Home > Slither (The Last Apprentice / Wardstone Chronicles #11)(19)

Slither (The Last Apprentice / Wardstone Chronicles #11)(19)
Author: Joseph Delaney

I realized that was certainly true. The jet of steam had surprised it and given me an advantage. This detracted from the feelings of pride I should have felt with the defeat of such a powerful adversary. I was not safe from skaiium yet. I must strive even harder to avoid its clutches and maintain my strength as a warrior mage.

The three purrai avoided my gaze and wore expressions of revulsion on their faces. Could they not understand that it had been necessary to kill, and that by doing so I had preserved all our lives?

That night I found us a cave to shelter in. There was no wood to use for fuel so we could only chew on the remaining strips of meat that I had cut from the wolf the day before.

‘This is no life at all!’ Susan complained. ‘Oh, I wish Father still lived, and this was just a nightmare, and I could wake up safe and warm in my own bed!’

‘We cannot change what’s been done,’ Nessa told her. ‘Try to be brave, Susan. Hopefully, in a few weeks you’ll start a new life. Then all this will seem just like a bad dream.’

Nessa spoke confidently as she put her arm round Susan to comfort her, but I noted the sadness in her own eyes. Her new life would be one of slavery.

After a while, I left the sisters alone to console each other and went to sit in front of the cave, gazing up at the stars. It was a very bright, clear night, and all five thousand of them were visible – amongst them the red, bloodshot eye of Cougis, the Dog Star, which was always my favourite.

Suddenly there was a streak of light in the northern sky, passing quickly from east to west. I estimated that it was somewhere over Valkarky. There was a superstition that such a falling star presaged a death or overthrow of some mage. Others in a position of danger would have taken that as a portent of their own demise, but I do not subscribe to such foolishness, so I thrust the thought from my mind and began to focus my will.

I was meditating, attempting to strengthen my mind against the possible onset of skaiium, when Nessa emerged from the cave and sat down beside me. She was wrapped in a blanket but was shivering violently.

‘You should stay in the cave, little Nessa. It is too cold out here for a poor weak human.’

‘It is cold,’ she agreed, her voice hardly more than a whisper, ‘but it’s not just that making me shiver. How could you? How could you do that in front of me and my sisters?’

‘Do what?’ I asked. I wondered if I had been chewing the wolf-meat too noisily. Maybe I had inadvertently burped or passed wind.

‘The way you killed that creature and drank its blood – it was horrible. Even worse than what you did in the tower. And you delighted in it!’

‘I must be honest with you, little Nessa, and tell you that, yes, it was most enjoyable to triumph over a deadly hyb warrior. I have killed a High Mage, a Shaiksa assassin and a hyb warrior over the past days – few of my people are able to boast of such an achievement!

‘I offered him his freedom, but he refused, and would have continued his attempt against my life – and then yours and your sisters’. So what was I supposed to do? I must confess that his blood did taste sweet and I must apologize if I slurped it too greedily. But otherwise I behaved quite properly.’

‘Properly?!’ cried Nessa. ‘It was monstrous! And now you are taking us to a city populated by many thousands of beings such as yourself!’

‘No, you are wrong,’ I told her. ‘I am a haizda mage. There are probably no more than a dozen of us in existence at this time. We are not city people – we live on the extreme fringes of Kobalos territory. We farm humans and see that they are happy and content.’

‘Farm! What do you mean you farm humans?’

‘It is nothing to worry about, Nessa. Why do you find it so alarming? You, your father and your sisters were all part of my farm, which is called a haizda – thus I am termed a haizda mage. We harvest blood to sustain us – along with other materials that may be of use. Your dead father knew the true situation, but he did not wish to upset you. He made a trade with me so that I would keep my distance. You believed I was just a dangerous creature that lived nearby, but in truth I owned you.’

‘What?!’ Nessa raised a hand to her face in shock. ‘You took the blood of my father and my sisters? My blood too?’

‘I did so at first, but later chose not to continue. I respected your father and decided to trade rather than take. He supplied me with red wine and bullock blood, both of which I am quite partial to. We had an agreement that suited us both. But, yes, other humans in the haizda give me blood. But most do not know it is happening – I usually take it in the night when they are sleeping.

‘I make myself very small and slither into their house through a tiny hole in a roof or wall. Then I blow myself up to a comfortable size and crawl onto their beds. I sit on the human’s chest, lean forward and make a small puncture in the neck. Then I drain a little blood – never enough to affect their health too adversely. Just as a human farmer concerns himself with the health and welfare of his cattle, so I husband my resources. The worst they ever experience is a little night-terror – like a nightmare in which a demon has sat on their chest, making it difficult to breathe. Very rarely they feel slightly dizzy on first rising – mostly the ones who leap out of bed too quickly. The puncture marks on the neck heal very quickly and, by first light, are easily mistaken for insect bites. Most humans on a farm are quite unaware of what is going on.’

Nessa had fallen silent, and when I glanced at her, I saw that she was staring at me, eyes wide. It was a long time before she spoke.

‘You said “other materials”. What else do you take?’

‘Souls, little Nessa. Sometimes I use the souls of your people.’

She looked back to the cave, presumably to check that her sisters were still sleeping, before she spoke. ‘How can you “use” a soul?’ she managed eventually. ‘That sounds horrible!’

‘The owners don’t mind because they are always dead before it happens. And dead souls are usually confused for quite a while before they find their way home. I just use up a little of their energy until they manage that. So really, I just borrow them.’

‘Their “home” – where is that?’

‘That depends. Some are an “Up” and others are a “Down”. The first spin away into the sky silently; the others plunge into the ground, giving a sort of groan or sometimes a shriek or a howl – I don’t know where their home is, but none of them seem very happy to be going there.’

   
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