The Spook's Blood (Wardstone Chronicles) (28 page)

Soon I reached a wide ledge, where I was able to stand for a moment with my back to the rock and stretch my trembling arms and legs. I could see the next part of the descent below me, but on three sides, shrouded in darkness, were what looked like the mouths of a number of caves. I suddenly realized that
Grimalkin
had been correct: other entities had indeed been placed on guard down here.

I could hear new sounds – the steady approach of boots, deep breathing, and finally growls of anger. A second later my enemies came into view, their eyes a sea of red points of light glittering in the darkness. The situation reminded me of the moment in the cellar when, faced with overwhelming odds, I had fled like a coward.

But this time I would not run. I drew Bone Cutter, gripping it in my right hand, wielding the Destiny Blade in my left. Grimalkin dropped down beside me, a blade in each hand, and we met them together. I glimpsed teeth and claws, and the stink of rancid strigoi breath washed over me, but I lunged out with my blades, feeling satisfaction as the dagger found flesh – though it was the dead flesh of a daemon. My sword, with its longer blade, was more likely to be successful: I struck the head from the nearest strigoi; it rolled across the floor and fell into the fissure. At my side Grimalkin was slashing to left and right with deadly intent, slicing heads from bodies and driving our enemies back with a ferocity that surpassed their own.

The strigoii were fast, but the fighting was at close quarters, hand to hand, denying them much of that advantage. I struck and struck again until the pressure eased. Then Grimalkin spun me towards the fissure and stood on guard, blades raised to meet the next onslaught.

‘Climb down now!’ she commanded. ‘There is little time. I will hold them back!’

I did not argue. It was surely almost midnight. Perhaps I was
already
too late; perhaps Siscoi had taken command of the host. I sheathed my sword and thrust Bone Cutter into my belt before easing myself down into the shaft and continuing my descent.

As I climbed down, the metallic clashes, grunts and screams of the battle above receded; soon they gave way to a different noise. I could hear breathing again  . . .  it was the new host. This time it would not be blind. The vampire god would already have taken possession of it, and at the stroke of midnight would be free to emerge from the pit.

The sound grew louder and louder, until I could actually feel its breath on my face and hands, and smell its rank fetid stink. Then my feet could go no lower; I was standing on the floor of the pit.

I turned and found myself facing Siscoi.

The previous host had been hard to make out because I had been dazzled from below. Now I could see the source of the dark red light. It was emanating from a huge figure, which I could now see clearly; I knew instantly that the vampire god had indeed taken possession of it. His eyes were wide open and he was staring directly at me.

This host was undamaged. It was seated with its legs stretched out before it, its back resting against the rock wall. The huge body was covered with red scales; sharp talons sprouted from each of its lizard-like fingers and toes. Although even larger than the first host, it was relatively slim and built for speed. The head was hairless and elongated, almost triangular in shape, with a flattened nose, and it had the wide-set, staring eyes of a predator.

How long remained before midnight struck? I wondered. How long before this sluggish entity became a ravening beast that moved faster than the blink of an eye?

The answer to my questions came immediately. The god took a great shuddering breath and moved forward onto his knees, then opened his mouth and showed me his teeth. They were clenched together, the muscles of the throat and jaw bunched tightly. There were four large canines; the rest were like needles – this was not a creature that needed to chew its food. Then the mouth moved, and Siscoi spoke in a deep slow drawl, as if half asleep.

‘It is so good of you to come to me,’ he said. ‘The blood from your puny body will be my appetizer for the feast ahead!’

I did not reply. My answer was to draw the Destiny Blade and move cautiously towards the kneeling figure.

This was my chance to use my gift and slow time.

Concentrate! Squeeze time! Make it stop!

I took another step towards him, struggling to focus.

Concentrate! Squeeze time! Make it stop!

The vampire god laughed, the sound booming and echoing up through the fissure.

I was desperate now; with the whole of my being I focused on bringing time to a halt. But Mam’s gift seemed to have deserted me. If I couldn’t employ it soon, my life would be over.

‘Do you think your miserable powers will work on me?’ demanded the god. ‘I am Siscoi, and I have the strength and speed to counter anything you can throw at me. Do you really
believe
that my master would send me against you without the means to deal with your tricks? His servants have combined together and placed their powers within me.’

Could he be immune to my gift? Was such a thing possible? The Fiend had been able to manipulate time too, and when we lured him into the pit to be bound by silver spears and nails, only surprise had given me the advantage. If other servants of the dark had similar powers and had somehow transferred them to Siscoi, my situation was indeed hopeless.

But then Mam spoke again inside my head:

Despair, and you will be defeated and destroyed. Above all, you must believe in yourself. If you are truly the weapon I have forged to obliterate the Fiend, then you must prove it now. Otherwise all I have done has been for nothing and you are not worthy to be my son!

The words drove a dagger into my heart. How could Mam be so cruel? Was I merely a weapon – a thing to be used to bring her victory? And after all my struggles against the dark, how could she suggest that I was not ‘worthy’? Apart from my recent flight from the cellar, one lapse in over three years fighting the dark, I’d always done my best, whatever the odds against me. Could she not appreciate that? She seemed so very different from the warm nurturing mother I had known at the farm. A surge of anger filled me. I took a deep breath and directed that anger, not against Mam but against Siscoi.

I began to focus again, and now I sensed time slowing a little. The god’s eyes flickered malevolently, but I took another step towards him, readying my blade. My concentration became even more intense. The god’s eye was moving again, but
the
flicker had become a sluggish lifting of the upper lids.

And now the ruby eyes of the Destiny Blade began to drip blood. It was as hungry as the vampire god himself! And then I felt a movement at my waist. Bone Cutter was actually moving, twisting as if gripped by an invisible hand. It wanted to join the battle.

I was about to draw the dagger, but then I saw Siscoi’s eyes focusing on the drops of blood that fell from the Destiny Blade. Blood fascinated the god; distracted him.

Taking advantage of this, I swung the sword towards his huge head. My aim was true, and had the blade struck home, I would have split Siscoi’s hairless skull. But my control of time was not perfect. He was still struggling against me, and he twisted his head away as the sword came down.

I cut off his left ear, and it fell slowly towards the rocky floor, spinning like a red-tinted autumn leaf in the damp chill breeze that heralds the approach of winter in the County.

The god screamed. So loud was his cry of agony and anger that the walls of the pit shook, and small rocks, soil and dust cascaded down.

I took a deep breath and adjusted my stance in the way that Grimalkin had taught me. Once more I tried to focus my mind, but now Siscoi was on his feet, towering over me.

I swung the blade upwards from right to left, aiming for the neck, hoping to sever the head. But now our struggle had entered a new phase; Siscoi’s power was waxing while mine was waning. My blade moved slowly, while the clawed hand swept down towards my face in a blur of motion. The god
easily
evaded my sword, but I felt a burning pain as his talons raked my forehead. I dropped down onto my knees and he lunged for me again.

Once more I failed to avoid him, though I did just enough to survive. This time he used his huge knuckles, seeking to crack my skull open and knock me unconscious so that he could drain my blood at leisure. As it was, I managed to twist away, but the blow sent me rolling over and over until I crashed into the rock wall.

I struggled to my knees, my head spinning, waves of nausea washing over me. I tried to stand but my legs were too weak to support me. Siscoi could finish me off before I even knew what was happening, but his approach was leisurely. He knew that it was all over now. He had won. My control of time was at an end.

But then I heard another voice. It didn’t actually appear inside my head like Mam’s had. It was a voice from my memory – the voice of Grimalkin, the witch assassin.

Is this the end? Are you finally defeated? No! You have only just begun to fight! Believe me, because I know. I am Grimalkin
.

These were the words she had hurled at me over and over again when training me in the use of the Destiny Blade. I remembered that cellar in Ireland where we had first fought – I had been sure she was going to kill me; then, over the period of a week, she had taught me to fight in a way that even the tough, battle-hardened Bill Arkwright could never have matched. She had used these words to goad me on when I had felt too weary to continue.

Once again I recalled her voice:

Get on your feet and fight! Kill your enemy now! Kill him before he kills you! Be like me! Be like Grimalkin! Never give in! Never surrender!

I forced myself to my feet and lifted the blade, grasping it with both hands.

I BEGAN TO
focus on slowing time again. Sweat and blood were running into my eyes, making it difficult to see. I wiped them away with the back of my right hand, before taking my two-handed grip once more.

Siscoi was staring at me, but time was again slowing. I was moving; he was still. Now I would indeed cleave his skull in two – I could do it. I took a step forward, so that my target was within comfortable range. But then, as I began to bring my blade down vertically, he opened his mouth wide. Once more he was challenging my control of time, exerting his own will.

I glanced at the sharp fangs, but they were not the immediate threat. Something issued forth from Siscoi’s mouth, so quickly
that
I barely had time to react. I ducked to my left, and it just missed my right temple.

At first I thought he had spat something out at me, but I soon realized that this was his tongue. It was at least six feet long, thick and purple, and covered with sharp spines, each like a thin hook. It rasped hard against the rock wall to my right, reducing the top layer to pebbles and dust. Had that made contact with my face it would have ripped the flesh from the bone.

I took three rapid steps backwards. The god’s tongue was back in his mouth now and he was snarling. He came towards me, his fingers reaching for my throat, but I swung the blade upwards and made contact with his left shoulder. Once again he cried out in pain.

This time he was hurt. The Destiny Blade had penetrated his protective scales. Black blood was running down his arm and dripping to the ground.

My defences had proved adequate, and I wondered at that. Among Siscoi’s powers was his incredible speed, so why did he not use it? It could only mean one thing – he was unable to! To some extent I was
still
controlling time. Faced with such an adversary, I could not halt it, but I was doing enough to make a fight of it.

I readied my blade. Siscoi attacked again and, instinctively, I lunged forward with the sword. I failed to make contact this time, but I did enough to force him back a couple of steps. Then I was retreating just as fast as I could, dodging that long rasping tongue with its deadly barbs. Suddenly I found myself in a cleft in the rock; escape to either side was now impossible.
Siscoi’s
mouth twisted into a smile and he opened it wide. The tongue lashed out towards me in a purple blur. The god had me trapped, with no place to go.

Only one option remained: to advance! I evaded the tongue and stepped in close so that I was less than a foot away from him. Then, before he could withdraw the tongue back into his mouth, I brought the sword across in a rapid arc, cutting right through it. It fell to the ground, where it twitched and writhed like a huge snake, while a tide of blood cascaded out of Siscoi’s mouth to splatter at his feet. His howl made the ground tremble and the very stones seem to shriek.