Our eyes met. Alice’s were glistening with tears. Blood was still running down my forehead, and I brushed it away with the back of my hand. How could I fight Alice?
The shaman clapped his hands three times to signal the beginning of the contest. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. Alice raised her blades, then rushed toward me as if to take me by surprise. I couldn’t believe it. Would she really hurt me after all we’d been through together?
Horrified, I stepped back, instinctively holding my staff across my body, preparing to meet her attack.
CHAPTER XII
The Bone Yard’s Eye
I should have known better than to think Alice would attack me.
I wasn’t called on to use my staff because she simply brushed past me to reach Lizzie, who was still bound by my silver chain. She knelt down beside her and, before I could react, used a blade to slit through the twine that stitched her mother’s lips together.
Had Lizzie been waiting for this to happen all along? If she’d tried to free her own lips with her knife during our struggle, I’d have immediately attacked her with my staff. Had she planned to wait for Alice to do it?
The witch was still on her knees, still bound with my silver chain, but a gloating expression now settled across her face. It puzzled me—for despite her predicament and the armed yeomen who surrounded us, it was a look of triumph.
The yeomen tightened their circle, moving toward us with spears at the ready.
“Kill them all!” shouted the shaman. “All bets are off. Take no chances. Kill them now!”
In response, Lizzie uttered just one word, almost under her breath. It was indistinct, but it sounded like something from the Old Tongue.
Immediately a wave of cold fear rushed toward me—though this was nothing compared to its effect upon the guards around us. Rarely have I seen such panic and terror on so many faces. Some threw down their spears and ran. Others simply fell to their knees and started to sob. All the dogs began whining at once, and there were shouts and cries of fear from the gamblers to my right.
Whether it was a more powerful form of dread or some other spell, with just one word Lizzie had, in the space of a few seconds, reduced the yeomen to a cowering rabble. She was now staring at Lord Barrule. I followed her gaze and saw that apart from us three, he was the only person in the room not gripped by terror. Instead he was glaring at us, his face twisted with malevolence. What would he do—use his own dark magic against us? Maybe summon the buggane to his assistance? The threat was palpable in the air. Lizzie hadn’t won yet. . . .
“Release me from the chain!” she shouted, turning her attention back to me.
It was a command; there was no magic involved. But I didn’t hesitate. Instinctively I knew it was the right thing to do. Lizzie represented the only hope Alice and I had of getting out of Greeba Keep alive. I went over to her and picked up the end of the chain, flicking it to uncoil it from her body. She was on her feet even before I’d returned it to my pocket.
With the long nails of her left forefinger and thumb, like a bird tugging worms from wet soil, Lizzie drew the two pieces of twine from her flesh; first the top, then the bottom lip. Next she licked away the drops of blood, pointed her forefinger toward the ceiling, and arched her back. Then she shouted three words and stamped her foot.
Instantly there was a crackling roar like a thunderbolt right inside the room. All the torches flickered and died, and we were plunged into absolute darkness. For a moment there was silence; then a small light flared close by. Lizzie was holding a black candle. The dogs started barking, and I heard running feet receding into the distance. The yeomen and gamblers were fleeing for their lives—but what about Lord Barrule? Had he gone too, or was he still lurking in the darkness?
“We’ll leave by the tunnel, boy!” Lizzie said, taking a step toward me.
“What about the buggane?” I asked.
“Leave the worrying to me,” she replied.
I looked at Alice. She was using one of the blades to cut the twine from her own lips. With a groan of pain, she tugged it out. Beads of blood oozed from the wounds.
Lizzie led the way toward the tunnel entrance. What had happened to Barrule? I wondered. Had the witch defeated him so easily? I could see nothing beyond the small circle of yellow light cast by the candle. But as we passed the cages that held Arkwright’s dogs, I hesitated. I wanted to free them and take them with me.
When I reached Claw’s cage, however, she snarled and hurled herself at me in a fury and was only prevented from sinking her teeth into me by the bars.
“Leave her here, Tom,” Alice said, gripping my arm. “Ain’t worth the risk. We’ll find a way to get ’em all out later.”
I nodded and followed her into the tunnel. The three dogs were still under the control of the shaman. The danger in leaving them behind was that he might still make them fight to the death—probably against each other—in revenge. But what choice did I have?
We started to crawl forward along the earthen tunnel. I couldn’t see much—Lizzie had the only candle, and she and Alice ahead of me were obscuring most of its light. I still had my candle stub but hadn’t time now to use my tinderbox to light it. For the witch it had been but the work of a second to ignite hers by means of dark magic.
The tunnel twisted and turned and went up and down, sometimes quite steeply. Occasionally the roots of a tree would almost block our way, huge woody claws grasping the soil. At one point I thought I saw a thin one twitch. It was probably just my imagination, but I remembered what the Spook had said about the buggane’s tunnels moving or collapsing suddenly. I thought I glimpsed bones, too—it was hard to tell in the dim flickering candlelight—but at one point I felt sure my fingers had brushed against a cold human skull.
Finally the tunnel headed up toward the surface, and we emerged inside a hollow tree. We sat down facing one another with our backs to the inner trunk. There was a smell of damp rotten wood. Above us, patterned with dead flies, spiders’ webs hung like curtains, while below, insects scuttled away from the flickering candle.
Lizzie had clearly known exactly where she was heading. “We’re safe enough now!” she said. “No one can get at us here.”
“Not even the buggane?” I asked.
The witch shook her head and gave me an evil smile. “Find us it will eventually, but I’ve hidden this place well—right in the middle of its labyrinth. There’ll be time enough to sort it out. Though first I’ll put an end to its master. Are you hungry, boy?”
I shook my head. I’d eaten a little before the fight with Lizzie, but now I needed to fast to ready myself for any dark magic she might use against me.
“Well, I certainly am. I could eat a bull, hooves and all!” She pointed upward into the darkness. “Climb up there!” she commanded. I could feel the compulsion in her voice and had to resist. “It’ll bring you out onto a branch. It’s just a short drop to the ground. Bring me back a couple of rabbits—and make sure they’re still alive—”
“No, Tom!” Alice cried in alarm. “Don’t listen to her. She’s created a bone yard here, and this tree’s right at its center. You’ll be crushed as soon as you touch the ground!”
Although I’d never encountered one, I knew what a bone yard was from my reading of the Spook’s Bestiary. Crafted by dark magic, it made the bones of any creature that entered it very heavy. They were unable to move and were trapped until the witch came, either to collect them for food or harvest their bones for dark magical purposes. Near the center, the pressure was so great that the victim was crushed to death—though only something very fast, like a hare, would get that far before the magic forces took effect. But here we were right at its center, in its eye—safe from its forces. If I left the hollow tree, however. . . .
“You’ve got a big gob on you, girl!” Lizzie said angrily. “Wants stitching up again.”
Alice ignored her and pulled a small leather pouch from the pocket of her skirt. It contained the h
erbs she used for healing. She crawled toward me and peered closely at my forehead.
“Nasty cut, that, Tom,” she said. The inside of the tree trunk was wet in places, and Alice collected some moisture with her fingers and used it to dampen a leaf before pressing it firmly against my skin. “That should do it, keep infection away—but you’ll have a scar. Nothing I can do about that.”
So I’d have another scar to add to the one on my ear where Morwena, the water witch, had once hooked me with her finger, driving the nail right through the flesh. It was all part of the job, to be expected when training for the dangerous job of spook.
Next Alice licked her lips and pressed small pieces of leaf against the holes around her mouth left by the twine. When she’d finished, she held a leaf out toward her mother, but Bony Lizzie shook her head.
“I’ll heal myself, girl. Don’t need your help,” she sneered, getting to her feet. “I’ll go and get my own rabbits. You two stay here if you know what’s good for you!”
With that, she began to climb up the inside of the tree, pushing her head through the curtain of spiderwebs. She was soon lost to view in the darkness, but we could hear her pointy shoes scrabbling on bark, and then a soft thud as she dropped to the ground outside. Lizzie would be safe enough in her own bone yard. A witch usually left a secret twisty path so she could move through it unharmed. She could also guide others through—but how could we force her to do that? Our only real option was to go back into the tunnels, but I didn’t fancy our chances against the buggane one bit.
“Oh, Tom, is the blood jar safe? Do you still have it?” Alice asked, her eyes full of anxiety.
“Yes, it’s safe. I wasn’t searched. Barrule even let me keep my silver chain—but how were you caught, Alice?” I wondered. “I saw you roll over and avoid the buggane, but then you just disappeared.”
“I hid behind a tree so it couldn’t charge me again, but then Lizzie stole up on me—clamped her hand over my mouth, she did. I never sensed her coming—must have used some really powerful magic. She dragged me away and brought me here. Before that she’d been hidden here for days. They’d never have found her, but she took a risk because she wants Old Gregory really badly. Wants him dead, she does, in revenge for binding her in that pit in his garden. Wants to give him a slow, painful death.
“So later that night we set off hunting for him. She had me bound fast under a spell, and only half my head was working. Couldn’t object to anything she did or said. But she was too confident, didn’t even bother long-sniffing for danger. Thought she could deal with anything. When we were out in the open, the shaman’s men attacked us. She used dread and killed several of the yeomen, she did—some with her knives, a couple with curses—but there were too many of them. Eventually they beat her unconscious with the ends of their spears and dragged us to Greeba Keep.”
“Did you see any of the other prisoners?” I asked, thinking about Adriana.
Alice shook her head. “Saw nobody—put us in separate cells. They brought me up to the cage just before you came in. Didn’t see her again until they dragged her in to fight you. It’s been bad, Tom, really bad—especially when they stitched my lips together. But the worst part of all was when the buggane crawled out of the tunnel and sniffed at me. All hairy, it was, with big sharp teeth. I thought I was going to die and would never see you again. . . .”
She began to sob, so I put my arms round her and hugged her tight. After a while she calmed down, and we sat there, holding hands for comfort.
“Do you know anything about the spell that controls a bone yard, Alice?” I asked at last. “Could you find Lizzie’s secret path through it?”
“Wouldn’t want me to use dark magic, Tom, would you? Can’t be asking me to do that?” There was an edge of sarcasm in Alice’s voice.
For a long time I had avoided using the dark in any way, even when I was fighting for my life. Alice had struggled to persuade me to use the blood jar. But my worries about my recent separation from her had largely been unfounded. She’d been close to Lizzie, and the Fiend couldn’t approach a witch who’d had a child by him.
“It was just a thought, Alice. I can’t think of any other way of getting out of here. Not unless we risk the tunnels.”
“We’d be better off doing that than tampering with Lizzie’s yard. It’s true that there’s a path through it, but it’s hard to find. Dangerous things to meddle with, they are. Make one mistake and you’re dead—”
Suddenly we heard a noise outside. Someone had started climbing down the tree. Moments later, Lizzie’s pointy shoes came into view, and she dropped down the last few feet to stand before us, clutching something in her left hand.
“Couldn’t find any rabbits so these will have to do,” she spat, holding up three dead rats by their tails. She tossed one at our feet.
“I can spare one, but I’ll need the other two. Need to build up my strength for what’s ahead, and rat’s blood is as good as anything. It’ll do until I take your thumbs, boy!”
CHAPTER XIII
My Gift to the County
“OVER my dead body!” Alice shouted, rising angrily to her feet.
Bony Lizzie gave a wicked smile. “Let’s hope it don’t come to that, girl. Calm down. I’ve another use for the boy that should allow him to keep breathing a little while longer—that’s if things go well.”
The witch sat down and, setting one rat aside, lifted the other by its long thin tail. She bit off its head and spat it out, then started to suck the blood from its neck; some dribbled out of her mouth and down her chin. She drank noisily, and the unpleasant sounds made me feel sick to my stomach. I shuddered, and Alice reached across and squeezed my hand.
Lizzie looked at our joined hands, lowered the rat, and smirked. “What a fool you are, girl!” she told Alice. “No man’s worth a second glance. Never get too close to ’em. This boy will bring you down for sure. Be the ruin of you. Many a good witch has gone soft because of a man.”
“Me and Tom are good friends,” Alice retorted. “That’s something you know nothing about. Eating rats and killing people—that’s all you’re good for. Why did I have to have a mother like you? What did you want with the Fiend? Couldn’t you find a normal man?”
Lizzie’s expression hardened and she glared at Alice. “I’ve had men, but none of ’em have lasted long. They liked pretty young things, they did. Know why? Because they’re scared. Scared of a real woman in her prime. They look at me, see what I am, and run back to their mothers. Know how old I am, girl?”
Alice shook her head and squeezed my hand again.
“I turned forty just a week ago, the day after Old Gregory’s house burned and I got out of the pit. A Pendle witch comes into her prime at forty and inherits her full power. Now I’ve got the strength to deal with anybody. You, daughter, could be even stronger one day.” Lizzie gave me an evil smile, staring straight into my eyes. “Know what Alice is, boy? She’s my gift to the County.”
She smirked meaningfully when she uttered that last bit. It was what Mam had once said about me in a letter to the Spook. Could Lizzie read my mind now? Pluck things out of it as if she were rifling through an open drawer?
“She’s my special gift to the Pendle clans,” the witch continued after a pause. “One day she’ll unite ’em once and for all, and then the world had better watch out!”
She went back to drinking the rat’s blood. Once it was drained, she started on the second, sucking and slurping until there wasn’t a drop left. Seeing that we hadn’t touched the third, she took that one, too.
Gradually it began to lighten inside the tree trunk, indicating that the dawn was close.
“Are you thirsty?” I asked Alice.
She nodded. “My throat’s parched.”
“It’ll rain soon,” Lizzie said, with an evil laugh. “Have all the water you want then!”
She was right. Within the hour it began to rain. First a light pitter-patter against the tree, soon followed by the drumming of
a heavy downpour. Hour after hour it went on, and water began to drip into the tree, eventually cascading down the inside of the trunk.
It was running water, and Lizzie didn’t like that, so she moved away from the trunk, but Alice and I caught enough in our cupped hands to slake the worst of our thirst. It must have been early in the afternoon when the rain eased. It was then that we heard the dogs.
Lizzie gave a gloating smile and moved across to lean against the wood once more. “Dogs got our scent,” she said. “Not that it’ll do ’em much good. Not when they enter the yard.”
I pictured the dogs running toward the bone yard, heading for the tree at its center. Their speed would carry them close before the pressure crushed them.
“Claw and her pups,” I said, looking with dismay at Alice.
“He won’t be using them, boy, you needn’t fear. He’s another use for those dogs,” said Lizzie. “He’ll want you to fight ’em—and to the death!”
“How can you know that?” I asked angrily.
She smirked. “Easy to read, he is. That’s what he had planned last night. First you’d fight me, then, if you won, Alice. Finally your own dogs. Sniffed it out, I did. They call that type of bet a treble. Each win is carried forward to the next stage. Gives you a big payday if you win all three. Odds were against you, but the shaman liked those odds. Didn’t work out for him, did it? But given half the chance he’ll still pit you against those dogs. Just you wait and see.”
The barking was getting closer, but the sound quickly turned to yelps and whines as the first of them blundered into the bone yard and started to feel the pressure exerted by Lizzie’s dark magic.
“Won’t get too close, so they won’t know our exact hiding place,” she said. “Wouldn’t help them if they did, though. We’re safe enough here—at least from the likes of them.”
Now I heard men shouting and cursing in the distance, calling their dogs back. Then there was suddenly a louder scream. This time it came from a human throat, and Lizzie smiled. It went on for a long time, and Alice covered her ears. At last, except for the patter of light rain, there was silence.