Five minutes later they were ready to haul the platform up again. They didn’t bother to feed me this time. I wasn’t hungry anyway: I felt sickened by what I’d witnessed. However, they did hold a cup of water to my lips and I managed four or five gulps.
Aloft once more, I watched the mages: the procedure was exactly the same as on the previous night. Round and round the candles they went, against the clock. This time, when the chants reached a shrill climax, the goat merely turned its head and looked straight at me.
Can a goat smirk? All I can say is that it seemed to be mocking me, and a chill went right down my spine. I was now certain that the ritual was working. At any moment Pan would enter the body of the goat and I would be sitting on this small platform next to him, facing madness and terror.
The night seemed endless. The mages had gone, and a wind was now shrieking across the rooftops, driving squalls of cold rain in my face. I turned my back on it, bowed my head and tossed it forward repeatedly until my hood dropped over my hair. Then I hunkered down, attempting to shelter from the elements as best I could. But it was useless, and soon I was soaked to the skin. The goat began to bleat, louder and louder; after a while it seemed to me that it was even calling my name, then laughing insanely. With my hands tied, I couldn’t push my fingers into my ears to blot out the noise.
Finally the sky grew lighter, and within hours the market was full of people once more.
It was growing dark again and the rain had eased by the time the platform was lowered and I stepped onto the cobbles. I was shaking with cold. I was really hungry by now and glad of the plate of mutton and dry bread my captors gave me, once my hands had been untied. I wolfed the whole lot down.
My instincts told me that something was about to happen. Was it the witch’s turn to be sacrificed? My stomach knotted with nerves at that thought. Before she died, she’d no doubt want to have her revenge in full. But if I was indeed to be executed now, why had they bothered to feed me? Time ticked by. The mages were growing agitated. And then Doolan arrived, axe over his shoulder.
‘Scarabek has vanished,’ he growled. ‘I find it hard to believe that she should let us down like this.’
‘What about the barrow keeper, sir?’ one of the mages asked.
‘There’s no sign of him either, but we can’t fail now!’ the Butcher cried. ‘Not when things have gone so well. Two sacrifices have already been made.’ He turned towards me and stared with hard cruel eyes. ‘We’ll execute the boy first to make it three. It could buy us some time by appeasing Pan until Scarabek returns.’
There was a murmur of approval, and Doolan began to pull on his gloves. Rough hands seized me and I was dragged towards the execution block.
THERE WERE SIMPLY too many of them – I had no hope of resisting their combined strength. The mages pushed me down onto my knees, and seconds later my throat was positioned against the cold damp stone.
I began to shake. Even stronger than my fear of the axe was the knowledge that at the moment of my death I would immediately be snatched away by the Fiend. I struggled again, but someone was holding my hair, keeping my head down, my neck exposed, ready for the axe; my outstretched arms were pulled so tight that they were in danger of being torn from their sockets. I was helpless.
I sensed the axe being raised, and tensed myself for the inevitable blow, squeezing my eyelids shut. Everything was over. I thought of the Spook. I had failed him. Then, at the very last moment, I heard footsteps coming towards us.
‘Wait!’ shouted a voice that I immediately recognized. It was Thin Shaun, the barrow keeper.
‘Where is Scarabek?’ the Butcher demanded.
‘She’ll bring her head to the block willingly, don’t you worry,’ Thin Shaun told him. ‘I’ll lay my life on it. Why kill the boy now? She hasn’t finished with him yet. There is still tomorrow. I guarantee she will be here by then.’
‘Then, once again, I ask you: where is she now?’
‘She is a prisoner, but I will follow and release her. She hasn’t been taken far—’
‘Our enemies have her – the Alliance?’
‘Enemies have her, yes, but not ones that are known to us,’ Shaun answered. ‘They must certainly be powerful to have taken her unawares. But they’ll regret this. They have yet to face my wrath. I am the keeper of the barrows. Then they’ll wish they’d never been born!’
Although he spoke of ‘wrath’, Thin Shaun seemed very calm, displaying little emotion. I wondered if he was really human at all.
I was hauled to my feet and stood there, trembling, while the mages walked away to discuss Shaun’s news. Two of their servants still gripped my arms. In any case, I was too weak to run away.
Doolan returned and addressed Thin Shaun. ‘You have until the same time tomorrow night, when we’ll perform the fourth and final rite – otherwise we’ll kill the boy in her place. For our efforts to be successful, it is vital that Scarabek is here to offer herself voluntarily.’
Shaun nodded and left immediately. My hands were tied again, and I was dragged onto the platform next to the goat. It was rapidly hoisted into the air and I knelt there in shock. I had come within seconds of death; I had sensed the axe beginning to fall.
Once I’d collected my senses I started thinking about what Thin Shaun had said. Who could have snatched Scarabek? She was powerful – not easy to overcome. Maybe it was the Spook? After all, Shaun had claimed that someone ‘unknown’ had done it. If so, my master would now be in grave danger.
The night passed very slowly, and long before dawn the goat began to bleat pitifully, as if in pain. In the pale moonlight, I saw drops of blood ooze from the wounds on its head, where the barbed wire had cut it. The blood ran in rivulets down its face, circling its eyes to reach its mouth, whereupon its tongue emerged and began to lick it away.
Now the goat’s cries changed dramatically; they became powerful, as if sending out a challenge. I wanted to avert my gaze but was unable to do so: I was forced to watch as the goat’s face began to distort and change into something half human, half animal.
Dread came then – a feeling of terror of something loathsome and terrible – but it was different from that cast by any witch. I had faced those spells before, and usually knew how to overcome their effects. But this had something else, an added ingredient: a touch of compulsion too. I felt a sudden urge to move close to the goat, a need to touch it. Unable to help myself, I shuffled forward on my knees until I was so close that the fetid breath of the creature washed over me.
The goat was now fully transformed. I was in the presence of Pan. He had a human face with a hint of the bestial; wild and rugged, ravaged by the elements. The horns had gone but the hooves remained; the only other remaining animal feature was the eyes: the pupils were black slits that glittered insanely.
Pan lurched from all fours to stand upright, towering over me, his hind hooves still bound by the silver chains. And then he laughed long and loud – with the uncontrollable, delirious hilarity of the insane. Wasn’t he reputed to drive his victims mad? I felt completely lucid; my thoughts seemed ordered and logical. I was afraid, yes, and took deep breaths to calm myself, but for now it appeared that he was the crazy one, not me.
Did being a spook’s apprentice help me to remain relatively rational? No sooner had that thought entered my head than everything began to spin and I was plunged into utter darkness. I felt myself falling anyway. It was as if the wooden structure had collapsed beneath me and I was hurtling down towards the cold cobbles below.
I heard the wind whistling through reeds, and water trickling musically across rocks nearby. I was lying on my back; I immediately opened my eyes and sat up; the first thing I noticed was that my hands were no longer bound.
I was sitting on a grassy bank close to a river, which was gleaming like silver. I looked up, expecting to see the moon, but the sky was dark. Then I noticed that everything around me was glowing with a faint silvery light. At the river margin, tall reeds swayed rhythmically
in the light wind that was blowing downstream towards me. They too gave off that silver sheen.
Where was I? How was this possible? Was it a dream? If so, it had an unusual clarity to it: I could smell blossoms on the breeze, and the ground felt very solid beneath me. To my left was the edge of a forest, which continued on the other bank. There were deciduous trees as far as the eye could see, the branches heavy with blooms, and the air was balmy. It seemed to be high summer, not the chill pre-spring weather of Killorglin.
I got to my feet and heard a new sound. At first I thought it was the whistle of the wind ruffling the reeds, but there were definite notes and I found it compelling. I wanted to hear more.
So I set off upstream towards the sound. I came to a wide grassy clearing that edged the river, where I saw an astonishing sight. It was full of hundreds of animals – mostly rabbits and hares, but there were a few foxes and a couple of badgers, all staring towards the source of the music, their eyes wide and unblinking as if they’d been hypnotized. Additionally, the trees all around were full of birds of many types.
A young boy was sitting on a rock playing a pipe. It appeared to be made from a simple reed, but the music he created was exquisite. His hair was long, his face very pale, and he was clothed in a garment that seemed to be fashioned out of leaves and grass. The face was fully human, but for his ears, which were elongated and a little pointy. His feet were bare, and his toenails were so long that each curled up into a spiral.
From my reading of the Spook’s Bestiary I knew that this must be Pan. This was his least threatening shape. In the form of a boy the god was sometimes considered benign, the life force of nature itself.
The boy looked up at me and stopped playing. Immediately the creatures of the forest fled, the spell of the music broken. In a few seconds there were only the two of us left.
‘Where am I?’ I asked. I felt very calm and not in the least afraid.
‘Does it matter where you are?’ the boy said. He smiled pleasantly but his next words filled me with sudden terror. ‘I’ve brought you to the region where I dwell. This is what you call the “dark”, the place you fear the most!’
I LOOKED UP at the trees, which still shimmered with silver light. Could this really be the dark? I wondered. It certainly wasn’t what I’d anticipated. But Pan was right. This had been my biggest fear of all – to be dragged off to the dark after my death. But I had expected the Fiend to do that.
‘I didn’t expect the dark to be like this,’ I said, my voice hardly more than a whisper.
‘That’s because it isn’t the dark,’ Pan replied sweetly.
‘But you just said it was …’
‘Listen to me carefully, boy. I said it’s a place that you call the dark. In truth, this is a shadow world that lies between Limbo and the dark itself. It is a resting place. To me it is the Hollow Hills, but is called Tech Duinn by the people of Ireland – or sometimes the Otherworld. Their gods like this place – as do their dead heroes. But most humans can’t stay here for long – their memories bleed away into the silver light and they are lost for ever. Only heroes can endure. But you needn’t fear that now, because only your soul is here. Your body is back on the platform with that reeking animal.’
‘The Morrigan? Is she here too?’ I asked, glancing nervously up into the trees.
‘She comes here on occasion, but not just now.’
‘Am I dead?’ I wanted to know.
‘Not yet,’ Pan replied, ‘but if you stay here too long, you certainly will be. Your body is barely breathing. You need to return as quickly as possible, so let’s not waste any time. I brought you here so that we could talk. It took all my strength: I keep being drawn back into the body of the goat, and it’s getting harder to resist the mages’ dark magic. Being in your world drives me insane – then I infect others with that same madness.’
‘What do you want to talk about?’ I asked. Was he actually going to return me to the world again?
‘I need you to do something for me. In return, you get to keep your sanity.’
I nodded cautiously. What could one of the Old Gods want of me? What could I do that he couldn’t manage himself?
‘All you have to do is release the hooves of the goat from the silver chains that bind them.’
‘How can I do that? My hands are tied,’ I reminded him.
‘You’ll think of something – I’m certain of that,’ Pan said with a smile. ‘Then, once you have freed me, I will do the rest.’
‘The rest? What will you do then?’
‘I will leave the goat’s body and escape the control of the mages. To be summoned in that way is abhorrent to me.’
‘I thought that the Old Gods wanted to be worshipped …’ I said.
‘The mages don’t truly worship me – not respectfully; they just use me to their own advantage. Employing those arcane rituals, they force me into the body of the goat and draw forth my power bit by bit. It weakens me and strengthens them.’
‘Have they gained power already?’ I asked.
‘Some – their dark magic will be strong for a while,’ he told me.
‘I’ll do my best,’ I agreed. ‘But there’s something else that I’d like from you …’
Pan raised his eyebrows.
‘I have a friend called Alice, who was brought alive into the dark. Could you find her for me and release her too?’
‘Who brought her here?’
‘The Fiend,’ I replied.
‘Then it’s hopeless,’ said the god. ‘In the dark there are many different domains. I have one there too. Each being has his own domain, which is generated by his power. The Fiend is a law unto himself and owns the largest domain of all. It is a terrible place for a mortal to be, living or dead. If I could, I would help. But I am powerless. We must go back now. I’m not strong enough to keep us both here for much longer.’
I nodded, and Pan began to play his pipe again. All around us there was a rustling and a beating of wings as the creatures entered the clearing, summoned by his compelling music.
Suddenly the sound of pipes ceased; everything began to fade, and my sight darkened once more.
I found myself lying on the platform. I struggled up into a sitting position and looked down onto the marketplace to be sure that no one was watching. I stared at the goat. It gave a bleat, so I turned my back on it and thrust my hands towards its mouth. I had thought of a way to release my bonds.
The goat sniffed at the rope, and then began to chew with relish. Once or twice it nipped my skin and I flinched away, but it took the animal only a few minutes to release me.
I rubbed my hands to restore the circulation; then I turned my attention to the problem of freeing the goat. The silver chains that tethered it were designed to hold captive a being from the dark as well as an earthly animal. There was no way that I could force the links apart with my bare hands. In my possession was the special key that could open most locks. Never knowing when I might need it again, I decided that although it might just be possible to use it to break a link, it wasn’t worth damaging it unless I had to.
I turned my attention to the fastenings that secured the chains to the wooden boards. The moon was bright, and I was able to see the situation clearly. The wood itself was new and strong, and there was no way I could pull them free. But then I saw that the chain was attached to two small iron rings, which were fastened to the wood by screws. Could I undo them? The mages had evidently never imagined that anyone would try. Maybe they hadn’t tightened them very hard?
I thought for a moment, before searching in my pocket again and finding a coin. I inserted the edge into the head of the screw and turned. It wouldn’t budge. I pressed down as hard as I could; finally it began to move. Soon I was removing the screw with just my fingers.
The second screw proved much more difficult. I almost despaired of moving it, and the groove in the head of the screw started to shear away, but at last it turned. Eventually the iron ring came away from the boards, an
d the goat was free.
The creature looked at me and bleated once. It seemed to tense its body; then, to my astonishment, it leaped off the platform.
I watched, horrified, as the goat plunged towards the ground and hit the cobbles with a dull thump. It didn’t cry out on impact, but its legs twitched a few times and a puddle of blood began to form beneath it. The crown fell off its head and rolled away across the marketplace. Now I realized that it was through the goat’s death that Pan had intended to free himself.
The god didn’t leave our world quietly: a howling gale sprang up from nowhere, which blew out all the windows facing the marketplace and hurled tiles from the roofs down to smash on the cobbles. Doors blew off their hinges, and shouts rent the night air.
Fearing that it might topple over at any moment, I began to climb down from the platform, my feet seeking out the struts of the wooden shaft. I needn’t have worried – the wind was directed at the mages, who’d taken rooms facing the market; the tower, right in the calm eye of the storm, barely moved.
Moonlight lit up the whole area, giving me no place to hide, and by the time I reached the ground I could see mages heading towards the wooden structure. One gave a cry of anguish as he reached the body of the goat. I started sprinting down the triangle towards the street at the bottom, but someone holding a long-bladed, curved knife blocked my path. I swerved around him and headed for the river, which lay like a silver ribbon in the distance. There were trees beyond it; dark, shadowy areas. Once across the bridge, I’d have a good chance of escaping.
I glanced back and saw that I was being followed. I tried to hurry, but my body didn’t respond, still weak after spending long days and nights on the platform, exposed to the elements and eating little. When I looked back again, my pursuers were catching up fast. But I was approaching the bridge now. There was still just a slim chance that I could cross it and escape into the trees.
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