Of course, they were then faced with the threat of extinction but had already planned a way to avoid that. Although humans and Kobalos are two distinct races, their use of magic made it possible to breed with human females – slaves which they call purrai. But only Kobalos males resulted from such unions.
‘The god I began to shape would have helped us create our own females once more,’ the ghost continued. ‘Balance would have been restored and, in time, there would have been no need for us to use purrai. But the murder of the king and the coming to power of the Triumvirate changed all that. They reshaped the new god for their own ends – that of war, and the acquisition of greater and greater power.’
‘Is it too late to change things again?’ I asked, stunned by that revelation. The dead mage had actually been benign and had intended for good to result from his act of creation.
‘There are those among my people who already strive for such change. I have talked to them. My spirit cannot leave this place, but they can and do project their minds to me. An alliance is already working to overthrow the Triumvirate. It began with a small secret group called the Skapien, who are opposed to the slave trade. But recently there have been others in Valkarky who are more open and vocal in their opposition. Haizda mages are one of these dissenting groups, and as a result have been outlawed by the Triumvirate and are now being hunted down and exterminated.’
‘It would be better to change the rulers of Valkarky than have a war,’ I said to the ghost. ‘You say you have contacts with the Kobalos who oppose the Triumvirate. Do you give them your support? Do you wish for the same thing?’
‘I do,’ replied the mage.
‘It would be useful for us to have contact with them too. Could you arrange that?’
I could see real possibilities here. There might be other ways than Grimalkin’s to end this threat. Perhaps the Kobalos could be changed from within?
The ghost did not reply. It simply vanished.
I was disappointed, but it was a beginning. I would return here and talk to the dead mage again. I nodded at the lantern, and Jenny adjusted the shutters once more, filling that dusty room with brightness.
Then we left, locking both doors behind us.
‘Could you have sent it to the light?’ Jenny asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘But I am prepared to try – eventually, that is . . . I think we can learn a lot of useful information from that ghost. We’ll come back another night and try to speak to it again.’
Jenny yawned.
‘Are you tired?’ I asked.
She nodded, stifling another yawn.
‘Well, it’ll be at least another hour before you get to bed,’ I told her. ‘We have something else to do before then. When you follow this trade, night work is something you have to get used to!’
JENNY CALDER
MY ENCOUNTER WITH the daemonic thing in the well had been terrifying. I was still very nervous when Tom talked to the ghost of the Kobalos mage; I feared it might turn on us at any moment. Dead or not, it might still retain some magical power.
Tom had the Starblade, but I had no such protection. In any case, its magic had already let him down once. I was exhausted by both ordeals – the last thing I wanted was to face more ghosts. Surely they could have waited for another night?
However, I kept quiet – I didn’t want Tom to think less of me. I played the dutiful apprentice and followed him up the steps towards another of the attics.
‘You heard what the dead mage said about the other locked rooms?’ Tom asked, stopping and turning to face me. He was breathing hard, wheezing terribly. I was worried that he might be over-exerting himself.
I nodded. ‘Some are likely to contain the ghosts of humans.’
‘That’s right. We won’t be able to send them to the light because they’ll almost certainly be from these northern lands and won’t speak our language. We still have to see what needs to be done. Our job is to keep people safe from the dark and that applies even when we’re far from the County. That’s our duty, so we’re going to have to learn Losta – or at least enough of it to persuade a spirit towards the light.’
He turned and began to climb the steps again.
‘I know quite a few words already,’ I reminded him.
Tom nodded. ‘I see I have a bit of catching up to do,’ he replied with a wry smile.
At last he reached the attic and paused, struggling to get his breath back.
When we opened the door, we saw that there was no anteroom; just a large space that had clearly been used to torture prisoners. There was a brazier full of cold ashes, and on the wooden table lay a number of instruments: tongs, saws, hooks, blades and long thin needles – along with manacles to hold prisoners in position. I noticed the dark stains where blood had soaked into the wood. There were also manacles set into the wall, with stains on the wooden floor beneath them.
My stomach heaved at the thought of what must have been done to those poor human prisoners – up to ten of them could have been held here. Then I began to sense fragments of the horrific experiences the victims had gone through – flashes of contorted faces, sounds of moaning and screaming and a sudden overwhelming stench of blood.
I felt a sudden urge to get out of that room . . . But I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself.
‘Cut the light to a minimum, Jenny,’ Tom commanded.
I placed the lantern on the floor at my feet and adjusted the shutters so that once again the room was in darkness but for the small circle of light on the boards that surrounded it.
I didn’t like it in the gloom of that torture chamber. It was possible to imagine all sorts of things emerging from the darkest corners. But Tom knew what he was doing. Ghosts were less likely to appear when a room was well-lit.
We remained near the door, still and silent. Suddenly I shivered and sensed a presence in the room. I could see nothing, but from the left-hand corner beneath the furthest of the wall manacles came a faint groaning. Then, quite clearly, I heard the chains move against the stones – along with another sound like liquid running down the walls and dripping onto the floor. I could smell blood again.
There was a ghost present; the ghost of somebody in agony after being tortured. Instantly I knew a lot about the man. He’d been part of a small patrol testing the Kobalos lines. He was Polyznian, but he was not a subject of Stanislaw; his prince went by a different name. The ghost had been here many years, so maybe the ruler then had been Prince Stanislaw’s father or even his grandfather? Most of the patrol had been slain, but the rest had been captured, questioned and tortured.
I could sense the man’s anguish; something that went far beyond physical pain. They had cut him with blades coated in a poison that caused extreme pain. But even worse was his realization that he would never get out of this place. His family lived far to the south and he would never see them again. He had a small son and daughter and a child soon to be born. How would his wife, Karina, support their family without him?
I gave a sob and tears flowed down my cheeks, for the ghost didn’t realize how long he’d been here. By now his wife would probably be dead and his children grown old.
Tom gave me a kind look and put a finger to his lips, asking me to be quiet. I nodded and stifled another sob.
The next sound came from the table: a deep groan and then a shriek of agony. Then I heard the noise of a saw cutting through something – but it wasn’t wood.
The ghost was reliving the terrible moments of his torture and death. His captors were sawing through flesh and bone.
Unable to control myself any longer, I was sick on the floor at my feet. I didn’t dare look at Tom. I could smell the stink of my own vomit and I knew he could smell it too. I leaned back against the wall, shivering.
Tom pointed to the door. To my relief, I realized that we were leaving.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said as Tom locked the outer door.
‘You don’t need to be sorry, Jenny,’ he replied,
his voice kind. ‘It obviously affected you very badly. You must have experienced far more than I did. All I heard was the rattling of chains and a faint groan. Then I saw a few other vague luminous shapes. But I know something really bad was happening on that table.’
‘They were sawing through his bones,’ I said, shaking with horror at the thought of it. ‘Why would they do that? What kind of a race are they?’
‘Humans can be just as bad,’ Tom replied, leading the way down the stone steps. He sounded weary. He was still a long way from regaining his former strength. ‘They were probably trying to get information from him – troop strengths and movements – in order to save the lives of their own soldiers. I suppose that war brings out the worst in everyone. Our own civil war back in the County was terrible and tore families apart, brother against brother.’
‘But must the ghost endure his death over and over again?’
‘Remember the dead soldiers I showed you on Hangman’s Hill? This was also probably a ghast rather than a ghost, Jenny – the fragment of that poor soldier’s soul left behind when it went to the light. But there must have been ghosts there too . . .’
‘Yes. One of the manacled prisoners missed his family – he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing them again. He had two children and his wife was soon to give birth to a third. I think he’d been really happy at home. If we could get him to concentrate on that, it might be the way to send him to the light.’
Tom nodded but he seemed distracted, lost in thought.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked him.
He shook his head. ‘I’m far from all right. And I think we’ll have to wait until next year to sort out those ghosts.’
I stared at him in astonishment.
‘We’re going home. In a few days Grimalkin expects me to ride out to attack the kulad – it’s madness. I’ve been thinking and worrying about it for days. The trouble I’ve had climbing these steps has convinced me. We’ll travel back to the County before the snows trap us here. We’ll go and tell Grimalkin now.’
He’d given me no clue at all that he’d been considering this option. When I’d asked to go home he’d just brushed aside my pleas.
My heart soared with happiness. At last Tom had seen sense. I hated this cold war-torn land and felt homesick for the meadows and green hills of the County.
At last we were going home!
JENNY CALDER
TOM KNOCKED POLITELY, and then we entered the room I shared with Grimalkin.
She was sitting cross-legged on her bed and stared at us without blinking. The moment I saw her face I could tell that she knew what Tom was going to say – whether she had scryed it or was simply reading the intent in his eyes, I don’t know. Her gaze was anything but friendly. My powers didn’t work with the witch assassin – she kept me out – but my instinct was that we might be in real danger from her if she was angry.
Tom stood facing her while I closed the door. I grew more and more anxious. I knew that Grimalkin wasn’t going to like this. How would she react?
‘I’m going back to the County tomorrow,’ Tom told her. ‘I’m not fit enough for what you propose. It’ll take months for me to regain my strength – probably the whole of the winter – and I’m better off recuperating back home.’
‘You cannot leave now – it will disrupt my plans,’ Grimalkin spat. ‘Without you here, army morale will disintegrate at the first setback. The prince is expecting you to lead them.’
I was furious when I heard her say ‘my plans’. Why had Tom allowed himself to be caught up in her schemes in the first place? I wondered.
‘Why does it have to be now?’ Tom asked. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to attack the kulad in the spring?’
Grimalkin shook her head. ‘The Kobalos will not wait for spring. They are a people of cold and ice. Winter is their time. Within months their army will cross the river and overwhelm these small principalities. It is vital that we strike before that happens. What I can learn at the mage’s kulad will not save these border lands, but may well ensure the survival of the County. Our only chance is to act now.’
I couldn’t fault Grimalkin’s reasoning; I expected Tom to yield to her will – I’d watched her controlling him ever since we left the County. Why should that change? She was very persuasive. But, to my surprise and delight, he resisted.
‘I just can’t do it. I’m weary . . . I’ll be no good to you. You’re better off without me.’
‘You must do it! You will do it!’ Grimalkin growled, showing her pointy teeth.
‘Don’t threaten me!’ Tom cried, an edge of anger coming into his voice. ‘We’ve been allies in the past and will be in the future, but I need to rest. You should listen to what I want for a change.’
‘How can you let down Prince Stanislaw and the warriors who believe in you? The odds are against them – many of them will die in the coming conflict – but they have seen you defeat the Shaiksa assassin and survive death itself. Only your presence will give them the confidence to cross that river. You cannot refuse.’
‘I do refuse! When I fall off my horse with exhaustion, it won’t inspire anybody with confidence, will it?’
‘You will do as I say!’ cried Grimalkin, coming to her feet.
I couldn’t stand this. It was plainly wrong, a spook taking orders from a witch!
‘Do you think I can bear to see women enslaved and maltreated by the Kobalos?’ Grimalkin shouted. She and Tom were standing face to face now, their noses just inches apart. ‘Do you expect me to stand by and see more slaves taken as city after city falls under the yoke of our enemies? No, it shall not be! I will destroy the Kobalos forces and pull down the walls of Valkarky until all is a frozen wasteland and not one of the creatures lives! And you will play the part that I have shaped for you!’
‘No!’ Tom snapped angrily, his own voice raised for the first time. ‘I have been shaped and controlled by you! You brought me here without explaining what would be involved. All along you planned to pit me against the Shaiksa assassin but didn’t tell me until we reached the river. You never thought fit to warn me and let me make up my own mind about it. You led me into danger – into death – completely blind. I never asked to be a part of this. I need to be back in the County, fighting the dark in my own way. I’ve taken on an apprentice and my duty is to train her properly. That’s what I intend to do. I’ll spend my winter doing exactly that.’
Grimalkin let out a deep sigh and spoke again, her voice low. ‘For most of my life I have been motivated by vengeance,’ she explained. ‘I have only truly loved once. I have cared for others and been deeply hurt by their loss, but not totally devastated as I was when the Fiend slew the child who was at the centre of my life. I failed to protect that child, but with the help of others, particularly you,’ she went on, nodding at Tom, ‘I helped bring about the destruction of the Fiend. That was something that shaped me; that made me what I am. So I too have been forged into a weapon on an anvil of pain. Now I recognize that I was born for a specific purpose – to destroy the Kobalos. We will win in the end – I promise you that, whether you choose to help or not. But you have disappointed me. I expected more of you.’
Tom sighed, his expression resigned. Now, once again, I feared that he would yield to her will. But then that determination I’d seen in the Tom of old came back.
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help you this time. I’ll travel back with Jenny tomorrow. If you still wish it, I’ll return in the spring.’ He turned to me. ‘I’ll see you in the stables just before dawn. Don’t be late.’
Then he left, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone with Grimalkin. I looked at her fearfully, but she simply gave a sigh to match Tom’s and then smiled at me.
‘You look tired, child. Get yourself to bed. Things will seem better in the morning.’
I was surprised by how pleasant Grimalkin was being. I would have expected her to be angry and snap at me.
I took her advice. No sooner had my head tou
ched the pillow than I fell into a deep sleep.
Suddenly I was in the grip of what seemed like a terrible nightmare. The room was in total darkness and someone was pinning me to the bed. I fought to get free, but it was useless – I was being held in an iron grip.
All at once I realized that it wasn’t a nightmare after all; it was really happening to me. I was on my back and someone was stuffing something into my mouth – it felt like a ball of cloth. I began to cough and choke.
Then I felt two fingers being pushed up into my nostrils and my head was filled with a stinging, burning sensation. I couldn’t breathe, and I panicked, bucking and twisting, trying in vain to escape. But I couldn’t get free – and then, suddenly, the fingers were removed.
I could breathe again, but I felt strange and light-headed, as if my soul was drifting away from my body into an ocean of darkness. It was as if I didn’t care what happened to me; nothing mattered any more.
Then I was lifted up and slung over somebody’s shoulder. I heard a door close somewhere behind me, then footsteps echoing along a passageway, but I could see nothing and I suddenly realized that there was something wrong with my eyes. After a while the air grew colder and there was a breeze on my face and I knew that we were outside.
I could hear voices in the distance that grew louder as we approached – along with whinnies and snorts.
The person carrying me came to a halt and spoke. ‘Take good care of her. I’ll see you in two days.’
It was the voice of Grimalkin.
TOM WARD
I WAS UP well before dawn, and dressed quickly. I feared that the prince might try to prevent us leaving if he spotted us. The main meal in the castle was a five-course supper with lots of ale, so few wanted breakfast. Down in the kitchens, the cooks and their assistants were still sleeping, so I helped myself to food and packed our saddlebags with provisions. We’d have to buy more on the journey, but I had coin enough for that.