Fury of the Seventh Son (Book 13) (19 page)

I could attack them on my own, but had little hope of victory against such monstrous brutes. No sooner had I rejected the idea of trying to hinder their progress than other figures emerged from the mist, following the big cart.

I noticed a tall, fierce woman in the lead. Dressed in the manner of Grimalkin, she had leather straps crisscrossing her body, from which the hilts of weapons were visible in their sheaths. I saw that she also had yellow orbs dangling from each earlobe. Was she the leader of this throng? I wondered. Was she a witch assassin?

And it was indeed a throng. More and more figures emerged from the mist, all armed to the teeth. The majority were witches, with black gowns, matted hair, and pointy shoes. Among them were a few more abhumans, though none as big as the four monsters with the cart. There were other witches carrying blades like Grimalkin, and I wondered if they were the assassins of clans that dwelled far beyond the County. Some witches carried long poles with blades lashed to the end. But it wasn't their weapons that filled my heart with foreboding; it was the sheer number of them. After ten minutes the column was still emerging from the mist. This was an army! What hope had we against so many?

I realized that instead of taking one of the possible routes to the Wardstone or coming toward Chipenden, they were heading northeast. Perhaps they intended to meet up with more of their kind in Pendle?

I left Beacon Fell and headed back toward the Spook's house.

We talked in the kitchen as we ate our supper, the rain pattering against the windowpanes.

My master had cooked the meal, and it was delicious, but he was in a somber mood and just picked at his plate of ham and potatoes. Grimalkin, on the other hand, cleared her own dish quickly and helped herself to more.

“How many do you think there were?” she asked.

“More than a thousand—they were still coming when I left. Where have so many witches and abhumans come from?” I asked. “Is the tall woman who led them an assassin like you? She had yellow earrings in the shape of spheres.”

Grimalkin knew her immediately. “Her name is Katrina. She is the witch assassin of the Peverel clan, who dwell far to the southeast in a county known as Essex. The orbs are shrunken human skulls in which she has stored power; as you know, I prefer to use the thumb bones of my dead enemies. The quantity of bones means that a greater variety of magic is available to me—but each to her own method. They say she is formidable. We have never met, but no doubt we will cross blades soon. The Fiend's followers will have gathered from all over this land, from clans that dwell far beyond the County, all banding together to help their master in his hour of need.”

“Aye, and there are so few of us!” exclaimed my master.

“We will be outnumbered, certainly, but we are more than you might think,” said Grimalkin. “As you know, Pendle is divided against itself, and in some cases so are the clans. There are many witches who oppose the Fiend. Tomorrow I will use a mirror to summon those who dwell in more remote locations, but I will also ride to Pendle to rally our local allies.”

At Grimalkin's mention of the use of the mirror, I saw the Spook grimace and stare down at the tabletop. He had accepted the need to form such alliances, but still couldn't condone the use of any form of dark magic.

“Mab Mouldheel and her sisters have already been to the Wardstone. I spoke to her when they passed through Chipenden over two weeks ago. They promised to help us at Halloween,” I told Grimalkin. “But I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her,” I added.

“You never bothered to tell
me
that, lad,” the Spook complained. “You've been a good, brave, diligent apprentice—I've never had a better. But there's something that you've lacked. You've kept too many secrets from your master. And for that you should be sorry!”

“I am sorry for what happened in the past,” I said, “but this is different. It just slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind!” he said angrily. “You meet a witch who's the leader of the Mouldheels and don't think
that
worth passing on to me? That's not to mention all the other things you've kept from me!”

“I was going to tell you, I swear it, but the day after, we found Grimalkin injured, and then I had to follow the witches. Since then it's been one thing after another.”

The Spook nodded but didn't meet my eyes. My omissions were piling up in his mind. He was clearly hurt by my lapse.

“I agree that Mab Mouldheel is not entirely to be trusted,” Grimalkin added after what seemed an uncomfortable silence, “but she helped us in Greece and I know she is opposed to the Fiend. Very few of her clan support him. They should come to us in numbers. Against such vast opposition, we need all the help we can get.”

Recent events had exhausted me, and no sooner had my head touched the pillow that night than I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I awoke in the early hours. It was absolutely dark. I was finding it difficult to breathe.

There was a weight on my chest.

I felt a moment of terror, for the thing on my chest was moving.

Was this a nightmare? Was I still asleep? I wondered.

A moment later I was assured that I was wide awake by a voice whispering right inside my head.

Help me. I am desperate. Give me some of your blood or I will die
.

It was the boggart, Kratch! The voice sounded weak and wobbly.

Without hesitation I spoke into the darkness. “Where have you been?” I asked. “I thought that you'd been destroyed.”

I fell away from this world toward the dark and lacked the strength to get back. I flickered like a candle in a storm on the edge of oblivion. I struggled long and hard; now I am finally here, but fear to fall again. It is as if I am on the edge of a cliff above a dark abyss. Help me or I will fall, never to rise again!

I was afraid to offer more of my blood, afraid that I might die in the process, afraid of what the consequences might be. But if I wished to have the boggart as an ally—how could I refuse?

“You can have some of my blood. Take it!” I commanded.

There was the lightest of touches on the back of my left hand as the boggart's claw scratched my skin. There was no pain. But then I felt the lapping of a very small, rough tongue.

It seemed to go on for a long time. After a while I felt my heart thundering in my ears. It was a slow, heavy beat, and it seemed to be laboring.

“Enough! Enough!” I cried. “If you take too much, my heart will stop and I'll die!”

The lapping ceased and there was a new sound—the low, light purring of a cat. And then, but for the thudding within my head, there was silence. Kratch had gone.

I sat up, fumbled in the dark for my tinderbox, and lit a candle. And there I stayed, feeling weak and nauseous, the room spinning around me.

When I felt strong enough to stand, I walked unsteadily down to the kitchen to get a cup of water. I sat slumped at the kitchen table and began to sip it, enjoying the feeling of the cold water slipping down my throat, thinking over what had happened.

Of course, there was no certainty that the boggart would be able to regain its strength and help us in the approaching battle. But it had not been destroyed—that was the good news. However, the thought of what I had done still filled me with unease.

The first time the boggart had taken my blood, I'd had no choice in the matter. This time I'd given it freely. Should I have done otherwise? To deny it what it asked might have been fatal, and we needed its help more than ever.

But the process reminded me of what some Pendle witches did—they had a familiar and fed it their blood. In return, it became almost a part of them, like extra hands or a pair of eyes, able to do their bidding at a distance. In the first year of my apprenticeship, Alice had done something similar, giving her blood to the demonic creature called the Bane. But the Bane was nothing like a rat, a toad, or a bird, the small creatures used by most witches; he had threatened to dominate and control her.

That might happen to me, for Kratch was a powerful boggart.

What if it came to me again asking for blood?

What should I do?

CHAPTER XXIV

A P
LAGUE OF
S
KELTS

T
HE following morning I woke up late and was the last one down to breakfast.

My master and Grimalkin were already at the table, engaged in conversation. They were tucking into big plates of bacon and eggs.

“Good news, lad!” the Spook greeted me cheerfully. “The boggart's back and it's cooked us a hearty breakfast. My compliments to the chef!” He looked toward the fireplace, where a fire was blazing, filling the room with warmth.

The invisible boggart responded to his words with a faint purr.

I took my place at the table with a barely perceptible nod to each of them. Then I reached across and heaped up my plate with eggs and bacon, cutting myself a thick slice of bread and butter. I ate in silence, barely listening to the conversation between the witch assassin and my master. The food was cooked to perfection, though not as piping hot as I liked it; I wished I'd come down earlier.

“So are you in agreement with that, lad?” asked the Spook.

I looked up. I'd been concentrating on eating. “Am I in agreement with what?”

“Aren't you listening? Keep your mind on things!” His voice was sharp. “You look a bit peaky. Did you sleep badly?”

I nodded. “I was awake half the night.”

“Sleep is important, lad. But there's nothing better for combating insomnia than being physically exhausted when you go to bed. So what I'd like you to do is get yourself to the mill north of Caster and ask Judd Brinscall to join us in the coming fight. He's a handy lad with a staff, and those three big dogs will be more than welcome, too. And what about that blacksmith brother of yours—James? You said he's safe and well now. He's a strong lad and gave a good account of himself up on Pendle Hill when we fought those witches. Maybe you should go out to the farm afterward and ask him to join us.”

I shook my head. “My family is in enough danger already. Remember what the Fiend warned about James? He was doubtless attacked by creatures of the dark, not robbers as he thought. I'd rather not bring him into more danger.”

“I'll leave it up to you, lad. But remember, the odds are against us and we need every good soul we can get. All the County families will be in danger if we lose this battle and the Fiend is restored. Anyway, contact Judd first. I'll expect you back tomorrow. Don't forget that time is short. It's only six days till Halloween.”

In order to do as he asked I'd have to run part of the way—the mill was at least a full day's journey each way. But he was right. Time was running out.

“I'll set off as soon as I've eaten,” I told him.

“Good lad! And while you're doing that, Grimalkin will travel to Pendle to see how many allies she can gather for us there.”

I prepared to set off. I didn't bother with my bag because I'd be traveling fast. But I had my silver chain tied around my waist under my shirt, and I was carrying my staff. I brought the two daggers but left the Destiny Blade behind.

Grimalkin was leaning against her horse, apparently whispering into its left ear. She wore the leather scabbards across her body, and they bristled with blades. Her lips were painted black. She looked formidable, and ready for combat.

“You're going to ride?” I called out to her.

She nodded and led her mount to where I was standing.

“My leg is getting stronger every day but is still not ready for the walk to Pendle and back. . . . You fed the boggart last night, didn't you?” she asked.

“Yes,” I admitted. “It came and asked for my blood, so I agreed. Otherwise it would have died. That's what it told me.”

“You probably saved its life. But your face was so pale this morning—it's a wonder your master didn't suspect as much.”

“I never told him about the previous time, so the thought would never have entered his head. He was too busy enjoying his breakfast to notice.”

“Beware, Tom. The danger is that such a creature might take too much and kill you.”

“That's what worries me,” I told Grimalkin. “What if it starts to dominate and control me like the Bane did with Alice? That's the second time I've given it my blood.”

“That is another danger,” she agreed. “But if it works out well, you could establish a good partnership with the boggart. Remember what happened with Alice?”

I thought back to those dark days in Priestown, when Alice had released the Bane from its prison in the labyrinth behind the silver gate. “The third time she gave it her blood . . . that was to be the crucial moment when she became completely dominated by it.”

“Yes,” said Grimalkin, “and that's the moment of risk for you too. But the Bane was a dark demonic entity, far more powerful than this boggart, and Alice was always being tugged toward the dark. You are strong. If you are careful, you could form a more equal partnership.”