The Whitby Witches Trilogy

by Robin Jarvis

  ***

  Nelda struggled back into her gansey, shivering with a cold sickness in her stomach. Esau was lying asleep on the bed beside her, his contented, grunting snores wafting a wisp of his beard that had strayed across his face.

  The girl's flesh crawled, she couldn't bear to look at the vile creature any more and she jumped from the bunk as though it had stung her.

  A grim and desolate expression was carved into her features. For the sake of all, she had sacrificed and suffered much, but now that was over—only the future mattered.

  Stealthily, she approached the still pool and, kneeling on the ground, slipped her hand into the black water. The liquid was horribly cold and set her teeth on edge as she fumbled on the slimy bottom, seeking for what Esau had said was there.

  A putrid smell issued up from the disturbed sediment and she balked when she remembered that her husband had drunk this poisonous filth.

  Esau grumbled in his sleep and turned over, his mangled claws groping at the empty space beside him.

  "Where is it?" Nelda murmured fretfully, Esau might awaken at any moment. Had he lied to her? Was this another of his tricks? Just when she thought despair would overwhelm her, her fingertips touched something amid the freezing ooze.

  Trembling, the aufwader drew her hand from the stagnant water and there was the guardian Irl had made.

  Quickly she washed away the clinging foulness and gazed at the wondrous device in her grasp.

  It was made of jet—but the carving was a monstrous, twisting shape, fashioned in the form of a hideous serpent. Nelda shuddered at the sight of it, never had she beheld anything so frightening, a ghastly representation of evil and darkness. The eyes of the serpent were closed, but beneath the lids something golden glimmered and sparkled.

  "Moonkelp," she breathed.

  The coils of the jet beast were twined about the three pronged symbol of the Lords of the Deep and, behind the gruesome head, Irl had inscribed these words: "By the powers of the greater Triad do I commit this guardian. May the bonds of enchantment bind the enemy ever more and keep Morgawrus tethered in the dark."

  Nelda mouthed the inscription with trembling lips, and as she did so, the nape of her neck prickled and a wave of cold seeped down her spine. It was as if an unearthly presence was watching her—was the ghost of Irl standing at her shoulder? A soft breath lightly touched her cheek and Nelda jumped up in alarm, but there was no one there.

  Upon the bed Esau moaned. There was no time left, she had to leave. With a last, contemptuous look at her husband, Nelda fled from the chamber hugging the guardian to her breast.

  ***

  The upper levels of the caves were in uproar. The fish demon had breached the defences and was scampering unchallenged down the tunnels. It was a mad, ravaging nightmare that stormed through the caves like a whirlwind of death and slaughter. Already seven fisherfolk had fallen before its vicious claws and the heat of their blood maddened it even more—driving it insanely on.

  Any who heard its shrieking cries were chilled to the marrow and many cast down their weapons when the first of those curdling calls came echoing down the dim passages. Heedless of all else, they flew blindly through the caverns to escape the oncoming terror, crashing into those still at their posts and struggling with them to get by. One aufwader blundered headlong into a disused chamber and tumbled down a deep mine shaft, smashing into the sheer sides as he fell and hitting the bottom with an awful, bone-shattering crunch.

  The few who kept their heads and remained on guard were met with savage fury as the pet of Nathaniel Crozier tore into them. Spears and boat hooks were thrown aside as the iron jaws snapped at throats and when the hump-backed fiend had slain them it would throw back its fin-crowned head and give a yodelling gurgle of victory.

  "On!" thundered Tarr, leading a small band through the dim halls to the upper levels. "It must be killed!"

  The others were horribly afraid, but he drove them on by the force of his voice and his commanding will. The creature had to be stopped. If it cost the lives of them all it would be better than running cowardly away and eking out a miserably shameful existence elsewhere.

  "Remember the tribal wars!" he bellowed. "The battles of them days make this seem a reet picnic! This is nowt to the perils our kin endured back then. Draw thy knives and think no fear!"

  "I canna recall that far back," muttered one of the group mutinously, "an' neither can he! 'Sides, them wars were a disaster and cost the lives of most of our folk. Are we to squander our lifeblood as they did?"

  Marching beside this dissenter was Johab. He dug the grumbling aufwader in the ribs and said, "My grandsire did battle in them wars—and so did Tarr's. Hush yer yellow chelpin afore I squander thy blood mesself!"

  But the others were inspired by Tarr's words. They thought of the noble houses of the three tribes that had once been and drew their strength from it. Theirs was a princely lineage, the present tribe was but a gleaning of all that remained of those doughty aufwaders. This coast was theirs by right and only the Lords of the Deep could take it from them—certainly no base fiend from the ancient world.

  In all, there were eight in the company and Tarr herded them up the tunnels, swinging his staff over his head, crying out challenges and defying the fearsome shrieks which sped to meet them. All braced themselves for a brutal encounter, anger kindled their hearts and soon they too were shouting war cries—eager for the combat to begin.

  "The Three will guide us!" they boomed. "They will watch over our fate! Bless the tribe! Save the tribe!"

  Raging through a wide cavern, they tore into an adjoining tunnel and suddenly all was chaos and confusion.

  "Eeeeee!" screeched a panicky voice. "Out of my way! Eeeee!"

  A squat shape barged straight into the middle of the aufwaders. Sticks clattered over the ground and startled wails filled the cramped passage.

  "It's got me!" someone squawked.

  "Kill it!" called another.

  "Let me go!" howled the shrill voice. "Tarr Shrimp call them off!"

  Nelda's grandfather strode angrily up to the tangle of wriggling bodies and dragged the bewildered fisherfolk away.

  "Parry!" he snarled. "What are yer doin'? Stand up, woman!"

  Old Parry struggled to her feet, bawling at the top of her discordant voice. As soon as she had heard Prawny's death screams she had run for her life, leaving Baccy to face the terror alone. Down the caves she had scuttled, wailing and knocking aside those foolish enough to stand in her way.

  "Move!" she yammered, spinning round and hurtling into the recovering group once more. "It's after me! Get away, let me through! Eeeeee!"

  "Parry!" Tarr shouted, striding up to her and shaking the sea wife by the shoulders. "Get a grip on thissen! What's all this about?"

  She quivered like a cornered mouse and her glance darted over Tarr's shoulder to the shadowy passage. "You ain't got no right to keep me!" she protested. "It's all in vain. I heard Nusk when the monster got him."

  "Prawny..." muttered Tarr sadly.

  "Aye," she squealed, "and many more since—their voices have followed me down the caves and always at my heels it came galloping, chasin' me—I even heard it chatter to itsen." Parry wriggled free of Tarr's grip, "Well it'll not feast on me!" she cried and trampled by those still in her way.

  "Come back!" Johab called. "Stand and fight."

  "Let her go," said Tarr, "she'd only hinder..."

  "Aaaaiiiyeeee!"

  A bright silver arc sliced through the gloom and an aufwader fell dead to the ground. The enemy had found them and due to Old Parry's demented interruption they were caught unawares. The creature flew at them through the darkness, its eyes burning with hate and malice. A second furious sweep of its claws threw two others to the floor and it immediately leapt upon their bodies to launch itself at the rest.

  "That's fer Prawny!" Tarr roared, striking out with his staff and catching the Mallykin across the neck. It squealed in pain and whirled around, raking
its claws at him. The aufwader dodged the attack and brought his staff down once more. This time the blow glanced off the creature's back. A splintered knitting needle was embedded in the shoulder; Baccy had evidently stood her ground and had managed to strike before the creature killed her. Tarr's staff drove the needle deeper into the scaly sinew.

  Maddened and yowling in agony, the fish demon pounced, flattening him against the wall, where it snatched the staff from his hands and bit it in two. Then its bloody jaws lunged for his throat.

  From the shadows, a blade shone brightly and Johab plunged a knife into the creature's side. Screaming, it released its victim and whirled viciously round. Johab quailed, his action had saved Nelda's grandfather—but he was done for.

  "Noo!" he howled, as the full might and fury of the enemy sprang at him. The cruel claws slit his throat and the elder was dashed against the rock, slumping to the ground like a discarded ragdoll.

  The Mallykin was furious now, baited into a terrible rage that nothing could withstand. All it craved was to drink its bloated fill of their hot blood. The luminous eyes became narrow slivers of green and it took a menacing pace closer to the three fisherfolk that remained.

  The aufwaders were utterly petrified, and the weapons drooped from their hands. A string of saliva oozed from the open jaws and a joyous gurgle bubbled from its flapping stomach.

  "Leave them!" rang the commanding voice of Nathaniel suddenly. The fish demon whipped about and sniffed warily—where was he?

  "Seek out the leader," the warlock demanded, "Your appetite can be satiated later."

  The fish demon let out a confused whine; the voice was inside its head. "Down to the lower caves," the voice declared, cutting through the creature's primitive mind, "you shall find him there—now go!"

  With a final hiss of consuming hatred, it rushed between the remaining fisherfolk and disappeared into the blackness of the caverns beyond.

  Tarr groaned and coughed, his neck was clawed and bleeding. "Where is it?" he choked, stumbling to his feet. "Don't let it get away!"

  But the others had had enough. They stared helplessly at the corpses of Johab and the others and silently lay their weapons on the blood-drenched ground.

  "It's over," said one, "we canna fight against that."

  "We must," spluttered Tarr.

  The aufwaders shook their heads. "The tribe is finished," they declared, "the Deep Ones have deserted us."

  Tarr shook his fist at them. "Theer's no escape," he shouted, but they would not listen.

  "Our time is over now," they said. "The caverns are no longer ours—we have lost."

  Their spirits were completely quashed and their faces betrayed the sickness in their hearts. They were tired of everything, weary of the world and all its troubles, appalled at the loss of their friends and stricken by the fiend that had attacked them. Their grief was immeasurable and, dragging their feet in the crimson-stained dust they trailed despondently up the tunnel.

  "Deeps take 'em," cursed Tarr, "all is lost now."

  Stooping over the bodies of his fallen comrades, he said a quiet prayer. "I canna gi' up hope," he murmured dismally. Then he found the two splintered shards of his staff and he covered his face with his hands. The others were right, there was no point in going on, the time of the aufwaders was over. Tarr's keen spirit sank within him.

  "Grandfather!" came a voice. "Grandfather, where are you?"

  At once Tarr leaped to his feet. "Nelda!" he shouted and the flame of hope burned brightly in his breast once more.

  Running from the shadows of the far passageway, the girl raced towards him and flung her arms about his neck.

  "Oh Grandfather!" she cried. "You're hurt."

  She stared at the clawmarks at his throat, then saw for the first time the fallen tribe members.

  "I'm too late!" she wept. "Is everyone dead? Did the creature kill them all?"

  Tarr's eyes narrowed. "Has tha seen it?" he asked.

  "I was hurrying up the Ozul Stair," she nodded, "when I heard something pattering down towards me. So I hid in a cleft in the rock and the beast ran by—it was a loathsome thing!"

  "Aye," he agreed, "but what's it doing down theer?"

  "Esau," Nelda whispered, "it's gone for him! That's where the guardian was—that's what it wants!"

  Tarr searched Johab's body for his knife and said gravely, "It canna have that! Ah mun get after it!"

  "No!" cried Nelda clinging to him. "The creature won't find the guardian down there—look, I've got it here." She showed him the jet carving and her grandfather gazed at her sorrowfully.

  "Oh lass," he whispered, "how did tha get the old goat to gi' it up?"

  Nelda said nothing, but she lowered her eyes and he held her more tightly than before.

  "Well, you mun get it out of here!" he told her quickly. "Won't take long fer that beastie to come back."

  "But what shall I do with it?" she asked. "I never thought about that."

  Tarr glanced up the tunnel. "Take it to thy human friend," he instructed, "anythin' to get it out of the caves. Go now—while theer's a chance."

  "But what about you?" she demanded.

  "Ah'll stay here," he said solemnly, "theer's still a few of our folk loose in the caves. They're all of a panic and'll need to be found. Even the likes of Old Parry can't be left for that divil's pleasure."

  Nelda hugged him. "I'll be waiting for you, Grandfather," she said, "promise me you'll leave as soon as everyone's been found."

  "Ah swear, lass," he told her.

  The two of them hugged one another desperately. Then, clenching the guardian closely to her, Nelda darted up the passage.

  "Now," Tarr muttered, brandishing the knife fiercely, "ah'm gonna make that beastie squeal if it's the last thing ah do!"

  ***

  Esau gave a complaining groan as his blissful sleep became increasingly troubled. "Nelda," he burbled, "my dearest beloved..." The elder rolled on to his side and a wide yawn divided his wizened face.

  With a jolt, he awoke. Esau rubbed the sleep from his eyes and gazed about the chamber. Where was his bride? He pulled a sullen frown and scratched himself lazily.

  "Nelda!" he called. "Nelda?" There was no reply, but outside the cavern he heard the rumour of unpleasant screeches far, far away.

  "Where is she?" he mumbled irritably. "A wife ought to wait upon her husband. I must be sure she learns what else is expected of her."

  He dragged himself from the bed and reached for his sticks. "What is that clamour?" he shouted, as a terrible crashing resounded from the Triad chamber. "Be that you wife?" he cried. "Get in here and tend to my wants. I would eat some vittles now..."

  Esau's voice dried in his throat, for at that moment the curtain was wrenched from its hooks and went sprawling across the chamber.

  "Noooooo!" he wailed.

  Framed within the low doorway was the hideously deformed figure, whose fins ruffled and shook with odious glee.

  "The Mallykin!" Esau croaked. "How did the wight find me? How did it reach the lower realm?"

  Snarling, the creature took a prowling step closer, its round eyes glowing malevolently at the ancient aufwader.

  Esau shrieked in dismay and flung one of his sticks at it. The hobgoblin of the waters sprang aside, raised its deadly talons and burbled wickedly.

  Nelda's husband staggered across the chamber, he had to escape it—but the toad-like apparition hopped nimbly towards him. Then Esau noticed the pool and his legs collapsed under him.

  "What madness is this?" he screamed.

  His Darkmirror was swirling, the filthy water bubbled and spat as the bottom of the pool began to tremble.

  "Curse thee, Nelda!" he screeched. "Thou hast betrayed us and sealed all our fates! The guardian of Irl ought not to have been moved—couldst thou not guess the reason—didst thou not see what the Darkmirror is? What hast thou done?"

  Even as he watched, a great split appeared beneath the water.

  "Morgawrus!" he yelle
d. "He stirs! The end is come!"

  The crack gaped wider and gradually a pale yellow radiance welled up, filling the entire chamber with an awful light and a blistering heat. The pool churned and the fish demon yammered in dismay as a huge eye blinked open in the chamber floor.

  Esau tore at his beard; the dark slit of the pupil glared up at the insignificant aufwader.

  The terrible glance rooted him to the spot, and the hellish light shone angrily through the stagnant tears—tears which he in his folly had drunk. He had only done it in order to gain wisdom and indeed Esau had learnt much from sipping daily at the stinking brine, but it was this that had driven him insane. The still pool had been a distillation of pure evil and, once he had dared to taste it, Esau had been lost.

  "Morgawrus," he gabbled, his gnarled hands scalding in the heat of that dreadful gaze, "spare me, return to thy slumber. Have mercy!"

  The cavern trembled as the gigantic enemy of the world twisted its buried head. Esau fell on his face, grovelling before the eye of the dark god as it shifted beneath the rock. This was where the Deep Ones had imprisoned it many thousands of years ago, trapped beneath the cliffs of Whitby, to sleep out eternity under their enchantments. But once more its cold black blood pulsed through its endless veins and up above, the town juddered as the vast heart began to pound and beat.

  Prostrate on the ground, Esau felt his skin bake under the scorching blast of the eye. His forked beard singed and steamed, shrivelling upon his chin and his scalp smouldered sending up a reek of brown smoke.

  "Nelda," he murmured in his agony, "forgive me...!"

  Into the sizzling heats of the eye crept the fish demon. The bright light had frightened it at first but the irresistible sight of Esau prone on the floor, helpless and unarmed was too much and it swiftly overcame its fear. Gurgling with delight, it flew at Esau, who threw back his head and let out one final mad laugh before the Mallykin slew him gleefully.

  Now surely its master would be pleased, it thought, as the eldest of the fisherfolk gasped and croaked his way to the unknown shores.