The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection

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The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection Page 12

by Joseph Delaney


  Alice wasn’t like that. She had a nice mouth, still shaped for smiling, but I realized then that she would eventually become just like Bony Lizzie.

  Alice had tricked me. She was the reason I was here rather than safe and sound back in the Spook’s house, eating my supper.

  At a nod from Bony Lizzie, Tusk grabbed me and tied my hands behind my back. Then he seized me by the arm and dragged me through the trees. First of all I saw the mound of dark soil, then the deep pit beside it, and I smelled the wet, loamy stink of freshly turned earth. It smelled sort of dead and alive at the same time, with things brought to the surface that really belonged deep underground.

  The pit was probably more than seven feet deep, but unlike the one the Spook had kept Mother Malkin in, it was irregular in shape, just a great big hole with steep sides. I remember thinking that with all the practice I’d had, I could have dug one far better.

  At that moment the moon showed me something else—something I’d have preferred not to see. About three paces away, to the left of the pit, there was an oblong of freshly turned soil. It looked just like a new grave.

  Without time even to begin worrying about that, I was dragged right to the edge of the pit, and Tusk forced my head back. I had a glimpse of Bony Lizzie’s face close to mine, something hard was jammed into my mouth, and a cold, bitter-tasting liquid was poured down my throat. It tasted vile and filled my throat and mouth to the brim, spilling over and even erupting out of my nose so that I began to choke, gasping and struggling for breath. I tried to spit it out, but Bony Lizzie pinched my nostrils hard with her finger and thumb, so that in order to breathe I first had to swallow.

  That done, Tusk let go of my head and transferred his grip back to my left arm. I saw then what had been forced into my mouth—Bony Lizzie held it up for me to see. It was a small bottle made out of dark glass. A bottle with a long, narrow neck. She turned it so that its neck was pointing to the ground and a few drops fell to the earth. The rest was already in my stomach.

  What had I drunk? Had she poisoned me?

  “That’ll keep your eyes wide open, boy,” she said with a sneer. “Wouldn’t want you dozing off, would we? Wouldn’t want you to miss anything.”

  Without warning, Tusk swung me around violently toward the pit, and my stomach lurched as I fell into space. I landed heavily, but the earth at the bottom was soft and although the fall winded me, I was unhurt. So I turned to look up at the stars, thinking that maybe I was going to be buried alive after all. But instead of a shovelful of dirt falling toward me, I saw the outline of Bony Lizzie’s head and shoulders peering down, a silhouette against the stars. She started to chant in a strange sort of throaty whisper, though I couldn’t catch the actual words.

  Next she stretched her arms out above the pit, and I could see that she was holding something in each hand. Giving a strange cry, she opened her hands and two white things dropped toward me, landing in the mud close to my knees.

  By the moonlight I saw clearly what they were. They almost seemed to be glowing. She’d dropped two bones into the pit. They were thumb bones—I could see the knuckles.

  “Enjoy your last night on this earth, boy,” she called down to me. “But don’t worry, you won’t be lonely because I’ll leave you in good company. Dead Billy will be coming to claim his bones. Just next door, he is, so he’s not got too far to go. He’ll be with you soon, and you two have a lot in common. He was Old Gregory’s last apprentice, and he won’t take kindly to you having taken his place. Then, just before dawn, we’ll be paying you one last visit. We’ll be coming to collect your bones. They’re special, your bones are, even better than Billy’s, and taken fresh they’ll be the most useful I’ve had for a long time.”

  Her face drew back, and I heard footsteps walking away.

  So that was what was going to happen to me. If Lizzie wanted my bones, it meant that she was going to kill me. I remembered the big curved blade that Tusk wore at his belt, and I began to tremble.

  Before that I had Dead Billy to face. When she’d said, “just next door,” she must have meant the new grave next to the pit. But the Spook had said that Billy Bradley was buried just outside the churchyard at Layton. Lizzie must have dug up his body, cut off his thumbs, and buried the rest of him here among the trees. Now he’d be coming to get his thumbs back.

  Would Billy Bradley want to hurt me? I’d never done him any harm, but he’d probably enjoyed being the Spook’s apprentice. Maybe he’d looked forward to finishing his time and becoming a spook himself. Now I’d taken what he once had. Not only that—what about Bony Lizzie’s spell? He might think I was the one who’d cut off his thumbs and thrown them into the pit. . . .

  I managed to kneel up and spent the next few minutes desperately trying to untie my hands. It was hopeless. My struggles seemed to be making the rope even tighter.

  I felt strange, too: light-headed and dry mouthed. When I looked up at the stars, they seemed to be very bright and each star had a twin. If I concentrated hard, I could make the double stars become single again, but as soon as I relaxed, they drifted apart. My throat was burning and my heart pounding three or four times faster than its normal pace.

  I kept thinking about what Bony Lizzie had said. Dead Billy would be coming to find his bones. Bones that were lying in the mud less than two paces from where I was kneeling. If my hands had been free, I’d have hurled those bones from the pit.

  Suddenly I saw a slight movement to my left. Had I been standing, it would’ve been just about level with my head. I looked up and watched as a long, plump, white, maggoty head emerged from the side of the pit. It was far, far bigger than any worm I’d ever seen before. Its blind, bloated head moved in a slow circle as it wriggled out the rest of its body. What could this be? Was it poisonous? Could it bite?

  And then it came to me. It was a coffin worm! It must be something that had been living in Billy Bradley’s coffin, growing fat and sleek. Something white that had never seen the light of day!

  I shuddered as the coffin worm wriggled out of the dark earth and plopped into the mud at my feet. I lost sight of it then as it quickly burrowed beneath the surface.

  Being so big, the white worm had dislodged quite a bit of soil from the side of the pit, leaving behind a hole like a narrow tunnel. I watched it, horrified but fascinated, because there was something else moving inside it. Something disturbing the earth, which was cascading from the hole to form a growing mound of soil.

  Not knowing what it was made it worse. I had to see what was inside, so I struggled to get to my feet. I staggered, feeling light-headed again, the stars starting to spin. I almost fell, but I managed to take a step, lurching forward so that I was close to the narrow tunnel, now just about level with my head.

  When I looked inside, I wished I hadn’t.

  I saw bones. Human bones. Bones that were joined together. Bones that were moving. Two hands without thumbs. One of them without fingers. Bones squelching in the mud, dragging themselves toward me through the soft earth. A grinning skull with gaping teeth.

  It was Dead Billy, but instead of eyes, his black sockets stared back at me, cavernous and empty. When a white, fleshless hand emerged into the moonlight and jerked at my face, I stepped away, nearly falling, sobbing with fear.

  At that moment, just when I thought I might go out of my mind with terror, the air suddenly became much colder and I sensed something to my right. Someone else had joined me in the pit. Someone who was standing where it was impossible to stand. Half his body was on view; the rest was embedded in the wall of earth.

  It was a boy not much older than me. I could only see his left-hand side because the rest of him was somewhere behind, still in the soil. Just as easily as stepping through a door, he swung his right shoulder toward me and the rest of him entered the pit. He smiled at me. A warm, friendly smile.

  “The difference between waking and dreaming,” he said. “That’s one of the hardest lessons to learn. Learn it now, Tom. Learn it now before
it’s too late. . . .”

  For the first time I noticed his boots. They looked very expensive and had been crafted from best-quality leather. They were just like the Spook’s.

  He lifted his hands up then, so that they were at each side of his head, palms facing outward. The thumbs were missing from each hand. His left hand was also without fingers.

  It was the ghost of Billy Bradley.

  He crossed his hands over his chest and smiled once more. As Billy faded away, he seemed happy and at peace.

  I understood exactly what he’d told me. No, I wasn’t asleep, but in a way I’d been dreaming. I’d been dreaming the dark dreams that had come out of the bottle that Lizzie had forced into my mouth.

  When I turned back to look at the hole, it was gone. There never had been a skeleton crawling toward me. Neither had there been a coffin worm.

  The potion must have been some kind of poison: something that made it difficult to tell the difference between waking and dreaming. That was what Lizzie had given me. It had made my heart beat faster and made it impossible for me to sleep. It had kept my eyes wide open, but it had also made them see things that weren’t really there.

  Soon afterward the stars disappeared and it began to rain heavily. It was a long, uncomfortable, cold night and I kept thinking about what would happen to me before dawn. The nearer it got, the worse I felt.

  About an hour before sunrise, the rain eased to a light drizzle before fading away altogether. Once more I could see the stars, and by now they no longer seemed double. I was soaked and cold, but my throat had stopped burning.

  When a face appeared overhead looking down into the pit, my heart began to race because I thought it was Lizzie come to collect my bones. But, to my relief, it was Alice.

  “Lizzie’s sent me to see how you’re getting on,” she called down softly. “Has Billy been yet?”

  “He’s been and gone,” I told her angrily.

  “I never meant for this to happen, Tom. If only you hadn’t meddled, it would have been all right.”

  “Been all right?” I said. “By now another child would be dead and the Spook, too, if you’d had your way. And those cakes had the blood of a baby inside. Do you call that being all right? You come from a family of murderers and you’re a murderer yourself!”

  “Ain’t true. It ain’t true, that!” Alice protested. “There was no baby. All I did was give you the cakes.”

  “Even if that were so,” I insisted, “you knew what they were going to do afterward. And you would’ve let it happen.”

  “I ain’t that strong, Tom. How could I stop it? How could I stop Lizzie?”

  “I’ve chosen what I want to do,” I told her. “But what will you choose, Alice? Bone magic or blood magic? Which one? Which one will it be?”

  “Ain’t going to do either. I don’t want to be like them. I’ll run away. As soon as I get the chance, I’ll be off.”

  “If you mean that, then help me now. Help me get out of the pit. We could run away together.”

  “It’s too dangerous now,” Alice said. “I’ll run away later. Maybe weeks from now when they ain’t expecting it.”

  “You mean after I’m dead. When you’ve got more blood on your hands . . .”

  Alice didn’t reply. I heard her begin to cry softly, but just when I thought she was on the verge of changing her mind and helping me, she walked away.

  I sat there in the pit, dreading what was going to happen to me, remembering the hanging men and now knowing exactly how they must have felt before they died. I knew that I’d never go home. Never see my family again. I’d just about given up all hope when footsteps approached the pit. I came to my feet, terrified, but it was Alice again.

  “Oh, Tom, I’m sorry,” she said. “They’re sharpening their knives. . . .”

  The worst moment of all was approaching, and I knew that I only had one chance. The only hope I had was Alice.

  “If you’re really sorry, then you’ll help me,” I said softly.

  “Ain’t nothing I can do,” she cried. “Lizzie could turn on me. She don’t trust me. Thinks I’m soft.”

  “Go and fetch Mr. Gregory,” I said. “Bring him here.”

  “Too late for that, ain’t it?” Alice sobbed, shaking her head. “Bones taken in daylight are no use to Lizzie. No use at all. The best time to take bones is just before the sun comes up. So they’ll be coming for you in a few minutes. That’s all the time you’ve got.”

  “Then get me a knife,” I said.

  “No use, that,” she said. “Too strong, they are. Can’t fight ’em, can you?”

  “No,” I said. “I want it to cut the rope. I’m going to run for it.”

  Suddenly Alice was gone. Had she gone to fetch a knife, or would she be too scared of Lizzie? I waited a few moments, but when she didn’t come back I became desperate. I struggled, trying to pull my wrists apart, trying to snap the rope, but it was no use.

  When a face peered down at me, my heart jumped with fear, but it was Alice holding something out over the pit. She dropped it, and as it fell, metal gleamed in the moonlight.

  Alice hadn’t let me down. It was a knife. If I could just cut the rope, I’d be free. . . .

  At first, even with my hands tied behind my back, I never had any doubt in my mind that I could do it. The only danger was that I might cut myself a bit, but what did that matter compared to what they’d do to me before the sun came up? It didn’t take me long to get a grip on the knife. Positioning it against the rope was more difficult, and it was very hard to move it. When I dropped it for the second time, I began to panic. There couldn’t be more than a minute or so before they came for me.

  “You’ll have to do it for me,” I called up to Alice. “Come on, jump down into the pit.”

  I didn’t think she’d really do it, but to my surprise she did. She didn’t jump but lowered herself down feet first, facing the side of the pit and hanging on to the edge with her arms. When her body was fully extended, she dropped the final two feet or so.

  It didn’t take her long to cut the rope. My hands were free, and all we had to do was get out of the pit.

  “Let me stand on your shoulders,” I said. “Then I’ll pull you up.”

  Alice didn’t argue, and at the second attempt I managed to balance on her shoulders and drag myself up onto the wet grass. Then came the really hard part—pulling Alice out of the pit.

  I reached down with my left hand. She gripped it hard with her own and placed her right hand on my wrist for extra support. Then I tried to pull her up.

  My first problem was the wet, slippery grass, and I found it hard to keep myself from being dragged over the edge. Then I realized that I didn’t have the strength to do it. I’d made a big mistake. Just because she was a girl, that didn’t necessarily make her weaker than me. Too late I remembered the way she’d pulled the rope to make the Spook’s bell dance. She’d done it almost effortlessly. I should have let her stand on my shoulders. I should have let her get out of the pit first. Alice would have pulled me up without any trouble.

  It was then that I heard the sound of voices. Bony Lizzie and Tusk were coming through the trees toward us.

  Below me I saw Alice’s feet scrabbling against the side of the pit, trying to get a hold. Desperation gave me extra strength. I gave a sudden heave, and she came up over the edge and collapsed beside me.

  We got away just in time, running hard with the sound of other feet running behind us. They were quite a long way back at first, but very gradually they began to get closer and closer.

  I don’t know how long we ran. It felt like a lifetime. I ran until my legs felt like lead and the breath was burning in my throat. We were heading back toward Chipenden—I could tell that from the occasional glimpses I got of the fells through the trees. We were running toward the dawn. The sky was graying now and growing lighter by the minute. Then, just as I felt I couldn’t take another step, the tips of the fells were glowing a pale orange. It was sunlight, and
I remember thinking that even if we were caught now, at least it was daylight and so my bones would be of no use to Lizzie.

  As we came out of the trees onto a grassy slope and began to run up it, my legs finally began to fail. They were turning to jelly, and Alice was starting to pull away from me. She glanced back at me, her face terrified. I could still hear them crashing through the trees behind us.

  Then I came to a complete and sudden halt. I stopped because I wanted to stop. I stopped because there was no need to run any farther.

  There, standing at the summit of the slope ahead, was a tall figure dressed in black, carrying a long staff. It was the Spook, all right, but somehow he looked different. His hood was thrown back and his hair, lit by the rays of the rising sun, seemed to be streaming back from his head like orange tongues of flame.

  Tusk gave a sort of roar and ran up the slope toward him, brandishing his blade, with Bony Lizzie close at his heels. They weren’t bothered about us for the moment. They knew who their main enemy was. They could deal with us later.

  By now Alice had come to a halt, too, so I took a couple of shaky steps to bring myself level with her. We both watched as Tusk made his final charge, lifting his curved blade and bellowing angrily as he ran.

  The Spook had been standing as still as a statue, but then in response he took two big strides down the slope toward him and lifted his staff high. Aiming it like a spear, he drove it hard at Tusk’s head. Just before it made contact with his forehead, there was a sort of click and a red flame appeared at the very tip. There was a heavy thud as it struck home. The curved knife went up in the air, and Tusk’s body fell like a sack of potatoes. I knew he was dead even before he hit the ground.

  Next the Spook cast his staff to one side and reached inside his cloak. When his left hand appeared again, it was clutching something that he cracked high in the air like a whip. It caught the sun, and I knew it was a silver chain.

  Bony Lizzie turned and tried to run, but it was too late: The second time he cracked the chain, it was followed almost immediately by a thin, high, metallic sound. The chain began to fall, shaping itself into a spiral of fire to bind itself tightly around Bony Lizzie. She gave one great shriek of anguish, then fell to the ground.

 

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