“Be able to see what we’re doing now,” she said, smiling wickedly.
Holding the candle aloft, Mab led the way into the sepulchre, the flame illuminating the slabs of stone—the shelves that held the remains of the dead. I saw what Mab meant by saying the dead had been disturbed. Some of the bones had been dislodged from the shelves and were scattered on the floor.
Once inside, she stepped back and closed the door behind us, the flame flickering in the draft so that the eye sockets of the nearest skull were animated by shadows, the dead bones seeming to twitch with unnatural life.
No sooner was the door closed than I experienced a sudden chill and heard a faint groan from the far corner of the sepulchre. Was it a ghost or a ghast?
“Nothing to worry about there,” Mab said, walking toward that ominous sound. “It’s only Dead Maggie, and she’s not going anywhere now.”
The dead witch was in the corner, leaning back against the damp wall. Rusty metal rings clamped her ankles, each connected by a chain to another ring bolted into the stone flags. The metal was iron, so no wonder she was suffering. Maggie was trapped, all right.
“Is that a Deane I smell?” she whimpered, her voice quivering with pain.
“Sorry to see you in such a state, Maggie,” Alice said, approaching her. “It’s me, Alice Deane—”
“Oh! Help me, child!” Maggie begged. “My mouth be drier than my bones be sore. I can’t abide these shackles. Free me from this torment!”
“Can’t help you, Maggie,” Alice replied, stepping even closer. “Wish I could, but there’s a Mouldheel here. Has a lock of my hair, she has, so I can’t do nothing.”
“Then come closer, child,” Maggie croaked.
Obediently Alice bent close, and the dead witch whispered something into her ear.
“No whispering! No secrets here! Keep clear o’ Maggie,” Mab warned.
Immediately Alice moved away, but I knew her well enough to read a subtle change in her expression: Maggie had whispered something of importance; something that might just help us against Mab.
“Right!” Mab continued. “Let’s get on with it. Follow me. It’s a tight squeeze. . . .”
She knelt down and crawled across the lowest bone shelf to her left, disturbing the skeleton that lay upon it. Within moments all I could see were her bare feet before they disappeared from view like the rest of her. She’d taken the candle, and the inside of the sepulchre was plunged into darkness.
So, gripping my staff, I crawled onto the cold stone slab, following her into the narrow space between it and the shelf above, feeling the bones under my body as I dragged myself across. Beyond the shelf, the fingers of my right hand clutched soft earth and, seeing a flicker of light ahead, I pulled myself headfirst into a shallow tunnel where Mab was waiting. She was on all fours; the roof was too low for her to stand.
Alice had already told me that the only way my trunks would ever leave Malkin Tower was through the big iron-studded wooden door, the same way they’d gotten inside, and one glimpse at that confined space confirmed this. So what did Mab hope to achieve? Even if she did reach the trunks, it would be impossible to bring them out this way.
I faced the same problem, but at least I might be able to rescue my family. And as long as I didn’t give away the keys, no witch would be able to open the trunks.
Once Alice had joined us in the tunnel, Mab wasted no time and crawled away on her hands and knees while we followed as best we could. I’d come across a few tunnels since becoming the Spook’s apprentice, but never one so tight and claustrophobic as this. It had no supports at all, and I had to force myself not to think about the great weight of earth above us. If the tunnel collapsed, we’d be trapped down here in the darkness. We might be crushed quickly; we might suffer a slow, terrifying death by suffocation.
I lost all track of time. We seemed to be crawling along for an eternity, but at last we emerged into an earthen chamber large enough for us to stand up. For a moment I thought we were directly underneath the tower, but then I saw another tunnel straight ahead. Unlike the one we’d just crawled through, this was big enough to walk upright in and had stout wooden props supporting the roof.
“Well,” Mab said, “this is as far as I’ve been. Don’t smell good, this tunnel.”
So saying, she leaned in and sniffed loudly three times. I wondered how good she was at it. The Spook had once told me that the ability varied from witch to witch. After one quick sniff she turned away and gave a shudder of horror. “Something wet and dead down there,” she said. “Don’t fancy that tunnel at all!”
“Don’t be soft, girl!” Alice sneered. “Let me sniff the tunnel out, too. Two noses are better than one, ain’t that so?”
“Right—but be quick about it,” Mab agreed, eyeing the tunnel nervously.
Alice wasted no time. One quick sniff, and she smiled. “Nothing much to worry about down there. Wet and dead we can handle. Tom’s got his rowan staff. Should be enough to keep it at bay. So off you go, Mab. You lead the way! That’s if you ain’t too scared. Thought you Mouldheels were supposed to be made of sterner stuff!”
For a moment Mab glared at Alice and curled her lip, but then she led the way into the tunnel. I gripped my rowan staff tightly. Something told me that I would need it.
CHAPTER XIV
The Wight
IF the guardian of the tunnel was wet and dead, then it was probably a wight and there’d certainly be water in the tunnel. I’d read about wights in the Spook’s bestiary: they were rare in the County but very dangerous. They were created by witches, who bound the soul of a drowned sailor to his dead body by dark magic. The body didn’t decay. Instead it became bloated and tremendously strong. They were usually blind, their eyes eaten by fishes, but had acute hearing and could locate a victim on dry land while still submerged.
As I was about to follow Mab, Alice gestured with her hand, signaling that I should stay back and allow her to go first. I could tell that she was planning something, but I didn’t know what. So I let her go ahead and just hoped she knew what she was doing.
We seemed to be walking for ages, but at last we began to slow before coming to a halt.
“Don’t like this,” Mab called back. “There’s water ahead. Smells bad. Don’t look safe at all . . .”
I squeezed forward next to Alice so that we could see over Mab’s shoulder. I’d expected to see running water—maybe a stream or underground river that she couldn’t cross. Instead the tunnel widened out to form an oval cave, which contained a small lake. The water almost reached the sides of the cave, but to the left was a narrow muddy path, sloping down toward the water. It looked very slippery.
The lake worried me. It was murky, the color of mud, and there were ripples on the surface; something that you’d expect on water agitated by wind. But we were underground, and the air was still and calm. I also had a feeling that the lake was very deep. Was something nasty lurking under the surface? I remembered what Mab had sniffed out—“something wet and dead.” Was it a wight, as I suspected?
“Ain’t got all night, Mab,” Alice called out cheerfully. “Don’t like the look of it much myself, so the sooner we’re past it the better!”
Looking more than a little nervous, Mab transferred the black candle to her right hand and stepped out onto the muddy path. She’d only taken a couple of steps when her bare feet began to slide. She almost lost her balance and had to put out her left hand to steady herself against the wall. The candle flickered and almost went out.
“Easy does it, girl!” Alice said, the mockery strong in her voice. “Ain’t a good idea to fall in there. Need a good pair of shoes, you do. Wouldn’t like the feel o’ that slimy mud between my toes. Make your feet stink worse than ever!”
Mab turned back toward us, and her lip curled in anger once again. She was just about to give Alice a good earful when something happened that made my heart lurch right up into my mouth.
Faster than I could blink, a big hand, pale, b
loated and bloodless, came straight up out of the water and grasped Mab’s right ankle. Immediately she lost her footing and, squealing like a piglet, fell sideways onto the mud, the lower half of her body splashing down into the water. She began to scream in terror, and as I watched, she started to slide farther down into the lake. Alice was between us or I’d have held out my staff for Mab to grasp. To allow the wight to take her was too horrible.
Mab was still holding on to the candle, but she was flailing her arms about and it looked sure to be plunged into the water at any second. If it went out, we’d be in the dark, unable to see where the threat was coming from. As if she’d read my thoughts, lithe as a cat, Alice leaped forward and snatched the candle from Mab’s hand, then stood back and watched her slowly being dragged under.
“Save her, Alice!” I cried out. “Nobody deserves to die like that!”
Alice looked reluctant, but then, with a shrug, she leaned forward, grasped Mab by the hair, and started to pull her back.
At that, Mab screamed even louder—it now became a painful tug of war. Something beneath the surface was trying to drag her under; Alice was resisting and trying to pull her back. Mab must have felt like she was being torn in half.
“Jab it with your stick, Tom!” Alice shouted. “Give it a good poke and make it let go!”
I stepped onto the muddy path next to her and aimed the point of my staff toward the water, looking for a target. The water was churning with mud now, big waves lapping at the edge of the path, and I couldn’t see a thing. All I could do was aim at a point somewhere just below where Mab’s feet should be. I jabbed hard two or three times. It made no difference, and I was aware that Alice was losing the battle: The water was almost up to Mab’s armpits.
I tried again. Still no luck. Then, on my eighth or maybe ninth attempt, I made contact with something. The water heaved, and suddenly Mab was free and Alice was dragging her back up onto the path.
“Right, Tom, we ain’t finished yet. Here, take the candle. Stand by with your staff in case it comes again!”
I accepted the candle and held it as high as I could so that it illuminated the whole surface of the murky lake. In my left hand was my rowan staff, ready to jab at the wight.
Alice suddenly got Mab in an armlock and, with her left hand still knotted in her hair, forced her into a kneeling position and pushed her head down until it was almost touching the water.
“Give me what’s mine!” she shouted into Mab’s left ear. “Do it quick, or that thing down there will rip your nose off!”
For a moment Mab struggled, but then the water began to heave as if something big were swimming to the surface.
“Take it! Take it!” she cried out, fear and panic in her voice. “It’s round my neck!”
Alice released Mab from the armlock and, still gripping her by the hair, used her free hand to tug something out from inside the neckband of her dress. It was a piece of string. Alice bit through it with her teeth, pulled it from Mab’s neck, and held it out toward me.
“Burn it!” she shouted.
As I held the candle under it, I saw that the string was knotted about a twist of hair; the lock of hair from Alice’s head that placed her in Mab’s power. The candle flame ignited the string, and it flared up with a whoosh. There was a faint smell of burning hair, and then Alice allowed the charred remains to fall into the water.
That done, she tugged Mab to her feet, gripped her arm, and pushed her along the path toward the far side of the lake. I followed cautiously, trying not to slip, eyeing the water fearfully. As I watched, something big floated up to the surface. In the shadows, close to the far wall, a huge head emerged, the hair knotted and tangled on top but billowing out beside it. The face was white and swollen, the eyes empty black sockets, and as the nose emerged, it sniffed loudly like a bloodhound seeking its prey.
But moments later we had reached the safety of the far tunnel, and the immediate danger was over. Mab looked wet and bedraggled, all her former confidence gone. But since we’d arrived in Pendle, I’d never seen Alice look happier.
“We need to thank Dead Maggie for that!” Alice said, giving me a wide grin. “Whispered what I needed to know. A wight, that was, and easy enough to sniff out. Always guards that path. Trained it well, they did. Wouldn’t touch anyone with Malkin blood in their veins. I’m a Deane by name, but I’m a Malkin half through. That’s why I made you walk farther back, Tom. Mab here was in the biggest danger.”
“It’s not nice to be tricked!” Mab said. “Still, I’m not complaining too much. Just as long as I get my trunks.”
“Got my lock of hair back, so I’m not complaining either,” Alice said with a smirk. “And if you want those trunks, first we need to find Tom’s family, safe and sound. So no tricks—that’s if you know what’s good for you!”
“I won’t be tricking Tom,” said Mab. “Happen he just saved my life, jabbing that wight like that. I won’t forget that in a hurry.”
“Oooo, happen he saved my life,” mimicked Alice. “Happen I did too, not that you’d notice,” and she got a new fierce grip on Mab’s hair and forced her ahead along the tunnel.
I felt sorry for Mab. There seemed no need to treat her so roughly, and I said as much to Alice.
She let go of Mab’s hair reluctantly and was just about to answer me back when we were both distracted. Another thirty or so paces had brought us to a wooden door set in stone. It seemed that we’d reached an entrance to Malkin Tower.
There was a latch with a lock underneath. I gave Alice the candle to hold, and she pulled Mab to one side while I grasped the latch and lifted it slowly, trying not to make any noise. But when I pulled, the door resisted. It was locked—though that was no problem when the Spook’s brother Andrew was a locksmith. Alice gripped the candle in her teeth and held out my special key. I took it from her, inserted it into the keyhole, turned it, and had the satisfaction of feeling the lock yield.
“Ready?” I whispered, handing the key back to Alice.
She nodded.
“And please, no more bickering, girls. Just keep the noise down until I’ve found my family and we’re out of here,” I said.
“And I’ve got my trunks,” added Mab—but Alice and I ignored her, and I lifted the latch again, slowly opening the door.
Inside it was jet black, but there was a strong stench of rot and decay that made me heave. The air was tainted with death.
Alice wrinkled her nose in disgust and brought the candle to the open door. Ahead of us was a passageway with cell doors on either side. Each had an inspection hatch of iron bars about head height. In the distance was what looked like a much larger room with no door. Would my family be in one of those cells?
“You watch Mab,” I told Alice. “Give me the candle and I’ll check each cell.”
At the first cell I held the candle close to the bars in the door. It seemed to be empty. The second had an occupant, a skeleton covered in cobwebs and dressed in ragged breeches and a threadbare shirt, its legs and arms fastened to a wall by chains. How had the prisoner died? Had he simply been abandoned and left to starve? I felt a sudden chill, and as I watched, a narrow column of light appeared over the skeleton and an anguished face began to form above it.
The face grimaced and tried to speak, but instead of words, all I could hear was a wail of torment. The prisoner was dead but didn’t know it, and was still trapped in that cell, suffering just as badly as he had in his final days. I would have liked to help, but other things were more urgent. How many more ghosts were there down here that also needed release? It could take hours and hours to talk to each tormented spirit and persuade them to cross over to the other side.
Using the candle, I checked each cell. It seemed that none of them had been used for a long time. There were sixteen in all, and seven of them contained bones. When I reached the end of the passageway, I listened very carefully. All I could hear was the faint dripping of water, so I turned and beckoned Alice forward. I waited until she b
rought Mab to my shoulder, then nervously stepped out into the room at the end. The candlelight couldn’t reach into all the dark corners of that vast space. Water dripped onto the flags from above, and the air felt dank and chilly.
At first glance, it appeared to be deserted. It was a large circular chamber, with another passageway radiating from it, identical to the one I’d already examined. Additionally, stone steps curved upward around the wall of the chamber to a trapdoor in the ceiling, which would give access to the floor above. Five huge cylindrical pillars supported that high ceiling, each bristling with chains and manacles. I also noted a brazier full of cold ashes and a heavy wooden table with an assortment of metal pincers and other instruments.
“This is where they torture their enemies,” Alice said, her voice echoing in the silence. Then she spat onto the flags. “Ain’t good to be born into a family like this . . .”
“Aye,” said Mab. “Maybe Tom should choose his friends more carefully. If it’s a witch you want for a friend, Tom, there’s better families to choose one from.”
“I ain’t a witch,” said Alice, and she tugged at Mab’s hair hard enough to make her squeal.
“Stop it,” I hissed. “Do you want them to know we’re here?”
The girls looked shamefaced and stopped their quarrelling. I looked about me and shuddered at the thought of what must have occurred in this chamber; wave after wave of coldness slipped down my spine. Many of the dead who’d suffered were still trapped here.
First there was the other passageway to search. I’d already looked into sixteen cells, but I had to search them all; one of these others might contain my family. From what I’d already seen of the dungeons, I now feared the worst. But I had to know.
“I need to check each of the cells,” I told Alice. “It’ll take a little while, but it’s got to be done.”
The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection Page 78