Wardstone 7 - The Spook's Nightmare (17 page)

My master shook his head. ‘She’s certainly got delusions of grandeur – though she’s dangerous all right. Poor Bill … at least once we’ve sorted Lizzie, he’ll be able to break free.

‘But this is as bad as it could be, lad. I’ve been sent
in here to sort out that witch, but once it’s done, they won’t need me any more. There’ll be a new master of Greeba Keep and things will go on much the same as ever. We might well end up in the dungeons again. They’ll carry on appeasing the buggane even though the shaman’s dead. They’ll be back to their old tricks. It’s the way of the world, I’m afraid. History repeating itself.’ My master sighed deeply, lost in thought for a moment.

‘I’ve faced similar situations before. I’m getting weary of it all, lad – tired in body, mind and spirit. Still, we’ll worry about that later. First we must sort out Lizzie,’ he finished, getting to his feet.

‘What if she’s too strong? What if—?’

‘Look, lad, don’t you worry – I’ve faced many a witch before and come out on top. You’re young and still an apprentice. That’s why she was able to control you. Let’s go and get this over with! Lead the way to Lizzie …’

I didn’t like it one bit, but I did as my master ordered. I just hoped that the witch was still in her bath. But
as soon as we entered the throne room, I knew I’d been right to be pessimistic.

Bony Lizzie was seated on the throne and Alice was standing on the steps, looking terrified. Lizzie was dressed in a long purple gown, her hair wet but combed straight so that it framed her face, her lips painted red. She looked imposing – if not quite a queen, then certainly like a woman accustomed to life at court. But what really frightened me was her manner and the expression on her face.

She looked in total control, and I felt waves of cold malice radiating from her. However, the Spook looked resolute, and he began to stride down the carpet towards the throne.

He halted at the foot of the steps. I was close behind him, and I saw him ease his left hand into the pocket of his breeches to curl the silver chain about his wrist. I remembered the last time my master had faced Lizzie, right at the very beginning of my apprenticeship. He’d killed Tusk, her powerful abhuman accomplice, and then bound the witch with his silver chain before
carrying her over his shoulder back to a pit at Chipenden. Could he do it again? He certainly thought so. And surely Lizzie must remember what had happened last time?

I soon realized that she wasn’t the least bit concerned. In fact she wasn’t even looking at the Spook. She was looking at me, her eyes filled with malevolence.

‘Can’t be trusted, can you, boy? Soon as my back’s turned you run off to get your master. I should kill you now …’

Wasting no time, the Spook spun the chain, casting it towards Lizzie. She was still on the throne; it was an easy shot – the witch was as good as bound. I watched the chain shape itself into a gleaming, deadly spiral – but to my dismay it fell harmlessly to the floor a foot to the right of her.

How could he have missed? Powerful dark magic had to be the answer. Or maybe something else …

My heart sank right down into my boots. Alice was right to doubt my master’s powers. I was beginning to
see the truth. The Spook was a man in decline. His strength was going. The John Gregory I’d first became apprenticed to would have bound Lizzie with no trouble, no matter how strong the magic she used against him.

He frowned, and an expression of bewilderment came over his face. He staggered and seemed about to speak, but then his hand went to his throat and he started to choke. His knees gave way, then he fell forward, his forehead missing the bottom step by inches. I quickly went to kneel beside him. He lay there, face down, barely breathing.

‘He’s not dead, don’t you worry!’ cried Lizzie, getting to her feet. ‘Old Gregory isn’t going to enjoy an easy death like that. Not after the painful years I spent trapped in that pit. I owe him for that, and he’ll suffer before he dies. I’ll give him pain like he’s never known before, just see if I don’t! This is going to be your master’s worst nightmare.’

Her words reminded me of my master’s dream about Lizzie, where she’d been seated on a throne,
the floor flowing with blood. It was all coming horribly true.

She walked down the steps and raised her foot as if to kick him with the pointy toe of her shoe, then stopped and shook her head. ‘What’s the point of kicking him if he can’t feel it?’ she muttered. ‘Now, boy, I’ve got a job for you. I want you to go out and talk to those men beyond the gate. Tell ’em they work for me now: they should choose one of their own, a sensible man with experience, to be my seneschal – the servant who will give orders to the others on my behalf. He should come up to the throne room for an audience with me.

‘And one other thing – I don’t like being kept waiting. They have ten minutes to decide. Every five minutes over that time, and one of their number will die. So get you gone and tell them that, boy!’

I glanced down at my master and then at Alice, but that moment of hesitation angered Lizzie. She took a step towards me, her eyes flashing dangerously.

‘Thinking of disobeying me, boy? Well, think again. You see, I know all about the blood jar—’

‘I’m sorry, Tom, I’m sorry. She made me tell …’ cried Alice.

‘It’s just a case of who the Fiend comes for first. If Alice here displeases me, I’ll throw her in the dungeons. Without me by her side, she wouldn’t last five minutes. And as for you – well, that’s simple. I’ll deal with you right now. Take that blood jar out of your pocket and smash it on the floor! Go on! Do it!’

I tried to resist, I really did, but I found my hand obeying the witch. Alice’s eyes widened in terror, and I felt the sweat oozing from my brow. My heart pounded as I found my hand moving, as if of its own volition, to pull out the jar and lift it high, preparing to dash it to the floor.

‘Stop!’ Lizzie cried, just in time. She gave me an evil smile. ‘Now you can put it back in your pocket because you know what I’m capable of. Next time you disobey me again I’ll make you smash that jar and I’ll put you in the deepest, darkest, dampest dungeon. Then we’ll see which of them comes for you first – the buggane or the Fiend.’

I picked up my staff, turned and went to do her bidding. What choice did I have?

As I passed under the first portcullis and went across the yard towards the main gate, the yeomen got to their feet, gathering just beyond the moat.

‘What have we here?’ said Commander Stanton, walking towards me. ‘She’s bewitched you all right! We sent you in old and tall and you come back young and a good few inches shorter!’

They all laughed at his joke, but some of the guffaws were forced, the amusement hollow.

‘My master’s hurt,’ I told him, and then went on to deliver Lizzie’s message, worried about how Stanton might react to her instructions. He didn’t look like the sort of man who would take kindly to her plan to rule Greeba Keep. It also seemed highly unlikely that he’d agree to choose a seneschal for her. I just hoped that he wouldn’t get it into his head to punish me, her messenger.

Stanton looked unimpressed. ‘We’re to work for her,
are we? And what if we’ve got plans of our own?’

‘She said you’ve just ten minutes to decide. If you don’t respond in that time, some of you will die – one for every five minutes you keep her waiting.’

Some of the men around him began to mutter and look apprehensive. I could sense the fear passing from one to the other like a disease.

At first Stanton didn’t reply. He looked thoughtful and gazed up at the tower. Then he turned back to me again. ‘You’re a spook’s apprentice, so you know about these things. Could she do it? Could the witch really kill some of us from a distance like that?’

‘It’s not easy,’ I admitted. ‘Witches often use curses and try to kill their enemies from afar – though it doesn’t always work. But Bony Lizzie is a really strong witch. She’s done things I wouldn’t have believed possible. A spook has some immunity against witchcraft, and my own master has practised his trade successfully for many years. That didn’t help him though,’ I went on, shaking my head sadly.
‘She used dark magic and he fell unconscious at her feet. So who knows what she is capable of?’

He nodded and looked at his men. ‘Well, I say we put her to the test. We’ll let the minutes pass. Maybe she’s only bluffing.’

Not everyone was happy but nobody challenged his decision. I turned to walk back over the moat, but Stanton grabbed my arm. ‘No, lad, you’re staying with us until we know what’s what.’

He made me sit down by the fire and knelt beside me, warming his hands before the flames. ‘Who else is in there besides the witch and your master?’ he asked.

‘My friend, Alice.’

‘Alice? You mean the little witch who survived the testing in the barrel? The sly one who hit me with that rock?’

‘She’s not a witch—’

‘Barrule thought so, and he knew about such things,’ he interrupted.

‘She really isn’t a witch,’ I insisted.

Stanton looked at me long and hard, as if making his
mind up about something, and then he said, ‘What’s your name, boy?’

‘Tom Ward.’

‘Well, Tom Ward, my name’s Daniel Stanton, the commander around here – I served Lord Barrule for fifteen years, and sometimes did things I didn’t like on his behalf. Still, a man knows which side his bread’s buttered, and from time to time we all do things we’re not entirely happy with. Not sure being seneschal to a witch appeals to me much though.

‘This is the situation. Barrule didn’t leave an heir. About ten years ago his wife died in childbirth and the baby only lived a few hours after her. So the Parliament, the Tynwald, will decide next week who’ll be appointed to take his place and become leader of the Ruling Council. As I see it, my duty now is to secure that keep for its next master, who’ll be my new employer. That means dealing with that witch one way or another—’

There was a sudden cry of pain from someone by the next fire. Daniel Stanton jumped to his feet. I followed
him and saw a man lying on his back close to the flames: he was writhing in pain, his hands at his throat as if he were choking. His face was turning purple. Someone sat him up and tried to help him, lifting a cup of water to his lips. But suddenly the man gave a gasp, shuddered and went limp.

‘He’s dead!’ the cry went up.

I was looking at lots of scared faces. Some of Stanton’s men looked ready to run.

‘The witch did it!’ someone shouted.

‘Aye,’ agreed a second voice, ‘and what if she does it again? Any one of us could be next!’

The yeomen milled about, their faces tense. Stanton was the only one who didn’t look scared. He stood there impassively, his arms folded and head held high.

Five minutes later a yeoman close to us gave a groan, clasped his hands to his throat, then staggered and fell stone dead at our feet. Stanton’s men were now terrified. These were yeomen, soldiers used to facing violent death, but this was not natural. They were beginning to panic.

Stanton held his hand up for calm and addressed his men in a loud clear voice. ‘We’ll do as the witch demands!’ he cried. ‘I’ll go and talk to her myself.’ He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Right, boy, I take it you’d like to put an end to her if you could?’

I nodded.

‘Well, why didn’t you finish her off when you had the chance the other night? I was there and saw what happened.’

I shook my head. ‘Lots of reasons … I couldn’t bring myself to kill her in cold blood.’

‘That’s a hard thing to do,’ he agreed with a nod, ‘and you’re just a boy. But if I get the chance, I won’t hesitate. So we’ll work together on this, agreed?’

‘The first thing is to try and get my master to safety. He’ll work out what to do.’

‘We’ll go and see what the witch has to say,’ Stanton said. ‘We’ll play along with her for a while and wait for an opportunity to present itself.’

T
ogether we went through the gates, into the tower and up the steps to the throne room. Lizzie was waiting for us on the throne, looking imperious. There was no sign of Alice or the Spook.

Daniel Stanton gave her a low bow. ‘I’m at your service, ma’am,’ he told her.

It was exactly the right thing to do; the witch positively glowed. ‘What do they call you?’ she asked.

‘Stanton, ma’am. I was the commander of the Greeba Guard. I served Lord Barrule for almost fifteen years.’

‘Well now, Master Stanton, you’re my seneschal, although you’ll still captain the guard. Get them back to their posts sharpish, and the other servants too –
especially the cooks. Tomorrow night there’s going to be a feast in my honour. Which is the largest room in the keep? How many can it hold?’

‘The great hall, ma’am. It’s in the building beside the tower. It can hold nearly two hundred.’

‘Send out invitations, then,’ Lizzie commanded. ‘I want that hall filled. No riff-raff, mind. I want landowners there – rich, important people. Get me the members of the Ruling Council and the Tynwald – as many as possible.’

‘I’ll go and attend to it right away, ma’am,’ Stanton told her.

Lizzie dismissed him. When he’d gone, she stood up and walked down the steps towards me. ‘I will rule this island. Do you doubt me, boy?’ she asked.