Free The Spook 9 - Slither's tale by Delaney Joseph

stop? We must get inside!’ But I ignored her and raised my tail to search for the source of my unease. As I did so, a shower of small stones began to fall onto my shoulders and head.
    In a moment I had found it. It was a bychon, a spirit able to manipulate matter. Some were very dangerous and could hurl large boulders with great accuracy to crush a victim, but this one seemed relatively weak. I nudged it with my mind and it retreated to a dark corner. Then I whispered to it so that the purrai behind could not hear my words:
    ‘Soon we will be gone from here and then you may reclaim this place as your home. Do not behave in a way that will force me to drive you out permanently. Be still and keep hidden. Do you accept my offer?’
    No more pebbles fell around me, so I took the bychon’s silence as acceptance of my offer. I immediately made good use of the old wood that lay scattered about the site. First I constructed a lean-to to provide some shelter against the blizzard. Some of the remaining wood I ignited by force of will – a fire to provide life-giving warmth.
    In their sensible purrai clothes, the two older girls were quite well protected, but when I had snatched the child, she’d been readied for the blade and was almost naked. My use of boska had placed her in a deep coma, but it was dangerous to keep her in that condition too long. Thus I was forced to awaken her, whereupon she immediately began to shiver and cry weakly and I knew that she lacked the strength to survive for long.
    I am comfortable even in the coldest of temperatures so I could manage without my long black coat. However, it was not for warmth that I wore this garment; it was a mark of my vocation and status as a haizda mage, its thirteen buttons representing the thirteen truths that it has taken me many years of study to learn. I was reluctant to remove it, but I knew that the child would soon die without its protective warmth and felt bound by my trade with Old Rowler. So I took it off and wrapped her in it, handing her to Nessa, who then crouched with her close to the fire, whispering softly to her in reassurance.
    ‘Little Nessa,’ I asked gently, ‘where are our saddlebags? Where is the food that will keep us alive?’
    Nessa hung her head. ‘I was afraid,’ she said. ‘We just took the first horses we saw. I could hear Kobalos voices at the far end of the stables. Then those fierce women interrupted us – I threatened them with the blade and cut one, but they kept creeping closer. My sister was weeping with fear. I thought I acted in our best interests.’
    I could see that she was troubled by her actions. ‘Then I will do what I can,’ I said. ‘Do you still have my blade?’
    Nessa nodded and withdrew it from beneath her cape, handing it to me handle foremost. I accepted it with the hint of a smile and readied myself for what had to be done.
    I removed my boots and, wearing just the thin diagonal belt with the scabbards securing the two short blades, trudged up the hill into the teeth of the blizzard. In truth, I enjoyed the conditions; for a Kobalos, such a storm was exhilarating.
    Soon I reached a large plateau, an area of high moorland, and there dropped to all fours and began to run swiftly with my tail arched high above my back, seeking for likely prey.
    Little moved in that blizzard. Distantly, I sensed arctic foxes and rodents and a few hardy birds, but all were too distant. It was then that I came upon the wolves.
    It was a large pack, heading south with the storm wind. They would have passed by me at least three leagues to the west, but I exerted my will and summoned them; they hurried towards me, scenting easy prey. To give them more encouragement, I turned and began to flee before them, loping easily across the snow.
    Only when they were almost upon me did I increase my speed. Faster and faster I ran, until only the leader of the pack, a huge white wolf – sleek, heavily muscled and in its prime – could keep me in