Wardstone 7 - The Spook's Nightmare (2 page)

BOOK FIVE:

THE SPOOK’S MISTAKE

BOOK SIX:

THE SPOOK’S SACRIFICE

BOOK SEVEN:

THE SPOOK’S NIGHTMARE

Tom

Thomas Ward is the seventh son of a seventh son. This means he was born with certain gifts – gifts that make him perfect for the role of the Spook’s apprentice. He can see and hear the dead and he is a natural enemy of the dark. But that doesn’t stop Tom getting scared, and he is going to need all his courage if he is to succeed where twenty-nine others have failed.

The Spook

The Spook is an unmistakable figure. He’s tall, and rather fierce looking. He wears a long black cloak and hood, and always carries a staff and a silver chain. Like his apprentice, Tom, he is left-handed, and is a seventh son of a seventh son.

For over sixty years he has protected the County from things that go bump in the night.

Alice

Tom can’t decide if Alice is good or evil. She terrifies the local village lads, is related to two of the most evil witch clans (the Malkins and the Deanes) and has been known to use dark magic. But she was trained as a witch against her will and has helped Tom out of some tight spots. She seems to be a loyal friend, but can she be trusted?

Mam

Tom’s mam always knew he would become the Spook’s apprentice. She called him her ‘gift to the County’. A loving mother and an expert on plants, medicine and childbirth, Mam was always a little different. Her origins in Greece were a mystery. In fact, there were quite a few mysterious things about Mam . . .

T
HE HIGHEST POINT IN THE COUNTY
IS MARKED BY MYSTERY
.
I
T IS SAID THAT A MAN DIED THERE IN A
GREAT STORM, WHILE BINDING AN EVIL
THAT THREATENED THE WHOLE WORLD
.
T
HEN THE ICE CAME AGAIN, AND WHEN IT
RETREATED, EVEN THE SHAPES OF THE
HILLS AND THE NAMES OF THE TOWNS
IN THE VALLEYS CHANGED
.
N
OW, AT THAT HIGHEST POINT ON
THE FELLS, NO TRACE REMAINS OF WHAT
WAS DONE SO LONG AGO,
BUT ITS NAME HAS ENDURED.
THEY CALL IT –

T
HE
W
ARDSTONE
.

T
he Spook, Alice and I were crossing the Long Ridge on our way back to Chipenden, with the three wolfhounds, Claw, Blood and Bone, barking excitedly at our heels.

The first part of the climb had been pleasant enough. It had rained all afternoon but was now a clear, cloud-less late autumn evening with just a slight chilly breeze ruffling our hair: perfect weather for walking. I remember thinking how peaceful it all seemed.

But at the summit a big shock awaited us. There was dark smoke far to the north beyond the fells. It looked like Caster was burning. Had the war finally reached us? I wondered fearfully.

Years earlier, an alliance of enemy nations had invaded our land far to the south. Since then, despite the best efforts of the combined counties to hold the line, they had been slowly pushing north.

‘How can they have advanced so far without us knowing?’ the Spook asked, scratching at his beard, clearly agitated. ‘Surely there’d have been news – some warning at least?’

‘It might just be a raiding party from the sea,’ I suggested. That was very likely. Enemy boats had come ashore before and attacked settlements along the coast – though this part of the County had been spared so far.

Shaking his head, the Spook set off down the hill at a furious pace. Alice gave me a worried smile and we hurried along in pursuit. Encumbered by my staff and both our bags, I was struggling to keep up on the slippery wet grass. But I knew what was bothering my master. He was anxious about his library. Looting and burning had been reported in the south and he was worried about the safety of his books, a store of knowledge accumulated by generations of spooks.

I was now in the third year of my apprenticeship to the Spook, learning how to deal with ghosts, ghasts, witches, boggarts and all manner of creatures from the dark. My master gave me lessons most days, but my other source of knowledge was that library. It was certainly very important.

Once we reached level ground we headed directly towards Chipenden, the hills to the north looming larger with every stride. We’d just forded a small river, picking our way across the stones, the water splashing around our ankles, when Alice pointed ahead.

‘Enemy soldiers!’ she cried.

In the distance, a group of men were heading east across our path – two dozen or more, the swords at their belts glinting brightly in the light from the setting sun, which was now very low on the horizon.

We halted and crouched low on the riverbank, hoping that they hadn’t seen us. I told the dogs to lie down and be quiet; they obeyed instantly.

The soldiers wore grey uniforms and steel helms with broad, vertical nose guards of a type I hadn’t seen
before. Alice was right. It was a large enemy patrol. Unfortunately they saw us almost immediately. One of them pointed and barked out an order, and a small group peeled off and began running towards us.

‘This way!’ cried the Spook and, snatching up his bag to relieve me of the extra weight, took off, following the river upstream; Alice and I followed with the dogs.

There was a large wood directly ahead. Maybe there was a chance we could lose them there, I thought. But as soon as we reached the tree-line my hopes were dashed. It had been coppiced recently: there were no saplings, no thickets – just well-spaced mature trees. This was no hiding place.

I glanced back. Our pursuers were now spread out in a ragged line. The majority weren’t making much headway, but there was one soldier in the lead who was definitely gaining on us: he was brandishing his sword threateningly.

Next thing I knew the Spook was coming to a halt.
He threw down his bag at my feet. ‘Keep going, lad! I’ll deal with him,’ he commanded, turning back to face the soldier.

I called the dogs to heel and stopped, frowning. I couldn’t leave my master like that. I picked up his bag again and readied my staff. If necessary I would go to his aid and take the dogs with me; they were big fierce wolfhounds, completely without fear.

I looked back at Alice. She’d stopped too and was staring at me with a strange expression on her face. She seemed to be muttering to herself.

The breeze died away very suddenly and the chill was like a blade of ice cutting into my face; all was suddenly silent, as if every living thing in the wood were holding its breath. Tendrils of mist snaked out of the trees towards us, approaching from all directions. I looked at Alice again. There had been no warning of this change in the weather. It didn’t seem natural. Was it dark magic? I wondered. The dogs crouched down on their bellies and whined softly. Even if it was intended to help us, my master would be angry if
Alice used dark magic. She’d spent two years training to be a witch and he was always wary of her turning back towards the dark.

By now the Spook had taken up a defensive position, his staff held diagonally. The soldier reached him and slashed downwards with his sword. My heart was in my mouth, but I needn’t have feared. There was a cry of pain – but it came from the soldier, not my master. The sword went spinning into the grass, and then the Spook delivered a hard blow to his assailant’s temple to bring him to his knees.

The mist was closing in fast, and for a few moments my master was lost to view. Then I heard him running towards us. Once he reached us we hurried on, following the river, the fog becoming denser with every stride. We soon left the wood and the river behind and followed a thick hawthorn hedge north for a few hundred yards until the Spook waved us to a halt. We crouched in a ditch, hunkering down with the dogs, holding our breath and listening for danger. At first there were no sounds of pursuit, but then we
heard voices to the north and east. They were still searching for us – though the light was beginning to fail, and with each minute that passed it became less likely that we’d be discovered.

But, just when we thought we were safe, the voices from the north grew louder, and soon we heard footsteps getting nearer and nearer. It seemed likely that they would blunder straight into our hiding place and my master and I gripped our staffs, ready to fight for our lives.

The searchers passed no more than a couple of yards to our right – we could just make out the dim shapes of three men. But we were crouched low in the ditch and they didn’t see us. When the footsteps and voices had faded away, the Spook shook his head.

‘Don’t know how many they’ve got hunting for us,’ he whispered, ‘but they seem determined to find us. Best if we stay here for the rest of the night.’

And so we settled down to spend a cold, uncomfortable night in the ditch. I slept fitfully but, as often happens in these situations, fell into a deep slumber
only when it was almost time to get up. I was awoken by Alice shaking my shoulder.

I sat up quickly, staring about me. The sun had already risen and I could see grey clouds racing overhead. The wind was whistling through the hedge, bending and flexing the spindly leafless branches. ‘Is everything all right?’ I asked.

Alice smiled and nodded. ‘There’s nobody less than a mile or so away. Those soldier boys have given up and gone.’