'My mistress needs sustenance. She must drink warm blood from the body of the boy!' he declared, pointing his blade directly towards me again. 'Fill the cup!'
As the fearsome warrior held out the crystal chalice, my heart fluttered in my chest with fear.
'We've won, child!' Grimalkin whispered into my ear, her voice filled with triumph. 'He no longer demands your life – just that we fill the cup. It's exactly what we want.'
Silently the warrior placed the crystal goblet on the red silk of the tablecloth. Grimalkin picked it up and withdrew a short knife from its leather scabbard. She turned towards me. 'Roll up your sleeve, child. The right arm . . .'
With shaking fingers I did as she asked. 'Now take the chalice and hold it under your arm to catch the blood.'
I lifted my bare arm and positioned the exquisitely wrought vessel beneath it. Grimalkin made a small cut into my flesh. I hardly felt it, but blood began to drip downwards; however, it stopped flowing before the chalice was half full.
'Just one more cut and it's done,' she said.
I felt the blade again and sucked in my breath as the sharp pain bit. This time my blood cascaded freely, and to my surprise the vessel suddenly became much heavier. It filled rapidly, but no sooner had the blood reached the rim than the flow suddenly ceased. I saw that it had already congealed into a thin red line against the pale flesh of my arm.
The witch assassin placed the cup on the table; the warrior picked it up and carried it towards the pit. We watched him descending the steps until he was lost to view, then waited in silence until he was some distance from the hall. We couldn't risk him hearing a disturbance and turning back. It was vital that my blood was given to the Ordeen. The minutes passed slowly, but at last Grimalkin smiled and pulled a small mirror from her sleeve, preparing to signal our success.
However, before she could do so, everything went dark and I felt a sudden chill again. Once more bright, glittering eyes moved towards us from the direction of the pit. Had the servants of the Ordeen guessed our intent?
Suddenly I was aware that, notwithstanding the intense silence, the hall was now full of people. And what strange and terrifying people they were!
The men were very tall, with long pointy noses and chins and elongated faces. They must be daemons, I thought, with their cavernous eyes, and their dark, loose clothes that hung from their bodies like gossamer sails stretched over willowy trees. At their belts were long curved swords.
The daemons brought to my mind an old County proverb:
Pointy nose and pointy chin, Darkness surely dwells within!
By contrast, the women were sleek, with voluptuous curves, revealing skin that glistened as if freshly anointed. And they were dancing – whirling rhythmically to the beat of a distant unseen drum. These women danced alone while the men brooded on the edge of the dancing space or lurked in the gloom of the pillars, watching with hungry eyes.
I looked back along the table and saw that everyone in our party seemed transfixed by the dancers. Their strange movements held some sort of enchantment. Grimalkin still had the mirror in her hand but seemed powerless to use it. We were helpless. Had we got so close to success only to be thwarted at the last moment?
And then I realized that some of Mam's escort, Seilenos among them, were eating greedily from their plates and gulping wine from the golden goblets – despite the warning they'd been given. I knew then that the Greek spook lacked the willpower and determination of John Gregory – it would now surely be his undoing.
I turned back to the women dancing before the pit and saw that whereas each had previously danced alone, now they spun in twos, woman with woman, following the mosaic patterns of the long serpents. The drumbeat was getting louder, faster and more frantic, and now there was more than one drum. It made me want to tap my feet, and I felt a strong urge to rise from my seat. I looked across to Alice and saw that she too was gripping her seat, stopping herself from joining the dancers. I slowed my breathing and fought the impulse to move until it began to subside.
Then I saw that one of the dancers was actually a man – one I recognized. It was Seilenos. Just moments earlier I'd seen him eating the forbidden food; now he was suddenly part of that wild dance. I lost sight of him for a moment, but then he whirled back into view, this time much closer to our table. And I could see that a woman had her mouth against his neck, her teeth biting deep into his flesh; blood was dribbling onto his chest. Terror showed in his bulging eyes; they rolled wildly in their sockets. His belly seemed to be convulsing and his clothes were torn, revealing deep wounds across his back. The woman was draining Seilenos of blood. He was spun back into the press of bodies closer to the pit and I didn't see him again.
I was grateful that I had been well taught by the Spook and had fasted before entering the citadel. Seilenos' love of food and wine had cost him his life – maybe even his soul!
Then, to my right, I saw Grimalkin again, her face straining with the immense effort of fighting the powerful dark magic that bound us all. She slowly brought the mirror to her mouth. She breathed on it and, rapt with concentration, began to write with her forefinger. It was the signal to begin the attack.
CHAPTER
17
FIRE ELEMENTALS
For some time the dancing figures continued to whirl frantically to the wild rhythm, but finally they began to slow. The drums faltered, then ceased altogether. The daemons stood immobile, frozen in time, just as we had minutes earlier. Some inclined their heads and I sensed that they were listening.
I heard a distant pounding of feet. Closer and closer it came. The doors were flung back with a crash and the Pendle witches burst into the hall, long knives at the ready, their faces savage and eager for battle.
There were Mouldheels amongst them but no sign of Mab and her two sisters. Why hadn't they joined the attack? I wondered.
Once again, Grimalkin vaulted across the table and joined the fight. Any enchantments possessed by the daemons were either not used or ineffective against the combined wild onslaught of the witches. To right and left they cut, wielding their blades to powerful effect. Their enemies resisted, drawing their swords and fighting back, but within moments several of them lay dead, their red blood pooling on the floor.
It all happened so quickly that we had no time to join the fray. One moment there was ferocious fighting, the next the daemons were retreating down the steps into the pit. But it was an orderly retreat. Some fought a rearguard action while the women escaped. Soon only the witches remained, gazing down the steps into the darkness.
Alice gripped my arm tightly as we moved to join them, but already they were turning their backs upon the pit.
'It's too dangerous to follow them,' Grimalkin said, turning towards me. 'I expect that's exactly what they want. They gave up and retreated far too easily. No doubt they want to lure us down into the darkness and ambush us. We'll take the route advised by your mother, child. I suggest you wait here until the mercenaries have launched their attack. They're on their way now so we'll go ahead and press on deeper into the citadel.'
With that, she led the blood-spattered witches out into the tunnel, towards the inner courtyard.
'Best do as she says, Tom,' Alice said, still holding my arm tightly. 'We'll follow on in a few moments . . .'
Some of the survivors of Mam's escort nodded in agreement. Without their leader they seemed nervous.
The bodies of Seilenos and two more of Mam's escort lay in pools of blood, unseeing eyes staring up towards the high ceiling.
'Let's move closer to the door,' Alice said, looking nervously towards the steps. 'Now that the witches have gone those daemons might come back up.'
It seemed a good idea so we all headed for the open doorway.
Within moments we heard horses galloping towards us. We watched as the mercenaries thundered in through the entrance and along the tunnel to begin their attack. It took a long time for them to pass. As the last hooves echoed into the distance, we lef
t the hall and followed them towards the inner courtyard.
I looked back briefly. There was no sign of Mam, the Spook or the others. Surely they should be here by now? I thought.
We hadn't taken more than a couple of dozen paces along the tunnel when the sound of galloping could be heard again. It was getting louder and louder! The warriors were coming back. They were in retreat already! What had gone wrong?
A rider -less mount swept past, almost trampling Alice beneath its hooves. Its eyes rolled in fear and it was foaming at the mouth. More horses galloped by, some with riders, their weapons gone, eyes wide with terror. Yes, they were in retreat all right. There was no doubt about it. This was a rout. What had made those warriors turn and flee like that?
As more and more thundered towards us, I realized that we were in real danger of being crushed. I pushed Alice into a niche in the tunnel wall, shielding her with my body. The horses buffeted against us, filling the tunnel with the beat of many hooves. It seemed to go on for ever, but at last all was silent again and I stepped away from the wall.
'You all right, Alice?' I said as I picked up my staff and bag.
She nodded. 'Where's your mam's escort?' she asked.
I looked around. Three more of them were dead, their bodies trampled, but of the remainder there was no sign. And where were Mam, the Spook and Arkwright? Were they in the tunnel behind us? Had they been crushed in the stampede? A lump came into my throat.
I called out, 'Mam! Mam!' but there was no reply, just an eerie silence.
'We should follow the witches,' Alice suggested. 'Maybe your mam and old Gregory have been delayed. They might not even have been in the tunnel when those horses came through.'
I nodded and we went on. I was still worried about Mam but also afraid of what might be waiting ahead.
Whatever it was, a thousand mounted warriors had fled in fear rather than face it. Was it the Ordeen herself? Had she received my blood and awoken already?
We were approaching the end of the tunnel now and mist began to swirl towards us. A strange fear gnawed at my insides. Waves of cold swept through me like a gale trying to force me backwards.
'Do you feel it, Tom?' Alice asked.
I nodded. For a spook, any degree of fear was dangerous when facing the dark. It made the enemies of the light much more powerful.
We struggled on. I tried to block out the fear by thinking of happy times in my childhood: sitting on Mam's knee or Dad telling me stories about his time at sea. We forced ourselves forward until at last, from out of the mist, the high inner wall of the Ord loomed up before us, its huge stones still steaming.
We'd reached the wide cobbled courtyard. There were dead horses on the ground; warriors too, their eyes wide open and staring, their faces twisted with terror.
'What killed them, Alice?' I cried. 'There are no marks on them. No wounds at all.'
'Died of fright, they did, Tom. It froze their minds and stopped their hearts . . . But look! There's an open gate.'
Ahead of us, set into the wall, stood a wide wooden gate. It was open, but darkness waited within. As I stared at it, despair washed over me and I couldn't find the will to take a single step nearer. It had all been for nothing. The warriors had fled or died and now there was no chance of entering and destroying the Ordeen before she drew on her mantle of power again.
We stood staring at the open gate. What could Alice and I do alone? And how long before the Ordeen awoke?
'I haven't got the strength to go in,' I told Alice, knowing that I was in thrall to the powerful dark magic that had been used against the mercenaries. 'I'm not brave enough for this . . . I haven't the will . . .'
Alice's only reply was to nod her head wearily in agreement.
Although neither of us voiced our thoughts, it seemed certain that the Pendle witches had already gone through ahead of us. But we still didn't move. I was wondering what could have happened to Mam and the others. The heart and courage had gone out of me.
I don't know how long we'd have remained standing there, but suddenly I heard footsteps behind and turned to see a tall hooded figure carrying a staff and bag emerge from the tunnel. To my astonishment I saw that it was the Spook. At his heels was Bill Arkwright, who looked resolute, as if in the mood for breaking a few heads. But there was no sign of his three dogs.
Arkwright nodded but the Spook strode straight past us without even a glance in our direction. Then, as he reached the gate, he turned and looked back at me, his eyes glittering fiercely.
'Come on, lad, don't dawdle!' he growled. 'There's work to be done. And if we don't do it, who will?'
I forced myself to take a step nearer; then another. With each one it grew a little easier and the shackles of fear began to loosen and fall away from my mind. I realized that while the warriors had fled or died, our line of work – plus the fact that spooks were seventh sons of seventh sons – gave us the strength to resist. But above all it was the Spook and his determination that had helped me to conquer my fear.
As for Alice, her training as a witch would help – and although my master hadn't invited her to join him, we both stepped through the gate and entered the darkness beyond.
'Have you seen Mam?' I asked the spooks.
They both shook their heads. 'We got separated when those horses stampeded out of the tunnel towards us. Don't you worry, lad,' said the Spook. 'Your mam can look after herself. No doubt she'll follow along later.'
They were kind words but did little to make me feel any better.
'Where are Claw and her pups?' I asked Bill. 'Are they safe?'
'Safe enough for now,' he replied. 'There's no point in bringing them into this place. They've been trained to deal with water witches and suchlike. What chance would they have against a fire elemental?'
Now I heard a distant roar of cascading water and, much nearer, the echoes of large drops pattering down on stone. There was also the hiss of steam. A deluge had fallen onto the Ord, and much of it had found its way inside. I reached out a hand and touched the wall. The stones were still very warm.
The Spook opened his bag, pulling out a small lantern, which he lit and held aloft. We looked around and I immediately saw that there was more than one path open to us. Wreathed in tendrils of mist, a narrow passage lay ahead, sloping upwards; to our right was another, this one perfectly level. The Spook paused. He seemed to be listening. I thought I heard a faint cry in the distance, but it wasn't repeated and after a few moments he turned to face me.
'I think upwards is the way we should go. I expect we'll find the Ordeen in one of the towers. What do you say?' he asked, looking at Arkwright.
The other spook gave the briefest of nods and my master set off, striding out determinedly. We followed, Alice close by my side.
We had been walking for only a few minutes when the passage came to an end. There was solid stone ahead, but to our left I saw an opening. Without hesitating, the Spook went through and held up the lantern. We followed him and found ourselves in a large room full of stone slabs occupied by what I took to be sleepers, lying on their backs. Unlike the passageways, this chamber wasn't in total darkness; it was filled with a faint yellow light that had no apparent source.
The supine figures looked human, but their bodies were long, their faces elongated, with pointy chins and noses and deep-set eyes. These were the daemons we'd seen watching the dancers in the hall. But now, as the lantern bathed the nearer ones in light, I saw that rather than sleeping, they were dead.
Their throats had been cut and they were lying in pools of their own blood, which had also splattered down onto the stone floor. As we walked slowly forward, picking our way between the slabs, we saw bloody footprints. Some were made by pointy shoes, but there were marks of bare feet too – the feet of the Mouldheel witches.
The Spook's Sacrifice Page 15
