he did every evening and we all muttered ‘Amen’ except Mam. She just stared down at her food as usual, waiting politely until it was over. As the prayer ended, Mam gave me a little smile. It was a warm, special smile and I don’t think anyone else noticed. It made me feel better.
The fire was still burning in the grate, filling the kitchen with warmth. At the centre of our large wooden table was a brass candlestick, which had been polished until you could see your face in it. The candle was made of beeswax and was expensive, but Mam wouldn’t allow tallow in the kitchen because of the smell. Dad made most of the decisions on the farm, but in some things she always got her own way.
As we tucked into our big plates of steaming hotpot, it struck me how old Dad looked tonight – old and tired – and there was an expression that flickered across his face from time to time, a hint of sadness. But he brightened up a bit when he and Jack started discussing the price of pork and whether or not it was the right time to send for the pig butcher.
‘Better to wait another month or so,’ Dad said. ‘The price is sure to go higher.’
Jack shook his head and they began to argue. It was a friendly argument, the kind families often have, and I could tell that Dad was enjoying it. I didn’t join in though. All that was over for me. As Dad had told me, I was finished with farming.
Mam and Ellie were chuckling together softly. I tried to catch what they were saying, but by now Jack was in full flow, his voice getting louder and louder. When Mam glanced across at him I could tell she’d had enough of his noise.
Oblivious to Mam’s glances and continuing to argue loudly, Jack reached across for the salt cellar and accidentally knocked it over, spilling a small cone of salt on the table top. Straight away he took a pinch and threw it back over his left shoulder. It is an old County superstition. By doing that you were supposed to ward off the bad luck you’d earned by spilling it.
‘Jack, you don’t need any salt on that anyway,’ Mam scolded. ‘It spoils a good hotpot and is an insult to the cook!’
‘Sorry, Mam,’ Jack apologized. ‘You’re right. It’s perfect just as it is.’
She gave him a smile then nodded towards me. ‘Anyway, nobody’s taking any notice of Tom. That’s no way to treat him on his last night at home.’
‘I’m all right, Mam,’ I told her. ‘I’m happy just to sit here and listen.’
Mam nodded. ‘Well, I’ve got a few things to say to you. After supper stay down in the kitchen and we’ll have a little talk.’
So after Jack, Ellie and Dad had gone up to bed, I sat in a chair by the fire and waited patiently to hear what Mam had to say.
Mam wasn’t a woman who made a lot of fuss; at first she didn’t say much apart from explaining what she was wrapping up for me: a spare pair of trousers, three shirts and two pairs of good socks that had only been darned once each.
I stared into the
embers of the fire, tapping my feet on the flags, while Mam drew up her rocking chair and positioned it so that she was facing directly towards me. Her black hair was streaked with a few strands of grey, but apart from that she looked much the same as she had when I was just a toddler, hardly up to her knees. Her eyes were still bright, and but for her pale skin, she looked a picture of health.
‘This is the last time we’ll get to talk together for quite a while,’ she said. ‘It’s a big step leaving home and starting out on your own. So if there’s anything you need to say, anything you need to ask, now’s the time to do it.’
I couldn’t think of a single question. In fact I couldn’t even think. Hearing her say all that had started tears pricking behind my eyes.
The silence went on for quite a while. All that could be heard was my feet tap-tapping on the flags. Finally Mam gave a little sigh. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Has the cat got your tongue?’
I shrugged.
‘Stop fidgeting, Tom, and concentrate on what I’m saying,’ Mam warned. ‘First of all, are you looking forward to tomorrow and starting your new job?’
‘I’m not sure, Mam,’ I told her, remembering Jack’s joke about having to buy friends. ‘Nobody wants to go anywhere near a spook. I’ll have no friends. I’ll be lonely all the time.’
‘It won’t be as bad as you think,’ Mam said. ‘You’ll have your master to talk to. He’ll be your teacher, and no doubt he’ll eventually become your friend. And you’ll be busy all the time. Busy learning new things. You’ll have no time to feel lonely. Don’t you find the whole thing new and exciting?’
‘It’s exciting but the job scares me. I want to do it but I don’t know if I can. One part of me wants to travel and see places but it’ll be hard not to live here any more. I’ll miss you all. I’ll miss being at home.’