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

end?’ asked the Spook.
    ‘He was cursed by witches,’ Shey replied. ‘They withered his left shoulder and arm so that his strength was diminished by half. Even so, he continued to fight and took the lives of many of his enemies. His end came when the Morrigan, the goddess of slaughter, turned against him. She had loved him but he had rejected her advances. In revenge she used her powers against him. Weakened, he suffered a mortal wound to the stomach, and his enemies cut off his head. Now he waits in the Otherworld until it is time for him to return and save Ireland again.’
    We ate in silence for a while: Shey was clearly saddened by the memory of Cuchulain’s death, while the Spook seemed deep in thought. For my part I had been unsettled by that mention of the Morrigan. I met Alice’s eyes and saw that her mischievous teasing had been replaced by fear. She was thinking of the threat to me.
    ‘I’m intrigued by your talk of this “Otherworld”,’ said the Spook, breaking the silence. ‘I know that your witches can use magical doors to enter ancient burial mounds. Can they also enter the Otherworld?’
    ‘They can – and often do so,’ said Shey. ‘In fact, another name for the Otherworld is the Hollow Hills. Those mounds are actually gateways to that domain. But even witches don’t stay there long. It is a dangerous place, but within it there are places of refuge. They are called sidhes and, although to ordinary human eyes they look like churches, they are actually forts that can withstand even an assault by a god. But a sidhe is a dwelling for a hero: only the worthy can enter. A lesser being would be destroyed in an instant – both body and soul extinguished.’
    His words brought back an image from my recurrent nightmare. Running from the Morrigan, I’d sought refuge in what appeared to be a church. Was it really a sidhe? My dreams were starting to make some kind of sense to me. Was I learning from them, gaining knowledge that might help me in the future? I wondered.
    ‘You see, that’s what the mages ultimately seek,’ continued Shey. ‘By drawing enough strength from Pan, they hope one day to gain control of the Otherworld – which contains items that could endow them with immense power back here.’
    ‘What things?’ asked the Spook. ‘Spells? Dark magical power?’
    ‘Could be,’ said Shey. ‘But also weapons of great potency manufactured by the gods themselves. Some believe that a war-hammer forged by the blacksmith god, Hephaestus, is hidden there. Once thrown, it never misses its target and always returns to its owner’s hand. Doolan, the Butcher, would love to get his hands on something like that!’
    The Spook thanked our host for the information, and the topic of conversation changed to farming and hopes for the next potato crop. There had been two bad years of blight: another poor harvest would bring many people close to starvation. I began to feel guilty. We had dined well during our stay in Ireland while, out there, people were going hungry.
     
    We were all tired after the journey and went to bed early. Alice was in the next room, close enough to be protected by the blood jar, the Spook further down the corridor. I was just about to undress and climb into bed when I heard a muffled voice.
    I opened the door and peered out. There was nobody there. I stepped through the doorway, heard the voice again, and realized that it was coming from Alice’s room. Who was she talking to? I leaned against her door and listened. It was definitely Alice’s voice, but hers alone. She seemed to be chanting rather than engaged in conversation with someone else.
    I eased open her door and crept in, closing it carefully behind me so as not to make a noise. Alice was seated in front of the dressing-table mirror, gazing into it intently. By her side stood a candle.
    Suddenly she stopped chanting and I saw that she was mouthing something silently into the mirror. Some witches wrote on mirrors, but