‘There’ll only be about half a dozen, that’s all: they change over at eleven. None of ’em want to stay in there at night, so they take turns. Lizzie’s agreed to that. We’ll strike as the guard changes.’
‘How will Adriana help?’ I asked.
‘Remember she said she was a bird witch? Thought it was nonsense then. Well, I still don’t think she’s a witch. Nobody would think so in Pendle. But you wouldn’t believe what she can do with birds. She’s going to use them to distract the guards. Just you wait and see.’
‘There’s one big problem though. We know that Lizzie won’t be able to long-sniff me or you. She won’t know we’re on our way. But she’ll sniff out Adriana and Simon for sure. She’ll sense the danger before they get anywhere near the portcullis.’
‘Talked to her about that too. If we go in and tackle Lizzie, she and Simon will stay outside. If we don’t, they’re both going in together – Adriana is set on taking revenge on Lizzie.’ Alice shook her head and sighed. ‘But she’s no good against her, Tom, so we have to go. It’s our one chance.’
‘But when we get inside, what exactly will we do?’ I asked.
‘I’ve been thinking about that. We’ll need to make for that room where the shaman kept his books. I’ve spent a long time trying to make head or tail of his notebook – can’t understand a lot of what’s in it, but it refers to pages in the grimoires. If you know where to look, there’ll be stuff on controlling the buggane. Even mentions that cache of animas. Tells you how to use its power.’
‘Will you be able to read those grimoires? They’ll probably be in the Old Tongue. You know I’ve been studying it for months now and I’m making slow progress.’
‘I practised it for nearly two years. Lizzie had a small library – most of her stuff was in English, some in Latin, but the most powerful spells of all were in the Old Tongue. I’m still slow, but I can work it out given time. It’s worth a try, Tom. What do you say?’
So, very reluctantly, I agreed to accompany Alice. I said goodbye to the dogs and managed to keep them quiet. The Spook was still snoring loudly. I dreaded to think what he’d say when he found out. But under the circumstances, what choice did I have?
It was a cloudless night; the moon wasn’t up yet but the stars were very bright. We were walking through the trees, approaching the keep, when I heard an owl hoot three times somewhere ahead.
‘That’s Adriana,’ Alice whispered, leading us towards the sound.
As we got nearer, I had a sudden strong feeling of being watched. Everything seemed very still and there wasn’t a breath of wind. And then I glanced up and saw hundreds of eyes staring down at me intently. The branches above were covered with birds. There wasn’t enough light to identify the different species, but they ranged in size from sparrows to large crows. They should have been roosting at this time of night; yet here they were, wide awake – it was unnerving to see them watching us like that.
Adriana was waiting with Simon under a tree. She put her finger to her lips to indicate the need for silence. Through the trees beyond her I could see the entrance to Greeba Keep. The portcullis was down, and five men were striding towards the gate.
Adriana stepped forward and placed her left hand on Alice’s shoulder, her right on mine. Then she looked up to where the birds waited silently, opened her mouth and gave a strange cry; it was something like a bird’s call – though none that I recognized. In response the flock seemed to move as one. There was a rustling of feathers, a settling, then silence again.
‘You’ll be safe now,’ Adriana whispered. ‘They won’t touch you. I only wish we could come with you…’
‘Ain’t worth the risk,’ Alice whispered back. ‘Lizzie would sniff you out for sure. Once we’ve dealt with her, we’ll meet you back here. No knowing how long. Could be hours – or even a day or more.’
The men had almost reached the gate now. We heard the grind of metal on metal and the clank of chains as the portcullis was slowly raised.
‘Simon and I will wait here, no matter how long it takes. And we’ll watch the keep. Now go down towards the wall directly ahead,’ Adriana told us, her voice still low. ‘When the birds attack, slip in through the gate.’
We did as she instructed and started heading down the slope. The portcullis was fully raised now and the guard was about to change. There were about dozen men there. In a few moments the old guard would set off home. If they glanced our way, there was a danger that we might be spotted.
Somehow we reached the wall without attracting their attention. Half the yeomen were heading towards the trees, and there was a clank of chains again as the others began to lower the gate. In a few moments it would be too late. But then there was another noise – the beating of wings. I looked up and saw that the stars were eclipsed. Like a black cloud, a huge flock of birds descended upon the two groups of men. I heard curses, shouts, and then a loud cry of pain.
Alice and I began to run along the wall. Adriana had talked about distracting the guards, but as we reached the gate, I realized that this was no minor diversion to allow us into the keep. Those men were fighting for their very lives. Some were running around, arms flapping desperately to ward off their attackers. One was on the ground, rolling over and over, covered in birds; the air was thick with feathers.
They were all too preoccupied with their own survival to see us go through the gate which had now ceased its descent. And it was clear that the birds were driving them away from the keep. Of course, the guards’ fear of Lizzie might well make them return later – that’s if they were in any condition to do so.
Just as I’d hoped, the inner portcullis – the one that gave access to the tower – was also raised, and moments later Alice and I were safely inside.
We were now faced with two threats. The most dangerous, of course, was Lizzie herself: she might well kill us outright; at the very least she could take the blood jar or even make me smash it. We might also encounter the threatening creatures we’d heard about, drawn to the area because the witch had meddled with the cache of animas, making it unstable. It would now act like a baleful beacon – a fire lit by witches, summoning powerful entities from the dark.
We began to climb the tower steps, trying to make as little noise as possible. I knew that the odds against us reaching the shaman’s study without being detected were high. I was carrying my rowan staff with the blade at the ready; the silver chain was in the left pocket of my cloak, and I’d filled my breeches pockets with salt and iron. Who knew what we might encounter?
After passing the doors that led to the kitchens and bedrooms, we came at last to the throne room. It was quiet, deserted and dimly lit; just two torches flickered on the wall. We walked along the crimson carpet past the throne to the door and up the flight of steps. In the circular antechamber we paused to listen out once more. Again there was no indication that anyone was around, so we opened the door to the shaman’s study and stepped inside. The room was in darkness but there was a candle on the table. Alice strode forward and picked it up. It ignited immediately, filling the room with a flickering yellow light.
‘Alice!’ I exclaimed in annoyance. She’d used dark magic to light the candle; the first time I’d ever seen her do that.
‘Ain’t no time to waste, Tom! Don’t worry,’ she told me. ‘It’s just a useful little trick, no worse than using a mirror.’
But I did worry; she seemed to be using the dark more and more – and where would it all lead?
There was evidence here that Lizzie had been poking around. The rows of books had been disturbed; there were gaps on the shelves. Three grimoires were now stacked on the table next to the skull. But the large chest still lay in the corner.
‘She’s been searching through these books,’ Alice muttered. ‘Good job I took the notebook, ain’t it? Even if I can’t do anything with it after all, at least I kept it from her. Better get busy…’
With those words, she sat down at the table and looked at the covers of the three books in turn
. That done, she selected one, opened it and began to leaf through.
‘Where’s your list of pages to refer to?’ I asked.
‘Don’t be daft, Tom. I wouldn’t bring ’em here in case Lizzie got her hands on them. Pendle witches read stuff once and commit it to memory. All their spells are learned by heart. What I need is in my head.’
I left her reading, went over to the window and peered out into the dark night. The moon was up, and now, below me I could see the courtyard and a section of the wall. Unfortunately this window didn’t overlook the gate so I couldn’t tell whether any of the guards had returned to the keep.
Where was Lizzie? I wondered. If she wasn’t in the tower, maybe she was in one of the other buildings? I suddenly realized that I’d be better off watching from the top of the stairs. Then I’d hear if anybody was on their way up.
‘I’m going to keep watch, Alice,’ I told her.
She nodded, turned over a page and then, head in hands, frowning in concentration, returned to her reading. I went out into the antechamber, leaving the door open. The seven other doors were all closed. One was where the gowns were stored. Another was the bathroom. So there were five bedrooms. A sudden chill ran down my spine. Perhaps Lizzie was asleep in one of them? It would give me the chance I needed. I could bind her with my silver chain.
And suddenly it was as if a flash of light had gone off inside my head. Always trust your instincts – that was what the Spook said. At once I was certain which was Lizzie’s room. Certain also that she was inside.
I leaned my staff against the wall and eased my chain onto my left wrist, ready for throwing. Then, with the other hand, I opened the door very slowly. The room was in darkness, but the torch outside lit the bed, and I could see Lizzie lying there. She was flat on her back on top of the bedclothes, wearing the purple gown.
I moved cautiously towards her.
But the moment I stepped inside I realized my mistake…
It wasn’t Lizzie lying on the bed after all. It was her empty gown!
My limbs felt like lead. It hadn’t been my instincts at all. I’d been lured into a trap. Some spell of compulsion had drawn me to the room. I sank to my knees. What was it – something like a bone-yard? I was finding it difficult to breathe, my body growing heavier by the second. I seemed to be melting right through the floor. As I lost consciousness, I felt myself being lifted up and carried down, down, down… I heard a groan nearby and opened my eyes. I was lying on my side on damp flags.
There were chains bound tightly around my legs and fastened to an iron ring set into the stone wall. I sat up slowly and manoeuvred myself until my back was resting against the wall. I felt stiff and my head ached. I looked around. I was in a cell that was much larger than the one Lord Barrule had put me in, though it had the same three stone walls and one of earth. There was a torch high up on each of the walls to my right and left, flickering in the chill draught that came from the round hole in the earth wall directly ahead. It was another of the buggane’s tunnels – I realized I was down in the dungeons again.
Where was Alice? I wondered. Had she been taken prisoner too? Had Lizzie found her in the shaman’s study? Or had she been more interested in capturing me?
To my left sat another prisoner, also shackled to the wall; but his head was bowed forward, chin touching his chest, so I couldn’t make out his face – though it was definitely a man, not Alice. Then I realized that there was another figure beyond him, and at the sight of him I gasped in horror, the bile rising up into my throat. I choked, struggling not to be sick. It was a dead yeoman, lying in a pool of his own blood. One of his arms and both legs were missing, his face a ruin; the buggane had been eating him.
I squeezed my eyes tight shut, my whole body trembling. I took deep, slow breaths and tried to calm down.
I glanced to my right and saw that there was someone else chained directly under the torch. I immediately recognized the milky eyes; the two short horns protruding from the thatch of dark hair. It was Horn, the abhuman. When he sensed me looking at him, he growled deep in his throat. He sounded like a wild animal. Despite those blind eyes, I remembered, he somehow had the power to see.
I tried to speak, but my throat was parched and the words only came out at the second attempt. ‘I’m not your enemy,’ I croaked. ‘You’re wasting your time threatening me.’
‘You’d kill me or bind me if you got the chance!’ the deep, feral voice accused.
‘Look, we’re both in the same boat here,’ I said.
Horn let out a deep moan. ‘I thought I’d live my days serving Lord Barrule. He was a good master.’
‘Was he?’ I asked. ‘He killed your mother, didn’t he? That’s what I was told.’
‘My mother? My mother!’ Horn spat on the earthen floor. ‘She was a mother in blood and name only. She treated me cruelly and gave me pain beyond endurance. But I hate the Fiend even more than her, for it was he who fathered me; he who made me walk this world marked as a beast for all to see! Lord Barrule was the only person who’s ever showed me any kindness.’
Kindness? I remembered how Barrule’s guards had controlled him with the lengths of silver chain through each ear. That hardly seemed like kindness, but there was nothing to be gained from enraging the creature further.
‘I suppose the witch now controls the buggane?’ I asked.
I saw his head nod, the sharp horns glinting in the torchlight. ‘I fought with all my strength, but to no avail. She rules the buggane but struggles to control the animas in the cavern. She doesn’t fully understand my master’s ways. It is not her kind of dark magic.’
‘Who’s this, do you know?’ I asked, nodding to where the other prisoner was slumped.
‘Commander Stanton. He was cruel. My master listened to him, not me, and allowed him to bore the holes in my ears for the silver chains. Said it was the only way he could control me. Ask me, he’s got what he deserves. His mind has gone: he’s empty – the buggane has drained his animus. Soon it will come for his flesh and blood. After that it will be my turn…’
Commander Stanton! He had paid the price for his opposition to Lizzie.
My thoughts turned to Alice once more. She had done well to deprive Lizzie of the shaman’s notebook – it might have made all the difference. I didn’t know exactly what Alice hoped to achieve, but she’d once made a pact with the Bane, an even more powerful daemon than the buggane. It had almost led to her destruction, but she had managed to control it for a while. With the help of the shaman’s notebooks and the grimoires, maybe she could do the same here?
I felt weak with hunger and thirst, but worse than all that was a growing terror within me that I struggled to control. If Alice didn’t help me, I was soon going to have my life force sucked out of me. At least then, I thought gloomily, I wouldn’t be here to see Lizzie’s blades when she took my thumb-bones. It was a terrible thing to have to depend for my survival on Alice being involved with dark power like this, but for a moment it gave me some hope. Then I remembered that Alice might have been captured too…
My arms weren’t bound and I was able to check my pockets, which I found still filled with salt and iron; even my silver chain hadn’t been taken. It might be that Bony Lizzie couldn’t bear to touch it. Or maybe now, supremely confident of her power, she didn’t care. My special key was there too. It would open almost any lock, but when I tried my shackles, I couldn’t even get it in the keyhole. My sudden flare of hope was extinguished.
At least an hour passed while I worked through all the possibilities – all the things that might give me some hope of escape or of being rescued. Finally I thought about the Spook. Eventually he’d wake up and maybe work out what had happened. But he’d been powerless against Lizzie. The truth was, I had more faith in Alice.
From time to time Stanton gave a groan as if in pain, but it was just his body crying out, a reflex action; his mind was long gone, his flesh and bones now just an empty shell. Perhaps his soul had also fled.
Suddenly I heard a new sound. A sound that sent fear running down my spine. Someone or something was moving down the earth tunnel towards our cell.
I trembled as soil cascaded down onto the flags. Then the huge hairy head of the buggane emerged. Its large close-set eyes peered at each of us in turn and its wet snout sniffed the air before it pulled its bulk down into the cell. But it was not alone. Someone else crawled out of the tunnel behind it, a bedraggled figure with dirty clothes and mud-caked hair. It was a woman and she looked a sorry sight. It was only when she got to her feet and I saw the pointy shoes and wild glaring eyes that I recognized Bony Lizzie. Her tiara was still in place but almost invisible under the coating of dirt on her hair.
The witch ignored me and went over to look at Daniel Stanton. She knelt before him and I saw the knife in her hand. I averted my gaze as she began to cut away his thumb-bones. The commander cried out as if in agony, and I had to remind myself that it was just the reaction of his body; that his mind was no longer there to feel the pain.
Then Lizzie came across and crouched down to face me. She smiled, her hands covered in blood, still gripping the knife, hard eyes filled with malice. ‘It’s your turn next, boy. Right now I need all the help I can get. The bones of a seven times seven could make all the difference.’
I had to think fast. ‘I thought you wanted to be a queen,’ I said, trying to distract her, easing my hands into my pockets to grab some salt and iron. ‘I thought you wanted to rule this island. What’s happened to you?’
At that, Lizzie appeared bewildered, and an expression of pain and loss flickered across her face. Suddenly I could see Alice in her; the girl that the witch had once been. Then her face twisted into a sneer, and she leaned nearer so that her foul breath enveloped me.
‘There’s power here, boy, power beyond my wildest dreams; power that could give me the whole world if I wanted it. But first things first. In order to rule above, I need to control what’s in the cavern. It’ll take time, but it’ll be well worth it. And your bones are going to help…’
The Spook’s nightmare wc-5 Page 17