I nodded my thanks and started to walk down the steps. The water was cold and took my breath away, but once it came up to my chest I felt better. With a faint smile back at Alice, I swam away from the steps, took a deep breath, and attempted to dive to the underwater tunnel.
I didn’t get very far. The water resisted and forced me back up to the surface. Either I wasn’t using the strokes I’d been taught properly or I simply wasn’t strong enough. I sucked in another deep breath and tried again. Moments later I was sputtering on the surface, feeling a little foolish. I’d never be able to get Arkwright out. We’d have to ask Deana after all.
I swam back to the side until my feet were on the steps again. But suddenly I remembered something that Arkwright had said.
“When a diver wants to go deep, the easiest way is for him to hold a big stone so the weight takes him down quickly. . . .”
“Alice, run back to the shore and bring me back two of the heaviest stones you can carry!” I told her.
She and the Spook looked at me with puzzled faces.
“A weight in each hand will take me straight to the bottom and I’ll be able to pull myself into the tunnel.”
Alice returned in less than five minutes with two heavy stones. Holding them against my chest, I walked down the steps until the water was to my waist then, after taking a deep breath, jumped forward.
The water closed over my head and I sank quickly into the gloom. The tunnel was directly ahead so I dropped the stones and frog-kicked into it, scraping my shoulder against the side. Two more kicks and it grew absolutely black. I began to panic. What if we were wrong and this passageway didn’t lead into the next building after all?
I tried to use my arms as Arkwright had taught me, but the tunnel was too narrow and I jarred my elbows badly. By now I was desperate to breathe and I kicked again and again, the urgency building in my chest. I tried to calm myself. On the surface I could hold my breath for much longer than this. So what was the difference? As long as I didn’t panic I’d be all right.
Another two kicks and, to my relief, I was out of the tunnel and rising upward, the water growing somewhat lighter. I had a sense of something big to my right, but the next second my head broke the surface and I released the breath I’d been holding, taking in two big welcome gulps of air. I used my arms and legs to paddle on the spot and keep afloat. It was dark in the tower, but looking upward, I could see the four narrow windows. Three were faint but the fourth was lit by the moon. Hopefully my eyes would soon adjust and there’d be enough light to see what I was doing.
I took a couple of strokes and then stubbed my toes against steps. Moments later I was out of the water, standing on flags, the water dripping from me, keeping perfectly still while I waited for my night vision to improve. Slowly the inside of the tower became clearer. I could see what appeared to be a shapeless bundle of rags against the wall. It had to be Arkwright. I took three cautious steps in that direction. Then I thought I heard a murmur of voices from somewhere above. Surprised, I looked up toward the window.
“Tom!” someone called.
It was Alice’s voice. I knew she must have stood on the Spook’s shoulders and climbed the gargoyles to the window. “You all right?” she asked.
“Fine, Alice. So far so good. I think I’ve found him.”
“Got something for you,” Alice called. “A candle. Try to catch it. Ready?”
The next moment it was falling toward me. I took two quick steps, grabbed at it but missed. It hit the ground, but despite the gloom it didn’t take me long to find it. I picked it up and looked at the window again.
“Throwing down your tinderbox next,” she called. “Don’t drop this, Tom. Don’t want it to break.”
I didn’t want it to break either. It meant a lot to me because it was my good-bye present from my dad when I first left home to become the Spook’s apprentice. It was a family heirloom.
I sensed rather than saw it falling toward me but somehow I caught it, and it was but the work of a minute to ignite the tinder and light the candle. I pushed the tinderbox safely into my pocket and approached Arkwright. I could see his face now, but was he all right? Was he breathing?
“It’s him,” I called out to Alice and the Spook. “He doesn’t look too good but I’ll try and get him through the tunnel.”
“Good!” shouted Alice. “Well done. We’ll see you in the other tower.”
I heard them walk away, but just then something made me glance into the water. It was clear and I could see right to the bottom as before. Now I realized what I’d glimpsed as I emerged into the pool of water. It was a second tunnel. But where did it lead? To the lake? The thought was terrifying. It was another way into the tower. A water witch would be able to reach me without having to get past the Spook and Alice.
And there was something else. To my astonishment, the surface of the water suddenly brightened and a shape started to form. Someone was using a mirror to reach me. Could it be Alice? Had she given the Spook the slip for just such a purpose? Of course, it didn’t have to be a mirror. The surface of a puddle, pond, or lake could achieve the same end. But then I saw that it wasn’t Alice after all and fear gripped my heart.
It was the witch assassin. . . .
But for a scarf worn loosely about her neck, Grimalkin was dressed exactly as on our last encounter: the same short black smock tied at her waist, her skirt divided and tightly strapped to each thigh. Her lithe body was bound with leather straps carrying a multitude of sheaths, each containing a deadly weapon.
My eyes fixed in terror upon one item in particular: the scissors that she used to torture her defeated enemies; sharp implements that could snip bone and flesh. Last time I’d tricked her, wounding her while I pretended to surrender. I’d flicked my staff from one hand to the other, just as the Spook had taught me. But next time we met, she wouldn’t be deceived so easily. She knew what I was capable of.
I looked at the necklace of human bones around her neck: bones from those she’d hunted down, defeated, and tortured. She lived for combat, thrived on bloodshed. It was said that she had a code of honor and liked the struggle to be difficult, that she never tried to win by guile. But I’d deceived her. In fear for my life I’d behaved in a way she could only hold in contempt.
But to my utter astonishment she smiled at me and leaned forward. Her mouth opened and the surface of the water became cloudy. She was using a mirror and was about to write on it. What? A threat? A warning of what she intended to do to me next time we met?
I stared at the message in astonishment. Why would Grimalkin warn me? Wouldn’t she be happy to see me captured and killed by witches? What did she mean by “our enemies”? Water witches? Was it a trick? A repayment for my deceit?
The image faded and disappeared. I was puzzled, but whether she spoke the truth or not, I still had to rescue Arkwright.
I had no time to waste, and after positioning my candle on the flags nearby, I knelt beside the slumped figure. To his right was a jug half full of water. Bound as he was, someone must have been coming in to keep him alive for Morwena. I leaned closer and could hear fast, shallow breathing. I called his name. He groaned but didn’t open his eyes. So, drawing the knife from my belt, I began to cut through his bonds: first the feet, then the hands.
That done, I tried rubbing his hands and face in an effort to revive him, but still his eyes remained shut. Next I held my water bottle against his lips and poured some into his mouth. He choked a little but managed a couple of gulps. Then I broke off a piece of the leaf Alice had given me and pushed a small piece under his tongue. Finally I placed him flat on the ground on his side, in an effort to make him comfortable. It was only then that I noticed the marks on his neck. They were big yellow scabs, three of them, and one was still weeping matter. I’d never seen anything quite like them before. And then I remembered what Arkwright had told me about skelts. I wondered if one had been feeding from his neck. The witches could have been using a skelt in their rituals.
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There was nothing more I could do now, so after fastening the water bottle to my belt again, I sat down beside him, my head in my hands, trying to think things through. I realized that this was only the beginning of my problems. I had no heavy stones to help me make a fast descent to the mouth of the tunnel. Would I be able to swim down? I certainly hadn’t managed it before. Arkwright was a very strong swimmer and, if fit, would no doubt be able to pull me through after him. But he looked worse than I’d expected. Far worse. How was I going to get him back to safety?
It was then that my eye was drawn to the wide crack in the far wall, the one I’d noticed previously from above. The tower was constructed of stone blocks both above and below ground. If one of the stones was split and I could work it loose, that would be enough, perhaps, to carry both of us down to the tunnel mouth. Could I pull one out of the wall? It was worth a try. So, picking up the candle, I went to examine the stones close-up.
The vertical crack was more extensive than it had looked: at least three stones had been split, so placing the candle at my side, I started to work on the most promising, which was about two feet from the ground. By rocking it back and forth, I managed to loosen it farther and soon tugged the bigger half out. As I did so, I realized that Arkwright was beginning to stir. Slowly he sat up and blinked in the candlelight, then frowned and pulled something from his mouth. It was the leaf I’d placed under his tongue.
“Alice gave me that. It’s what brought you round. . . .”
“So you swam through the tunnel to reach me?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Then we should both be grateful that I threw you into the canal!” he said with a smirk, his strength slowly seeming to return.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Terrible, but there’s no time to waste. Who knows what will come through those tunnels next. We need to swim back through. Normally I’d let you go first but I feel as weak as a kitten and I’d better try to get through that tunnel while I still can. Count to ten, then follow me through. . . .”
So saying, Arkwright walked shakily to the edge of the water, took a deep breath and dived straight in, making hardly a splash, his weight taking him down toward the opening.
Peering into the water, through the turbulence caused by his descent, I watched him give a strong kick, propelling himself into the tunnel. Another second and he’d disappeared from view. Even in his weakened state he was a far stronger swimmer than I was.
I picked up the knife and tucked it into my belt, then tied my silver chain about my waist again. I would give him another ten seconds or so to get through and then I’d follow. I thought about the tinderbox in my pocket. The water wouldn’t do it any good but I couldn’t just leave it behind. I continued to stare down as the ripples slowly faded away and the surface of the water became as smooth as glass, reflecting back my own face. I prepared to enter the water myself, clutching the large piece of stone. But then I recoiled in horror. Something was coming out of the other tunnel—the one that led to the lake.
CHAPTER XXV
Grimalkin
THE figure rose quickly to the surface and a female head surged clear of the water, the eyes locking with mine, water cascading from her hair. But it wasn’t a water witch. It was Grimalkin! I took two rapid steps backward but she made no attempt to leave the water and attack me.
“You needn’t fear me, child. I’ve not come for you. I seek someone else tonight.”
“Who?” I demanded. “My master?”
She shook her head and smiled grimly, treading water. “Tonight I hunt the Devil’s daughter, Morwena.”
I looked at her in disbelief. Was she just trying to deceive me? After all, I’d tricked her; perhaps she saw me as no better than an insect—something to be crushed by any means possible. But maybe she was telling the truth. The Pendle clans had often fought against one another, witch against witch. Perhaps they also warred against witches who lived in other parts of the County?
“Is Morwena an enemy of the Malkins?” I asked.
“She’s the daughter of the Fiend and he is now my sworn enemy. For that she must die.”
“But you were up on Pendle Hill the night the clans brought the Fiend through the portal,” I accused. “How can he be your enemy now?”
Grimalkin smiled, showing her pointed teeth. “Don’t you remember how difficult it was to unite the clans for that?” she reminded me. “Malkins, Deanes, and Mouldheels only rarely come together. And there was dissent even within each clan. It was feared by some that once through the portal into this world, the Fiend would be too difficult to control. And that has proved to be so. He has demanded our allegiance. Commanded us to be subservient to his will.
“At the Halloween sabbath the Fiend appeared in his fearsome majesty to those who offered him obeisance. But some did not attend. And I am among those who will not kneel to him. Now the clans are divided as never before. It is not just one clan against its rival. Malkin fights Malkin and Deane fights Deane. The dark is at war with itself.
“Witches are entering the tunnel even as we speak. They know you are here. I’ll return and face them. But go quickly—I may not be able to stop them all.”
With those words she sank back into the water and reentered the tunnel that led to the lake.
Whether or not she was telling the truth, I was leaving anyway and right now! I picked up the stone again, held it close to my chest, took a deep breath, and jumped into the water. There was a tremendous splash and I sank rapidly. Even as I released its weight and kicked hard into the darkness, I glimpsed something emerge from the other tunnel. A water witch? Or Grimalkin?
Swimming through that dark passageway seemed far easier this time. At least I now knew that it led to the next tower and that I wouldn’t reach a dead end and be trapped in the darkness. The water began to lighten. I’d almost reached the end of the tunnel. One last kick would carry me through. But then something seized my ankle.
I kicked again, trying to get free. The grip tightened and I felt myself being pulled back. Now my lungs were bursting. Was it Grimalkin, about to take her revenge? If it was a water witch, I would drown while she drained my blood. That was how their victims died. Weakened. Unable to fight back. Water rushing into the lungs. Grimalkin would probably just slit my throat.
I pulled the knife from my belt and tried to relax. Don’t fight. Let her pull you back. Wait your chance. . . .
Over my shoulder I glimpsed open jaws, huge canine teeth ready to bite. It was a water witch! So I thrust my knife toward that ferocious face. The water made it difficult, slowing my arm, but the blade made contact and I pushed it home just as hard as I could. For a second nothing happened. Then my ankle was released. Close behind, I could see two figures struggling. I glimpsed leather belts, sheaths, and blades adorning the body of one and knew that it was Grimalkin. Quickly I turned and kicked myself clear of the tunnel, rising swiftly.
As I broke the surface, I tried to call out a warning about the witch but began to cough and splutter. The Spook, Alice, and Arkwright were staring down at me anxiously. Claw was growling low in her throat. My master had his staff at the ready, the blade pointing toward the water. Alice waded down the steps and gripped my right arm, helping me out. Seconds later I was back on the flags, the blade still in my hand. I looked back. There was blood in the water, rising in dark ribbons from the tunnel.
“A witch!” I shouted at last. “There’s a witch in the tunnel! There’s another underwater route into the tower! From the lake!”
We stared down into the water but she didn’t emerge.
“Are you hurt, lad?” the Spook asked, his eyes flicking anxiously from the water to me and back again.
“It’s not my blood,” I told him. “It’s hers. But there could be more witches.”
I dressed quickly and pulled on my boots. Then we left the tower, the Spook locking the door behind us.
“This should slow ’em down,” he said, pocketing his key ag
ain. “I very much doubt they’ll have a key to this lock. Prisoners were no doubt brought into this tower by human accomplices, then transferred later by the short connecting tunnel. The lake route would be no good. Humans wouldn’t survive underwater that long.”
“No doubt you’re right,” Arkwright agreed. “But I was out cold until I woke up in the other tower.”
We hurried toward the boat as fast as we could but were hampered by Arkwright, who was considerably weakened and kept having to pause to catch his breath. At any moment we expected another attack and Claw kept circling, alert for danger. At last we reached the shore, where Deana Beck was waiting for us. At first it looked like we’d have to make two trips, but the Spook wouldn’t hear of it. The boat sat dangerously low in the water but we made the crossing safely.
“You’re welcome to spend the night back at the cottage,” Deana offered.
“We thank you for the offer, but you’ve done enough already,” said the Spook. “No, we’ll be on our way just as fast as we can.”
The ferryman had called Deana Beck “Daft Deana,” though she seemed as sensible as any woman I’d ever met. By “daft” he’d really meant “too brave.” She’d certainly risked her life to row us out to Belle Isle. If the witches found out that Deana had helped us, her days on this earth would be numbered.
Our journey south was relatively slow, but the attack we feared never came. I didn’t know how many witches had entered the tunnel from the lake, but I’d either killed or badly wounded the one who’d seized my ankle. Perhaps Grimalkin had slain the rest—or at least delayed them, giving us a chance to get away.
Just before nightfall we halted among the trees. By now we were clear of the lake, and the threat of attack by water witches had abated.
After nibbling a little cheese from the Spook’s supply, Arkwright immediately fell into a deep sleep. He was exhausted after his ordeal, and walking in bare feet wasn’t helping. But despite his pale cheeks and gaunt face he was breathing slowly and deeply.