The Whitby Witches Trilogy

by Robin Jarvis

  "No!" screamed Miss Boston. "You mustn't." And she threw herself at him, pummelling the man with her fists and kicking him with her feet.

  Nathaniel staggered under the ferocity of the old lady's attack. One of her punches caught him on the chin and another went straight into the ribs. Miss Boston was like a mad thing and he blundered against the railing in surprise. But the advantage was not hers for long. Swiftly the man recovered and he shoved her roughly away, his face black with wrath.

  "Whitby can wait!" he growled. "It's you who'll die first—but it's a pleasure I'll undertake myself."

  Never had Nathaniel Crozier been so incensed; like a tiger he sprang and the old lady fell beneath him.

  "No," she wailed, as her head hit the ground and his strong fingers closed about her neck. The warlock squeezed his hands together and the breath choked in her throat.

  "Look your last on this world, old woman!" he snarled.

  Miss Boston tried to pull his hands away but it was no use, he was far too strong. With a strangled cry, she turned her eyes from his evil face and fixed her gaze on the ruins of the abbey which rose majestically in the distance.

  A darkness greater than that which had already engulfed Whitby closed about her and the old lady's hands fell limply to her sides.

  "Nathaniel!" came an urgent voice. "Nathaniel!"

  The warlock looked up uncertainly. Running towards them along the pier was the small figure of a girl.

  Miss Wethers had proven to be a poor guard and Jennet had escaped from her without difficulty, hurrying instinctively to the shore. She knew he would be there, she could sense his delicious presence. Now he would take her away and they could be together always.

  She hurtled to greet him, but her stride faltered. The head of Morgawrus loomed monstrously up out of the mist and the girl cried out. Staring at the grotesque spectacle in fear, she felt faint again and stepped back apprehensively.

  But the creature still seemed to be in the grip of Crozier's influence and made no sign that it had seen her. Jennet cautiously edged into the beast's great shadow, her obsession with the man driving her through the danger.

  "Nathaniel," she called, "what... what are you doing?"

  The warlock was crouching over the body of Aunt Alice, his hands tight about her throat. Jennet was bewildered. What was happening?

  The warlock rose, his ringers twitching. "What do you want?" he sneered.

  The girl wavered, unsure of herself. Miss Boston looked so pale, what had her beloved done? She stared incredulously at him. His face seemed cruel and less handsome than she remembered—how harsh his voice sounded, and the horrible dark eyes cut right through her.

  "Will you never stop pestering me—you boring child?" he spat. "Your constant simpering grates on me. What does it take to be rid of your pathetic attentions—shall I throttle you as well?"

  It was as if a veil were torn from Jennet's eyes. Finally she saw the man's true nature and she gasped at her own foolishness as the last vestiges of his control left her.

  "Aunt Alice!" she screamed, rushing to the old lady's side. "You've killed her!"

  Nathaniel sniggered and his fingers fidgeted for another victim. "Come here, little one," he sang, "let me embrace you too."

  "Stay away from me!" Jennet cried.

  The warlock closed in on her. "Come to Nathaniel," he chuckled, "let him hold you, it won't take long—I promise."

  "Keep back!" Jennet warned.

  "What's this?" he murmured. "Would you deny what has been burning in your heart since the day we met?"

  "Don't you touch me!" she screamed.

  "How fickle is woman," Nathaniel growled, stealing closer.

  The girl fell back and the warlock reached out for her.

  "Don't you dare!" came a croaking voice.

  Nathaniel turned and Jennet grinned with joy. "Aunt Alice," she gasped, "I thought you were dead!"

  "For a minute back there so did I," muttered the old lady, gingerly touching the red marks at her throat. Then she glared angrily at Nathaniel and shook her head at him. "I suppose I should be grateful for your slipshod incompetence," she shouted, "it seems you can't do anything right—look behind you."

  The warlock stared at her, what was the old bag jabbering about now? And then a doubt crossed his mind and he spun round. The eyes of the massive head were bright again, and glowed down at them as though it understood everything they said.

  Nathaniel frowned, disconcerted for a moment and then his mouth fell open and his hands flew to his temples as a fearful voice boomed inside his mind.

  "Tiny insects," Morgawrus spoke, the forbidding sound echoing inside each of their heads, "what paltry webs do they spin? What petty plots do they nurture in their fleeting existence?"

  The warlock threw his arms open. "Remember," he roared, "you are mine to command! My will is yours!"

  Terrible laughter cut deeply into the three small figures on the pier as the serpent reared up. "Too long have I been tethered in sleep," it shrieked. "Thou mayst have wakened me, little man, but thou canst not make me thy thrall. I shall not trade one set of bonds for another."

  "I demand it!" the warlock cried, running to the buckled railing and pointing up at the creature.

  "Enough!" screamed the serpent. "Cast thy feeble sorceries elsewhere. Now are my wits restored and thy powers are as nothing compared to mine."

  Nathaniel was incensed; he had dared much to come here and he was not prepared to simply stand by and let all that he had strived for slip away.

  Screeching, he put forth his powers. Terrible lightning rent the sky and the surrounding waters flashed as the lethal energies discharged down into the deep. Yet every furious volley of enchantment broke against the unassailable might of the gigantic serpent and fierce green stars went spinning, out of control, into the night.

  Miss Boston clung to Jennet as the warlock wrangled and strove. The air was alive with his evil magic and they pressed themselves against the floor as spectral flames screamed over their heads.

  Every black art Nathaniel ever knew, every bewitching charm, every incantation and devilish wizardry to confound and subjugate, he directed at Morgawrus. But the counter-strokes were dreadful and anguish mounted in the warlock's breast as he struggled to maintain the force of his attack. Then it happened. Nathaniel flung one last, desperate enchantment at the nightmarish head and the battle was over.

  "A futile display," Morgawrus mocked. "In truth is that the best thou canst do? You have lost, little man."

  Thanks to the delay Miss Boston had caused, the creature had been given enough time to shake off the lingering traces of sleep. It could not be caught off guard a second time. All Crozier's glorious dreams were in ruins and his life was forfeit.

  The great golden eyes blazed down at him, flowing over with menace and evil joy—now it was the serpent's turn to attack.

  "Spare me!" grovelled Nathaniel shrilly as the head swooped vengefully down. "I can help you!" Consumed with panic, he screamed a spell of defence but it shattered as Morgawrus came for him. The tremendous jaws of his nemesis gaped open and a gale of putrid breath screeched all around the terrified man.

  "Aaaaaarrrrgggghhhh!" howled Nathaniel as the poisonous fumes blasted into him. He tried to cover his face with his hands but his arms were rigid and he could not move his legs to run. All over his body the skin crackled and solidified—turning a dull chalky grey. Throwing back his head, he screamed once more, but the cry dwindled to nothing and his mouth was frozen wide, his face locked in an expression of absolute terror.

  The hideous sight of Morgawrus towered over him, its vast bulk filling his eyes—before they too calcified. Wracked in torturous agony that devoured his petrified soul, the warlock perished, and only a solid figure of stone now stood where he had been.

  Jennet and Miss Boston could only stare in horror at what they had just witnessed, and the girl buried her face into the old lady's cloak—screaming for her dead parents.

  Then the
victorious serpent shook its head and, at the sound of its laughter, the statue of Nathaniel trembled and shattered. A thousand ammonites smashed to the ground, rolling into the sea and the waves came rushing over the side to eagerly wash the rest away.

  Aunt Alice tried to comfort the child at her side. "Hush dear," she cried, but the shadow fell upon her and the baleful eyes glowered down at their stricken figures. Slowly and threateningly, the disgusting head swung round to them.

  "More of the human kind," the frightful voice echoed in their heads. "Hath that loathsome breed over run my realm? I shall not rest again till all traces of their infestation have been swept into the waters or scorched from the land. This place is mine—I am Lord, I shall vanquish the light and blight the things that grow in the field and ripen on the bough. Nought shall survive the despair I shall bring. A new age of death is come!"

  The three nostrils trumpeted and the open maw dripped a river of deadly juices.

  "Aunt Alice!" the girl yelled in terror.

  Miss Boston staggered to her feet and pushed Jennet behind her.

  "Return to your slumbers!" she demanded. "The world has moved on, there is no need of you any more—you are an anachronism here. Begone to the tunnels of your gaol and sleep for another thousand centuries till man's time is over and you can roam the oceans free of hindrance."

  The terrible gale blasted from the serpent's mouth once more and Miss Boston boldly leaned into it, not a trace of fear betraying her stern countenance.

  Jennet cried out as the dark forces screeched around them, and she trembled, waiting for her flesh to petrify as Nathaniel's had done.

  "I defy you, Morgawrus," Aunt Alice proclaimed, "leave now before you anger me." She folded her arms and her hair streamed wildly in the ferocious tempest.

  Her insolence enraged the terrible creature. "Thou art lice!" it roared. "And I shall crush thee!"

  The eyes blazed with searing heat and a stream of white hot flame shot from the narrow slits—streaking towards the frail woman below.

  Miss Boston reached anxiously for Jennet's hand and held it tight as the deadly fire rained down. A cloud of black smoke and ashes exploded where she stood and the huge head of the monster descended through the choking fumes as they slowly cleared.

  There, amid a smoking ring of cinders and charred stone, Miss Boston cautiously opened one eye and sighed in relief—both she and Jennet were unharmed.

  "How can this be?" Morgawrus bellowed in fury and the waves crashed about its long, scaly neck. But Aunt Alice continued to stand her ground. Though battered with stinking spray, she glared at the abomination above and would not be daunted.

  "Return," she said again, "or must I compel you?"

  Morgawrus reared back and his horns rammed into the pier, gouging into the stone as if it were soft clay. "What protection hast thou to resist and withstand my power!" he demanded. "What guards thee against the might of mine wrath?"

  "Enough to keep me safe and force you back under the cliffs," she retorted, "that which Irl began long ago but which he never completed!"

  With her left hand, she clutched at her breast and raised the other high into the air. "Prepare yourself, oh misbegotten creature of the dismal dark," she solemnly announced. "You have had your taste of freedom but the chains are forging anew and you must sleep once more."

  The serpent opened its massive jaws and the dark void of its cavernous mouth sailed down to swallow her.

  Miss Boston took from her blouse the last guardian. It was warm to the touch, having absorbed all the lethal forces that Morgawrus had hurled at them. As the jaws approached, she called beseechingly into the night and held the guardian out before her.

  "Hear me, oh Lords of the Deep and Dark," she cried, "renew the strength of the enchantment you laid upon the enemy many ages ago. I plead to you, goddess of the moon, Great Mother of us all—instill this device with your strength."

  The cruel pinnacles of Morgawrus's fangs came ravaging for her. Scraping across the pier to where she stood, and Miss Boston called out for the last time.

  "Lord God in heaven," she prayed, "defend us from this foulness and deliver us from the fear of it ever after!"

  Jennet screamed. A black tongue, like a colossal slug, slithered over the stone, which hissed and dissolved beneath its glistening bulk.

  Miss Boston lifted the carving above her head. "All three powers work as one at last," she shouted. "Separate no longer!"

  A deep rumble resounded through the night. On the horizon, beneath the line of the sea a golden radiance welled, through a tear in the clouds the disc of the moon shone and, upon the cliff, the abbey gleamed white and cold.

  In her hands, the eyelids of the jet carving sprang open and a brilliant light shone from the crystals behind them. High into the shadow of Morgawrus the waxing power flew and the head recoiled before it.

  "No!" the serpent screamed. "The light—it blinds."

  Miss Boston's arms trembled. The forces that were pouring from the carving were staggering and she felt them jolt through her body as they were unleashed upon the fearful enemy.

  "I warned you!" she cried, wincing as the guardian grew hot in her grasp. "The powers of this world and beyond are united in this device now—as they should have been from the beginning. So long as the earth lasts, so shall you, but in a deathless sleep from which there is no waking."

  The glittering light raged about the monster's head and it screeched deafeningly. A terrible fatigue set into the sinews of its coils, creeping slowly through its veins, numbing the nerves and turning the black blood to ice. Shaking its horns, the serpent fought to dispel the numbness which ate into its putrid flesh, but the manacles of sleep tightened all the more.

  "Return to the stinking pits beneath the cliffs!" Miss Boston commanded in a quaking voice.

  From the churning waves, a host of white sparks shot into the air and Morgawrus shrieked as titanic forces began to drag it under.

  "Let the guardian of Irl finally undertake its true work," the old lady shouted.

  "I shall escape," the serpent cried. "Enchantments fail, the guardian may be broken."

  Aunt Alice sobbed as the carving burned into her palms. "Into oblivion I consign you!" she called. "Into the long dark of eter... eternity!"

  Down sank the huge neck, drawn back into the dank caves from which it had escaped. The sea crashed over the battered pier with horrendous violence and Jennet clung desperately to the old lady as the world seemed to tip and tidal waves pounded them out of existence.

  A malignant and ghastly glare shone from the serpent's eyes, but it was no match for the light which blazed from the guardian. The narrow slits roved desperately round—all hope was destroyed and the glowing eyes were extinguished.

  The water churned tempestuously as the repulsive head fell. Down into the mad sea it descended, a vast wave crashed against the head and drowned the beast's howling cries.

  Miss Boston shook uncontrollably as the great dark eyes slid beneath the sea. Still the guardian poured out its banishing rays, reaching into the murky deeps, lighting up the sea for miles around. Under the cliffs Morgawrus was compelled to return and the earth rumbled as the immense head pushed back through the caverns of its ancient prison.

  "Trouble the... trouble the world... no... no more," the old lady commanded. 'Be for... forever at its roots, till the... the end of ti... time.'

  Smoke streamed from her hands as the guardian scorched her skin—no longer was it a carving of jet, but a divine thing of purity and might that shone with the combined force of the sun, the moon and the stars.

  Jennet shielded her eyes from the cone of light around her. She could feel Aunt Alice shuddering under the strain of the guardian's immense power and the old lady whimpered piteously.

  The girl pulled at Miss Boston's cloak. "Make it stop," she cried, "the creature's gone!"

  But the old lady couldn't; the carving continued to shine and the splendour of its glory was destroying her. A dazzling halo eng
ulfed Aunt Alice's trembling form and, squinting through the glare, Jennet beheld Miss Boston's face.

  The wrinkled skin was shrivelling, withering before the almighty light like a moth in a flame. The girl wept in horror and tore at the old lady's arms.

  "Let it go!" she screamed. "It's killing you!"

  Aunt Alice was too weak to answer, her strength was failing and the relentless brilliance drained the life from her body.

  Jennet looked around helplessly, then leaped up and snatched the guardian from the old lady's grasp. Miss Boston wailed and fell back—her palms smoking hideously.

  The carving fell to the ground, where it continued to throb and blaze and Jennet threw herself to the old lady's side. "Aunt Alice!" she sobbed. "Aunt Alice!"

  Miss Boston feebly moved her head. One side of her face seemed stiff and lifeless and the whole of her left side was drawn awkwardly into her body. A great tear rolled down her shrivelled cheek as she struggled to speak. "Jennet," she uttered thickly, "is... is it over?"

  The girl tenderly raised the white woolly head and rested it on her lap. "Yes," she replied, her own tears splashing on the old lady's face, "it's all over now."

  A faint smile flickered about Miss Boston's mouth. "Be... be a good gir... girl dear," she murmured, "take care of... of Benjamin..." And her eyes slowly closed.

  "No!" howled Jennet. "Please, don't leave us—please."

  A pale glimmer rose about them; the unnatural night was lifting and the day stole over the town once more. But the sun was bleak comfort to the figures on the wrecked pier. As the daystar sparkled over the waves, the light of Id's guardian dimmed and the eyelids closed over the crystals. The work was done and the device became jet once more. The invocations that Irl had never been able to utter had finally been completed by Miss Boston and now she too drifted close to the dark shores of death. The danger was over but she had paid dearly for the safety of all.

  As the soft daylight spread over Whitby, three small shapes ran along the pier. Ben, Nelda and Tarr hurried to reach the two figures at the far end.