Free Spook's Destiny by Joseph Delaney

interrogation in the morning. We were given comfortable beds in the castle, and wasted no time in settling down to catch up on our sleep. Checking the blood jar before I dozed off, I couldn’t help reflecting that in the past our situation had often been very different. In such fortifications as this we had languished in dark, damp dungeons awaiting death while our enemies had been in a position of power.
    I dreamed again – the same nightmare in which I was being pursued by the Morrigan in the shape of a crow. But it seemed to me that this dream was slightly less scary than the previous one. The goddess was still gradually drawing nearer, but I was running faster, getting closer and closer to the unseen refuge.
    I suddenly awoke in a cold sweat, my heart hammering, but I felt somewhat encouraged. Was I learning; getting slightly stronger each time I experienced the nightmare?
    At that moment something happened that was more frightening than any night terror.
    I heard the dull thud, thud, thud of footsteps approaching my bed, accompanied by the sizzle of burning wood. I tried to open my eyes but my eyelids were too heavy; my breath came in ragged gasps, my heart beating painfully in my chest. I sensed something huge close to the bed; something reaching towards me. Then I felt hot breath on my face, smelled the fetid stink. And a voice I knew only too well spoke right beside my left ear. It was the Fiend:
    ‘You’re almost mine now, Tom. I can nearly reach you. Just a little while longer and the jar will fail! Then you’ll be mine!’
    I opened my eyes, expecting to see his huge head with its curved horns and mouthful of sharp teeth. But to my relief there was nothing. I scrambled out of bed, and soon realized that it had been more than a dream: here too a set of hoof prints had been burned into the floorboards. They were scorched deeper than on the last occasion in my room at the inn. Time was running out. The power of the blood jar was almost at an end.
     
* * *
     
    I didn’t tell either Alice or the Spook what had happened. Why add to their fears? It was something that we could do nothing about. I just had to hope that Grimalkin would arrive soon.
    After breakfast we walked down to the dungeons with Shey and three armed guards to begin questioning the prisoner.
    ‘He’s had neither food nor water,’ Shey remarked as we approached the cell door. ‘That should loosen his tongue a little.’
    Two of the guards joined us inside the cold damp cell while the other locked us in with the mage and stood guard outside. No chances were being taken, and the powers of our enemy were certainly not being underestimated.
    The cell was spacious and clearly designed for the interrogation of prisoners. Although there was no place to sleep, other than a pallet of straw in a corner, it contained a table and three chairs, one with leather straps to confine a captive. Deftly the Spook uncoiled his silver chain from the mage, who was quickly gagged and then had his arms tied behind his back. Finally he was strapped into the chair, and the Spook and Shey seated themselves, facing him across the table.
    There was a candle on the table and a torch in a wall bracket beside the door, providing ample light for what we needed. There was also a large jug of water and two small cups. Alice and I stood behind the Spook and Shey, while the two guards positioned themselves close to the prisoner’s chair.
    ‘We are going to ask you a few questions,’ Shey said, his breath steaming in the candlelight. ‘You would be wise to answer truthfully. Failure to do so will lead to dire consequences. Do you understand?’
    The mage nodded. At a sign from Shey, a guard pulled the gag from his mouth. Immediately the prisoner began to choke and cough; he seemed to be struggling for words.
    ‘Water – give me water, please!’ he begged at last, his voice hoarse.
    ‘You’ll get water in a while,’ Shey told him. ‘But first you must answer our