Salt was regularly tipped into the moat so that water witches could not intrude. When I’d stayed at the mill, Arkwright had checked the salinity each time he returned to the house. Maybe he thought that was Judd’s responsibility until he took over again.
Picking up the course of the stream again, he headed towards the huge, dilapidated mill. It still looked ready to tumble over in the next storm. Parts of it were rotting, desperately in need of repair. I’d been wondering how the dogs would greet their old master, but I heard no barks so it seemed likely that Judd was away on spook’s business. The mill was dark, and banging on the door elicited no response.
‘Looks like we’ll have to spend the night outdoors again – just when I was looking forward to a warm bed,’ Jenny said.
I smiled to myself. I knew that wouldn’t be necessary: in my bag was the special key made by John Gregory’s locksmith brother, Andrew. It would open most locks and this one would be no problem.
But then Arkwright reached into his pocket and frowned as his hand emerged empty. ‘I could have sworn that I still had my key. I mean, you don’t lose the key to your own home, do you, Master Ward?’
I opened my bag, shrugging. ‘A lot’s happened since you left. It’s no wonder you no longer have it. Don’t worry – here’s a key that’ll fit the door.’
He smiled and accepted it, but instead of inserting it into the lock, he led the way towards the huge waterwheel without a word of explanation. Although the stream swept towards it with plenty of force, the wheel itself was immobile.
Bill Arkwright stared up at it and gave a deep sigh. ‘This is where my mother died,’ he said. ‘She threw herself under the wheel after my father was killed. I’ve been trying for days, but I just can’t remember the faces of my mam and dad. That bothers me. Why can’t I see them?’ He gave a sob and tears trickled down his cheeks.
I’d seen him angry, but never sad like this.
‘Memories fade with time,’ I told him. ‘It happens to everyone.’
‘Maybe it’s the drink,’ he suggested. ‘They say that too much red wine can damage your memory. There are other things I can’t seem to recall …’
He was probably correct, but I made no reply. Jenny caught my eye and I could see tears brimming in her eyes too. Her empathy was allowing her to share Arkwright’s feelings.
He turned and led the way back to the front door. He inserted my key, opened the door and walked into the darkness. I carried a lantern in my bag and had intended to light it before going in, but I followed at his heels.
It was only as I stepped into the room that I felt the warning chill.
Something from the dark was lying in wait for us.
CHAPTER 9
DEAD BODIES
THOMAS WARD
DESPITE THE GLOOM I recognized the danger. It was a huge skelt, one of the biggest I’d ever seen. Arkwright raised his new staff, but before he could wield it, the creature scuttled straight past him and attacked me, its deadly bone-tube aimed at my throat.
I had a moment of terror. Was this more than a skelt? I wondered. Was I being attacked by Talkus?
Then my training took over and I reacted just in time to meet its deadly charge. Holding my staff with both hands, I pressed the lever to release the blade, stabbing it down towards the skelt. However, it twisted away and I missed it.
It lunged forward again from my left, and I barely recovered my balance in time – but on this occasion I managed to drive the silver-alloy blade into the body, just behind the head.
The skelt writhed and struggled to break free, but then, all at once, Jenny was at my side; she stabbed the creature again and again with her own staff until it quivered and lay still.
I glanced across at Bill Arkwright, surprised that he hadn’t come to my aid. Was I imagining it, or did he have a faint smile on his face?
‘Well done, Master Ward! John Gregory and I taught you well. You certainly made short shrift of this skelt – you didn’t need my help, did you? And you too, Mistress Jenny. That was excellent staff work. No boy apprentice could have done better!’
At that, Jenny’s face lit up with a grin. I was surprised to see how well the two of them were getting along. Bill Arkwright seemed to have mellowed.
After that we lit the lantern and I looked about me. Arkwright had never lived in this room, which was still full of empty crates. Judd had made no effort to tidy up and make it habitable, but he had removed all the empty wine bottles. I glanced towards the trapdoor in the corner. Beyond it, steps led down to the area under the mill where water witches were bound in pits.
Staying together in case of danger, we checked the house for other threats, room by room. Jenny and I entered each one cautiously, while Arkwright stayed back, seemingly content to let me lead the way.
It was as we went into the small bedroom that we had a scare that made my heart pound. Something exploded towards me out of the darkness and brushed against my hair. I stepped backwards, but my heart began to slow as Jenny lifted the lantern high and I saw that the room was full of swooping bats. There was a small hole high up in the wall where they’d gained access.
‘Brinscall’s let this place go to rack and ruin,’ Arkwright complained.
I thought his comment slightly unfair. This was the bedroom I’d stayed in for my training. Judd probably didn’t use it and had no reason to check it.
Our search revealed nothing further, and I helped Arkwright drag the dead skelt outside. When daylight returned, we’d dump it in the marsh, but for now we left it in the yard.
‘How did it manage to get across the salt moat?’ he mused as we headed back into the kitchen. ‘I wonder if Brinscall has been slacking. Complacency can be a very dangerous thing in our line of work.’
‘I don’t think Judd is likely to be guilty of that,’ I said in his defence. ‘Maybe he’s been away for some time and the salt water’s become diluted?’
‘Well, I’ll check the moat tomorrow. Better to be safe than sorry.’
By now Jenny had lit the large stove in the kitchen and the room was starting to warm up. Opening the door to the larder, I found a mouldy loaf of bread, some salted beef, a bundle of carrots, turnips and swedes, and a few bunches of dried herbs hanging from hooks. Arkwright set to work cooking a stew. It was delicious, and soon after we’d eaten we settled down on our blankets on the floor. The rest of the house was too damp to be comfortable.
At first light I accompanied Arkwright to the moat. He dipped his finger into the water, touched it to his tongue, then spat it out with a frown.
‘As I thought, there’s hardly any salt in it at all!’ he exclaimed.
We found bags of salt in the storeroom, so I helped him to carry them over and pour the contents into the moat at intervals. That done, we tipped the dead skelt into a particularly soggy part of the marsh, washed our hands and went in to breakfast – the last of last night’s stew warmed up.
‘Perhaps we should show your apprentice the pits?’ Arkwright suggested.
‘Good idea,’ I said. Jenny had visited the mill when I came to talk to Judd but she’d never seen the pits.
I turned to her. ‘The pits are full of water because marsh- and water-based denizens of the dark abound here, Jenny. There might even be a water witch. It would be useful for you to see one. Then you’d understand the nature of the threat they pose.’
Arkwright grasped the iron ring and lifted the trapdoor. Holding the lantern, he led the way down the wooden steps into the dark area below the mill. I could hear the sound of the stream rushing over the pebbles towards the huge immobile wheel. Although he’d never confirmed it, I guessed that the wheel had not turned since the day it had crushed and drowned his poor mother.
I reached the bottom and stepped down onto the mud. This was no flagged cellar; it was just a flat, muddy area with the wheel and stream on one side, the stone foundations of the mill topped by wood forming the three other walls.
It stank of rotten wood, damp … and
something else; something rank and sweet.
I had smelled it before, more than once. Something had died down here. It was the odour of rotting flesh.
Arkwright lifted the lantern high above his head and I glanced about. It looked as if the bars to the pits had been torn away – and with some violence. Heavy hammers and chisels could have been responsible, but the metal frames were distorted, twisted as if a giant had attacked them in a demented rage.
We walked to the edge of the nearest pit and looked down. The water was still; nothing moved, although something could have been lurking beneath the surface. I readied my staff, releasing the blade. Both skelts and water witches could move with terrifying speed. They could drag you into the water and drain your blood so speedily that you didn’t even have time to drown.
Arkwright shook his head and led the way to the next pit. We checked them, one by one. Each was the same: the metal bars had been removed but the water was still and seemingly empty.
Then, just beyond the final pit, the one closest to the waterwheel, we found the source of that terrible stench.
Two bodies were laid out side by side. One was human; the other was a dog.
‘Tell me we’re not seeing this, Master Ward!’ Arkwright exclaimed.
I made no reply but covered my mouth and nose with my hand. I could hear Jenny retching behind me. Both bodies were badly decomposed: bones showed through rotting flesh so it wasn’t easy to tell what had killed them. There were no obvious wounds.
I felt saddened and shocked. These had to be the remains of one of the wolfhounds and Judd Brinscall. Judd and I hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but I respected the man and he’d been a good spook. It was a loss to the County.
‘Poor dog – but is it Blood or Bone?’ Arkwright said, shaking his head. ‘I wonder what happened to the other one.’
He seemed remarkably untouched by the dog’s death, and I thought he should also have expressed some regret at the fate Judd had suffered.
‘Is it Brinscall for sure?’ he asked.
I stared at the body. The face was gone but the corpse was wearing the hooded gown of a spook.
‘It’s Judd Brinscall, all right,’ said Jenny, her voice hardly more than a whisper as she came to my side. ‘Look – you can see the two fingers missing from his right hand.’
That was conclusive. He’d had his fingers bitten off by a witch at the Battle of the Wardstone.
‘What killed them, Master Ward?’ Arkwright said.
‘Maybe it was skelts,’ I answered. ‘With bodies so badly decomposed you wouldn’t see the puncture marks. But judging by the damage to the bars on the pits, something else accompanied them.’
For how could skelts have wrenched off the metal bars? They didn’t have arms or that kind of strength. Even if they had killed Judd and the dog, something else had been involved. Something else from the dark had been here.
CHAPTER 10
WHAT AM I?
THOMAS WARD
THERE WAS NO point contacting the local priest: from their past dealings Arkwright knew that he was more hostile to spooks than most. Not only would he not allow a spook to be buried in his churchyard; he wouldn’t even bless the corpse.
We buried Judd and the dog – it was impossible to know which one it was – in the garden, in the same grave; I knew that he’d grown fond of Blood and Bone.
As we filled in the soil, Jenny uttered the only prayer: ‘May they rest in peace,’ she said softly.
‘Do you think dogs have souls, girl?’ Arkwright asked, a touch of truculence in his voice.
Jenny nodded. ‘They have as much soul as we do,’ she replied. ‘You can see it in their eyes.’
I thought Arkwright was going to argue, but he simply gave a sigh and walked away.
I followed him back to the house. It was already late afternoon and the light was beginning to fail.
‘Are you going to stay here?’ I asked.
‘It was what I intended on the journey over,’ he remarked, ‘but now I’m not so sure. I can’t hunt water witches across the marsh without dogs. I’d need to get a couple of pups and train ’em up. That’ll take time. Not only that – I think we should stick together. There’s safety in numbers. What killed Brinscall might come back. I think I’ll base myself at Chipenden with you – that’s if you don’t mind, Master Ward?’
I nodded and smiled. ‘That’s what I was hoping you’d say. We face a terrible threat and we need to combine our strength. Shall we spend the night here and then set off tomorrow morning?’
So it was agreed. All we had left to eat were vegetables, but Arkwright produced the best broth I’d tasted in a long time.
Afterwards we sat by the stove and he started to read a book he’d brought down from the bedroom where he’d once kept his parents’ coffins. Some of the books had already been taken to Chipenden to stock John Gregory’s library after the old one had been destroyed by fire. We decided to carry a few more back to Chipenden – the damp in this empty house would do them no good at all.
I looked at Jenny: she was sitting quietly, staring into space. She hadn’t said very much since we’d found the bodies. She looked sad.
I watched Arkwright as he read, his brow furrowed in concentration. The light from the candles wasn’t strong and he was holding it quite close. I noted the title on the spine: Morwena.
It was a book he himself had written about the fiercest water witch that had ever lived. Years earlier, I’d read parts of it myself when she’d threatened us.
Suddenly he looked up and stared at me. ‘Do you know, Master Ward, when I read this book, every word seems fresh and new. I wrote it, but I don’t remember doing so. It could easily be the work of someone else. Isn’t that strange?’
‘Maybe it’s something all writers feel when they read their own work years after writing it,’ I replied. ‘I sometimes feel the same when reading my early notebooks. We change, don’t we? I’m very much older than the young boy who began his first notebook as a twelve-year-old apprentice.’
He nodded doubtfully, then continued to read.
After another twenty minutes he put the book down. ‘Shall we turn in for the night?’ he said.
It was really a statement of intent rather than a question – a polite order. The Bill Arkwright of old had been like that. He naturally assumed command. After all, we were in his house.
Jenny and I both nodded, and he blew out all the candles but the one on the stove. Jenny and I were wrapping ourselves in our blankets when he suddenly came across and knelt close to me, staring into my eyes.
‘I see you’re quite fond of that rusty sword, Master Ward,’ he said.
‘Fond?’ I asked, raising my eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, not only do you wear it in that shoulder scabbard all day; it shares your bed at night too. You sleep with one hand on it!’
‘I do that for a reason. This sword may not be much to look at, but it was forged by Grimalkin and she put her most powerful magic into it. It will never break and cuts clean through the strongest armour. It protects me against any dark magic that seeks to harm me. The Kobalos mages could attack at any time so I’d be a fool to let it out of my sight.’
‘Do you think I could examine it for a moment, Master Ward?’ he asked. ‘I’d like to feel what it’s like to hold such a weapon.’ And he stretched his hand out to take the Starblade.
Warning bells were jangling in my head. Handing it over to him didn’t feel right. I thought I’d accepted that this was indeed Bill Arkwright, but now I realized that something deep inside me still wasn’t sure.
I was going to refuse, but before I could speak, Jenny intervened.
‘Grimalkin said that Tom shouldn’t allow anybody else to touch it,’ she lied quickly. ‘Contact with another would bleed away some of its power.’
I tried not to betray my true feelings and simply nodded. So Jenny didn’t trust him either, I realized.
‘I’m sorry, but Jenny’s right
,’ I said.
Arkwright withdrew his hand, frowned, then nodded. He said nothing, and moments later he blew the final candle out. I was tired and felt myself drifting off to sleep. But I gripped the hilt of the Starblade tightly so that, even when deeply asleep, I would not release it.
After breakfast Arkwright said he was going for a walk across the marsh as far as the ruined monastery and back.
‘I use to sit there sometimes and think my problems through,’ he told me. ‘I’d like to do it again this morning – I’ve a few things on my mind and it might be some time before I return to the mill.’
I looked out through the doorway. There was a mist thickening over the marsh and the visibility was already down to a few feet.
‘Probably be best if we all go,’ I suggested. ‘Anything could be out there in these conditions.’
Water witches often gathered on the marsh under cover of darkness; this mist would also shroud their presence. Without the dogs to give warning, Arkwright would be at risk.
‘I can look after myself, Master Ward, so don’t you go worrying about me. I need to be alone so I can think things through.’
Jenny and I stood watching as he walked off into the mist.
‘So what was that all about last night, Jenny? You still don’t trust him?’ I asked.
‘The feelings I get from him are fine. He’s rough and tough, though his heart seems to be in the right place. But he’s a troubled man – there’s something wrong, Tom. I can’t put my finger on it. Perhaps I’m just being foolish, but I sensed danger when he reached for the sword. Luckily I managed to come up with something quickly.’
‘You were right to trust your instincts,’ I told her. ‘And it’s always better to be cautious. I’m still not sure about him myself. I wasn’t going to allow him to take the blade, but you made things easy for me. Thanks for helping out.’
Jenny smiled and was silent for a while. Then, suddenly, she asked me, ‘When I complete my apprenticeship, what will happen?’
Spook’s: Dark Assassin (The Starblade Chronicles) Page 6
