'Sometimes it's very difficult to rule, Tom,' the Fiend said, stepping closer. 'Sometimes hard, painful decisions have to be made. As you refuse my offer, you give me no alternative. You must die so that I can bring about a better world for all humanity. My daughter awaits you in the marsh. There you must kill or be killed.'
So he'd decided to let her kill me instead. That way the hobbles would be nullified and he would grow in power until he finally ruled the world.
'Her against me?' I protested. 'No! I'll not go out to meet her. Let her come to me.'
I thought of her out there in the marsh, at her strongest; of the peril of that blood-filled eye. I'd be helpless — fixed to the spot within seconds. Then slain, my throat ripped out like the bargeman's.
'You're in no position to make the rules, boy. Go out there and face her if you want your companions to live,' said the Fiend. 'I could slay them in a second while they're powerless before me. '
He leaned forward and rested his hand lightly on the top of Alice's head. Then he spread his fingers. It was a big hand and seemed to be expanding even as I watched. Now the whole of Alice's head was enclosed by the span of that huge hand.
'All I have to do is clench my fist, Tom, that's all — her head will be crushed like an eggshell. Should I do it now? Do you need to see how easy it is for me?'
'No! Please!' I cried out. 'Don't hurt her. Don't hurt any of them. I'll go to the marsh. I'll go right now!'
I lurched to my feet, snatched up my staff and moved towards the door. There I paused and looked back at my enemy. What if I released the blade in my staff and attacked him? Would I have a chance? But it would be futile and I knew it. The instant I moved towards him I'd be frozen in time again, just as helpless as the Spook, Alice and Arkwright.
I nodded towards them. 'If I survive, or I win.? Will you let them live?'
The Fiend smiled. 'If you win, they will live — at least for a while. If you die, I will kill them too. So you fight for the lives of these three as well as your own.'
I knew my chances of defeating the Fiend's daughter on the marsh were slim. How could my staff and chain be strong enough against her powers? And Alice, the Spook and Arkwright would die with me. But there was something I might achieve before that happened. One last thing to be bought with my death. It was certainly worth a try.
'One more thing,' I said. 'Give me that and I'll go to the marsh now. Life is short and everybody has to die sometime but it's a terrible thing to be tormented afterwards. Arkwright's mam and dad have suffered enough — whether I win or lose, will you release Amelia's soul so that they can both go to the light?'
'Win or lose? You drive a hard bargain, Tom.'
'No harder than the task you set me. You expect me to die. That's what you want. Is that fair? At least give me what I ask so it won't all have been for nothing.'
He stared hard at me for a moment and then his face relaxed. He'd made his decision. 'Then so be it. I'll grant your wish.'
Without a backward glance, I left the kitchen, ran through the other room and out into the night. As I moved further into the garden I felt a change. Outside the house, time was moving forward normally. But it wasn't a good night to venture out onto the marsh.
A thick mist had descended: the visibility was down to about ten paces. Overhead, the orb of the moon was just visible, so there wasn't much depth to the mist; but that wouldn't help me on the marsh, where the land was low and flat. How I wished I could have Claw with me but I assumed she was frozen in time like the others.
I paused on the edge of the moat and took a deep breath. Once across it, I would face the Fiend's daughter. She would be waiting out there; the darkness and mist would be to her advantage. I advanced onto the marsh cautiously. It was a pity I'd only practised being hunted by the dogs once, otherwise I'd now know the meandering paths much better.
Deep, stagnant water or treacherous bog lay on either side of the paths. I'd seen the way Morwena leaped out of the water like a salmon. I had to be prepared for a similar attack now. The threat might come from either side of any path I trod. As for weapons, I had my staff and I now felt in the pocket of my cloak and my fingers closed over the silver chain. It was reassuring to feel it there. Finally I had salt and iron, but that could only be used as a last resort, when staff and chain were no longer an option and both hands were free.
Suddenly an eerie sound echoed over the marsh. It was the unmistakable cry of the corpsefowl, the witch's familiar. She had an extra pair of eyes free to soar into the sky; the bird would be searching for me now. No doubt the Fiend had already told his daughter that I was on my way. The bird's cry had come from the west, somewhere close to the mere where I'd met Morwena and been hooked through the ear. So I took the most southerly of the paths available to me. I didn't want to meet the witch there, near the deep water.
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 accordingly. 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 you
r 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.
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