‘There’s got to be some way to make her better,’ I said.
The Spook shrugged. ‘Shey has sent for the local doctor, but I suspect he’ll be worse than useless, lad. What do doctors know about the dark and its power?’
‘Maybe a witch could help?’ I suggested, anticipating the Spook’s reaction – which was a flicker of anger across his brow. ‘I mean a benign witch, a healer,’ I continued quickly. ‘There are a few back in the County. There’s her aunt, Agnes Sowerbutts.’
‘We’d have to get back to the County first,’ said the Spook.
I nodded. It wasn’t possible yet. I just hoped that the imminent battle would go our way and we would be able to return soon.
As the Spook had warned, the doctor wasn’t any help. He merely left some medicine to make Alice sleep. At dusk we tried to dose her, but it wasn’t easy. We needed the assistance of three of Shey’s maids to hold her down. Despite that, she spat out the first three mouthfuls. Then they held her nose, forcing her to swallow. Once she was asleep they put her to bed and we locked the door of her room.
I awoke suddenly, aware that something was wrong. Immediately I heard the noise of pointy shoes crossing a wooden floor and I sat bolt upright. Alice’s room was next to mine.
Quickly I climbed out of bed and pulled on my shirt, breeches and boots. I tapped on Alice’s door before turning the key, which had been left in the lock. The bed was empty and the sash window had been opened wide so that a cold draught was lifting the curtains and gusting directly into the room.
I dashed over to the open window and peered out. There was no sign of Alice. The bedroom was only one floor up, so I climbed through the window, dropped onto the cinder path below and sprinted out across the garden. I called Alice’s name softly to avoid waking the household. Her wildness had disrupted things enough already and I didn’t want to put a further strain on Farrell Shey’s hospitality.
Then, in the distance, I saw the silhouette of a girl – but she was not where I expected her to be. Alice hadn’t made for the gate. She had climbed the garden wall and was almost over it!
I ran towards her, but long before I got there she was over the top and out of sight. Where was she going? I wondered. Anywhere just to get away? I reached the wall and started to climb. My first attempt was unsuccessful. There were few handholds and the rain had made the stone slippery, so I ended up falling back and landing awkwardly. Alice had made it look so easy. The second time, I managed to scramble quickly up onto the top of the wall. I’d just come close to twisting my ankle so I wasn’t taking any chances: I turned round carefully, holding on tight and lowering my body before dropping down into a cobbled yard. I rolled over once but came to my feet quickly and peered out into the darkness, trying to locate Alice.
There was no moon and I had to rely on starlight. But even though I could see in the dark better than most other people, I could catch no sign of Alice. So I concentrated, closed my eyes and listened.
Directly ahead I heard a shriek, and then a sort of scuffling and flapping. I ran towards the sound. There were more squawks, and I realized that the sounds were coming from the large wooden coop where Shey kept his chickens.
The nearer I got, the louder the noises erupting from the pen. The birds were fluttering about in panic.
With a strong sense of unease, I recalled a dark memory from my childhood. One night, a fox had raided my dad’s henhouse. When we arrived, bleary-eyed, forced from our beds by a terrible cacophony of sounds, five were already dead. Blood and feathers were everywhere.
But this time it wasn’t a fox terrorizing the chickens – it was Alice. I couldn’t see her, but even above the squawking of the birds I could hear something so grotesque that at first my mind refused to accept what it was. I crouched down close to the wooden pen, frozen to the spot. Then I heard shouts and the thud of heavy boots running towards us. Next thing I knew, someone was holding up a flaming torch to reveal the horror within.
Alice was on her knees in the middle of the coop; she was surrounded by dead and dying birds. Some had had their heads or wings torn off. One headless chicken was still running around. She held a dead bird in each hand. She’d been eating them raw, and her mouth was covered in blood.
ALICE WAS A predator, no better than a wild animal filled with blood lust. It shook me to the core to see her behaving like this. The Spook was right: her mind was completely unhinged. Did any part of the Alice I’d known still remain, or was she now a total stranger?
The guard holding the torch swore. Another lifted a club and made to enter the pen. Alice lurched to her feet, and for a moment I thought she was going to attack him. But then she jumped. It was an impossible leap that sent her soaring right over his head, and over the gate behind him, to land in the mud outside. Then, without a backward glance, she ran off into the darkness.
I took one look at the startled faces of the guards, then turned and followed her. She was heading for the unguarded gates, and although I was sprinting, desperate to catch her, she seemed to be possessed of an unnatural strength. Alice was pulling away from me with every stride, and the sound of her pointy shoes hitting the grass was becoming fainter and fainter.
Soon my breath was rasping in my throat and I began to tire. I slowed down and continued in the same direction. Surely she couldn’t keep that pace up for much longer, I thought. Every so often I halted, paused and listened. But there was nothing to be heard – only the sighing of the wind in the trees and the occasional eerie cry of some nocturnal creature. But then, at last, the crescent moon came up and I was finally able to employ some of the tracking skills the Spook had taught me. Soon I found Alice’s footprints on the edge of a copse, confirming that I was still on her trail.
It wasn’t long before I began to feel uneasy. Normally I’d never have ventured out without my staff, but I’d been so worried about Alice that I’d followed her instinctively, without thinking. As for the Destiny Blade, I’d left it in the sheath that Grimalkin had made. My silver chain was back in my bag and I hadn’t even filled my pockets with salt and iron. I was completely unarmed – and cold too in just my shirt and breeches. I was completely unprepared, and each step I took away from the house could well be increasing my danger. Hadn’t I been warned that the denizens of the dark would be after me in revenge for the part I’d played in binding the Fiend! While I tracked Alice, something could well be hunting me.
Alarmed by that possibility, I halted and slowly turned through a full circle, searching my immediate surroundings. I could neither see nor sense anything. There was no feeling of cold warning me that something from the dark was near. So, still nervous and very vigilant, I continued on my way. I couldn’t leave Alice alone out here, whatever the risk.
Another hour passed, and I found more indications that I was still on the right track. As well as another set of footprints, I spotted a piece torn from Alice’s dress as she’d walked straight through a patch of brambles. At least the shape and depth of the prints told me that she was no longer running, so I hurried on, hopeful of catching her at last. I continued until I reached the edge of a wooded hill.
The next set of prints I found made my heart plunge right down into my boots. There were some that didn’t belong to Alice. There was also evidence of a struggle, the ground churned to mud – and spotted with blood. From the marks, I estimated that Alice had been seized by a group of people.
I felt so foolish – an apprentice spook with no weapons! – but how could I abandon Alice now? So I moved cautiously into the trees, came to a halt and listened. There was a deep and utter silence. It was as if everything was holding its breath. Slowly, trying not to make the slightest noise, I took another few steps then listened again. Silence. I felt increasingly uneasy.
I had to think quickly. I needed to improvise. On the ground to my left lay a fallen branch. I picked it up and was pleased to find that it was sound, and slightly thicker and longer than my staff; it was better than nothing. I hurried on, the incline bec
oming steeper with every step I took.
As I neared the summit of the hill, I sensed some unseen person watching me. However, the first eyes I saw weren’t human. I looked up. The trees above were full of crows. I noted their sharp beaks and glossy black feathers, the razor-sharp claws cutting into the branches. My heart began to beat faster. Was the Morrigan here? I wondered. The birds were still, but when I lowered my gaze, I saw something that made my mouth go dry with fear.
Directly ahead of me, a man was sitting on the ground with his back against a tree trunk. He seemed to be staring at me, but his eyes were dark hollows. I took a step towards him, then another. With a shock I realized that he was dead. His damp, mildewed clothes were green, which marked him out as one of Shey’s guards. It had to be the man who’d gone missing about a week earlier. He had been tied to the tree and his eyes had gone. The crows had feasted already.
At least this man was now dead and beyond further pain. And there was no sensation of cold to tell me that his spirit still lingered nearby. No, the cold only gripped me when I continued beyond him towards the next tree. Alice was sitting there in the same position, back against the trunk, wrists tied to it with twine, forced upwards at an angle of forty-five degrees. The bindings were very tight – I could see them cutting into her flesh. Additionally, her snow-white hair had been twisted into a knot and nailed to the tree, pulling her neck round at an awkward angle. She was moaning softly.
I rushed towards her and saw the blood congealed on the twine. She looked up at me then. Her eyes were still there, but they saw no more than the empty sockets of the dead man. She gazed right through me as if I didn’t exist. When I knelt down before her, she whimpered. Her whole body was trembling. I touched her brow gently. How could I untie her arms without hurting her?
‘Alice,’ I said softly. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ll try to help but this might hurt a little …’
Suddenly the sensation of cold down my spine intensified. Something from the dark was approaching.
‘Try feeling sorry for yourself, boy!’ someone shouted behind me. ‘Soon you’ll be hurting too!’
I whirled round, recognizing the voice, and came face to face with the witch, Scarabek; Konal was now strapped to her back, his strangely ancient features leering at me over her shoulder. Behind her stood half a dozen bearded mages armed with swords. I heard sounds to my left and right: more armed men were walking towards me out of the trees. I was completely surrounded.
‘Seize him!’ the witch commanded.
Mages rushed forward, and I struck out at the nearest with the branch, brandishing it frantically to make him keep his distance. But it was useless against men with swords. Two cuts and I found myself holding just a short wooden stump in my hand.
‘Drop it, or the next cut will sever your arm!’ the nearest mage warned.
I obeyed and tossed it away, and was immediately seized roughly, my arms twisted painfully behind my back. I was then dragged towards the tree opposite Alice and pushed down into a sitting position so that I was facing her. Scarabek loomed over me.
‘The goddess Morrigan is angry!’ she cried. ‘You have dared too much! You weakened her in the Hollow Hills, and she will not forget it. Since then you have bound the Fiend – a deed that has hurt all those who serve the dark. For that, she commands that you shall die a slow, painful death. Not for you the quick death of my loyal husband, Shaun. We shall tie you to this tree and let the Morrigan’s crows peck out your eyes. After that we will cut you away piece by piece, starting with your fingers. We will sever them knuckle by knuckle, a morsel for each hungry beak that waits above! We will strip the flesh from your bones until only your skeleton remains! Bind him to the tree!’ she ordered.
I fought with all my strength, but there were simply too many of them. They ripped the sleeves from my shirt, then held me against the trunk and pinned my arms back around it. Twine was bound very tightly about each wrist, and my arms were almost wrenched from their sockets as the two ends were pulled together and knotted behind the tree. It took all my willpower to stop myself from crying out. I didn’t want to give Scarabek the satisfaction of knowing that I was in pain.
I looked up and saw the witch standing before me. ‘My Shaun is dead because of you,’ she snarled. She was holding out her left wrist like a falconer. But it wasn’t a falcon that was perched there. It was a huge black greedy-eyed crow, its beak agape.
‘We’ll start with the left eye first,’ she said.
Then, from behind her, someone else spoke. It was Alice.
‘Poor Tom!’ she cried. ‘Poor Tom’s hurt!’
‘Aye, girl,’ said Scarabek, turning to sneer at her. ‘He’s hurt, all right, but this is only the beginning.’
The crow unfurled its wings and flew onto my left shoulder. I felt the sharp pressure of its claws as the cruel eyes stared into mine. I tried to turn my head away, but it hopped nearer and its beak jabbed at my left eye.
I SQUEEZED MY eyes shut and leaned as far away as possible, twisting my head to make it difficult for the crow to reach its target. But I knew it was useless. Within moments I’d be blind.
Suddenly Scarabek shrieked, and I felt the crow relax its sharp grip on my shoulder. The pressure was gone. Had the ugly bird flown away? I wondered. I opened my eyes cautiously and, to my surprise, saw it lying on the ground at my side. It wasn’t moving. Its eyes were wide-open but looked like glass. What was wrong with it? Was it dead?
‘Tom’s hurt!’ cried Alice again. ‘Don’t hurt him any more!’
The witch was staring down at the dead crow, a look of incredulity on her face. Then she turned to Alice. ‘You!’ she cried. ‘You did that!’
‘Ain’t right that you hurt Tom,’ Alice retorted. ‘He don’t deserve that. Why don’t you try picking on me instead?’
Scarabek pulled a knife from her belt and took a step towards Alice. ‘I’ll do just that, girl!’ she said with a snarl. ‘I’ll attend to you myself!’
‘You can’t hurt me,’ Alice told her. ‘You ain’t strong enough.’
A couple of the mages laughed, but not that heartily. Bound to the tree and helpless, taunting a witch armed with a knife, Alice’s words seemed insane. Her pretty features were twisted into a sneer – the expression I’d seen on the face of her mother, Bony Lizzie, before she cast some dark, malevolent spell.
Then I felt it. It was as if someone had stabbed a shard of ice into my spine. That chill always warned me that something from the dark was close – I’d felt it as the witch and the mages had approached. But this had a strength and intensity beyond anything I’d experienced before.
And then, to my astonishment, Alice ripped her hands free of the twine that bound her to the tree, reached up to pull her hair clear of the nail and stood to face the witch. There was blood dripping from her lacerated wrists, but she didn’t seem to feel any pain. She was smiling, but it wasn’t a pretty smile. It was filled with malice. Scarabek hesitated and lowered her blade.
Then Alice turned back, bending her head down towards the tree trunk. What was she doing? When she turned to face the witch again, however, she was scowling.
Scarabek gave a sudden shriek of anger and ran straight at her, knife raised. I didn’t see what happened next because she was obscuring my view of Alice. But she suddenly threw up her hand and gave a cry of pain, then stumbled to her knees. Alice laughed hysterically as Scarabek twisted towards me and staggered to her feet again.
The witch seemed to have forgotten all about Alice. She was now approaching me very slowly, unsteadily. But she was still holding the blade and her intent was clear. I noticed the mages staring at her with looks of utter horror on their faces. She was going to cut me – no doubt keeping a thumb-bone for herself. I was terrified.
But then I glanced up at her face and immediately saw why she had screamed. A nail had impaled her green left eye, and blood was running down her cheek. Alice must have pulled the nail out of the trunk with her teeth and had spat it into the witch’s ey
e with great force and accuracy.
Scarabek staggered again, still lurching towards me. As she did so, Konal gave a blood-curdling squeal. Whether mortally wounded or not, the witch still had enough life in her to wield the blade. It seemed as though nothing could save me.
Then I heard a rumble from somewhere deep within the ground, and all at once the whole world began to move. Above my head the branches bounced and writhed as if the tree trunk was being twisted and shaken by a giant’s hand. The witch’s gaze left me and she glanced upwards fearfully. But the danger came from the other direction.
A huge crack suddenly opened in the earth. With a grinding, splintering roar, it gaped wider, moving towards Scarabek faster than a person could run. At the very last moment she tried to leap clear, but it was too late. The earth swallowed her up and closed with a deep reverberating thud, leaving only the fingers of her left hand visible.
With harsh cries, the flock of crows quickly took flight; then the ground beneath my feet began to buck and shake, and the surface became as liquid as an ocean, with waves rolling across the forest floor. They seemed to be radiating from where Alice was standing, and even above the noise I could hear her chanting a spell in the Old Tongue. Mages and their servants were now running in all directions.
The trees were leaning at crazy angles, their roots dislodged by the violent movement. Then, suddenly, everything became still and quiet again, as if the whole world was holding its breath, appalled at what had happened. Now there was only one thing moving; one new sound to fill the silence.
Alice was spinning, dancing across the grass with her arms extended, blood still dripping from her wrists. Her eyes were closed, and she was smiling and humming something under her breath. She spun faster and began to sing just loud enough for me to hear the words:
Spook's Destiny Page 18
