The Spook's Nightmare Part 13

Daniel Stanton was a capable commander and it was clear that his men trusted him and obeyed his orders without question. The first stage of the attack went well.

We advanced through the trees in a thin arc towards St John's, the yeomen spread out to deal with enemy patrols. They encountered three: two surrendered without a fight; the third put up only token resistance. If this had been a straightforward military engagement, the element of surprise would have been with us. But Lizzie was different.

Back in the early days of my apprentices.h.i.+p to the Spook, Lizzie had moved into the Chipenden area and been staying in a cottage only a few miles from the village. She'd s.n.a.t.c.hed a child to take its bones. I managed to rescue it and, enraged, the local men set off with clubs and sticks to get her. Using long-sniffing, she'd sensed the danger and fled. The mob had then burned her cottage to the ground.

But this time Lizzie was the one in the position of power. She'd sense the threat we posed, then use her superior forces to swat us as easily as you would a fly. To counter this we planned a lightning raid that would strike straight at the witch herself, taking her unawares.

Under Stanton's orders, the yeomen re-formed, the thin crescent becoming a compact wedge, to drive through any resistance and make directly for the witch. As we approached St John's, the Spook, Alice, Simon and I were to the rear of the yeomen.

My master turned to me and Alice. 'Use these lads as cover for just as long as you can, then go straight for her!'

I nodded, and we released the retractable blades in our staffs. Alice didn't usually carry a weapon but Simon had given her a knife. She now wore it at her belt. I wondered if she'd be able to use it against her own mother. Somehow, for all her harsh words about Lizzie, I doubted it.

'Stay close to me!' I told her, concerned that the battle might separate us, and that she'd lose the protection of the blood jar.

My mouth was dry with fear and excitement. We were near the edge of the trees now: I could see buildings and a large green straight ahead. A big gathering of people stood there, some holding pikes and spears. Our yeomen readied their weapons.

'Now!' cried Stanton, and led the charge. We broke into a run, still holding our tight wedge formation. I couldn't see much through the press of men, but in the distance I spotted the four-tiered gra.s.sy mound known as Tynwald Hill, where the Parliament was already gathered. Lizzie might be addressing them right now; she had to be somewhere close by.

Then I heard shouts and cries of pain as our yeomen made contact with the enemy. Our forward movement was starting to slow as the resistance hardened.

Whether we would have reached the centre of the green or not I'll never know, because at that moment, just as we'd expected, Lizzie used the spell called dread. I felt a sudden overwhelming fear; the strong need to turn and run from some terrible unseen threat moving towards us. I resisted the urge, knowing that Alice and my master would be doing the same. But our yeomen were powerless in the face of such a spell, and they broke formation immediately, scattering to every point of the compa.s.s as did Simon Sulby. How could he do otherwise? He'd never before been subjected to such a feeling of terror.

But it wasn't all bad: such a spell isn't selective, and it affected Lizzie's own troops as well as our own. Had she not realized that would happen? The spell had surely failed to gain her any advantage at all, I thought. Perhaps the power had gone to her head.

There were yeomen running in all directions across the green, along with members of Parliament and other dignitaries, their gowns of office flapping around their ankles. But where was Lizzie?

'There she is!' cried the Spook, pointing with his staff.

She was standing near the hill, staring at us malevolently. For a moment her eyes locked with mine and a new tremor of fear and antic.i.p.ation ran through my body. I now faced something more dangerous than dread, which I had already brushed aside. Lizzie had the power to kill us from a distance, and I was the most likely candidate. She wouldn't slay the Spook outright; she owed him a long, lingering, painful death. Alice was her daughter, and I wasn't sure what she'd do with her. But I was just a thorn in her side, the one responsible for the destruction of Mother Malkin, Lizzie's grandmother.

We were still running towards her, weaving our way through the thinning ranks of yeomen, when suddenly the sky grew dark. In an instant the sun vanished as angry clouds raced in from the west and the trees began to shake and moan. Torrential rain drove right into our faces, making it difficult to see. This was more powerful dark magic being conjured by Lizzie.

I bowed my head and wiped the water out of my eyes, my left hand gripping my staff. I was near her now, and when I raised my head, I saw her face twist into a cunning, lopsided smile, which widened into an evil grin of pure triumph. Suddenly I realized that this was what she had intended all along. She didn't care that her own forces had been scattered by her spell. All she wanted was to face the Spook, Alice and me and take her revenge. She truly believed that she was a match for the three of us together.

I was ahead of the Spook, ahead of Alice; another dozen paces would bring me within striking distance. I raised my staff, holding it like a spear. Lizzie was now gripping two long blades and getting ready to use them on the first to come within range.

I was almost upon her when someone surged past me, sword held aloft.

'She's mine!' cried Daniel Stanton. Somehow his courage had managed to counter the witch's spell.

But as he reached her, thrusting the sword towards her heart, the witch knocked it aside with the blade in her left hand; using her other weapon, she cracked the handle down with great force on the back of his head. Stanton staggered and fell, rolling over and over, the sword flying out of his hand.

Why hadn't Lizzie used the blade? I wondered. Immediately my question was answered, for she spoke right inside my head: There'll be a slow painful death for him for you and your master too!

In an instant I was upon her. I stabbed down at the witch with my staff, but at the last moment I slipped on the wet gra.s.s and she struck me a glancing blow with the handle of her dagger. A light flashed inside my head and I don't remember hitting the ground.

I must have lost consciousness briefly, because the next thing I knew, the Spook was slowly approaching Lizzie, his staff held diagonally across his body. Alice was standing to one side, her face fearful, watching the encounter between the witch and my master. Lizzie was grinning again, almost gloating. I looked at the Spook and I could see his fear. No, it was more than that. His whole face was twitching, and his eyes told me that he was already defeated. No doubt Lizzie was speaking inside his head, telling him that he had no chance against her; telling him what she would do to him after taking him prisoner.

The sight of my master in that situation horrified and dismayed me. He had always been such a tower of strength. Even when temporarily defeated by the dark, he had always been brave and optimistic. All that was gone now I turned away, unable to bear the sight of him brought so low.

Suddenly the Spook lowered his staff and fell to his knees at Lizzie's feet. She smiled and raised her dagger high, about to bring the handle down on his head and knock him unconscious. I sat up and staggered to my feet, but a wave of dizziness and nausea immediately washed over me. I wanted to intervene but knew I couldn't reach my master in time.

But there was an intervention. Alice suddenly shouted out it was a word in the Old Tongue. I didn't know what it meant but guessed it was some sort of spell. Something seemed to dart between Alice and Lizzie; something small and dark. Alice didn't throw it whatever it was came straight out of her open mouth.

The effect on the bone witch was immediate. Lizzie staggered backwards and the dagger fell from her grasp. And then Alice attacked, holding her dagger aloft though she didn't stab Lizzie. She used her other hand to draw her nails right down the witch's face. Lizzie screamed and fell back.

This was my chance and I stepped forward, raising my staff to drive my blade into her heart. But though I tried with all my strength, I could not hurt her as Alice had done. I was no match for her power. The staff froze in my hands.

'Quick, Tom!' Alice cried, dragging the Spook to his feet. I picked up his staff, took his other arm, and we started to pull him away. I glanced back and saw Lizzie still clutching her face. Whatever Alice had done, I knew its effects wouldn't last long.

Somehow we got clear, losing ourselves in the throng of terrified people. As we headed back through the trees, we saw people still staggering about, both yeomen and members of the Tynwald, their faces showing bemus.e.m.e.nt and terror. Of Simon Sulby there was no sign.

As we made our way into the forest, the Spook shrugged us off almost angrily. 'I can walk! I don't need dragging!' he snapped, and immediately started off ahead of us. At first he seemed unsteady on his feet, but then he pressed on with more vigour. Alice and I dropped back a little so we could talk.

'He's not angry with us, he's angry with himself,' I told her.

'Old Gregory's pride's hurt,' Alice said. 'Lizzie bested him again no mistake about that.'

'But you bested Lizzie. How did you manage that when she's so strong?'

'It was something that my aunt Agnes once taught me. It's a spell some witches call talon. You bite off a small piece of the nail of your forefinger and spit it at your enemy. Then you scratch her face and stun her. Took Lizzie by surprise, it did. She didn't know I could do that. Only gave us a few moments though. I'll never be able to repeat that spell. She'll be ready for me next time.'

The aunt Alice had mentioned was Agnes Sowerb.u.t.ts, whom Alice had once lived with briefly in Pendle.

'But I thought you told me that Agnes was a benign witch, a healer?' I said to her.

'She is, Tom wouldn't lie to you, would I? But any witch who lives in Pendle needs some spells to defend herself with. Never know when some other witch might try it on. Agnes would only use something like that in self-defence. Same goes for me.'

Soon we were well clear of St John's and the sun was s.h.i.+ning again. When we reached the mill late in the afternoon, Adriana was distraught to hear that Simon had gone missing. She feared the worst.

However, to her relief he was back before noon the following day though the news he brought was mostly bad. Within the hour, the Tynwald had a.s.sembled again and had appointed Lizzie ruler of the island; the Parliament was dissolved, leaving her in full control.

'It was over so quickly,' Simon said. 'Everyone was scared of her. They just did what she wanted, then went home. Who can blame them?'

The Spook nodded. 'What then? Did Lizzie stay in St John's?'

'No, she left immediately for Greeba Keep.'

'What about Daniel Stanton's forces? Did she take prisoners with her?'

'Just one Stanton himself. She was in a great hurry to get away she seemed excited about something, and I don't think it was just about becoming ruler of Mona. She took no other prisoners. That was the only good thing about the whole business: all the yeomen had been comrades once and they weren't keen to fight each other, so there were no casualties. Only half a dozen were wounded, and none seriously. Those who didn't return to Greeba with Lizzie simply went home.'

'I wonder why she rushed back so quickly,' muttered the Spook thoughtfully.

'Do you think she's found out about the cavern and what it contains?' I asked him.

'It's possible, lad. If so, she'll take some stopping, that's for sure.' He looked across the table at Simon and Adriana. 'I think you two will be safe enough here,' he told them. 'But as soon as Bony Lizzie gets her hands on that cache of power, she'll come looking for the three of us. We'll take the dogs and make ourselves scarce.'

'There's an abandoned cottage south of here in Glenmaye,' Adriana said. 'It's not been lived in for years but you'd have a roof over your head.' Suddenly she blushed. 'It's where I used to meet Simon a place Father didn't know about. Simon would go and wait for me there and I'd join him if I could get away from the mill. Trust me, you'll be safe there.'

Chapter 23.

Adriana gave us a sack of supplies: hams, potatoes, carrots and cheese. It was heavy, so I handed our bags to Alice and carried the sack over my shoulder. Adriana also sent one of the mill workers, a young lad, to guide us.

The cottage stood on the edge of the glen just inside a wood; although the trees had lost their leaves, it was well hidden and could only be reached by a narrow track that twisted its way between the hills. We arrived just before dark and spent an uncomfortable night sleeping on the damp flagged kitchen floor. The following morning we set about making ourselves more comfortable. It was a simple cottage two up and two down and every room was full of rubbish: broken furniture, mildewed blankets, and piles of leaves, blown in through the open doorway the front door had come off its hinges.

Alice crafted a broom of twigs and set about sweeping the place clean. I laid four big fires, one in each room, so that we were soon warmer and the cottage was starting to dry out a little. I hadn't the tools to put the door back on its hinges, but I propped it up in the doorway, supported by heavy stones. There was still a draught but it kept most of the chill out.

However, the kitchen was where we felt most comfortable. That night, after a meal of boiled ham and potatoes, we sat cross-legged on the flags close to the fire. We were all tired and the Spook's head kept nodding forward onto his chest. Soon he was fast asleep. After a while he started to groan and mutter to himself. He sounded scared. At last he opened his eyes wide and woke up with a gasp of terror.

'What was it another nightmare?' I asked.

'It was more than a nightmare, lad. Lizzie was right inside my mind, taunting and threatening me. Telling me what she'll do to me when I fall into her hands once more.'

It saddened me to see my master in this state and to be powerless to help him. 'It's not worth worrying about,' I told him, attempting to be optimistic. 'She may be able to torment your mind but she's a long way away. We're safe for now.'

The Spook stared at me angrily. 'Not worth worrying? I've every right to be worried. In all my time as a spook I've never felt so low and close to defeat. My library and house are gone and I'm exiled here on an island ruled by a witch who'll only grow more powerful with each day that pa.s.ses. I've never failed to bind a witch before, never missed with my silver chain. And now I've failed not once but twice. Lizzie's proved to be too strong for me. Everything I've worked for all these years has been overturned. I never thought it would come to this.'

'We'll find a way to deal with Lizzie,' Alice said. 'There might be something in that shaman's notebook that could help. After all, he worked with the buggane to build that cache of magic.'

'Using the dark to fight the dark again?' My master shook his head sadly.

'No,' Alice contradicted him. 'It ain't that at all. You once asked me to tell Tom what I'd learned from Lizzie so he could write it down in his notebook. You do remember saying that, don't you?'

The Spook nodded.

'Well, this is the same. I'm just trying to get information. I'll start reading at first light.'

'As long as it's only reading, girl,' he warned. 'Remember, no spells or you'll answer to me!'

The following morning, after breakfast, Alice started on the shaman's notebook, but she didn't find it easy going. Some of it was in code and impossible to decipher. Even the parts that could be read used terms she'd never even heard of. It seemed that animism was a very different type of magic to that taught by Bony Lizzie. However, Alice was not one to give up easily, and she returned again and again to her study of that notebook. Sometimes she looked excited, as if she'd made some progress, but when I questioned her about it, she shook her head and wouldn't discuss it with me.

Then, three days after the Spook's nightmare, I had one of my own.

I was in a dark forest, alone and unarmed. My staff lay somewhere nearby, but I couldn't find it. I was desperate, because in a few minutes, at midnight, something would be coming after me something terrible.

Later, when I woke up, I couldn't remember what it was dreams are like that sometimes but I knew it had been sent by a witch seeking revenge for something I'd done to her.

In my dream, a church bell began to chime somewhere in the distance. I froze, petrified, but on the twelfth note I began to run towards it. Branches whipped at my face as I sprinted desperately through the trees. Something was chasing me now, but it wasn't footsteps that I heard: it was the beating of wings.

I glanced back over my shoulder and saw that my pursuer was a large black crow. The sight of it filled me with terror, but I knew that if only I could reach the church I'd be safe. Why that should be I don't know churches aren't usually places of refuge from the dark. Spooks and apprentices relied on the tools of their trade and the knowledge they'd gained. Nevertheless, in that nightmare I knew that I had to reach the church or die.

I suddenly tripped over a root and sprawled headlong. Winded, I struggled to my knees and looked up at the crow, which had alighted on a branch. The air s.h.i.+mmered in front of me and I blinked furiously to clear my vision. When I could finally see again, I was confronted by a figure in a long black dress. She was female from the neck down but had the huge head of a crow.

Even as I stared, the crow's head began to change. The beak shrank, and the eyes s.h.i.+fted shape until the head was fully human. And I knew that face. It was that of a witch who was now dead.

I must have cried out on awaking from that dream. The Spook was still fast asleep, but as I sat up, shuddering, Alice's arm went around my shoulders.

'You all right, Tom?' she whispered.

I nodded. 'Just a nightmare that's all.'

'Want to tell me about it?'

I gave Alice a short account of what I'd dreamed. 'I think the crow was the Morrigan, the dark G.o.ddess wors.h.i.+pped by Celtic witches,' I added. 'No doubt it harks back to the time when Bill Arkwright and I faced a Celtic witch who'd travelled to the County. She summoned the Morrigan, who attacked me in the shape of a crow, but I somehow managed to drive it off. The witch warned me then never to visit Ireland. She said the Morrigan was much more powerful there and would seek her revenge on me.'

'Well, that explains your nightmare, Tom. Don't worry, we're not in Ireland. We'll be heading back to the County once we've dealt with Lizzie.'

I knew that Alice was just trying to comfort me, but I felt gloomy about the future. 'There's little chance of that while it's still in enemy hands,' I observed.

'As Old Gregory once said, wars don't last for ever,' Alice remarked cheerfully. 'Anyway, what happened to that Celtic witch?'

'Bill Arkwright killed her with his knife. Right at the end of my nightmare, the crow took on her dead face. That was the scariest thing of all.'

The Spook had become very quiet and withdrawn, giving me just an hour of instruction a day, studying the Old Tongue. Then, using the large notebook that he always carried in his bag, he spent the rest of the time writing. I noticed that he was making sketches as well.

'What are you doing?' I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

'I've got to start somewhere, lad,' he told me in one of his rare talkative moments. 'All that's left of my library is the Bestiary, so I'm going to try and rewrite some of the other books that were lost. I've got to do it before I forget. I'm starting with A History of the Dark. The lessons we learn from history are important they keep us from repeating past mistakes.'

I felt that we should be using this time to work out how to deal with Lizzie. Most days we discussed it briefly, but the Spook seemed lost in thought and contributed little to our discussions. Yes, the books did need to be rewritten, but it seemed to me that he was distracting himself from the real problem a witch who was growing more and more powerful.

Exactly seven days after our arrival at the cottage, we had a visitor: Alice opened the kitchen door to throw out some food sc.r.a.ps and a bird flew straight into the room a grey pigeon. But instead of flapping about in panic, it landed on the table.

'Bad luck for a bird to fly into a room!' Alice said. 'It means someone's going to die soon.'

'Well, you're not always right, girl. Besides, I think this one has a message for us,' said the Spook, pointing to a piece of paper tied to the pigeon's leg.

He held out his hand and the bird hopped onto it. Carefully he took it in his hands and held the creature out towards me. 'Untie the message, lad. Be as gentle as you can ...'

I did as he asked. The piece of paper was tied on so that it wouldn't come loose, yet one gentle pull on the end of the string, and the pellet of paper dropped into my hand. While the Spook gave the bird some crusts of bread and water, I unfolded the small square of paper and smoothed it out on the table. The writing was very small and difficult to make out.

'It's from Adriana,' I said. 'She says it's safe to return, but there's bad news as well.'

'Well, read it out, lad!'

So I did as my master commanded.

'Dear Mr Gregory, Tom and Alice,