Spook’s: I Am Grimalkin (20 page)

The frightened soldier hastened to obey, and unlocked the
door
quickly, pulling it inwards until it was wide-open, revealing the outer portcullis and the drawbridge beyond. He didn’t wait to be told to work the second capstan, and the portcullis was raised faster this time.

But now I could hear distant shouts of command and footsteps running towards us across the darkness of the yard. We did not enter the gateway, fearing that we might be targeted from the side, as we had been when we’d entered this place. We prepared to meet their attack and I brought them into focus with my keen eyes. They were not archers; just three men armed with pikes.

‘They are yours, Thorne!’ I hissed. I knew that after suffering the pain of the torture it would be good for her to get back into action as soon as possible.

‘All three?’

‘Yes, but make it quick!’

Thorne whirled forward to meet them just as I had taught her. She was fast, and her combat skills were honed almost to perfection. Some had been acquired by long hours of practice, but there were some things that cannot be taught; Thorne had the art born in her, and with consummate grace she avoided the hastily jabbed pikes of the soldiers, and her blades flashed, dealing out death to all three in a matter of seconds.

I could see that within two years Thorne would be my equal.

And after that?

Eventually she would be capable of defeating me just as I had defeated Kernolde. The thought brought me happiness, not fear. I would not wish to live once my powers began to
decline
. It was good to know that I had a worthy successor.

The soldier was lowering the drawbridge now, but other footsteps were racing towards us through the darkness. This time I did not order Thorne to attack. One of those approaching was smaller than the rest. It was Will, the son of the dead knight.

The group halted about twenty paces from us – five men; the two flanking the boy were the last of the master bowmen.

‘Release Father Hewitt!’ cried the boy. ‘It’s a sin to harm a priest!’

‘Tell your men to put down their weapons and I will allow him to live,’ I said softly. ‘If you refuse, then I will kill this poor excuse for a priest and you will be responsible for his death.’

‘You caused my father’s death!’ Will screamed hysterically. ‘Now you will die too!’

He put his hands on the shoulders of the archers who flanked him. ‘Aim low!’ he cried. ‘They will try to dive beneath your arrows!’

The archers raised their bows and fired.

FASTER THAN THE
flight of the arrow, I yanked the priest in front of me, pushing him to his knees as a shield. They fired low as commanded, and an arrow embedded itself in his chest. He gave a groan of pain and fell, stone dead, to the ground. I glanced to my left and saw that Thorne had deflected the other arrow with her blade.

Before the archers could pull further arrows from their quivers our throwing blades pierced the left eye-socket of each and the bows slipped from their dead fingers as they crumpled at the feet of the boy.

He took a step backwards, terror animating his features. But what would it profit us to slay him? I asked myself. He was just a child whose world had been turned upside down. I could read a whole range of emotions on Thorne’s face. There was anger and outrage at Will, who had tried to kill us, but also sadness and regret. I knew that she felt betrayed.

‘The priest is dead, Will,’ I told him with a grim smile. ‘Your guardian has been retired from his duties. You are in charge here now. Rule wisely and rule well!’

Will looked at Thorne and tried to speak, but the drawbridge was almost down and we couldn’t wait. With Thorne at my heels, I ran up its slippery wooden incline and leaped the narrowing gap to land on the soft earth at the far edge of the moat. Arrows still whistled towards us from the battlements but we were running fast, weaving from side to side, and these were not masters of their craft. In a few seconds we were lost in the safety of the darkness.

The real danger now lay somewhere ahead. Had the kretch regenerated itself yet? Would the mage and the witches know that we had left the castle?

The answer to my first question was uncertain, but it was likely that spies would be watching. They would have heard the shouts and seen the drawbridge being lowered. Even now they would be alerting their sister witches.

So we ran hard in a direction that was roughly east, towards the rising sun. I was thinking desperately:
Where could we go? What refuge remained?

My mind twisted first one way then another, seeking what was not there to be found. It was true that there was one place we might use to our advantage, although we might encounter more enemies than friends there. I changed direction and picked up my pace.

‘Witch Dell lies directly ahead!’ Thorne said, running alongside me.

‘Yes, that’s where we are heading, child. It may prove a good place to stand and fight!’

Before long, Pendle Hill dominated the skyline. It was shaped like a huge whale – the great sea mammal I had glimpsed on one of my journeys across the great northern sea that lay beyond the borders of the County.

We rested for a while in a wood, confident that we had put a good distance between us and our pursuers. We would not approach Witch Dell until nightfall.

I turned to Thorne. ‘How do you feel, child?’ I asked. I wondered whether her experiences in the dungeon might affect her ability to fight.

‘Feel?’ she snapped. ‘Feel about what – the boy?’

‘Yes, the boy – and also the physical hurt that you received.’

‘The boy is nothing to me now. Are all men fools like that?’

‘Not all men are fools, though there are plenty of dolts to
spare
for women who want them. But do not think too badly of Will. He lost his father – and, by making a bargain with us, set up the chain of events that led to his father’s death. But forget him now. He is in the past and could never have been part of your life, anyway. You are a witch and will soon become a fully-fledged assassin. He will become a knight. You come from different worlds.’

‘Yes, I will try to forget him. I will push him from my mind.’

Thorne fell silent, so after a while I spoke again. ‘What about the torture?’ I asked.

‘The pain of being stabbed with the bodkin was terrible at first,’ Thorne answered, ‘but after a while I grew less sensitive and coped better. The priest realized that, so he threatened to take my thumb-bones. He was enjoying my fear and really meant to cut them from me while I still lived. I could read it in his eyes. It was unbearable. Never have I felt such terror and despair. All that I have been, and could have become, would have been taken from me. I would have been nothing – a shameful thing to be ridiculed for ever.’

‘Well, it did not happen, child. You were brave and bore the pain well. The priest is dead and you live to fight another day. We
will
destroy our enemies and prevail.’

‘Will we be safe in the dell?’ Thorne asked. ‘Will we find allies there?’

‘Nowhere on this earth is safe for us now, child. But it depends whom we encounter first. Some of the dead may be well-disposed towards us; most will just want our blood. But they will protect their territory. If we can get into the heart of
the
dell, they will defend it against the larger threat of those who pursue us.’

‘Witch Dell is the place where you fought Kernolde and became the witch assassin, isn’t it?’ Thorne asked.

‘It is indeed, child. Years have passed but it seems like only yesterday.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Thorne asked.

‘You know the story well. You’ve heard it from my own lips more than once.’

I listened to the wind sighing through the trees and checked our surroundings for danger. All was clear. Our enemies were still some distance away.

‘Then please tell it one more time. Stories change a little with each telling. A good teller of tales remembers new things and forgets what is least important.’

I sighed, but then began my tale. Why not? It would distract us both for a while from the danger that lay ahead and behind.

‘The challenge always took place north of the three villages of the Malkins, Deanes and Mouldheels; the spot was usually selected by the then assassin.

‘Kernolde chose as her killing ground Witch Dell, where she routinely used these dead things as her allies, the only witch who has ever done so successfully. More than one challenger was drained of blood by the dead before Kernolde took her thumb-bones as proof of victory.’

‘Wasn’t that cheating – to use dead witches to aid her?’ Thorne asked.

‘Some might think so, but she had been the Malkin assassin
for
many years. She was feared. Who would dare to question what she did?’

‘I’ve heard that some of the dead witches are really strong and can roam for miles seeking their prey. How many are there at present like that?’ Thorne asked.

‘There were five until autumn, but, as you know, even dead witches do not survive for ever. Gradually they weaken, and parts of their bodies begin to decay and fall off. I learned from Agnes that the winter took its toll; now there are only three really strong ones.’

‘Who will they side with – you or our enemies?’

‘That is uncertain, child. But if at least two fight alongside us, the balance of power will be in our favour.’

Thorne nodded, deep in thought. ‘Tell me more about Kernolde,’ she demanded.

‘Kernolde often proved victorious without her dead allies. She was skilled with blades, ropes, traps and pits full of spikes, but her speciality was strangulation. Once they were defeated she in variably strangled her opponents. She enjoyed inflicting that slow death upon those she had overcome.

‘I knew this well before my challenge began: I’d thought long and hard about it and had visited the dell many times during the previous months. I had usually gone there in daylight, when the dead witches were dormant and Kernolde was away hunting prey. I had sniffed out every inch of the wood; knew every tree, every blade of grass; the whereabouts of every pit and trap. And there were lots of those. Some who fought Kernolde died even before they reached her.

‘So I was ready: I stood outside the dell in the shadow of the trees just before midnight, the appointed time for combat to begin. High to my left was the large mass of Pendle Hill, its eastern slopes bathed in the light of the full moon, which had risen high to the south. Within moments a beacon flared at the summit, sparks shooting upwards into the air to signal the beginning of my challenge.

‘Immediately I did what no other challenger had done before. Most crept into the dell, nervous and fearful, in dread of what they faced. Some were braver but still entered cautiously. I was different. I announced my presence in a loud clear voice.’

‘Let me say it for you, Grimalkin. Please!’ Thorne interrupted.

I nodded, and Thorne got to her feet, put on a very serious face and called out the words that I had used all those long years ago:

‘“I’m here, Kernolde! My name is Grimalkin and I am your death!”’ she shouted at the top of her voice. ‘“I’m coming for
you
, Kernolde! I’m coming for
you
! And nothing living or dead can stop me!”’

She sat down and we both laughed for a while. ‘Did you mean it?’ Thorne asked. ‘Did you really believe your own words?’

‘To a certain extent I believed. It was not just bravado, although that played no small part. My behaviour was a product of much thought and calculation. I knew that my shouts would bring the dead witches towards me, and that’s what I wanted. Now I would know where they were. It is
always
important to spy out the location of any danger that we face.

‘Most dead witches are slow, and I knew that I could outpace them. It was the powerful ones I had to beware of. One of them was named Gertrude the Grim because of her intimidating and repulsive appearance, and she was both strong and quick for one who had been dead for more than a century. She roamed far and wide beyond the dell, hunting for blood. But tonight she would be waiting within it, for she was Kernolde’s closest accomplice, well-rewarded in blood for aiding each victory.

‘I waited for fifteen minutes or so, long enough to let the slowest witch get near to me. I’d already sniffed out Gertrude, the old one. She’d been close to the edge of the dell for some time but had chosen not to venture into the open; she had moved in amongst the trees so that her slower sisters could threaten me first. I could hear the rustling of leaves and the occasional faint crack of a twig as they shuffled forward. They were slow, but never underestimate a dead witch. They have great strength, and once they have hold of your flesh they cannot easily be prised free. Soon they begin to suck your blood, until you weaken and can fight no more. Some would be in the ground, hiding within the dead leaves and mud, ready to reach out and grasp at my ankles as I sped by.