I shook my head. I didn't know what he meant.
'The Fiend is the dark made flesh. The Devil himself, who rules over and owns the souls of those who belong to the dark. The girl here has been trained as a witch and has come close, far too close, to becoming a creature of darkness herself. That being the case, she senses the Fiend's power and knows just how easily he could steal away her soul. She's vulnerable and she knows it. That's what makes her afraid.'
'But—' I began.
'Save your breath, lad! It's been a long night and I'm too tired to listen. After what you've told me I can hardly bear to look at the two of you so I'm going upstairs to catch up on some sleep. I suggest you two do the same. The dog should warn us if anything gets close.'
When he'd gone upstairs, I turned to Alice. 'Come on, he's right,' I said. 'Let's get some sleep.'
She didn't reply and I realized that she was already in a deep slumber. So I settled myself down in my chair and within a few moments I'd fallen asleep myself.
A few hours later I awoke with a start. Daylight was streaming through the windows, and looking across, I saw that Alice was already awake. But what I saw her doing gave me a shock. She had my pen in her hand and was writing furiously in my notebook – muttering to herself as she did so.
CHAPTER 21
Hobbled
'Alice! What are you doing?' I demanded. 'Why are you writing in my book?'
She looked up, her eyes wide. 'Sorry, Tom. Should have asked you first but I didn't want to disturb you.'
'But what are you writing?'
'Just jotting down some things that Bony Lizzie taught me; some things that might help us defeat the Fiend. You're going to need all the help you can get.'
I was horrified. The Spook had once told Alice that she had to tell me the things she'd been taught so that we could increase our knowledge of witch lore and the dark powers that we faced. But this was different. She was suggesting we use the dark to fight the dark and I knew the Spook wouldn't like it.
'Weren't you listening last night?' I shot back. 'Using the dark is making us vulnerable.'
'Don't you see that we're vulnerable already?'
I turned away.
'Look, Tom, what Old Gregory said about me last night was true. I've been as close to the dark as you can get – at least without becoming a fully-fledged witch. So I was terrified, being close to the Fiend like that. Ain't no way I can tell you how I felt. You belong to the light, Tom, fully to the light, and you'll never get that same feeling. A mixture of terror and despair, it was. A sense that I deserved whatever I got – if he'd asked me to follow him, to be his creature, I'd have done it without another thought.'
'I don't understand what that's got to do with anything,' I said.
'Well, I ain't the first person to feel like that. Once, long ago, the Fiend walked the earth and witches had to deal with that. So there are ways to cope. Ways to keep him at bay. I'm just trying to remember some of them. Lizzie kept Old Nick away from her but she never told me how she done it; it could be there in some of the things she said.'
'But you'd be using the powers of the dark against him, Alice! That's the whole point. You heard what the Spook said. It was bad enough using a mirror. Please don't do something worse.'
'Worse? Worse! What could be worse than having the Devil appear right in this room now and be unable to do anything about it? Old Gregory can't do nothing. Reckon he's scared. Reckon this time he's up against something just too big and dangerous for him to cope with. Surprised he ain't gone back to Chipenden, where he'd feel safer!'
'No, Alice! If he's scared, then he's got good reason for it but the Spook isn't a coward. He'll have a plan. But don't use the dark, Alice. Forget what Bony Lizzie taught you. Please don't do it. No good can come of it—'
At that moment I heard the clump of boots coming down the stairs and Alice ripped the page out, screwed it up and stuffed it up her sleeve. Then she quickly pushed the pen and notebook back into my bag.
As the Spook came into the kitchen, carrying Arkwright's book, she gave me a sad smile.
'Right, you two,' he said. 'Feeling better?'
Alice nodded and he gave her the slightest nod in return before sitting down on the chair nearest to the stove.
'I hope you've both learned something from yesterday,' he continued. 'Using the dark will only weaken us. Do you understand that now?'
I nodded but hardly dared look at Alice.
'Well,' my master went on, 'it's time to continue our discussion and decide what's to be done. I've learned a lot about the Fiend's daughter. It's a far better book than I thought Bill Arkwright capable of. I want you to start at the beginning, lad, and tell me everything that happened from the moment you came to the mill for the first time until I found you bound and gagged in the warehouse. I can see you've been in the wars,' he said, glancing at my sore ear, 'so take your time. Give me all the details. There might be something important.'
So I began my account, missing nothing out. When I reached the point where Arkwright gave me the letter and I decided to return to the mill, my master interrupted for the first time.
'It was as I feared. Bill Arkwright has demons inside him when he drinks. I'm sorry you suffered like that, lad, but I did intend it for the best. He's younger and stronger than me and there are things he can teach you that I can't any more. You need toughening up to fight the Fiend and win – we might have to try things that we've never dreamed of before.'
At that Alice gave me the faintest of smiles but I ignored her and carried on with my tale. I told the Spook about the attack of the water witch when she'd almost killed me, how we'd crossed the sands to reach Cartmel, and of our meeting with the hermit. I recounted how Arkwright had had to drive out the press gang before the hermit would dowse for him and discover the whereabouts of Morwena. Some sections of my tale were uncomfortable to tell – particularly finding the dead dog and Arkwright's boot in the water, and, of course, using the mirror to communicate with Alice. But at last, describing how I'd crossed the dangerous sands once again and returned to the mill, I finally pushed on to the ending of my tale in the warehouse.
'Well, lad, you've had a hard time of it but it's not as bad as you think. For one thing, I have a feeling that Bill Arkwright's probably still alive . . .'
I looked at my master in astonishment.
'Close your mouth, lad, or you'll start catching flies,' he said with a grin. 'You're probably wondering how I know that. Well, to be honest, I'm not absolutely sure but I have three things that point to him having survived. The first is a hunch. Pure instinct. You should always trust your instincts, lad, as I've told you before. And they tell me that Bill is still alive. The second is the ghost of his mother. You've just told me what she said to you, and last night she said pretty much the same to me . . .'
'But how can she know,' I demanded, 'when she's bound to her bones and can't travel much further than the mill garden?'
'Amelia is no ordinary ghost, lad. Technically she's what we sometimes term a water wraith because she suffered death by drowning. Not only that: in a rash moment she killed herself, and many who do that instantly regret it, but do so when it's too late. Such troubled spirits can sometimes be in tune with the living,' he answered. 'Bill and his mother were very close. So her spirit senses that something really bad has happened to him; that he needs help; that he's still alive. And she told me that he's "shackled in the bowels of the earth, waiting to die" – the very same words she said to you.
'And the third thing is what I've gained from reading this book. Sacrifices to Morwena were made at the approach of the full moon . . .'
The Spook opened the book and read aloud from it:
'The young were cast into the Blood Pool; older offerings chained in a subterranean chamber until the propitious moment.'
'If that's true, then where will he be? Somewhere underground back up near the lakes?'
'Could be, lad, but I know one way we might find out for sure. Tha
t hermit up at Cartmel. If he could dowse for Morwena, then maybe he could find Arkwright for us – if they're saving Bill for the full moon, we have six days to find him. But the approach of the full moon suggests we've less leeway. In any case we have to go north again. It's our duty to sort out that witch before she sorts us.'
'The thing that's puzzling me,' I said, 'is why the Fiend left us. Had he stayed, Morwena would have won. With him there we'd have been helpless. It doesn't make sense.'
'Indeed, lad. What's more, why doesn't the Fiend just appear now, kill you and get it over with? What's stopping him?'
'I don't know,' I replied. 'Maybe he's got more important business to attend to.'
'No doubt he has other things to deal with, but you pose one of the biggest threats to him in the County. No, there's more to it than that. I found out some interesting things while I was looking in your mother's trunks. The reason the Fiend hasn't destroyed you immediately is because he's been "hobbled".'
'What's that?' I asked.
'Well, you should be able to work that out for yourself, lad, coming as you do from a farming family.'
'You hobble a horse. Tie its legs,' I said.
'That you do, lad. You tie them so that it can't stray too far. So a "hobble" is a limitation or impediment. The Fiend's power is circumscribed in a powerful way. If he kills you – if he does it himself – then he'll reign on in our world for a hundred years before he's forced to retreat back to where he came from.'
'I don't understand,' I said. 'If that's true, why doesn't he just come and kill me now? Isn't that what he wants – to rule the world in a new dark age?'
'The problem is, for the Fiend a hundred years isn't that long. Time isn't the same for him and a century might seem hardly more than the blinking of an eye. Oh no, he wants to rule for much longer than that.'
'So am I safe?'
'No – unfortunately it says in your mam's book that if he gets one of his children to kill you, then he can rule on in the world, and that's why he's sent his daughter to do the job.'
'Does he have many children?' Alice asked.
'That I don't rightly know,' he said. 'But if Morwena can't defeat Tom – and let's face it, she's failed twice already – and if the Fiend has no other children to help, then there is a third way he'll try to destroy you. He'll try to convert you to the dark—'
'Never!' I shouted.
'You say that, but already you've used the dark and weakened yourself with those mirrors. If he can win you over to the dark, his dominion will last until the end of the world. So that's the one that really worries me, lad. He's powerful, yes. Really powerful. But also crafty. That's why we can't afford to compromise with the dark in any way.'
'Who created the hobbles?' I asked. 'Who has the strength to limit the Fiend's power in that way? Was it my mam?'
The Spook shrugged. 'I don't know, lad. I found no evidence that it was she who'd done it – but yes, that was my first instinct. Only a mother would put herself at risk like that to protect her child.'
'What do you mean?'
'There are always things that oppose the dark and circumscribe its power. My guess is that whoever managed to do so paid a terrible price. Such things are not achieved without something being given up in exchange. I searched that trunk carefully but could find nothing at all to explain it.'
If it was my mam who had tried to protect me, I suddenly felt worried for her. What price had she paid to help me? Was she suffering in Greece now as a result?
Alice must have sensed my fears and moved closer to me to offer me some comfort. But the Spook had no time for such emotions.
'We've talked and rested enough,' he said. 'It's time for action. We're off to Cartmel now. If the tides are right, we could be safely across the bay before nightfall.'
Within an hour we were on our way. I was really hungry but had to make do with a mouthful of crumbly County cheese to keep my strength up. My master offered some to Alice but she refused.
On the Spook's instructions, I left my bag at the mill, but once again tied my silver chain around my waist under my cloak.
As we left the garden, Claw bounded after us; the Spook looked at her doubtfully.
'Shall I send her back?' I asked.
'No, lad, let her follow,' he said to my surprise. 'I'd rather not have an animal tagging along but she's a hunting dog, well able to follow a trail, and might be useful in helping us find her master.'
So it was that the three of us and Claw set off to try and find Bill Arkwright. The odds against us were great. We had Morwena and the other water witches to contend with, not to mention the power of the Fiend. Hobbled or not, there was no reason why he wouldn't intervene in some way to make it easier for his servants to destroy us.
But my two other worries were my mam and Alice. Had Mam hobbled the Fiend to protect me? And was Alice drifting steadily towards the dark? I knew she meant well and was doing it for the best of reasons, but was she in fact going to make things worse? The Spook had always feared that one day she would return to the dark; if she did so, I didn't want her to drag me with her.
CHAPTER 22
Widdershins
We arrived at Hest Bank to face a wait of several hours before the tide went out. But, in the company of half a dozen travellers, two coaches and the sand guide, we made the crossing of the bay relatively quickly and safely.
After a steady climb we reached the hermit's cave just before dusk. All was silent within. Judd Atkins was sitting cross-legged facing the fire; his eyes were closed and he hardly seemed to be breathing. My master led the way in, almost tiptoeing forward until he was facing the hermit across the flames.
'I'm sorry to bother you, Mr Atkins,' he said politely, 'but I believe you're acquainted with Bill Arkwright and that he visited you recently. Well, I'm John Gregory and he was once an apprentice of mine. Bill's gone missing and I'd like your help in trying to find him. He was taken by a water witch, but even so, it might well be that he's still alive.'
For a moment the hermit neither acknowledged the Spook nor spoke. Was he in a deep sleep or a trance of some kind?
My master pulled a silver coin from his breeches pocket and held it out. 'I'll pay you, of course. Will this suffice?'
The hermit opened his eyes. They were bright and alert and quickly flicked from the Spook to Alice and then me, before returning to gaze steadily at my master. 'Put away your money, John Gregory,' he said. 'I've no need of it. Next time you cross the bay give it to the guide. Tell him it's for the lost. The money goes to help the families of those who've drowned trying to make the crossing.'
'Aye, I'll do that,' said the Spook. 'So you'll help?'
'I'll do my best. At this distance it will be impossible to say whether he's alive or dead, but if there's anything left of him, I'll find it. Have you a map? And something that belongs to the man?'
My master reached into his bag, pulled out a map, unfolded it carefully and spread it on the floor next to the fire. It was much older and more tattered than Bill Arkwright's but covered much the same area.
The hermit caught my eye and smiled. 'Well, Thomas, dead or alive, a man is much easier to find than a witch.'
The Spook reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin gold ring. 'This belonged to Bill's mam,' he said. 'It was her wedding ring and she took it off before she died and left it to Bill with a note telling him how much she loved him. It's one of his most treasured possessions but he only wears it twice a year: on the anniversary of her death and on what would have been her birthday.'
I suddenly realized that it was the gold ring I'd seen on top of his mam's coffin. The Spook must have taken it from Arkwright's room with just this in mind.