You can’t use that power for anyone or anything or it will destroy you. It comes from the very heart of darkness, and if you use it willy-nilly as you’ve just done, it will seize you for its own and take your soul.
But I had to risk it.
So I simply wished . . . and it was done.
The candle flame grew brighter, caught, then raced up the web-strand directly towards the spider daemon.
For a second Raknid didn’t react. Perhaps he couldn’t believe what was happening . . .
The whole web went up in a whoosh of flame, yellow and orange, so bright that it hurt my eyes.
Raknid was burning too. He was burning and shrieking – so shrilly that it was like sharp needles being driven into my ears. His red fur was crisping to black.
Now he was falling. Falling like a meteorite plummeting to earth.
But the dagger was falling faster.
Like a hawk stooping to a falconer’s wrist, the Dolorous blade came straight to my hand.
I caught it by the handle and tossed it towards Thorne.
Over and over it spun, end over end, and she caught it too.
‘Kill him!’ I commanded.
Raknid, still shrieking, hit the ground in a shower of sparks.
Thorne went to work quickly.
He fell silent.
Then we ran.
THE FIRST TIME we paused to catch our breath, I examined the dagger carefully. It resembled the other one needed for the ritual. The sword and the daggers were of different lengths, but the hilts were identical, with their skelt heads and ruby-red eyes. But this was the Dolorous blade – the one that would be used to take my life.
Then, as I held that dagger, a wave of sadness passed through me. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. It wasn’t simply that it was linked to my own approaching death; it was as if I was suddenly connected to the sadness of millions of souls. I staggered and almost dropped the blade, and Thorne held my arm to steady me.
‘Are you all right? Are you ill?’ she asked anxiously.
I saw no point in telling her what I had experienced, so I just smiled. ‘I’m tired, that’s all. We must move on. I have to leave this place.’
So we set off again. It took a long time to sniff out the gate; hours and hours of searching. All the time I was scared, and very much aware that we were being hunted down by powerful beings.
And our enemies had lots of reasons to try and stop us.
Thorne had hurt Beelzebub and killed Tusk; we had fought the water witches and had been there when Morwena was slain. We had destroyed the daemon, Raknid. And now we were escaping with the Dolorous blade, one of the three hero swords that could be used to destroy the Fiend.
They would do anything to catch us.
But at last we found the gate and passed through it safely; we found ourselves once more on the white path that crossed the black abyss, joining domain to domain.
It was then, just as we were approaching a cave, that the daemon Tanaki found us.
In the blink of an eye, with a sound of thunder, the father of the kretch arrived.
He was a colossus – far too big to fit into the cave – but he materialized between us and our refuge. I had come so close, but now our chance of escape was gone.
Whether Tanaki was floating or standing on something far below the path was impossible to say, but he straddled it, his legs level with our heads, while his head and body towered above us. He was a fearsome sight and, like his son, the kretch, there was much that was wolf-like about him.
His hairy jaw was elongated, and large, pointed canines jutted upwards and downwards, too big to fit inside. He opened his mouth and roared, his hot rank breath rushing over us like scalding steam, so that I was forced to shield my eyes with my forearm. I could easily fit within that mouth; I was no more than a morsel for such a monster, chewed and swallowed in an instant.
Once again Thorne stepped between me and the threat. She was brave and dangerous, but what chance did she have against such a monster?
She was already sliding a dagger from its sheath. But the daemon was not only huge; he was very fast. He struck downwards at Thorne with a scaly taloned hand. She somersaulted backwards, but Tanaki delivered a glancing blow to her shoulder and spun her onto the stones.
He gripped both sides of the path with his monstrous hands, mouth wide-open, ready to crunch Thorne in his jaws.
I had to do something.
But did I dare use my magic one more time?
Surely I had almost reached the point of no return . . .
EVERY TIME I used my magical power, the crescent mark on my thigh had grown bigger and bigger; it was now close to becoming a full moon.
The blood jar that I had used to keep the Fiend away from Tom had seemed to make little difference. But in Ireland I had used my power to save him from death. So much magical energy had surged out of me that it had caused a localized earthquake. I had saved our lives, but when I next checked my mark, it had become a half-moon.
Then, soon after Thorne’s death, I had used my magic to help Grimalkin retrieve the Fiend’s head from his supporters. They had been about to set sail for Ireland, where they would have reunited head and body, returning the Fiend to his former state, loose in the world. I had used my magic to conjure up a storm and burn their ship. With my help, Grimalkin had eventually triumphed, but the cost to me had been terrible. Even before the burning of the spider daemon, Raknid, the mark on my thigh had grown to a gibbous moon. Afterwards, I hadn’t even dared glance at it, fearful of what might be revealed. Further expenditure of magic might make it a full circle. Then I would belong to the dark for ever.
Poor, brave Thorne had died a horrible death on earth, her thumbs cut away by the dark mage Bowker on the edge of Witch Dell. Now she faced a second death in the jaws of the daemon, Tanaki.
How could I allow that after all she had done to help me?
But how could I use my magic again when I knew what the result might be?
My knees were trembling and my heart threatened to pound itself out of my chest. But I forced myself to step forward until I was between Thorne and that monstrous mouthful of savage vengeful teeth.
I wasn’t going to use my magic carelessly, was I? I wasn’t going to use it to keep me dry in a rainstorm or make branches bow away out of my path as I had on my walk back to Pendle to see Agnes. I was going to use it to fight the daemon Tanaki. I was doing it for Thorne.
‘Get back!’ I cried, raising my fists at the daemon. ‘Leave her be! You can’t have her!’
For a moment the huge head paused. I saw the hungry expression in the bestial eyes change quickly, revealing three things: humour, anger, and finally contempt.
It was the last of these that brought the fury rising up like bile in my throat.
‘You don’t know who I am!’ I screamed up at him. ‘You don’t know who I really am!’
The daemon’s mocking laughter rumbled across the abyss. Tanaki was amused by my outburst.
Then I spoke again – this time quietly; words whispering from my lips as if uttered by another.
‘My name is Alice,’ I announced. ‘And you ain’t strong enough to stand against me!’
If I could burn Raknid, I could do the same to Tanaki.
I had no choice. Whatever it cost me, this must be done.
My anger became fire. I shuddered with ecstasy as it left my body, surging up through my shoulders and arms to exit through my clenched fists. The two jets of white flame hit their targets simultaneously – the eyes of the daemon.
I stood swaying, almost floating up from the path, so extreme was my sense of exultation. The daemon was screaming now, his eyes melting and running down his cheeks. Then, like a huge tree felled by a woodsman’s axe, he slowly toppled sideways and fell away into the abyss.
I turned, dragged Thorne to her feet. She seemed befuddled and stared at me with wide eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. I seized her arm, and she leaned against me a
s we stumbled along the path to the shelter of the cave. Once there, she shrugged me off, so I tugged the candle out of my pocket again, ignited it with my will and led the way further into the darkness.
Three times we entered cave systems and located gates that took us elsewhere. Once we ended up in a place of ice and snow, and would have died had not the exit gate been close by. Once we re-entered the hot domain, where the skelts had scuttled out of the boiling lake. But we had been there before; the gate was still in the same place. We got out quickly, but I was starting to feel exhausted.
Finally we emerged into a domain of total darkness; we could hear the roar of huge predators and the thump-thump of their gigantic feet getting nearer.
It was a close-run thing, but we found the gate before they found us.
Something was really starting to worry me. I was feeling weaker and weaker. Thorne had told me that being in the dark while still alive would use up my life-force; that if I stayed too long, I would end up a dried husk, able to live for only a few days once back on earth.
I needed to get out of the dark as soon as possible now.
Was it already too late for me?
Now we were on the white path again; it disappeared directly ahead into a cave at the base of a huge black cliff. Thorne felt certain that this would lead to the domain of Pan. Beyond that the outside world awaited me – the land of the living.
We were almost there.
I was almost home.
Almost safe . . .
After a few minutes Thorne put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Let’s rest for a while. I want to talk,’ she said.
I was feeling shaky and was only too glad to stop, so we sat down cross-legged, facing each other, and I placed the flickering candle between us.
‘How did you do that to the daemon?’ Thorne asked.
My reply was a shrug.
‘Raknid too,’ she continued. ‘You burned his web and brought him to the ground in flames. And the dagger flew into your hands as if it had wings. Mine was the easy part. All I had to do was finish him off. Grimalkin told me you had powerful magic, but I didn’t expect that. I’ve never seen such power used by a witch.’
‘Is that the end of Tanaki?’ I said, trying to change the subject.
‘Things are hard to predict here,’ Thorne replied, ‘but I think it’s unlikely. As I told you, if something that was born and died back on earth is killed here for a second time, it ceases to exist, the soul is obliterated. So the kretch has likely fallen to his second and final death. Morwena too is gone for ever. But Tanaki is different; like his son, he has great powers of regeneration. If he survived the fall, he could eventually get his eyes back. And once set on a course, he never deviates until his will is accomplished; any defeat only makes him stronger. Each time he fights, he grows more formidable. Even Raknid might not be truly destroyed. He has aeons in which to regenerate. But other vengeful dark entities will be hunting us now . . .’
I said nothing; I had no words of comfort for Thorne, who truly needed them more than I did. Soon I would leave the dark, but she would have to stay behind, and the servants of the Fiend would continue to hunt her. Many were like Tanaki – they never gave up.
We got to our feet and set off again; soon we were entering another cave. Then, after a series of tunnels and caverns, we emerged onto the white path again. This time there was no cave at its end; just a tiny green star that grew quickly to first become an orb, and then, finally, an oasis of green floating in the abyss.
I had reached Pan’s domain.
‘Send my regards to my teacher, Grimalkin,’ Thorne said. ‘Tell her I am sorry that I faltered and betrayed you. But please let her know that I came back to help; that her words reached me in the dark and that I have tried hard to become what she wished – as brave in death as I was in life!’
‘You’ve tried and succeeded. Ain’t no doubt about that,’ I said with a smile. ‘I’ll tell her all that you did. How you took Beelzebub’s thumb-bones and stabbed Raknid in both eyes, then cut off his legs. She’ll like that. Couldn’t have done better herself!’
We stared at each other for a moment, and a lump came into my throat. Perhaps I didn’t have long to live, but at least I would see earth once more. I was going home; Thorne was trapped in the dark for ever – unless she eventually fell victim to one of its predators. And then she would be nothing. Her soul would be obliterated.
I headed towards that green oasis. Just before I entered it, I looked back.
Thorne was walking away into the distance, getting smaller and smaller.
I felt really sad.
AS SOON AS I entered Pan’s domain, I eased up my skirt and checked the mark on my thigh.
At first glance I was terrified: it looked like the full dark moon that I had been warned about by Agnes Sowerbutts. But I felt no different, and on closer inspection it seemed to me that it was not quite grown to its maximum size.
There was still hope.
I walked on to find Pan, clothed in leaves and bark, sitting on a log playing a reed pipe, just as he had been the last time we talked. It was as if all the dangers I’d faced in the dark had been no more than a dream, and he had been waiting here for me to open my eyes and see him once more.
He was that same fair boy, pleasant to look upon, only his long pointy ears and green curly toenails marking him as other than human.
He smiled at me and lowered the pipes from his mouth. I smiled back.
‘You were successful!’ he cried, nodding towards the dagger at my belt.
‘I hope so,’ I replied. ‘I have the blade I came for, but am I too late? How much time has passed back on earth? Halloween hasn’t come and gone, has it?’
‘It is the thirtieth of September. A month remains before Halloween. You are not too late. But before you return to your world, you must first pay the price of your presumption in entering my domain uninvited!’
‘Then please tell me what it is,’ I said, holding my breath in fear of what he might demand.
He smiled again. ‘I have helped you. All I ask is that you help me.’
‘Help you – to do what?’
‘For now it is not for you to know. In time I will tell you. The price is simple – just be ready to answer my call and give me the help I need. Whatever you are doing when you hear my pipes, come to me at once. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, I understand,’ I replied, so desperate to find Tom that I would have agreed to anything.
‘And will you do as I ask?’
‘Yes. When I hear the pipes, I will come to you.’
What else could I say? If I didn’t agree, he would never let me go home.
‘Then for now, return to the world and do what you must do!’ he commanded.
Everything seemed to spin about me. I felt sick; I closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, I was sitting on the grass with my back against a tree. I was once more in the forest close to the river.
I was home.
I set off for Chipenden at once. I was looking forward to seeing Tom. We would have a little time together before the ritual – almost a month. I would have to make the best of it.
It was late afternoon, and the sun was warm overhead. It was good weather for the last day of September in the County. I could see the smoke from the village chimneypots rising above the trees. I took the path to the left; the one that would take me away from those houses and straight to the home of Old Gregory.
But on the slope someone was waiting in the shadows of the trees.
It was Grimalkin.
How long had she been waiting here for me? No doubt she had scryed the likely time I’d emerge from the dark. I was relieved to see that she was still carrying the leather sack containing the Fiend’s head. But she had something else in her left hand. It looked like a book – a slim one bound in brown leather.
‘I have good news for you and bad,’ Grimalkin announced, straight out. She was grim-faced and my heart lurched.
/> ‘Is Tom all right?’ I demanded, my voice wobbling with panic. ‘Nothing’s happened to him, has it?’
‘Tom is safe, Alice. What I have to tell you does not concern him at all. In fact, it’s better that he doesn’t know anything.’
‘What then? What’s wrong?’
‘The bad news is that you didn’t need to journey into the dark, after all. The dagger you hold is not needed. You risked your life and very soul for nothing. The good news is that you need not surrender your life to Tom’s blades. You don’t have to be sacrificed. I have found another way to destroy the Fiend.’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
‘Here . . .’ Grimalkin continued, holding out the book towards me. ‘This is all we need.’
I felt a strange reluctance to even touch what she offered. As soon as it was within my hands, I knew why. In silver letters engraved into the brown cover was its title – a word that sent a chill into my heart:
Doomdryte.
Also embossed in silver was an ominous image that I instantly recognized: the head and forelimbs of a skelt.
Those bloodthirsty creatures had played a big part in my life recently: the encounters with them in the dark; the skelt heads that formed the hilts of the hero swords; and now this cover. It seemed more than just a series of coincidences. What did they have to do with the destruction of the Fiend?
This book was the most powerful grimoire that had ever been written, and some believed it had been dictated to an ancient mage called Lukrasta by the Fiend himself. Every Pendle witch knew the potential of the Doomdryte, and a few had spent their lives searching for it. It contained just one very long spell which had to be recited without the slightest mistake, over a period of many hours. It was said that the successful reading of the spell, combined with certain rituals, would give the reader the powers of a god: invulnerability and immortality.
There was one problem. History demonstrated that to complete a perfect reading was impossible.
Everyone who had ever attempted the incantation had died in the process – including Lukrasta. Just one hesitation or mispronunciation, and that was the end of you.