I dismounted and, using my blades, cut a path down to a fast-flowing stream. It took a long time because I was so weak; all I really wanted to do was sleep. From the bank I looked up and saw, high above, a waterfall crashing down into the torrent. There was also a rocky ledge beside it, where a few of the saplings had been able to take root. I decided to make camp there.
First Grimalkin used her magic to cloak our hiding place. Then I untied her legs and helped her down from the horse. To my surprise she was able to stand, but she walked with a bad limp. The Fiend’s head was still attached to the horse, along with a bag of oats, which she fed to the animal. Meanwhile I went off to find sustenance for us. It would have to be rabbits again.
Wearily, struggling to stay awake, I set traps on the edge of the thickets; within an hour I had snared two plump rabbits. When I carried them back to our hiding place, I halted in surprise and confusion. Grimalkin was standing naked beneath the waterfall, scrubbing the dirt from her body.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, turning my back in embarrassment.
I heard her step out of the cascading water and take two steps toward me, squeezing the water out of her hair. Then there was a rustling sound, and I knew that she was pulling on her dress again.
“There is nothing wrong with nakedness,” she said softly. “But this body has been badly damaged and must be healed if I am ever to fight again as I once did. Turn and look at my leg.”
I did as she asked. It was twisted and withered, the muscle wasted away. I could see why she limped.
“I healed the flesh and bone with my magic so that I could ride to your assistance. Your master did his best to set it, but he is not a bone surgeon. It will be necessary to break the leg again and begin the process anew. Once we are back at Chipenden, will you help me to do that?”
“Of course I will,” I promised, wondering what my part would be. I shuddered at the thought of helping to break her leg again, but how could I refuse?
“Good. Now you wash the dirt from your own body. You needn’t be shy. I will be busy cooking our breakfast.”
I waded in under the cascade, the cold water making me gasp and reviving me. Afterward we sat before the embers of the fire and ate the succulent rabbits. I didn’t have much appetite after all that had happened, but I forced the food down. I needed to keep up my strength; it was still many miles back to Chipenden, and I didn’t know when I’d next get a chance to eat.
I told Grimalkin about the tower. “That’s where I found the head. Alice was inside, too. She was with Lukrasta.”
“My magic told me something of what occurred, but I would like the details, and from your own lips. Afterward I will tell you what I know.”
I nodded and began my tale, starting with my pursuit of the witches. When I told her of the team of horses drawing the long coffin that contained the Fiend’s body, her eyes widened in surprise.
“I did not see that!” she exclaimed. “I should have been aware of the danger the moment they withdrew the silver spears from his body. I cast a spell upon them—I should have been alerted the moment they were touched. Very powerful magic has been used here. It must indeed be Lukrasta.”
I continued my story, describing how I had summoned the boggart to assist me, how I had retreated down the tower steps, and how Kratch had attacked, killing all in sight as well as those inside. Yet I did not tell Grimalkin the boggart’s name. I held that back, for it was knowledge that only the boggart and I should share.
Finally I described how I’d seen Alice on the balcony with Lukrasta but had later found their room empty.
“They had shared a bed.” I was bitter, hearing the wobble in my voice. “She wants to be with him. . . .” It hurt me to say that aloud, but in a strange way it eased my pain to have it out in the open.
I passed Alice’s note to Grimalkin. She read it quickly, then handed it back.
“Do you think she’s in her right mind?” I asked her. “Does Lukrasta control her by the use of dark magic?”
It was a long time before Grimalkin replied. At last she shook her head sadly. “I am sorry, Tom. What has happened is my fault. I made a mistake—the second most important mistake of my life.”
Her greatest mistake was no doubt sleeping with the Fiend and having to suffer the consequences. He had slayed her newborn baby, dashing his brains out against a rock.
“I meant well,” she continued. “I wanted to avoid a ritual that demanded the sacrifice of Alice, who I have always liked and respected. She is brave and has great potential, so I tried to find another way. Then, by chance, when I was in Todmorden, despatching the last of the vampiric entities there, I found the Doomdryte. I promised you that I would follow John Gregory’s wishes and destroy it, but when it came into my hands, I lied and said I could not find it.
“You see, I believed that Alice was powerful enough to use that grimoire to complete the ritual. The power gained from it, when added to her own innate ability, would have been enough to destroy the Fiend. I waited for her to return from the dark, and then we hid in the cottage near Chipenden while we readied ourselves for what had to be done. But as I said, I made a big mistake. Lukrasta was supposed to have died when he failed to complete the ritual. That was a lie he spread around so that others would not seek to do the same and gain power equal to his own. No sooner had Alice opened the book than Lukrasta appeared in the room beside us. I think he must have touched it with his magic so that he could be warned of any such attempt.”
“Did the other witches attack at the same moment?”
“Yes . . . within minutes of his appearance. When Lukrasta first materialized, I attempted to use my blades against him, but his magic was so powerful that I could not even move. I told you previously that I did not know what happened to Alice . . . forgive me . . . that was a white lie to save your feelings. Now I must tell you the truth. I thought that Alice would try to use her own magic to defend us, but she just stared at him, an expression of wonder on her face. Then they smiled at each other and embraced.”
My heart plummeted, and emotion constricted my throat.
Grimalkin stared at me and shook her head. “I am sorry, but you needed to know. It was as if Alice and Lukrasta had found each other after a long search. It seemed that they were soul mates who recognized each other in an instant, who had always been meant to be together. Take my advice, Tom, and put Alice from your mind.”
I could not speak, and tears welled in my eyes. If Grimalkin noted that, she did not show it but simply continued with her tale.
“I was paralyzed and in a trance, completely in thrall to the mage. Lukrasta wanted to kill me—I cannot remember what was said, because my mind was befuddled, but I think Alice pleaded for my life. He also wanted to take the Fiend’s head with him, but again Alice opposed him. She said it was better to let the other witches collect it. There were already many on their way, and I would be unable to fight them all off. She was eager to get away, and he seemed to be of a similar mind. And then they both simply vanished into thin air. I finally found the strength to climb to my feet, but before I could get away from the cottage, the Fiend’s servants attacked.
“Three times I fought them off; I almost broke through their lines and escaped. But I was still suffering from the effects of Lukrasta’s magic, and I was not at my best. At last I was forced to retreat into the cottage. An abhuman wielding a heavy club struck me a terrible blow, breaking my leg. I fought on from my knees, but then they managed to snatch the leather sack and it was all over. They had what they wanted—the Fiend’s head—and thought that I was dying anyway. So they left me kneeling in a pool of my own blood and fled.
“I thought that my time on earth had finally come to an end, but then you and your master found me. So I live to fight again. You have done well to retrieve the head.”
“But what chance do we have against Lukrasta? What powers does he have that make him so strong?”
“The power gained by one who has completed the ritual succe
ssfully is no doubt great. But I do not believe that it makes you a god. When Lukrasta attacked, I could do nothing against him, but that was partly because I was taken completely by surprise. Next time I will be ready, and I already know one way in which his magic might be neutralized. I need time to think about all this—time to prepare so that we may yet prove victorious.”
“We will win!” I exclaimed. “We have to win!”
Yes, I thought to myself, we might still triumph over the Fiend and his servants. We might win.
But I had lost Alice.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE LAST APPRENTICE
AS we set off for Chipenden again, Grimalkin no longer needed to be tied to the horse. But although she said nothing, I could see that she was in pain.
We completed the journey without having to engage any of our enemies. Once we saw a large party of witches in the distance, heading in the same direction, but we soon left them behind.
Eventually the gray roofs of Chipenden were visible, and soon afterward we arrived at the boundary of the Spook’s garden. I heard a low growl from the shrubs that bordered the first of the trees. Kratch was safely back and was challenging Grimalkin.
After calling out to the boggart that I was bringing Grimalkin with me, we rode up to the front door. My master came out to greet us, an expression of relief on his face. He nodded with satisfaction at the sight of the Fiend’s head once more in Grimalkin’s possession.
“You’ve both done well!” he exclaimed. “I hardly dared hope that you’d succeed!”
“It is your apprentice who deserves the credit,” Grimalkin replied. “Tom Ward retrieved the head in the face of great odds. I merely escorted him back. However, our enemies are out there in force and heading this way.”
“Glad to see you back safely, lad,” said the Spook, turning to me. “I must say I’ve been worried. But I kept myself busy. I was called to sort out a boggart south of Scorton. Managed to persuade it to move on from the cottage it had been plaguing.”
I smiled at my master. It was good to see him engaging in spook’s business again.
After I had dismounted, Grimalkin slid down too and walked back and forth, her limp pronounced.
“You’ve healed rapidly,” said the Spook. “It’s only days since I tied you on to your horse.”
“The fast healing was necessary, but now the leg needs to be broken and reset. I would like to build a small forge in the garden,” the witch assassin told him.
“By all means, do what you think necessary. Will you be forging new weapons?” he asked her.
“Yes, that too—but my other need is more urgent. I must repair my leg and restore it to full strength.”
The Spook glanced at me with a puzzled expression. Neither of us saw the connection between the forge and healing her leg, but as Grimalkin offered no further explanation, we did not pursue it. As she limped away, leading her horse to graze upon the lush grass of the western garden, my master placed his arm round my shoulders in a fatherly way and smiled.
“We need to talk, lad. Let’s go up to the library.”
The shelves were still mostly empty, but there were a few recent additions. I went across and examined one at random. It was entitled The Flora and Fauna of the North County.
“That’s one of Bill Arkwright’s books, isn’t it?” I asked, tapping its spine. I remembered seeing it in his library when I’d spent six months training with him. Of course, Bill had died in Greece, and Judd Brinscall was now operating north of Caster.
“Aye, lad, it is. I’ve got his notebooks here as well—apart from a couple which deal exclusively with water witches, which will be needed at the water mill. Judd brought them. He thought they were suffering from damp and mildew, so they would do better here.”
“Well, we’ve another book to talk about . . .” I began, my heart sinking.
“The Doomdryte. Aye, Grimalkin told me what she did. That book should have been burned. Now it will do untold harm. She mentioned Lukrasta, too. It seems as if the girl Alice has finally gone to the dark.”
I nodded, trying to control my emotions, not knowing what to say.
“Sit yourself down, lad,” my master said, pointing to a chair. “Tell me how you managed to get the Fiend’s head back from all those witches. That was quite some feat. Start at the beginning, and don’t miss anything.”
So I sat down opposite him and told my tale for the second time, explaining about the dream I’d had and the latest of the gifts I’d inherited from Mam. When I came to the part about summoning Kratch, my master raised his eyes in astonishment. I knew that I would now have to tell him about my pact with the boggart. I was sick to death of all the lies and deceits; I truly wished that I had always been honest with my master. Although painful, it was a relief to get everything off my chest.
“I never even knew that it had left,” he said. “I didn’t ask you the details of the new pact you made with it, lad. Do you know why?”
I shook my head.
“Because I suspected that it would have made the agreement with you rather than me. You have a future ahead and long years to work together, whereas my life is almost done. I wasn’t ready to face it. I didn’t want to hear the words that confirmed my suspicions, so I kept quiet. But now I’m more settled in my mind and prepared to bow to the inevitable. So come on, lad. Spit it out. Tell me the details.”
So I told him how Kratch had agreed to come to my aid if summoned, and in return could drink the blood of my enemies. Then I described how it had killed the witches below the tower, and how the waterfall of blood had brought dozens of pointy shoes to the foot of the steps.
But I left some things out. I didn’t tell him I’d stroked the creature, nor that I’d given it some of my blood. I knew he wouldn’t approve of that. So for all my new resolutions, I still found it impossible to be completely honest with him.
I went on to tell him about Alice and Lukrasta, and chose that moment to hand over Alice’s note. I paused while he read it. He handed it back without a word, and I continued my tale, finishing with my rescue by Grimalkin.
“What do you think will happen now?” the Spook asked, getting to his feet and pacing up and down in front of me.
“I’ll never see Alice again,” I replied. “Or if I do, she’ll be a stranger to me—maybe even an enemy.”
“Forget the girl!” he said, his voice full of anger. “I meant the larger, more important picture. What will the witches do?”
I shrugged. “They might try to enter the garden and seize their master’s head again. We took them by surprise last time, but now they’ve seen what the boggart can do. No doubt they’ll join together and use their magic collectively. That could be a threat. The boggart’s power is not unlimited.”
“Aye, that’s true enough, lad. We saw that for ourselves when it fought off the Bane. Not only that, Lukrasta himself might come here—and who knows what he’s capable of? They say that completing the ritual from that grimoire gives you unlimited power. Well, I find that difficult to believe, but if it achieves just a fraction of that, then we’ll be hard-pressed. We know how formidable Grimalkin is, and even she was helpless when confronted by him.”
It was then that I remembered something about my fight with the witches on the tower steps.
“When I was trying to lure as many witches as possible out into the open, Lukrasta came out onto the balcony with Alice and stared down at me. Then he hurled some sort of magical energy at me. I felt the blow, and it hurt me. But why, if he’s so powerful, wasn’t I slain on the spot?”
It was something that I’d been thinking about on the way home. Was it because I was a seventh son of a seventh son and had lamia blood in me? Then it struck me that it might have been Alice rather than Lukrasta who had launched the attack. I didn’t want to even think about that, and thrust it from my mind.
The Spook scratched at his beard; a few white flakes of dandruff speckled his black gown. “My guess is that what you are is significant
. It might well be that you have some resistance to his kind of dark magecraft.”
I nodded. My master and I agreed. It was a possibility. There were many things that I’d inherited from Mam: the ability to slow or stop time, the knowledge that someone was close to death, and most recently, locating a threat from a distance, which had enabled me to follow the witches and find the Fiend’s head.
“There’s something else the witches might do,” I added after a moment’s reflection. “They’re heading this way, drawn toward the head. I think they’ll bring his body too, so that it’ll be close at hand at Halloween: midnight on that witches’ sabbath—the most powerful feast of all for creatures of the dark. That’s when they’ll hope to join the two pieces of his flesh together and return him to power.”
“Aye, lad, you’re correct about the day. It was at midnight on the witches’ Lammas sabbath, high on Pendle, that they summoned him to our world. It’s likely that they’ll use Halloween, the most important and propitious dark feast of them all, to repair the damage we’ve done and attempt to ensure his victory over the light. But it may not be at midnight. Sunset is another time when dark spells have increased power—the moment when daylight prepares to give way to darkness.”
After dark I carried a candle upstairs to my old room. Grimalkin was happy to sleep in the garden, by the forge she was building.
Everything in the room had been replaced: the floorboards, the bed, the dressing table, and the curtains. There was just one thing that remained, something that I had first examined on the very first night I’d spent in the Spook’s house.
Three walls had been newly plastered, but the fourth had not, despite the fact that it was slightly blackened by smoke. My master had left it intact because upon that wall were thirty names, including my own. They were the names of the apprentices he had trained or, in most cases, begun to train. Over a third of them, including my predecessor, Billy Bradley, had died violent deaths while learning the trade. One at least had gone to the dark, while many others had simply not completed their time. I had met three who had: Father Stocks, Bill Arkwright, and most recently, Judd Brinscall.
Fury of the Seventh Son (Book 13) Page 10
