The Spook's Nightmare Read Online Free

all,’ he replied. ‘My old bones are too tired to go on. I’ve seen too much, lived too long.’
    ‘Listen, Old Gregory,’ Alice snarled. ‘Get on your feet! Ain’t no use just sitting there till you rot!’
    The Spook jumped up, his eyes flashing with anger. ‘Old Gregory’ was the name Alice called him in private. She’d never before dared to use it to his face. He was gripping the Bestiary in his right hand, his staff in his left – which he lifted as if about to bring it down upon her head.
    However, without even flinching, Alice carried on with her tirade. ‘There are things still left to do: the dark to fight; replacement books to write. You ain’t dead yet, and while you can move those old bones of yours it’s your duty to carry on. It’s your duty to keep Tom safe and train him. It’s your duty to the County!’
    Slowly he lowered his staff. The last sentence Alice uttered had changed the expression in his eyes. ‘Duty above all’ was what he believed in. His duty to the County had guided and shaped his path through a long, arduous and dangerous life.
    Without another word he put the charred Bestiary in his bag and set off, heading north. Alice and I followed with the dogs as best we could. It looked like he’d decided to head for the mill after all.

W e never reached the mill. Perhaps it simply wasn’t meant to be. The journey over the fells went without a hitch, but as we approached Caster, we saw that the houses to the south were burning, the dark smoke obscuring the setting sun. Even if the main invading force had been victorious, they couldn’t have got this far north yet: it was probably a raiding party from the sea.
    Normally we’d have rested on the lower slopes, but we felt a sense of urgency and pressed on through the darkness, passing even further to the east of Caster than usual. As soon as we reached the canal it became clear that it would be impossible to travel further northto the mill. Both towpaths were thronged with refugees heading south.
    It was some time before we could persuade anybody to tell us what had happened: they kept on pushing past, eyes filled with fear. At last we found an old man leaning against a gate, trying to get his breath back, his knees trembling with exertion.
    ‘How bad is it further north?’ the Spook asked, his voice at its most kindly.
    The man shook his head, and it was some time before he was sufficiently recovered to answer. ‘A large force of soldiers landed north-east of the bay,’ he gasped. ‘They took us all by surprise. Kendal village is theirs already – what’s left of it after the burning – and now they’re moving this way. It’s over. My home’s gone. Lived there all my life, I have. I’m too old to start again . . .’
    ‘Wars don’t last for ever,’ the Spook said, patting him on the shoulder. ‘I’ve lost my house too. But we have to go on. We’ll both go home one day and rebuild.’
    The old man nodded and shuffled across to join the line of refugees. He didn’t seem convinced by the Spook’s words, and judging by his own expression, my master didn’t believe them either. He turned to me, his face grim and haggard.
    ‘As I see it, my first duty is to keep you safe, lad. But nowhere in the County is secure any longer,’ he said. ‘For now, we can do nothing here. We’ll come back one day but we’re off to sea again.’
    ‘Where are we going – Sunderland Point?’ I asked, assuming we were going to try and reach the County port and get passage on a ship.
    ‘If it isn’t already in enemy hands, it’ll be full with refugees,’ the Spook said with a shake of his head. ‘No, I’m going to collect what’s owed me.’
    That said, he led us quickly westwards.
    Only very rarely did the Spook get paid promptly, and sometimes not at all. So he called in a debt. Years earlier he’d driven a sea-wraith from a fisherman’s cottage. Now, rather than coin, the payment he demanded was a bed for the night followed