Despite the slippery ground, I began to walk faster, growing more and more nervous with each step. Then, suddenly, I saw something ahead. There was a body lying on the path. I didn't want to retrace my steps so I approached it cautiously: it might be a trap of some sort. But it was a man lying face down with his head twisted to the left. He was quite dead. His throat was torn out just like the one near the mill. He was wearing a uniform – it was another of the press gang.
The Fiend's daughter might be close by now, ready to attack, so I moved on quickly. I'd been on the path for no more than two or three more minutes when I heard another sound, directly ahead. What was it? Not the corpsefowl this time. I halted and peered into the mist. All I could see was large clumps of reed and the faint line of the path twisting through them. So I continued more slowly this time.
I heard it again and halted immediately – it was a sort of croaking cry followed by a gurgle. It sounded as though someone were in pain. As if they were choking. I advanced a step at a time, my staff at the ready, until I could just make out a horizontal shape on the path ahead. Was it somebody creeping towards me? Two more steps and I could see that it wasn't moving. It looked like a long bundle of rags. Was it another of the soldiers? Then I saw it more clearly.
There was a witch on the path, lying on her back, one hand trailing in the water. Her eyes and mouth were wide open: the former were fixed and staring but looking up at the sky, not towards me; the mouth showed the four long, sharp canines of a water witch. Was it the one who'd escaped from the pit under the mill? Was she hurt – or dead?
I hesitated. I was very close to her now. What if she was only pretending? Just waiting until I got close enough for her to grab hold of me? And then a voice spoke to me out of the darkness; one that I recognized only too well.
'Well, child, we meet again!'
My knees turned to water. Beyond the body, facing me, was Grimalkin.
Now she would get her revenge. Perhaps she'd saved me in the folly just so that she could savour this moment. I wished the ground would swallow me up. I feared the snip-snip of those terrible scissors. I eased the silver chain out of the pocket of my cloak and readied it. I'd missed her last time but I'd been exhausted and I'd cast on the run. My left hand was shaking with nerves but I forced myself to breathe evenly. I would be brave like my master, the Spook. Even if I died, I could still be brave. I could do it. I'd trained long and hard for this moment.
I looked her in the eye and prepared to throw. She wasn't like Morwena and at least I could look into her face. It was a beautiful face but stern and cruel and her mouth was slightly open, the lips painted black.
And I could see the savage teeth that she'd filed to sharp, cruel points.
'Put away your chain, child,' she said softly. 'I've not come for you. This night we fight together against our enemy.'
It was only then that I noticed that she brandished no weapon – all her blades were sheathed.
I lowered my chain. I believed her. After all, she'd warned me about the water witches in the tunnel, then helped me fight them off. My mam had always told me to trust my instincts and I felt that Grimalkin was telling the truth. It seemed to me that this was to our advantage. Despite what the Spook had said, if the dark fought against the dark, it would surely be weakened.
Grimalkin pointed down at the dead body of the witch. 'Don't worry, child,' she said softly. 'She won't bite. Just step over her body. Hurry. We have little time!'
I stepped over the witch and ten more paces brought me face to face with the assassin. As before, she was bristling with weapons, the sheaths carrying knives of various sizes, not to mention the scissors. But there were two changes: her hair was pulled back tightly from her brow and tied at the nape of her neck with a black silk scarf; secondly, she was very dirty, her face and bare arms and legs streaked with mud, and she stank of marsh slime.
'What do you seek here, child? Your death?' she demanded, opening her black-painted lips to show her pointed teeth again. 'The Fiend's daughter is close. Within minutes she'll be here.'
I shook my head. 'I've no choice. The Fiend made me come here, otherwise he'll kill my master, Alice and Arkwright. If I slay his daughter, he'll spare their lives.'
She laughed softly. 'You're brave,' she said, 'but foolish. Why try to fight her here? Water is her element. If you begin to win, she'll flee deeper into the marsh where you can't reach her. And give her half a chance and she'll drag you into the water. No! This isn't the way. We must lure her onto higher, drier ground. I've seen you run and you're fast, almost as fast as me. But how sure are your feet over this terrain? Now, if you are to survive, you must match me step for step.'
Without another word, she turned and began to run down the path that would take us deeper into the marsh. I followed at her heels, running faster and faster across the treacherous ground. Once I almost lost my footing and came close to falling into the bog; on two occasions Grimalkin began to pull away from me into the mist, and only by making a huge effort did I manage to keep her within sight.
At last we began to climb out of the marsh. Ahead was a small rounded hill with the ruin of a small abbey at its summit. It was Monks' Hill. Three stunted sycamores grew amongst the rubble. In places hardly a stone stood upon a stone, but Grimalkin led us to a low wall and we settled down with our backs to it so that we could gaze down upon the swamplands. Above us the moon shone from a cloudless sky, lighting the ruins and the hillside to a silver.
We were above the mist, which now lay undulating below, obscuring the marsh and the path. We were sitting upon an island rising up from a calm sea composed of white cloud. For a long time we didn't speak. After my exertions I was happy just to allow my breathing to return to normal and it was the witch assassin who spoke first.
'It is to Alice Deane that you should give thanks that you don't face your enemy here alone.'
I turned towards Grimalkin in astonishment. 'Alice?' I asked.
'Yes, your friend Alice. Afraid that the Fiend and his daughter were about to slay you, she summoned me north to come to your aid. We've been in contact many times during the past month. Mostly by mirror.'
'Alice used a mirror to contact you?'
'Of course, child. How else do witches communicate over long distances? I was surprised at first but she persisted and slowly won me round. How could I refuse one whose mother was a Malkin? Especially when our cause is now the same.'
'So did you come looking for me on the island?'
'You or the Fiend's daughter. But I was never on that island until we spoke. I watched you from the mainland shore, saw the witches preparing to enter the water and warned you. I'd been watching you for days. John Gregory wouldn't welcome my presence so I kept my distance.'
'The Fiend expects me to face her alone. Will he know that you're here?'
Grimalkin shrugged. 'He might. He can't see everything, but when his daughter sees me, then he will know.'
'So won't he intervene? He could appear right here, up on this hill.'
'That's something you needn't fear. He'll keep his distance. Where I am you won't see him.'
'You're able to make him keep away?'
'Yes – because of what I did years ago.'
'What was that? Alice has been trying to find the means to keep him away. How's it done? Did you use a blood jar? Or have you hobbled him in some way?'
'There may well be more than one way but I chose the most usual method for a witch. I bore him a child—'
'You had a child by the Fiend?' I asked in astonishment.
'Why not? That's what some witches do – if they have the nerve for it. And if they're desperate enough to be free of his power. Give him a child and, later, after his first visit to see his offspring, he must leave you alone. Most children of the Fiend and a witch are either monsters or other witches. The mother of the one we face was the witch Grismalde. They say she was very beautiful but dwelt in mud caverns and roamed the darkest bowels of the earth and so stank accordin
gly. But the Devil's tastes are sometimes strange.
'Yet by some chance my own body managed to cheat him. My child was neither monster nor witch. He was perfectly human, a beautiful baby boy. But when the Fiend saw him, he was beside himself with anger. He picked up my child, his son, and dashed out his brains against a rock. The blood of that innocent bought my freedom but it was a high price to pay.
'After his death I was a little mad with grief. But the trade that I then chose saved me. Through the cruelty demanded of a witch assassin, I found myself again. Time has passed and memories fade but what the Fiend did can never be forgotten. There are two reasons why I fight by your side tonight. The first is because of my need for revenge. The second is because Alice Deane asked me to protect you against Morwena. Tonight we'll begin by slaying the Fiend's daughter.'
For a few moments I turned over in my mind what Grimalkin had just told me. But suddenly she placed her finger against her lips to indicate the need for silence and stood up.
Almost immediately the eerie cry of the corpsefowl echoed over the marsh. Seconds later the plaintive cry came again, much louder and nearer. I heard the beating of wings as a large bird flew straight up out of the mist, gaining height as it approached. It had seen us: now the Fiend's daughter would know exactly where we were.
Grimalkin reached into a leather sheath and drew forth a knife with a short blade. In one smooth powerful movement she hurled it at the bird. End over end it spun. The creature twisted away too late. The blade buried itself deep in its breast, and with a loud wailing screech the corpsefowl fell into the sea of mist, to be lost from view.
'I rarely miss,' Grimalkin said with a grim smile, settling herself down on my left again. 'But I missed when I hurled my long knife at you. Or rather, it was on target but then you plucked it from the air. The Fiend tampers with time, slowing, stopping or speeding it up to meet his needs. But I think that night you did it too. Just a little but enough to make a difference.'
She was referring to our meeting in the summer, when she'd hunted and caught me on the edge of Hangman's Wood as I was fleeing to the refuge of my mam's room. After pinning her shoulder to a tree with the Spook's staff, I'd turned to run but she'd thrown her knife at the back of my head. I'd turned to watch it spin end over end as it sped towards me through the air, then reached up and caught it, saving my own life. Time had indeed seemed to slow, but never for one moment had I thought that I might be responsible.
'Stand up now,' Grimalkin commanded, her voice sharp. 'It's almost time. The moment of danger is close. Very soon our enemies will be here.'
'Enemies?' I asked. 'Is there more than one?
'Of course, child. The Fiend's daughter will not be alone. She has called others to her aid. Water witches from far and wide are converging upon this hillock. They have been approaching since dark. The struggle is imminent.'
It was time to face the witches. Soon, one way or the other, it would be over.
CHAPTER 28
The fight on the marsh
We stood up and went a little way down the slope. 'That night, you also missed,' Grimalkin said. 'You missed me with your chain. Will you miss your target again tonight?'
Back in the summer, I'd hurled my chain at her but cast wide. It had been a difficult shot and I'd been terrified and exhausted. Would I be more successful tonight against the Fiend's daughter?
'I'll do my best,' I told her.
'Then let's hope your best is good enough. Now listen well while I explain what's about to happen. Water witches will attack, surging up from the marsh below. So use your staff – but keep your chain in reserve. It may make all the difference. We must face the blood-filled eye of Morwena, but it can be used against only one enemy at a time. If she comes at me, then use your chain against her. Until then, hold it in reserve. Fight the others with your staff. Understand?'
I nodded.
'Good. The second thing to our advantage is that Morwena will be reluctant to venture up onto this hill, where the ground is relatively dry and firm underfoot. So hopefully she'll hang back.'
Once again I nodded, nerves now beginning to overtake me. I could feel a trembling in my knees and hands, and butterflies in my stomach. I took a deep breath and fought to control myself. I needed a steady left hand to cast the silver chain.
The first attack took me completely by surprise. But for the slap of clawed, webbed feet on the grass, it was silent and terrifyingly fast. A water witch ran straight out of the mist towards Grimalkin, claws at the ready, dank hair streaming behind her, face contorted into a mask of hatred.
But Grimalkin was even quicker. She pulled a knife from her belt and hurled it straight at her attacker. I heard a soft thud as it buried itself in the witch's chest. She fell back with a groan and slid down the slope to be enveloped by the mist.
Now they attacked in force. I would have been hard pressed to deal with just one, such was their speed and ferocity. Up out of the mist they surged – six or seven of them in all – shrieking as they came, talons outstretched, faces twisted in fury, some wielding short blades. Only when the nearest were no more than five paces away did I remember the retractable blade in my rowan staff. I found the recess and pressed, hearing a satisfying click as the blade emerged and locked into position.
I thrust, parried and turned again and again, spinning on my heels to keep them at bay, sweat running down my face and into my eyes as I used all the skills that Arkwright had taught me. But despite my best efforts, I would quickly have been overwhelmed but for Grimalkin. Now I saw why the witch assassin was, in combat, the most feared of all the Pendle witches.
Each deadly economical movement of her body was a killing stroke. Each blade slipped from a leather sheath found a new resting place in the flesh of an enemy. Talon against talon, blade against blade, she was matchless. She spun and slew, a wheel of death, cutting down those who opposed us until seven dead bodies lay on the slope beside us.
Then she sucked in a deep breath and remained absolutely still, as if listening, before placing her left hand lightly upon my shoulder and leaning towards me.
'There are more emerging from the marsh now,' she whispered, her mouth very close to my ear. 'And the Fiend's daughter is with them. Remember what I said. Use your chain against her. Everything depends on that. Miss and we're both finished!'
A lone witch attacked from the mist. Twice Grimalkin hurled blades and found a target before the two collided in a fury of tangled limbs, gouging fingers and sharp teeth. Neither witch uttered a sound as they rolled away from me in the silent fury of combat, down the hill and into the mist.
Suddenly I was alone on the hillside, listening to the hammering of my own heart. Should I go down and help Grimalkin? What if other witches had now set upon her? But before I could make a decision it was my own turn to come under attack. Another water witch stepped out of the mist. She didn't race towards me at speed like the others but padded softly up the hill, step by careful step. Her mouth gaped wide to reveal four immense yellow-green fangs. In appearance she was very similar to Morwena: the triangular bone that served as a nose made me feel as if I was facing something more dead than alive. But despite her slow, careful advance, I was still mindful of the speed she was capable of. I knew she would attempt to hook one of her talons into my flesh, and above all I feared the upward sweep that would attempt to pierce my upper throat and wrap her fingers around my teeth, a grip from which it would be impossible to break free.
The witch attacked suddenly; she was fast but I matched her, bringing my staff across in a short arc that missed her left cheek by less than an inch. She snarled and a low growl of anger rose up in her throat. But I jabbed at her again and she took a step backward. Now I was on the offensive and each careful, calculated jab drove her down the hillside, closer to the edge of the thick mist.
Then, too late, I guessed what she intended – to drag me into the mist and marsh, where she'd have the advantage.
She'd just been playing with me. With her r
ight hand she struck out like a snake. Two fingers hooked up towards my throat, the talons extended. I tried to twist away but felt a glancing blow and then I was being tugged forward. I lost my balance and rolled down the slope, my staff flying out of my hands. The witch rolled with me but then we broke apart and I felt no pain in my throat or jaw. She'd missed and hooked her talon into the collar of my sheepskin jacket, and now the fall had torn it free.