That was the one good thing that came out of this business. Josh was reunited with his mam and they went home together.
We couldn’t get back to Chipenden before dark, so Jenny and I camped on the edge of a small wood and built a fire.
‘What would you prefer,’ I asked Jenny, already knowing her answer, ‘crumbly cheese or succulent rabbit?’
She pulled a face. ‘I hate cheese. Give me rabbit any time!’
So we caught a couple of rabbits and were soon cooking them over a fire. It was nearly dark and the air was growing chilly.
‘Do you think it helps, eating cheese before facing the dark?’ Jenny asked.
‘My master certainly believed so, but it’s not the cheese itself. It’s just that it’s better to face the dark on an empty stomach rather than a full one – though you need a little something to keep your strength up, hence the cheese. John Gregory picked up the habit from his own master. He loved our crumbly County cheese.’
‘Think they’re ready?’ Jenny asked, nodding at the rabbits. ‘I’m starving!’
Soon we were tucking into our supper, the delicious juices dribbling down our chins.
‘You are going to keep me on as your apprentice, aren’t you?’ Jenny asked, pausing for a moment to stare at me.
‘Of course I am – just as long as you behave yourself and try not to be cheeky!’
‘It’s just that now that Alice is living with us there might not be room for me.’
‘There’s plenty of room in that big house,’ I told her. ‘We have bedrooms to spare – it’s no problem.’
‘But it’s not just that,’ Jenny went on. ‘Alice doesn’t like me.’
‘I think you’re imagining that, Jenny.’
I knew it wasn’t true, but somehow I had to get them to think better of each other. ‘She saved you from Slither, didn’t she?’ I pointed out.
Jenny nodded. ‘That makes me think a little better of her – but she would have saved anyone in that situation . . . Will you promise me one thing, master?’
‘That’s the first time you’ve ever called me master!’ I laughed. ‘Are you mocking me?’
‘No, I’m deadly serious. I called you master because I want you to remember this moment. I want you to remember the promise you’re about to make!’
I was annoyed at her tone and the way she was bossing me about but, at the same time, I could see the earnestness in her eyes. This was obviously very important to her so I kept my feelings under control.
‘Then tell me what the promise is.’
‘If Alice asks you to get rid of me, I want you to say no. Do you promise?’
‘That’s an easy promise to make,’ I told her. ‘Firstly Alice would never ask me to do that. Secondly, if she did, I would refuse. You are my apprentice and I’ve a responsibility towards you. It’s my duty to train you properly and turn you into a good spook. Nothing anyone could say will change that. So you can stop worrying your head. I promise!’
We continued eating in silence, and then Jenny gave me a shy smile. She looked much happier, and I was glad I’d managed to put her mind at rest.
‘I didn’t know there were such things as fire daemons,’ she said suddenly.
‘Oh, there certainly are. I saw quite a few in Greece when I went there with my master. But the truth is, a fire daemon didn’t kill Mr Grayson. There are no fire daemons in the County – the climate is too damp for them.’
‘So why did you lie to the constable?’
‘I did it for his own good – to reassure him, and everyone else who lives in Wood Plumpton. The truth is much more frightening. But I’m a spook and you’re my apprentice, so we have to face up to it, no matter how scary.’
‘So what did chop him into pieces and burn the grass near the pond?’
‘It wasn’t burned; it was subjected to an intense cold. The pond was probably frozen solid in an instant – that’s what killed the fish. Mr Grayson was slain by one of the Old Gods. He was shattered, reduced to tiny pieces by Golgoth.’
TOM WARD
‘HOW CAN YOU be sure that it was Golgoth?’ Jenny asked.
‘From what I saw in that sack, I’m almost certain. You see, towards the end of my first year with John Gregory, I came face to face with Golgoth in an ancient barrow up on Anglezarke Moor.’
‘Is that where your master had that winter house you once told me about?’ Jenny interrupted.
I nodded. ‘That’s the place. That’s where I spent the first winter of my apprenticeship. Golgoth had been summoned to Earth by one of John Gregory’s ex-apprentices – a young man called Morgan who’d gone to the dark. Morgan wanted to become a powerful mage, so he summoned Golgoth to get dark magic from him. Someday I’ll tell you the full story – or let you read my notebooks – but for now I’ll just give you a brief outline. It all went wrong for Morgan, and Golgoth blasted him with a wave of intense cold. In an instant he was frozen solid and then shattered into thousands of pieces.
‘Many people call Golgoth the Lord of Winter, but he has another name, not so well known, that’s been passed down through the generations by County folk. They call him the Butcher God because of the appearance of his victims: they look like the sweepings from a butcher’s floor. Golgoth wanted to stay and lay waste to the County, but he was thwarted and had to return to the dark. It took me some time to escape from the barrow; by then Morgan’s remains had started to thaw. They looked like the contents of that sack. So yes, I’m almost certain it was Golgoth.’
‘But why would he do that to Mr Grayson?’ Jenny asked. ‘Why him?’
I shrugged. ‘He was probably a random victim. Golgoth is now in alliance with the Kobalos god, Talkus, and as Slither warned, our enemies are starting to venture into the County. They knew that, as the main County Spook, I’d come to investigate. So it’s a message for me; a warning of what lies ahead. Golgoth has reason to hate me – and the County too. It’s a place where the dark has been defeated many times. The Bane, a powerful daemonic entity, was destroyed in Priestown. Morwena, the most powerful of the water witches, died north of Caster, and Siscoi, the vampire god, was slain just over the County border. The dark has suffered severe losses here. No doubt they want revenge for that.’
‘Could Golgoth strike us here and now?’
There was no point in disguising the grim truth. Jenny was my apprentice and deserved to hear the full facts – as far as I knew them.
‘Yes, in theory he could. If he’s entered the County once, he can probably do so again. The problem is, I don’t know how he managed to get into our world. Morgan summoned him using a spell from a grimoire – a book of spells. Once summoned like that, he might be free to stay on Earth indefinitely; he would wreak havoc, bringing a new Age of Ice. People would die of famine or be forced to live in caves again. But Golgoth materialized inside a pentacle from which he couldn’t escape, so he had to return to the dark.
‘There was only one copy of that grimoire, and it was destroyed. This means that he wasn’t summoned from within the County – otherwise he’d still be here. Perhaps the Kobalos mages made a temporary visit possible? Or maybe Talkus had a hand in it? You see, I’m just speculating, just thinking aloud. Maybe Alice or Grimalkin or Slither will be able to help . . .’ I gave a sigh, and tried to smile at Jenny. ‘Anyway,’ I concluded, ‘nothing can be done for now, so let’s get some sleep!’
‘You expect me to sleep after telling me that?’ Jenny exclaimed.
JENNY CALDER
DURING THE FOLLOWING month, Golgoth struck twice more. The first attack was less than a week later; it was almost identical to the one that had killed Mr Grayson. A farmer was slain while bringing in his cows at dusk. Once more we were confronted with his remains – a sack containing the same terrible fragments of flesh and bone. Golgoth was living up to his name – the Butcher God.
The second, which took place at the time of the full moon, was different and there was a witness to the attack, which took place in a barber’
s shop. The proprietor, George Smith, had just gone to fetch some hot water, leaving his customer, a man called Brown, sitting in the chair. As he came back, the barber heard a crash of glass and a terrible scream, suddenly cut off.
It was noon, but to George Smith’s astonishment and terror, half of the shop was in total darkness. The large wall mirror in front of his customer had shattered, pieces of glass lying all over the floor. Brown was sitting rigid in the chair, but his head was totally white, covered in what looked like frost. Then it seemed to fragment, cascading onto the floor like shards of ice. The barber stared in horror as the man’s neck began to gush with a fountain of blood. Then the darkness faded and sunlight filled the room once more.
This time the remains only filled a small portion of a sack. Tom didn’t make me look at those pieces of skull and brain, and also spared me the sight of the headless corpse. But I was there when he interviewed the barber.
‘I want you to think very carefully,’ Tom said to the man. ‘Can you remember anything about that strange darkness in the shop?’
The man didn’t answer right away; his hands were trembling with the terrible memories that filled his head. ‘There was something but now I think my eyes might have been playing tricks – or maybe I just imagined it . . .’
‘Go on,’ Tom prompted. ‘Just tell me what you thought you saw.’
‘For a moment I saw a pair of big red eyes glaring at me out of the darkness.’
The next attack happened on 31 October – Halloween. But this time Golgoth wasn’t involved.
Alice had gone off to Pendle again – supposedly to continue negotiating for the support of the witch clans in the fight against the Kobalos. That’s what Tom believed, though I had my doubts. Halloween was the most important of the witches’ sabbaths, and Alice was a witch, wasn’t she? Even Tom had to accept that. No doubt she was dancing around a fire with her sister witches, summoning the power of the dark.
On reflection I suppose I didn’t really think that but the idea crossed my mind – I still saw Alice as the biggest threat to my apprenticeship. She would surely want Tom all to herself in that Chipenden house. These bitter thoughts were still whirling around my head when I finally drifted off to sleep.
I was woken by a pounding at my door: Tom was calling out my name. ‘Jenny! Get dressed and come downstairs now!’
I heard his boots thumping down the wooden stairs. He sounded alarmed, so I dressed quickly and followed him down. He was standing by the back door, holding his staff, the Starblade in his shoulder scabbard.
‘The village is in danger – we must warn them. Pick up your staff and that lantern and follow me!’
Within minutes we were racing down the slope towards Chipenden village. I wondered how Tom knew about the danger. I suspected Alice might have used a mirror to scry the threat.
‘What is it, Tom?’ I asked. ‘Has somebody warned you of danger?’
For a moment I thought he wasn’t going to reply.
‘It’s one of my gifts, Jenny. I can sense the Kobalos close by in the County: the village is in danger. If I’m wrong, it’ll cost the villagers a night’s sleep; if I’m right, it’ll save their lives.’
Tom went straight to the blacksmith’s house and pounded on the door. The huge man was also the unofficial leader of the villagers.
‘Are you trying to break my door down?’ he roared, glaring down at Tom. Then he paused. ‘Oh, it’s you, Master Ward.’
‘There are armed enemies coming down the valley from the east,’ Tom said urgently. ‘They’ll butcher everyone in the village. We need to wake everybody and get them away!’
The Chipenden smith was the closest thing to a friend that John Gregory had ever had, in that he had worked on the witch pits and crafted the blades for the staffs. He’d seen Tom grow from a twelve-year-old apprentice to a Spook. Tom’s warning was immediately taken seriously; he never doubted him for a minute.
‘I’ll take this side of the street – you take the other!’ said the smith. ‘Get them to assemble on the edge of the village square.’
Tom nodded, and we started knocking on doors. The first was opened by a man who actually raised his fist at us. I could hear children crying upstairs, and a woman trying to soothe them.
‘There’s danger,’ Tom said. ‘We’re evacuating the village. Get your family to the square. We’re moving in ten minutes.’
‘Danger? What danger? What nonsense is this? I know you – you’re the lad who used to work for old Mr Gregory.’
Tom pointed across the cobbled street to the burly blacksmith, head and shoulders lit by the lantern he was holding above his head.
‘It’s the smith’s orders. Everybody must assemble now!’ Tom said. ‘If you stay here, you could all be slain in your beds!’
Waiting no longer, we moved on while the man just gaped after us.
Some villagers obeyed us without question, but if anyone argued, we just pointed to the square and moved on to the next door. There was no time to waste arguing. They soon got the message, because the square was now full of people shouting and crying in terror.
It was almost fifteen minutes before they were all gathered there: walking back, we heard them arguing among themselves. As we approached, they turned towards us and the smith raised his arm for silence and spoke.
‘Some of you will know this young man. If you don’t, he’s Tom Ward, who was apprenticed to Mr Gregory for over four years, helping to keep this village safe. Now he’s the local Spook and is continuing his good work. He warns of a threat from the east; enemy soldiers who intend to kill us all. So we are leaving now – heading west down the valley! Try to keep up, but we’ll move at the pace of the slowest. Nobody will be left behind.’
I assumed that we’d go with them, but Tom had other ideas. ‘We need to buy time for them to get away,’ he told the smith. ‘I intend to try and hold them off.’
‘I’ll stay with you,’ said the smith. ‘I’m sure I can persuade a few of the lads to fight as well.’
‘No – it’s better if you lead the others away. Take them as far as possible. If the enemy get past me, you might have to fight anyway. Trust me on this, please. We’re not just facing enemy soldiers – we’re dealing with the dark here, and that’s my job. But please take my apprentice with you.’
I could see that the smith didn’t like it, but he nodded in agreement.
‘No! I want to go with you!’ I protested.
‘Jenny, just do as you’re told. It’s better that you stay safe.’
‘But I’m supposed to share the danger. That’s what an apprentice does.’
‘Not this time. This is different. You’d only be in the way.’
I was stung by this remark – but before I could protest, Tom had nodded to the blacksmith, who immediately grabbed me by the arm. Before I could object, Tom was striding off towards the east and I was being dragged in the opposite direction.
But ten minutes later, the smith had to let go of my arm, distracted by a man who’d twisted his ankle and couldn’t walk. He picked him up like a child and slung him over his shoulder.
That was my chance. I slipped away into the darkness and ran. I went east. I had to help Tom. I couldn’t let him fight alone.
It took me another ten minutes to find him. He was still some way ahead of me, skirting a small wood, holding the Starblade in both hands. Suddenly three figures emerged from the trees, heading straight for him. Judging by their size and gait, they were Kobalos warriors. I was about to call out a warning, but Tom had already spotted them, and changed direction to meet them head on.
I watched as he began the dance of death, whirling and spinning, the Starblade flashing in the moonlight. Tom quickly cut down the first of his enemies, displaying all his old strength and skill. He seemed to be fully recovered at last.
Within seconds another of the Kobalos gave a terrible high-pitched scream and was brought to his knees. Tom now seemed to be in control of the situation – but then I hea
rd guttural shouts of command: dozens of Kobalos warriors burst out of the trees and ran full pelt towards him.
After scything down the third warrior, Tom turned on his heel and sprinted away. I was frozen to the spot in horror, for there must have been at least forty of them streaming out of the trees. He couldn’t fight so many. Had he appreciated the size of the threat? If so, why had he come here alone – to sell his life in order to buy time for the villagers to escape?
I knew that I couldn’t help him, but I wasn’t going to leave him to die alone. I began to run after him. The warriors hadn’t seen me yet, but eventually I’d be noticed and they’d come for me too. Maybe they’d split up, but there would still be far too many of them to cope with.
He was now heading directly towards what the locals called the ‘lunk stone’ – an ancient standing stone at the very top of a small hill. There were a lot of such stones in the area. Tom had told me that they had been there long before the first houses were built in Chipenden – maybe even before the first farms; built at a time when people were just hunters and gatherers.
He climbed the small hill and stood to the right of the stone, then turned to face his enemies, holding the sword in his right hand. Did he intend to make a stand there? The Kobalos would have to climb to reach him, so he had some sort of advantage.
I was still running towards him, but I was now converging with our enemies. At any moment one of them might glance across and see me.
It was then that Tom called out. I thought he was shouting at the Kobalos, who were closing on him fast. Then he shouted again – a single word, snatched away by the wind before I could identify it. But as I approached, I heard the word clearly:
‘Kratch!’
I suddenly realized what he was attempting to do. He was next to the standing stone, which would be on a ley line. Boggarts used such hidden lines of power to travel from place to place in the twinkling of an eye. He was summoning the boggart from the garden.