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But why was it visiting me like this? Wasn’t it supposed to approach in its spirit form and whisper as it drew out my life essence? I slipped my left hand into my pocket and readied my silver chain. I wondered if the chain would hold it – and, if so, for how long? My staff had been taken by my captors. I had nothing with me that could kill it.
The buggane pulled itself into the cell and moved towards me on all fours, panting like a dog. It was maybe twice the size of a fully grown man. How had it fitted into the tu
I turned slowly on my knees so that I was always facing towards it as it circled menacingly. The candle was dancing in my trembling hand, and at one point, unintentionally, I jerked the flame towards the creature. It seemed to flinch, its eyes narrowing again – or had I just imagined it?
Most denizens of the dark both feared and avoided daylight but were not usually troubled by the light of a fire or a candle. In its present form the buggane was certainly bothered by the candlelight. But how would it cope with fire? Would a torch be a real threat to it? I tried moving the candle towards its face. It retreated and gave a threatening growl, so low that it seemed to come from deep within its belly. Next it showed me its sharp teeth and I immediately moved the candle back again.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you!’ warned a deep voice from the tu
It was the abhuman, Horn: he was staring at me and shaking his head.
I turned my gaze back to the buggane. Having completed a full circle, it was surely pla
Horn was still gazing at me. ‘He wants you, boy. Knows what you are – a seventh son of a seventh son. Likes the smell of your blood and would love to eat your flesh and crunch your bones. I’ve rarely seen him so eager!’
Then he turned and followed the buggane into the tu
I was nervous but curious. I listened. There wasn’t the faintest sound. Was it waiting for me in the darkness ness somewhere ahead? Common sense told me that if it had wanted to harm me, it could easily have done so in the cell. So, holding the candle in my right hand, I scrambled into the tu
So was it a means of escape? Not for most people. They’d be terrified after such a visitation and wouldn’t dream of venturing inside. But could it be for me? I was a spook’s apprentice and had been in some scary situations before. My instinct as a trainee spook was to follow the tu
No, I wasn’t ready to take such a risk yet. So I slowly backed my way out and was soon sitting on the floor of the cell again.
I blew out my candle and tried to sleep once more. This time it was more difficult. I was finally dropping off when I heard footsteps approaching along the corridor. Had they captured the Spook? But then a key turned in my lock, and two burly yeomen carrying torches came into my cell.
‘On your feet, boy!’ one of them commanded. ‘We’re taking you to the long room.’
The other walked over to the tu
They marched me back along the passage with the cells to our right. Again, no sounds came from them. Were they empty? I wondered what had happened to Adriana. Where was she being kept? Had the buggane already begun the process of devouring her? I shuddered at the thought. The poor girl didn’t deserve that. Nobody should have to suffer such a fate. But then, instead of heading for the steps, we turned left, then left again into a much wider, stone-flagged passageway, lit by torches set in wall brackets. It seemed to me that we were still south of the moat and within the buggane’s domain.
I could hear dogs barking in the distance, the sounds increasing in volume as we approached a door at the end of the passageway, and then I was pushed into a large oblong chamber. There were dozens of torches on the walls, and I could clearly see what was going on there. About two dozen men sat on bales of straw near the right-hand wall; perhaps another five or six armed yeomen stood nearby. In the doorway stood their commander, Stanton, scowling at me, a bandage wrapped round his head – clear sign of the damage Alice’s rock had done to him. At the far end, against an earthen wall, stood a large, ornately carved wooden chair, and seated on it was the gaunt figure of Lord Barrule, the shaman, who was presiding over events. Behind him, to his left, was the entrance to a dark tu
Large steel cages lined the left-hand wall – I counted fourteen. Inside each but the last was a dog. There were a variety of breeds but all were big and fierce. My eyes swept down the line. I knew what I would see but it was still a shock when I saw Claw, Blood and Bone there. I felt sick to my stomach.
In the middle of the room was a large empty space, where the floor was covered in sawdust that was dotted with patches of fresh blood. They were clearly staging dog-fights there. I saw money changing hands – men gambling on the outcome of each fight.
Lord Barrule got to his feet and raised his hands high. As he did so, the tumult of barking ceased and, but for a faint whimper here and there, all the dogs fell silent.
As I watched, horrified, two of the cages were opened and the dogs dragged into the centre of the chamber by their leather collars; they were forced to face each other, their noses almost touching. Although powerful, big dogs, they appeared cowed and terrified. Their handlers left them there and retreated back towards the doorway where we were standing. The shaman suddenly brought his hands down and clapped loudly three times. On the third clap, the dogs were instantly transformed from timidity to aggression and leaped forward savagely.