Spook's Destiny by Joseph Delaney Read Free Book Online Page A

again Alice had failed to contact Grimalkin. She had been using a mirror, but in spite of her best efforts the witch assassin hadn’t responded.
    ‘I’ll keep trying, Tom,’ she told me. ‘That’s all I can do. But I’m scared. There’s no knowing how long we have before the jar fails.’
    The Spook just shook his head and stared out of the window, watching the dogs as they ran alongside the carriage. There was nothing to be said. Nothing we could do. If Grimalkin didn’t answer soon, it would all be over. Death and an eternity of torment awaited us.
    Within the hour, a group of armed riders in emerald-green tunics joined us to provide an escort – two ahead of our carriage, four behind. All day we continued southwest, our elevation increasing as the brooding mountains ahead reared up into the cloudless pale blue sky. Then, as the sun began to sink towards the west, we saw the sea below us, and a small town huddled on the edge of a river estuary.
    ‘That’s Kenmare, my home town,’ said Shey. ‘It’s a haven from the mages. They have never attacked us here – at least not yet. My house lies on the edge of a wood to the west.’
    The house proved to be an elegant mansion built in the shape of a letter E; the three wings were each three storeys high. The doors were stout and the windows on the ground floor were shuttered. Additionally there was a high wall completely encircling it. Entry to the grounds was through a single wrought-iron gate, which was just wide enough to allow our carriage to pass. It certainly provided a good deal of protection from attack. There were also armed guards patrolling both the inside and outside of the wall.
    The hospitality of our host was excellent and we dined well that night.
    ‘What do you think of this green country of ours?’ he asked.
    ‘It’s like home,’ I told him. ‘It reminds me of the County where we live.’
    His face broke into a grin. I had said the right thing, but in truth mine was an honest reply. I had meant every word.
    ‘It’s a troubled land with a proud but good-hearted people,’ he said. ‘But the Otherworld is never very far away.’
    ‘The Otherworld?’ asked the Spook. ‘What do you mean by that?’
    ‘It’s the place where the dead heroes of Ireland dwell, awaiting their chance to be reborn.’
    The Spook nodded, but was too polite to air his true thoughts. After all, we were guests, and our host had been generous indeed. By the ‘Otherworld’, Farrell Shey probably meant the dark. I knew nothing about Irish heroes, but it was certainly true that some malevolent witches had returned from the dark to be born again into this world.
    ‘We don’t have many heroes in the County, alive or dead,’ Alice said, grinning mischievously. ‘All we have are spooks and their daft apprentices!’
    The Spook frowned at Alice but I just smiled. I knew she didn’t mean it.
    My master turned to Farrell Shey and asked, ‘Would you tell us something of your Irish heroes? We’re strangers to your land and would like to know more about it.’
    Shey smiled. ‘Were I to give you a full account of Ireland’s heroes, we’d be here for days, so I’ll just tell you briefly about the greatest of them all. His name is Cuchulain, also known as the Hound of Calann. He was given that second name because, when he was a young man, he fought a huge, fierce hound with his bare hands. He killed it by dashing its brains out against a gatepost.
    ‘He was immensely strong and skilled with sword and spear, but he is most famed for his battle frenzy – a kind of berserker fury. His muscles and his whole body would swell; one eye would recede back into his skull while the other bulged from his massive forehead. Some say that, in battle, blood erupted from every pore of his body; others that it was merely the blood of the enemies he slew. He defended his homeland many times, winning great victories against terrible odds. But he died young.’
    ‘How did he meet his