The Spook's Sacrifice (16 page)

And then I realized that some of Mam's escort,
Seilenos among them, were eating greedily from their
plates and gulping wine from the golden goblets –
despite the warning they'd been given. I knew then
that the Greek spook lacked the willpower and
determination of John Gregory – it would now surely
be his undoing.

I turned back to the women dancing before the pit
and saw that whereas each had previously danced
alone, now they spun in twos, woman with woman,
following the mosaic patterns of the long serpents. The
drumbeat was getting louder, faster and more frantic,
and now there was more than one drum. It made me
want to tap my feet, and I felt a strong urge to rise from
my seat. I looked across to Alice and saw that she too
was gripping her seat, stopping herself from joining
the dancers. I slowed my breathing and fought the
impulse to move until it began to subside.

Then I saw that one of the dancers was actually a
man – one I recognized. It was Seilenos. Just moments
earlier I'd seen him eating the forbidden food; now he
was suddenly part of that wild dance. I lost sight of
him for a moment, but then he whirled back into view,
this time much closer to our table. And I could see that
a woman had her mouth against his neck, her teeth
biting deep into his flesh; blood was dribbling onto his
chest. Terror showed in his bulging eyes; they rolled
wildly in their sockets. His belly seemed to be
convulsing and his clothes were torn, revealing deep
wounds across his back. The woman was draining
Seilenos of blood. He was spun back into the press of
bodies closer to the pit and I didn't see him again.

I was grateful that I had been well taught by the
Spook and had fasted before entering the citadel.
Seilenos' love of food and wine had cost him his life –
maybe even his soul!

Then, to my right, I saw Grimalkin again, her face
straining with the immense effort of fighting the
powerful dark magic that bound us all. She slowly
brought the mirror to her mouth. She breathed on it
and, rapt with concentration, began to write with her
forefinger. It was the signal to begin the attack.

For some time the dancing figures continued to
whirl frantically to the wild rhythm, but finally
they began to slow. The drums faltered, then ceased
altogether. The daemons stood immobile, frozen in
time, just as we had minutes earlier. Some inclined
their heads and I sensed that they were listening.

I heard a distant pounding of feet. Closer and closer
it came. The doors were flung back with a crash and
the Pendle witches burst into the hall, long knives
at the ready, their faces savage and eager for battle.

There were Mouldheels amongst them but no sign of
Mab and her two sisters. Why hadn't they joined the
attack? I wondered.

Once again, Grimalkin vaulted across the table and
joined the fight. Any enchantments possessed by the
daemons were either not used or ineffective against
the combined wild onslaught of the witches. To right
and left they cut, wielding their blades to powerful
effect. Their enemies resisted, drawing their swords
and fighting back, but within moments several of them
lay dead, their red blood pooling on the floor.

It all happened so quickly that we had no time to
join the fray. One moment there was ferocious fighting,
the next the daemons were retreating down the steps
into the pit. But it was an orderly retreat. Some fought
a rearguard action while the women escaped. Soon
only the witches remained, gazing down the steps into
the darkness.

Alice gripped my arm tightly as we moved to join
them, but already they were turning their backs upon
the pit.

'It's too dangerous to follow them,' Grimalkin said,
turning towards me. 'I expect that's exactly what they
want. They gave up and retreated far too easily. No
doubt they want to lure us down into the darkness and
ambush us. We'll take the route advised by your
mother, child. I suggest you wait here until the
mercenaries have launched their attack. They're on
their way now so we'll go ahead and press on deeper
into the citadel.'

With that, she led the blood-spattered witches out
into the tunnel, towards the inner courtyard.

'Best do as she says, Tom,' Alice said, still holding
my arm tightly. 'We'll follow on in a few moments . . .'

Some of the survivors of Mam's escort nodded in
agreement. Without their leader they seemed nervous.

The bodies of Seilenos and two more of Mam's escort
lay in pools of blood, unseeing eyes staring up towards
the high ceiling.

'Let's move closer to the door,' Alice said, looking
nervously towards the steps. 'Now that the witches
have gone those daemons might come back up.'

It seemed a good idea so we all headed for the open
doorway.

Within moments we heard horses galloping towards
us. We watched as the mercenaries thundered in
through the entrance and along the tunnel to begin
their attack. It took a long time for them to pass. As the
last hooves echoed into the distance, we left the hall
and followed them towards the inner courtyard.

I looked back briefly. There was no sign of Mam, the
Spook or the others. Surely they should be here by
now? I thought.

We hadn't taken more than a couple of dozen paces
along the tunnel when the sound of galloping could be
heard again. It was getting louder and louder! The
warriors were coming back. They were in retreat
already! What had gone wrong?

A rider -less mount swept past, almost trampling Alice beneath
its hooves. Its eyes rolled in fear and it was foaming at the mouth. More
horses galloped by, some with riders, their weapons gone, eyes wide with terror.
Yes, they were in retreat all right. There was no doubt about it. This was
a rout. What had made those warriors turn and flee like that?

As more and more thundered towards us, I realized
that we were in real danger of being crushed. I pushed
Alice into a niche in the tunnel wall, shielding her with
my body. The horses buffeted against us, filling the
tunnel with the beat of many hooves. It seemed to go
on for ever, but at last all was silent again and I stepped
away from the wall.

'You all right, Alice?' I said as I picked up my staff
and bag.

She nodded. 'Where's your mam's escort?' she asked.

I looked around. Three more of them were dead,
their bodies trampled, but of the remainder there was
no sign. And where were Mam, the Spook and
Arkwright? Were they in the tunnel behind us? Had
they been crushed in the stampede? A lump came into
my throat.

I called out, 'Mam! Mam!' but there was no reply,
just an eerie silence.

'We should follow the witches,' Alice suggested.
'Maybe your mam and old Gregory have been
delayed. They might not even have been in the tunnel
when those horses came through.'

I nodded and we went on. I was still worried about
Mam but also afraid of what might be waiting ahead.

Whatever it was, a thousand mounted warriors had
fled in fear rather than face it. Was it the Ordeen
herself? Had she received my blood and awoken
already?

We were approaching the end of the tunnel now and
mist began to swirl towards us. A strange fear gnawed
at my insides. Waves of cold swept through me like a
gale trying to force me backwards.

'Do you feel it, Tom?' Alice asked.

I nodded. For a spook, any degree of fear was
dangerous when facing the dark. It made the enemies
of the light much more powerful.

We struggled on. I tried to block out the fear by
thinking of happy times in my childhood: sitting on
Mam's knee or Dad telling me stories about his time at
sea. We forced ourselves forward until at last, from out
of the mist, the high inner wall of the Ord loomed up
before us, its huge stones still steaming.

We'd reached the wide cobbled courtyard. There
were dead horses on the ground; warriors too, their
eyes wide open and staring, their faces twisted with
terror.

'What killed them, Alice?' I cried. 'There are no
marks on them. No wounds at all.'

'Died of fright, they did, Tom. It froze their minds
and stopped their hearts . . . But look! There's an open
gate.'

Ahead of us, set into the wall, stood a wide wooden
gate. It was open, but darkness waited within. As I
stared at it, despair washed over me and I couldn't
find the will to take a single step nearer. It had all been
for nothing. The warriors had fled or died and now
there was no chance of entering and destroying the
Ordeen before she drew on her mantle of power again.

We stood staring at the open gate. What could Alice
and I do alone? And how long before the Ordeen
awoke?

'I haven't got the strength to go in,' I told Alice,
knowing that I was in thrall to the powerful dark
magic that had been used against the mercenaries.
'I'm not brave enough for this . . . I haven't the will . . .'

Alice's only reply was to nod her head wearily in
agreement.

Although neither of us voiced our thoughts, it
seemed certain that the Pendle witches had already
gone through ahead of us. But we still didn't move. I
was wondering what could have happened to Mam
and the others. The heart and courage had gone
out of me.

I don't know how long we'd have remained standing
there, but suddenly I heard footsteps behind and
turned to see a tall hooded figure carrying a staff and
bag emerge from the tunnel. To my astonishment I saw
that it was the Spook. At his heels was Bill Arkwright,
who looked resolute, as if in the mood for breaking a
few heads. But there was no sign of his three dogs.

Arkwright nodded but the Spook strode straight
past us without even a glance in our direction. Then, as
he reached the gate, he turned and looked back at me,
his eyes glittering fiercely.

'Come on, lad, don't dawdle!' he growled. 'There's
work to be done. And if
we
don't do it, who will?'

I forced myself to take a step nearer; then another.
With each one it grew a little easier and the shackles of
fear began to loosen and fall away from my mind. I
realized that while the warriors had fled or died, our
line of work – plus the fact that spooks were seventh
sons of seventh sons – gave us the strength to resist.
But above all it was the Spook and his determination
that had helped me to conquer my fear.

As for Alice, her training as a witch would help –
and although my master hadn't invited her to join him,
we both stepped through the gate and entered the
darkness beyond.

'Have you seen Mam?' I asked the spooks.

They both shook their heads. 'We got separated
when those horses stampeded out of the tunnel
towards us. Don't you worry, lad,' said the Spook.
'Your mam can look after herself. No doubt she'll
follow along later.'

They were kind words but did little to make me feel
any better.

'Where are Claw and her pups?' I asked Bill. 'Are
they safe?'

'Safe enough for now,' he replied. 'There's no point
in bringing them into this place. They've been trained
to deal with water witches and suchlike. What chance
would they have against a fire elemental?'

Now I heard a distant roar of cascading water and,
much nearer, the echoes of large drops pattering down
on stone. There was also the hiss of steam. A deluge
had fallen onto the Ord, and much of it had found its
way inside. I reached out a hand and touched the wall.
The stones were still very warm.

The Spook opened his bag, pulling out a small
lantern, which he lit and held aloft. We looked around
and I immediately saw that there was more than one
path open to us. Wreathed in tendrils of mist, a narrow
passage lay ahead, sloping upwards; to our right was
another, this one perfectly level. The Spook paused. He
seemed to be listening. I thought I heard a faint cry in
the distance, but it wasn't repeated and after a few
moments he turned to face me.

'I think upwards is the way we should go. I expect
we'll find the Ordeen in one of the towers. What do
you say?' he asked, looking at Arkwright.

The other spook gave the briefest of nods and my
master set off, striding out determinedly. We followed,
Alice close by my side.

We had been walking for only a few minutes when the
passage came to an end. There was solid stone ahead,
but to our left I saw an opening. Without hesitating, the
Spook went through and held up the lantern. We
followed him and found ourselves in a large room full of
stone slabs occupied by what I took to be sleepers, lying
on their backs. Unlike the passageways, this chamber
wasn't in total darkness; it was filled with a faint yellow
light that had no apparent source.

The supine figures looked human, but their bodies
were long, their faces elongated, with pointy chins and
noses and deep-set eyes. These were the daemons we'd
seen watching the dancers in the hall. But now, as the
lantern bathed the nearer ones in light, I saw that rather
than sleeping, they were dead.

Their throats had been cut and they were lying in
pools of their own blood, which had also splattered
down onto the stone floor. As we walked slowly
forward, picking our way between the slabs, we saw
bloody footprints. Some were made by pointy shoes,
but there were marks of bare feet too – the feet of the
Mouldheel witches.

'The Pendle witches aren't the allies I'd wish for, but
at least we've nothing to fear now in this chamber,' the
Spook remarked.

'The Ord's huge,' I said. 'There must be lots of
chambers. Just think how many other creatures there
must be like these . . .'

'It doesn't bear thinking about, lad. We must press
on. At least if danger threatens, those ahead will
encounter it first and give us some warning.'

The Spook and Arkwright led the way out of the
chamber; but just as I was about to follow I heard
a cry behind me and turned to see Alice transfixed,
her face a mask of terror. One of the daemons
had suddenly sat up on his stone slab; he was gripping
her arm tightly and glaring at her malevolently.

He was bleeding from the throat, but evidently the
cut hadn't been deep enough and he had awoken to
find intruders in his domain. His eyes glittered fiercely
and he reached for the curved blade at his belt. He was
going to use it on Alice! I ran forward and jabbed him
hard in the chest with the end of my staff. He gasped
at the contact with rowan wood and opened his
mouth; saliva and blood gushed out. He drew
his blade, so I jabbed him again. The weapon went
spinning from his hand; he released Alice's arm and
rolled away from me across his stone bed to land on
his feet in a low crouch. He slowly turned to face
me, his eyes just above the level of the slab.

Before I could react, he leaped up. No human could
have jumped so high and with such speed. He flew
over the slab and dropped onto me, sending the staff
spinning from my hand. I fell backwards, twisted
away and rolled clear. I saw that the daemon was
about to attack again and realized I had one chance. It
would take too long to get out the silver chain that lay
hidden in my breeches pocket, but I might just be able
to reach over my shoulder and draw the knife that
Grimalkin had given me. But no sooner had the
thought entered my head than I realized I was too late.
The daemon was upon me.