Read Online Spook's: The Dark Army (The Starblade Chronicles) by Joseph Delaney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joseph Delaney
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darkness but for the small circle of light on the boards that surrounded it.
I didn’t like it in the gloom of that torture chamber. It was possible to imagine all sorts of things emerging from the darkest corners. But Tom knew what he was doing. Ghosts were less likely to appear when a room was well-lit.
We remained near the door, still and silent. Suddenly I shivered and sensed a presence in the room. I could see nothing, but from the left-hand corner beneath the furthest of the wall manacles came a faint groaning. Then, quite clearly, I heard the chains move against the stones – along with another sound like liquid running down the walls and dripping onto the floor. I could smell blood again.
There was a ghost present; the ghost of somebody in agony after being tortured. Instantly I knew a lot about the man. He’d been part of a small patrol testing the Kobalos lines. He was Polyznian, but he was not a subject of Stanislaw; his prince went by a different name. The ghost had been here many years, so maybe the ruler then had been Prince Stanislaw’s father or even his grandfather? Most of the patrol had been slain, but the rest had been captured, questioned and tortured.
I could sense the man’s anguish; something that went far beyond physical pain. They had cut him with blades coated in a poison that caused extreme pain. But even worse was his realization that he would never get out of this place. His family lived far to the south and he would never see them again. He had a small son and daughter and a child soon to be born. How would his wife, Karina, support their family without him?
I gave a sob and tears flowed down my cheeks, for the ghost didn’t realize how long he’d been here. By now his wife would probably be dead and his children grown old.
Tom gave me a kind look and put a finger to his lips, asking me to be quiet. I nodded and stifled another sob.
The next sound came from the table: a deep groan and then a shriek of agony. Then I heard the noise of a saw cutting through something – but it wasn’t wood.
The ghost was reliving the terrible moments of his torture and death. His captors were sawing through flesh and bone.
Unable to control myself any longer, I was sick on the floor at my feet. I didn’t dare look at Tom. I could smell the stink of my own vomit and I knew he could smell it too. I leaned back against the wall, shivering.
Tom pointed to the door. To my relief, I realized that we were leaving.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said as Tom locked the outer door.
‘You don’t need to be sorry, Jenny,’ he replied, his voice kind. ‘It obviously affected you very badly. You must have experienced far more than I did. All I heard was the rattling of chains and a faint groan. Then I saw a few other vague luminous shapes. But I know something really bad was happening on that table.’
‘They were sawing through his bones,’ I said, shaking with horror at the thought of it. ‘Why would they do that? What kind of a race are they?’
‘Humans can be just as bad,’ Tom replied, leading the way down the stone steps. He sounded weary. He was still a long way from regaining his former strength. ‘They were probably trying to get information from him – troop strengths and movements – in order to save the lives of their own soldiers. I suppose that war brings out the worst in everyone. Our own civil war back in the County was terrible and tore families apart, brother against brother.’
‘But must the ghost endure his death over and over again?’
‘Remember the dead soldiers I showed you on Hangman’s Hill? This was also probably a ghast rather than a ghost, Jenny – the fragment of that poor soldier’s soul left behind when it went to the light. But there must have been ghosts there too . . .’
‘Yes. One of the manacled prisoners missed his family – he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing them again. He had two children and his wife was soon to give birth to a third.
I didn’t like it in the gloom of that torture chamber. It was possible to imagine all sorts of things emerging from the darkest corners. But Tom knew what he was doing. Ghosts were less likely to appear when a room was well-lit.
We remained near the door, still and silent. Suddenly I shivered and sensed a presence in the room. I could see nothing, but from the left-hand corner beneath the furthest of the wall manacles came a faint groaning. Then, quite clearly, I heard the chains move against the stones – along with another sound like liquid running down the walls and dripping onto the floor. I could smell blood again.
There was a ghost present; the ghost of somebody in agony after being tortured. Instantly I knew a lot about the man. He’d been part of a small patrol testing the Kobalos lines. He was Polyznian, but he was not a subject of Stanislaw; his prince went by a different name. The ghost had been here many years, so maybe the ruler then had been Prince Stanislaw’s father or even his grandfather? Most of the patrol had been slain, but the rest had been captured, questioned and tortured.
I could sense the man’s anguish; something that went far beyond physical pain. They had cut him with blades coated in a poison that caused extreme pain. But even worse was his realization that he would never get out of this place. His family lived far to the south and he would never see them again. He had a small son and daughter and a child soon to be born. How would his wife, Karina, support their family without him?
I gave a sob and tears flowed down my cheeks, for the ghost didn’t realize how long he’d been here. By now his wife would probably be dead and his children grown old.
Tom gave me a kind look and put a finger to his lips, asking me to be quiet. I nodded and stifled another sob.
The next sound came from the table: a deep groan and then a shriek of agony. Then I heard the noise of a saw cutting through something – but it wasn’t wood.
The ghost was reliving the terrible moments of his torture and death. His captors were sawing through flesh and bone.
Unable to control myself any longer, I was sick on the floor at my feet. I didn’t dare look at Tom. I could smell the stink of my own vomit and I knew he could smell it too. I leaned back against the wall, shivering.
Tom pointed to the door. To my relief, I realized that we were leaving.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said as Tom locked the outer door.
‘You don’t need to be sorry, Jenny,’ he replied, his voice kind. ‘It obviously affected you very badly. You must have experienced far more than I did. All I heard was the rattling of chains and a faint groan. Then I saw a few other vague luminous shapes. But I know something really bad was happening on that table.’
‘They were sawing through his bones,’ I said, shaking with horror at the thought of it. ‘Why would they do that? What kind of a race are they?’
‘Humans can be just as bad,’ Tom replied, leading the way down the stone steps. He sounded weary. He was still a long way from regaining his former strength. ‘They were probably trying to get information from him – troop strengths and movements – in order to save the lives of their own soldiers. I suppose that war brings out the worst in everyone. Our own civil war back in the County was terrible and tore families apart, brother against brother.’
‘But must the ghost endure his death over and over again?’
‘Remember the dead soldiers I showed you on Hangman’s Hill? This was also probably a ghast rather than a ghost, Jenny – the fragment of that poor soldier’s soul left behind when it went to the light. But there must have been ghosts there too . . .’
‘Yes. One of the manacled prisoners missed his family – he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing them again. He had two children and his wife was soon to give birth to a third.
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