The Whitby Witches 2: A Warlock In Whitby

by Robin Jarvis

  Throughout all of this, Nelda remained silent. She had let them primp and preen her as was the custom, but that was all—she did not have to join in. Her eyes stared fixedly in front, a doll to be dressed and made ready—as though she was a sacrificial victim being prepared for the altar of some heathen and bloodthirsty god. Only this was to be a fate worse than death and the altar had a completely different function.

  "You're ready," Maudlin told her. "Nelda?"

  The bride-to-be blinked and stared round as if she had been asleep. Everything was strange to her, the dress felt unusual and her hair was soft as foam. "You've done well," she told them, "thank you."

  "Yip!" yammered Baccy, momentarily removing her pipe. "Tha's all trussed up like a fish supper an' Esau's the one who'll be feastin'!" And she dissolved into a fit of squawking cackles.

  Nelda stared dispassionately at the old hag, she was too numb inside to be angry at her idiotic and tactless remarks. Nothing seemed to matter any more.

  "Dinna you listen to her!" advised Maudlin, but she leaned forward and pressed a small glass phial into Nelda's hand, whispering, "If'n you're nervy over tonight—you know what I mean—sprinkle a pinch of this powder into the old goat's drink—he'll be too full of drowse to think of aught else and kip for hours."

  Parry was adept at listening to other people's conversations, especially whispered ones and let out a delighted squeal. "The maid won't need that!" she laughed. "Esau's too ancient! It's more than he can cope wi' just walkin' from one cave t'nother."

  "Then why's he weddin' her?" retorted Maudlin and Baccy let loose again with her horrible cackling, only to cease suddenly as Tarr strode into the chamber.

  Nelda lifted her head as he entered and rushed over, flinging her arms about his neck while he stood, rigid and immovable as a wooden post.

  Maudlin took the hint at once. "Come along," she gabbled to Parry and the crone, "us'll be wanted at the entrance."

  The other two gaped at her. Baccy had no intention of leaving, this looked far too interesting and Old Parry was dying to hear what Tarr had to say to his granddaughter on her wedding day.

  But Tarr shot them both a dangerous glance and they hurried out of the chamber as fast as they could. Before she left, Baccy spat brown phlegm on the rushes to register her complaint then scuttled off.

  "Oh grandfather!" Nelda cried, weeping for the first time. "I'm so unhappy!"

  "Lass," he answered, relaxing and holding her close, "let me sithee. Why, tha's prettier 'an yer grandmither ever were." And for several minutes they clung desperately to one another.

  Eventually, Tarr pulled away and dried the tears which had streaked down Nelda's cheeks. "'Tis time, lass," he said in a wavering whisper, "that dreaded hour is upon us, is tha ready?"

  She squeezed his hands tightly, drawing courage and strength from him. "That I am," she replied in a brave voice.

  "Then let us get gone. Can't hide from it now—but you listen t'thy grandda when he says he's reet proud o' thee."

  She linked her arm in his, and if she was aware that he was trembling, made no mention of it. Out of the cave they went, out to where Nelda's doom awaited her.

  ***

  The tide had come in quickly, it lapped against the cliff face and still the waves rolled higher. Ben was very cold and his legs ached, for there was nowhere to sit down. He stared at the gurgling water below and watched it steadily rise. As the breakers crashed against the rock, the spray was caught in the light of the aufwader lanterns and showered a thousand sparkling mirrors back into the sea.

  Prawny glanced back into the chamber, his face growing stern. "It begins," he muttered.

  Ben followed his stare. Through the assembled fisherfolk came two wizened creatures and everyone stepped aside to let them pass; for here were Johab and Lorkon, the other members of the ruling Triad. Leaning upon their staffs they headed for the entrance, nodding to those who bowed before them.

  The two aufwaders acknowledged Ben's presence with a brief twitch of their bushy brows. Then they parted and stood at either side of the great stone doors, their faces grim and troubled. Try as they might, they had failed to dissuade Esau from this ruinous path, and both shivered with fearful misgivings.

  "Sound the horn," said Johab, motioning to the crowd.

  Up to the threshold stepped the tallest of the tribe, yet even he was only a foot taller than Ben. In his arms he carried a large conch shell which he raised over his head for all to see. Then, putting it to his lips he blew with all his might.

  Ben had never heard such a noise before, it was like a hundred trumpets blaring at once. It boomed around the cavern, bouncing off the rocky walls, deafening everyone and challenging them to withstand its roar. Then out, out over the sea it bellowed, shaking the waters and sounding the deeps, never was there such a voice to shout down the stars and make the moon herself tremble.

  And then the aufwader with the conch was breathing rapidly, trying to fill his spent lungs. His face was almost purple and his knees knocked feebly together, his role in the ceremony was finished and he ambled back to the others—gasping and puffing.

  The echo of the shell's blast was still resounding in the far distance, battering through the dark horizon until it faded altogether. Ben wondered what would happen next, everyone seemed to be waiting, holding their breaths in expectation—and then he heard it. At first he thought it was a delayed echo but no, this note was deeper than before. It was an answering call, and though it came from many miles away, it vibrated through the rocks and made the hairs on the boy's neck prickle and tingle.

  A hushed murmur ran through the aufwaders, but before they had chance to discuss it, Esau entered the chamber and the whispers were silenced.

  In came the eldest of the fisherfolk, shambling slowly forward, putting all his decrepit weight on two gnarled sticks which tapped out a harsh rhythm on the ground. His eyes darted everywhere, swivelling slyly from side to side. He glared at the tribe, his crabbed face twisted into a sneer.

  Ben could not believe any living thing could be so old and asked Prawny in a low voice, "Who's that?"

  "Esau," came the bitter reply, "the bridegroom."

  The boy clutched at his stomach, so this was the one Nelda was to marry. Surely it was impossible! The leader of the Triad was vile and withered, his back was bent with age and Ben could feel nothing but revulsion at the sight of him.

  Esau raised his shrunken head and, when his beady eyes lit upon the boy, a foul curse issued from his hideous lips. Malice boiled within him, he despised the landfolk and the urge to cast the child into the sea to drown nearly overwhelmed him. But this was part of the bargain with his future bride, the whelp had to remain and witness the union. Turning his back on him, Esau came to the threshold and waited.

  Another rippling murmur bubbled through the gathering—Nelda had arrived. The womenfolk all sighed when they saw her, then wept, remembering what was in store for the unfortunate girl.

  The young aufwader was holding tightly to her grandfather. Her face was set in an awful, grim expression but she held her head proudly and glided with a cold dignity smoothly through the chamber—not flinching once from the shrivelled horror which leered at her by the entrance.

  Passing Ben, Nelda's eyes wavered, flicking from her husband-to-be to the boy. But the occasion was too dreadful and solemn to allow for anything else. No welcoming smile crossed her small mouth, all she could do was nod once and continue on her way.

  In the dark heavens, the moon appeared from behind a cloud and bathed the entrance in a cold, grey light. Nelda crossed into the pale glow, stopping at Esau's side, where Tarr reluctantly wrenched himself from her arm.

  Kissing her forehead, he said, "May tha find joy lass—if'n tha can."

  Nelda thanked him, then, choking back her misery, turned to face the groom.

  Esau was regarding her with lustful eyes. Her hair was streaming in the sea breeze and the bridal dress fluttered closely about her. The moonlight picked out the
small pearls at her throat and burned icily in the silver belt around her waist. She was beautiful, and the frozen dignity she wrapped herself in only made her more desirable and kindled the dark thoughts within him.

  With his bearded chin resting on his claw-like hands he licked his lips and croaked, "Thou art indeed most fair, my love." The words went through her like hot knives but she steeled herself and he added, "Many gifts shall I shower upon thee, much wisdom shall I share—many secrets which I alone am privy to." The tiny eyes gleamed and a trickle of spittle dribbled from his mouth as he muttered, "Thou wouldst clap thy dainty hands with glee at the knowledge I possess," and he gave her a lascivious wink.

  Nelda said nothing, but looked out to the shimmering waters. Esau grinned indulgently then pounded one of his sticks on the ground.

  "Let the Briding commence!" he declared. Raising one hand he pointed to the black horizon. "Under cover of stars and moon," he called, although there were no stars and, almost as if he had frightened it away, the moon slid behind another cloud and did not reappear. A few of the other fisherfolk nudged each other and raised their eyebrows at this. A proper ceremony usually only took place on clear nights. As the darkness swallowed the sky once more, Esau continued, he was too impatient to be denied now.

  "Under cover of stars and moon," he repeated defying the traditions of his people, "do I, Esau Grendel pledge mine intent—to take for mine own, Nelda Shrimp and bestow upon her such gifts that are in my power."

  He looked over to her, smiling and showing his one, snaggled tooth. It was time for them to join hands. Nelda lifted hers and closed her eyes in disgust as Esau's deformed claw clasped itself around it.

  "Now is the bond made," he cawed, "and I do call on the sea itself to bear witness." With some difficulty, he made a bow to the waves and bid Nelda do the same. When this was done, he raised his cracked voice and called out. "Now do I offer the prayer. Hear me, ye Lords of the Deep and Dark. Grant to thy loyal servants, Esau and Nelda, thine own blessing, that we may be sure of a merry life together hereafter."

  This was merely a formality and, once the prayer had been given, a plump female came forward bearing a wooden dish. Upon it was a strange loaf-shaped cake and a length of string.

  Esau took the cord and passed one end to Nelda, who received it as though it were a venomous snake. Then, slowly, she bound it around her wrist and Esau did the same.

  "Now are we tethered," he gurgled, "and ever after shall it remain, with thee by my side, though there be no rope to bind thee."

  "So shall it be," she said in a frail voice.

  "Then let us eat and seal ourselves till the end of our days," he told her.

  With her free hand, Nelda broke off a piece of the bridecake and bit into it. Without chewing she kept the morsel in her mouth and offered the rest to Esau whose lips snatched it greedily from her fingers. All they had to do now was kiss and the ceremony would be complete. With a quailing heart, Nelda bent down and the ancient creature upturned his face, both closed their eyes, one in repulsion, the other in ecstasy.

  "Look!" cried Prawny suddenly. "Out yonder, a light is shining!"

  Ben glanced out to sea. Sure enough, at the edge of the dark, watery world a faint glimmer had appeared. At once, everyone began to chatter in bewilderment and fear. Esau glared round and peered intently at the dim glow, scowling horribly. Confused, Nelda turned to her grandfather who narrowed his eyes, trying to discern what the eerie, pulsing speck could be.

  "Hang on, lass," he told her in a frightened voice, "theer may be joy for thee after all."

  "'Tis comin' nearer!" someone cried.

  Ben looked at Prawny. "What is it?" he asked. "Why is everyone so afraid?"

  "Whatever that light be," Nusk replied, "'tain't from no mortal lands. 'Tis a sign—from them."

  Esau stamped his sticks on the ground and hissed. "We must not delay, let the Briding proceed!"

  Grabbing hold of Nelda he pulled her towards his puckered, waiting lips but Tarr intervened, his strong hands restraining the ancient leader. "Us mun wait," he said gravely, "we dursn't carry on till us knows what they are wantin'."

  The rest of the tribe agreed, and Esau mumbled irritably into his beard.

  For a long time they remained motionless and silent, watching and waiting as the light drew closer. Presently, even Ben could see that it came from a small wooden boat, such as the fisherfolk used, and that a figure was seated in it.

  The boat swiftly rode the waves, yet Ben could not tell how it moved, for the occupant was not rowing. It seemed rather that the sea itself was drawing it forward.

  "Bless us," breathed Tarr in fear.

  The craft had come to rest just before the entrance where the tide had risen level with the floor. But the vessel remained a constant three feet away from the rock, as if it had been forbidden to touch any part of the land.

  Ben stared at the spectacle in wonder. The boat was filled with clear water, and it was this that glowed. The light was silvery blue and fell on everyone's face, coldly flickering over their features and reflecting in their eyes. Yet the vessel was damaged. A long, jagged hole gaped in the hull and should have made it impossible to remain afloat, but there it was, upheld by the hand of the sea. The boy was amazed and then the figure within commanded his complete attention.

  Dressed in a loose robe of sea-green, it was a crouched shape whose lower half was submerged in the shining water. A large hood concealed the face and not even the shifting light could penetrate the black shadows beneath that cowl. Whatever was hidden under there, Ben thought, could stay out of sight, he had no wish to look on a face from the dark deeps.

  The figure did not move, yet they all felt as though it were studying them, gazing at each one in turn with invisible eyes and at some point everyone shivered.

  As leader of the Triad it was Esau's duty to present himself. He managed a polite, if impatient bow then greeted the strange visitor. "I welcome thee, most noble guest," he said fawningly, "the Triad of the aufwader race is honoured at thy presence."

  Then the figure began to speak. It was a chilling sound, full of despair, like the voice of the north wind. In a hard, ringing voice it cried, "Esau Grendel! I am a messenger from the Dark Realm. A herald am I, sent hither by the Three whom thy petty triad mirrors in dread."

  The fisherfolk were dismayed at these words, for they were filled with scorn and they knew that the Deep Ones were angry with them. Only Esau remained undaunted, he leaned forward like a stubborn blade of grass that will not bend before the storm, and the messenger continued.

  "In thy arrogance thou hast called upon my masters to bless this unholy union. Hearken to me Esau Grendel, know that this base lust of thine will be thy undoing. Turn aside from the folly of thy diseased heart—for thou hast asked and thou art denied. The Lords of the Deep and Dark withhold their blessing and dispatched me with this warning—continue in this and thou art doomed!"

  Even Ben shivered at this, and he was aware of the terror that filled the rest of the cave.

  "I await thine answer," the messenger said coldly.

  Esau had been silent up till then, now he raised one of his sticks and pointed it accusingly at the herald of the Deep Ones. "Take this reply back to thy cruel masters!" he raged and behind him all the aufwaders recoiled in horror at the brazen insolence of his words. "They have lost the right to interfere in our affairs. 'Tis their curse which we have suffered under and I shall not be commanded by such bitter liege lords. Are they not content to see our race dwindle from this land? Must they refuse us a final happiness?"

  "They deny thee nothing," rang the messenger angrily, "only a bride too young for thee. And I say again—beware!"

  "Begone!" Esau demanded. "As a friend I welcomed thee but now do I turn thee away as mine enemy. Tell that to thy masters and may their thrones rot below the waves. I will have naught else to do with them!"

  The herald said no more. Smoothly, the boat began to turn, but before it departed, the blank space be
neath the hood turned to Ben. For an instant the boy thought he saw a cluster of many eyes staring out at him and from the folds at the bottom of the robe a livid green tentacle snaked out.

  With an ominous rumble, the sea began to swell and, beneath the cold light, grew black and dark. As the boat sailed away, the waves crashed over the threshold of the entrance chamber, covering everyone in freezing salt water.

  "What has tha done?" Tarr cried. "Esau, tha's angered them wi' thy haughty words! What possessed thee? Is tha mad?"

  The waters crashed against the cliff and the rock shuddered at the violence of it.

  "Close the doors!" Esau ordered. "They'll not fright me so easily. Let them rant all they can, they'll not batter the entrance down."

  Another wave rampaged into the chamber, knocking several of the fisherfolk off their feet and dragging them towards the entrance.

  Quickly, Prawny and another leapt at one of the chains and pulled down hard. With a slow grinding, the slabs of stone began to close. Everyone cowered back as a further wave hammered through the gap, tearing the nets from their hooks and throwing down the fishing boats.

  Only Esau was unafraid, he stood amid the surging water, laughing madly while, still tied to his wrist, Nelda wept and struggled to free herself.

  With a juddering slam, the doors closed and were sealed, but the fury of the Lords of the Deep continued to throw itself against them.

  "Now!" Esau cried. "'Tis time to finish what was started!" He dragged Nelda towards him and before any one could stop him, pressed his putrid lips against hers.

  "Grendel!" shrieked Tarr furiously. "Dost tha know what tha's done?"

  "Wed thy granddaughter!" he snapped back. "And there's not a thing thou canst do about it. The wench is mine for eternity!"

  "But the Deep Ones!" muttered Johab in dismay. "They forbade you!"

  "They no longer have dominion here!" he proclaimed. "Only the law of the Triad rules and I am its leader!" He swung Nelda before him and pushed her towards one of the tunnels. "Time for us to retire, my sweet," he told her.