The Night Spinner

by Abi Elphinstone

  Eventually Bruce slowed. They had approached a gap between the cliffs and, as the raft edged closer to it, Moll and Siddy realised it was in fact a fjord cutting inland to form a giant loch. Bruce stopped and as Moll looked at the slice of water within the mountains she saw that it was frighteningly still, like glass, washed white by the reflection of snow from the cliffs either side. The selkie’s nose twitched, but he did not go any further. Instead, he hovered before the loch as if it was something important but also something to fear.

  ‘Bruce has come to the end of his journey,’ Moll said, slowly understanding.

  Siddy nodded. ‘And I have a feeling ours is only just beginning.’ His eyes travelled the length of the loch. ‘One hundred years deep. Why do I have a feeling that whatever we want is down at the bottom?’

  Bruce swam up to the raft and placed a flipper on the wood and Siddy and Moll crouched before him.

  ‘You were very clever back at Greystone,’ Moll said.

  Siddy nodded. ‘And very brave with the kraken.’

  Bruce croaked and then to Moll’s surprise Gryff prowled close, dipping his head before the seal pup. Feeling left out, Frank joined the group and did a little leg kick before the selkie, and Moll smiled. Her and Siddy’s journey had been fraught with peril, but it had also been full of unexpected friends, of people they’d grown to love and trust and without whom they would never have made it this far.

  ‘We won’t forget you, Bruce,’ Moll said quietly.

  Siddy nodded. ‘Back in our camp we tell stories around the fire and, when all this is over, when me and Moll are back with our family and friends, we’re going to tell your story.’

  Moll stroked the seal pup’s head. ‘And it’ll be the finest story anyone has ever told.’

  Bruce placed his flipper over both Moll and Siddy’s hands and then he croaked again before sinking beneath the water to make his long journey home.

  Moll and Siddy squinted into the mid-morning sun as they looked out across the loch.

  ‘Don’t even ask if I have a plan for how we get the amulet,’ Moll said, ‘because I don’t.’ She shuffled closer to Gryff as she thought of an endless deep falling away beneath their raft, then she glanced at the two dark-haired shapes bobbing up by a rock further out in the ocean.

  ‘Sea otters,’ Siddy said, following her gaze. ‘Back in Little Hollows, Oak told me that they hold hands when they sleep so that they don’t float away from each other.’

  Moll looked at the great white stillness in front of them, then she reached out and squeezed Siddy’s hand. He squeezed back, and then together they picked up their oars and steered the raft into the cliffs.

  Moll took in the mountains either side of them, great shields of snow that climbed vertically upwards into dizzying heights, boxing them in on all sides and blocking out the morning sun. There were no gulls bobbing on the water, no fish nosing the surface. This was a place of stillness and silence.

  They paddled on, Gryff pressed close to Moll’s side and Frank perched on Siddy’s knee, until Moll pointed to a wooden jetty leading out from the base of the cliff at the far end of the loch. There was a small shingle beach there and what looked like an old fishing hut.

  ‘Let’s make for that,’ Moll said. ‘I think we should get off the water.’

  Finally, they came to the jetty and, using the piano string to tie the raft to a mooring ring there, they hoisted themselves up and sat on the dock, legs tucked up under their chins and heads down to fight the cold.

  ‘We’re at a dead end, aren’t we?’ Siddy mumbled. ‘How can we get down to the bottom of this loch without freezing – or without breathing – before the Night Spinner finds us?’

  Moll watched as Frank hurried up and down the piano string that moored the raft, then she turned to Siddy. ‘Willow’s letter said: steal the last note of the witches’ song then take a feather from burning wings and you’ll find what you need one hundred years deep. Maybe we need to use the things we’ve found to get the amulet,’ Moll said. ‘The piano string is endless and even though it’s almost invisible there’s a weight to it, so we could use it like a fishing line to reach the bottom.’ She paused. ‘We know the string’s magical so maybe it’ll have the power to tie itself round the amulet and haul it up for us.’

  Siddy nodded, then he looked out across the water. ‘This loch is huge and we don’t even know what we’re looking for. It could be anywhere . . .’

  But Gryff and Frank were already down on the raft again, clawing the string away from the driftwood.

  ‘They’re unpicking it,’ Siddy said slowly.

  Moll nodded. ‘They’re right. We don’t need the raft any more – Willow told us to go on by foot.’ She glanced at Gryff who had managed to loosen the first log. ‘Come on, let’s help them – we need to move fast.’

  When there were just a few planks left, they jumped back up on to the jetty and Moll wound in the last of the string. She clutched the reel in her gloves and then little by little she let it out again, dropping it slowly through the water. It lengthened before their eyes, a silvery thread glistening in the splice of sunlight that edged over the cliffs, before sinking into the milky water. Down and down it went as Moll unravelled it through her fingers, but, after ten minutes, she slid a nervous glance to Siddy.

  ‘What if we never reach the bottom?’

  ‘Keep going,’ Siddy said firmly. ‘It’s our only hope.’

  Moll loosed more and more of the piano string and then, across the great silence of the loch, music started. It wasn’t like the haunting melody in the Clattering Gorge. This was different: a single, low note that thrummed between the cliffs as if it might be summoning someone or something from very far away. Moll gripped the piano string tightly so that it couldn’t unravel any more and instantly the music stopped.

  Siddy’s shoulders hunched and Frank tiptoed back inside his coat pocket. ‘You may not have hit the bottom, but you’ve disturbed something . . .’

  Moll’s eyes glazed with dread. ‘Not witches again?’

  Siddy shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. This feels different somehow.’

  Moll nodded, then Gryff nudged her arm and, with shaking hands, she released more of the string into the loch. Again the note sounded, rich and low and filled with foreboding. Moll jumped.

  ‘What is it?’ Siddy cried.

  ‘There’s something on the end of the string.’ Moll peered over the edge of the jetty. ‘I can feel it – a weight tugging hard.’

  ‘Do you think it’s the amulet?’ Siddy asked hopefully.

  Moll kept pulling and then ripples started spilling out around the string and Siddy huddled close. The ripples quickened, the piano note swelled and then it cut to silence as a webbed hand burst out of the water.

  ‘It’s a monster!’ Siddy screamed. ‘And we’ve gone and woken it up!’

  ‘Yank the string!’ Siddy yelled. ‘It might go away!’

  But as Moll jiggled it about it was clear the monster was here to stay. Clumps of seaweed rose out of the water and Moll’s muscles seized with fright as she realised what the tendrils of algae actually were. Hair. And, beneath them, the face of a very old woman: crinkled grey skin that hung in sagging folds and gills that marked either side of her neck. Gryff growled, but still the webbed hands clung to the piano string and all Moll could do was cling back. Because this strange creature – whatever it was – was their only link to the amulet.

  ‘Why have you disturbed my sleep?’ the old woman wheezed.

  Siddy swallowed. ‘We want to—’

  Moll’s hands tightened round the piano string. ‘—drag you up here and pin you down until you hand over the last Amulet of Truth.’

  ‘What – what my friend means,’ Siddy stammered, ‘is we’d like to talk to you because we’re looking for something very important.’ His voice was trembling, but he forced his words out. ‘We don’t have much time and we wondered if you could help us.’

  The old woman blinked two pa
le eyes. ‘Well, you’d better pull me up then, hadn’t you?’

  For a moment, Moll did nothing. She didn’t trust the woman, with her webbed hands and gills, but they needed to find the last amulet and so, warily, Moll nodded to Siddy and together they heaved on the string. Little by little, the old woman emerged from the loch: she was small, like a child, with a pointed chin sprouting grey hairs, dripping rags made from cockles and clams, and two thin, webbed feet.

  Moll blinked as the woman clambered up on to the end of the jetty, raised herself upright and glared at them. The skin around her mouth was puckered, forcing her lips to droop, and the bags beneath her eyes sloped on to leathery cheeks.

  Moll tucked the piano string into her pocket and, just as she was thinking that this creature was the most miserable-looking thing she had ever laid eyes on, the old woman shot out a webbed hand and grabbed Moll’s arm.

  ‘You want me to help you?’ she sneered. ‘Silly children, what on earth would make you think I’d want to do that?’

  Her dry lips curled back to reveal a row of jagged teeth, then Gryff barged into her side and she staggered backwards.

  Moll twisted free and surged forward. ‘Run!’ she cried. ‘Run!’

  They tore down the jetty towards the fishing hut and behind them the slop of webbed feet traipsed closer. Siddy flung open the door and Moll, Gryff and Frank piled in before slamming the door shut behind them and pressing their backs against it.

  ‘Now what?’ Moll panted.

  Siddy glanced around at the broken chairs and the battered table, then at the broom propped up against the wall. Moll followed his gaze.

  ‘You think we can fight that creature with a broom?’

  Siddy lurched towards his weapon. ‘You got any better ideas?’

  Moll grabbed her catapult from Siddy’s pocket and stooped to collect a few splinters of wood as ammunition, then she crept up to the window. But, when she looked out through the glass, she screamed. The old woman’s face was right there, her cold eyes blinking back at Moll. Moll scampered away, Siddy raised his broom and from behind the glass the creature from the loch hissed.

  Gryff’s whiskers flared and the old woman slid back from the window, but, when Moll heard the cockles and clams clinking together, she knew that the creature was skirting the hut towards the door. There was a scratching at the entrance and Moll, Siddy, Gryff and Frank listened, wide-eyed, to the rasping breaths of the woman outside.

  Then the door scraped open and she stood before them, hunched and scowling. But she didn’t launch herself at the group, as Moll had expected. She was still and quiet as the water dripped from her rags down on to the floor.

  ‘So, you grotesque little humans,’ she muttered, ‘are you going to give me a reason why I should help you or are you just going to turn tail and run?’ She coughed and a glob of water, grit and seaweed spattered on to the floorboards. Moll recoiled in disgust and gripped her catapult tighter. ‘Well?’ the woman asked.

  ‘Because a dark magic is spreading across our land,’ Siddy gulped, ‘and we think you might have something that can help us fight it.’

  The old woman’s eyes lit up for a moment at the mention of fighting the dark magic, then she shook her head and drummed her fingers against the door frame. ‘No one visits me for hundreds of years, then I’m called up from the depths twice in one winter.’ Her words dissolved into more coughing, great barks that racked her body and bent her double. ‘The first visitor who summoned me last month wasn’t very nice to kind old Murk and now you come along and I’m expected to help?’

  She stumbled forward suddenly, but, instead of making to grab them, she grappled for the back of a chair, missed it and crashed to the floor. She curled up in a ball and moaned and Moll was suddenly struck by how small and frail the old woman looked.

  ‘Sid,’ Moll whispered, watching a tear roll down the loch monster’s cheek. ‘Murk’s not angry . . . She’s upset.’

  Moll bent down, trying not to breathe through her nose as the watery stench of fish and seaweed hit her. But, when she reached out a hand to help Murk up, the old woman batted it away and kicked out with her feet. She coiled up again into a shaking lump and this time Siddy stretched out a hand and placed it on her back while Frank nuzzled against her thigh.

  ‘We want to help you,’ he said. ‘We want to put an end to the dark magic that is spreading across this land.’

  Murk looked up through bloodshot eyes. ‘So you’ve said – but earlier you were running away from me . . .’

  She shuffled backwards and as she did so Moll noticed something in the old woman’s rags that she hadn’t seen earlier. Hanging down against the cockles and mussels, but wedged deep into Murk’s side, was something long and thin and silver.

  Moll slid a glance to Siddy. ‘That’s an arrow,’ she said. ‘Only we can’t see the tip because it’s buried in Murk’s side. She’s in pain.’

  Murk sniffed. ‘A masked man came with the arrow; he said it was made of indestructible metal and, because he couldn’t destroy it, he wanted to bury it one hundred years deep so that no one would find it.’ The old woman shifted her weight and grimaced. ‘No one finds me, not usually, but he had dark magic on his side.’

  Moll flinched. ‘The Night Spinner.’

  Siddy’s eyes grew large as he turned to Moll. ‘Do you think this arrow is the last amulet?’

  The thought niggled inside Moll. When they had found the other two amulets, she had felt their magic, but she didn’t sense anything now. ‘I don’t know,’ she said quietly.

  Murk hung her head. ‘The masked man laid a curse on me. He said that if I ever tried to draw the arrow out I would die.’

  Moll was silent for a moment, then she pulled the golden feather from her quiver. ‘A phoenix has life-giving properties,’ she said slowly. ‘When one dies, another is born from its ashes.’

  Murk shrugged. ‘And? What use is a phoenix feather to me?’

  ‘Maybe it can counter the curse,’ Moll said. ‘Maybe it can bring you life instead of death when the arrow is removed.’ She glanced at Siddy. ‘It would be like the string; we’d be using an object we found on our journey.’

  Murk shuffled backwards. ‘What if you’re wrong?’

  Moll didn’t blink. ‘What if I’m right? You could walk free from this curse and Siddy and I could be in with a chance of claiming the last amulet and forcing the dark magic back once and for all?’

  Murk chewed on a strand of seaweed. ‘How will you remove the arrow?’

  Moll took a deep breath. ‘Siddy’s going to yank it out and—’

  Siddy frowned. ‘I am?’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ Moll replied. ‘Please keep up. And I’m going to lay this feather over the wound straight after.’ Murk’s wrinkles slid closer together. ‘This might be your only chance to break free from the curse. And time is running out – there’s an eternal night waiting to happen if we don’t act now.’

  The old woman took a deep breath, then she sat up, looked at Siddy and nodded. Siddy leant forward, biting down on his lip as he placed a hand on the arrow, then pulled hard.

  Siddy’s hand shot back and he shook his head. ‘I can’t do it. It’s hurting her too much.’

  But it was Murk who answered through clenched teeth. ‘Go on, boy.’

  Siddy heaved again and Murk’s whole body tensed, then she threw back her head and howled as Siddy wrenched the arrow free. Moll slid the golden feather over the gaping hole and for a few seconds nothing happened and Moll winced as the old woman sobbed and blood seeped through the wound. But then the feather began to glow, as bright as a burning star, and Murk stopped crying. She looked down at her waist, then at the feather which was no longer covered in blood, and her face broke into a smile.

  ‘I’m not in pain any more!’ she gasped.

  Moll lifted the feather away and, where the wound had been inside the rags, there was now unbroken grey skin. Murk staggered to her feet and chuckled and Moll wondered how she had ever thoug
ht this strange little creature ugly.

  ‘Thank you,’ Murk said. ‘You’re not such grotesque little humans after all.’

  Moll smiled as she slotted the golden feather back inside her quiver and Siddy laid the arrow on the table.

  ‘The last amulet, the one that contains an unknown soul that we have to free.’ Siddy paused. ‘It doesn’t feel right. It’s not like the other times when we knew that we’d found the amulets.’

  Moll glanced at Murk. ‘Do you know where this arrow came from?’

  The old woman shook her head. ‘The man just arrived with it one night.’

  Moll narrowed her eyes. ‘Willow said I’d need to use my bow again. Perhaps this arrow is what I need to kill the Night Spinner and stop his Veil.’ She paused. ‘I think the amulet’s still out there waiting for us, Sid.’

  Moll picked the arrow up and placed it in her quiver beside the golden feather, then she glanced through the window towards the mountains barring their way north, a blur of white as fresh snow fell, drowning out the midday sun.

  ‘Head north – over the Barbed Peaks, that’s what Willow said.’

  Siddy bit his lip. ‘It’s time for us to find the last Shadowmask now, isn’t it?’

  Moll nodded. They had spent so much time running away from the witch doctors, desperate to stay out of sight. But now, as the end of things drew close and the eternal night loomed near, they had to seek the darkness out. They had to run helplessly into its arms.

  Murk shuddered. ‘You’ll need to leave as soon as you can if you’re going to attempt to climb the Stone Necklace in daylight.’

  ‘The stone what?’ Siddy asked.

  ‘Necklace,’ Murk replied. ‘It’s the name given to the peaks that line the north side of this loch because they curve right round from the coast inland.’ She sighed. ‘But even if you do manage to climb the Stone Necklace, which you won’t, I doubt very much you’ll make the crossing over the ridges beyond it. They’re called the Barbed Peaks for a reason.’

  Moll’s face fell.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Murk said. ‘It’s just – you’re so small and,’ she glanced at the cliff face outside, ‘and that great wall of rock – I’ve never heard of anyone scaling it . . .’