The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection

by Joseph Delaney

  “I tried to rouse the menfolk to action, but I was making heavy weather of it. As you know, most people fear our trade, and the villagers were too nervous even to open their doors to me. But then your brother James arrived and, after first talking man to man with Matt Finley, the Downham blacksmith, he was able to make them realize the grave danger to themselves and their families. Finally some of the village men gathered in support. I’ll spare you the details, but we cleared out the Deanes, root and branch, and they won’t be coming back for a long time, if at all!”

  I glanced at Alice, but she showed no reaction to all this talk of the Deanes.

  “As a result of all that,” continued my master, “I got your note very late, lad. Too late to help. We set off for Read and met up with Alice, who’d been waiting for us on the outskirts of the laund. Together we traveled here to Crow Wood. Poor Father Stocks,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “He was a good apprentice and a loyal friend to me. He didn’t deserve to die like that.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Gregory,” I said. “There was nothing I could do to save him. Tibb took his blood, but then Wurmalde killed him with a knife—” The memory of Father Stocks lying murdered on the bed returned so vividly that I almost choked on my words. “She acts like the mistress of the house—she controls Master Nowell as well. She blamed me for the murder; he believes everything she tells him and was going to send me off to Caster to hang as soon as the tower was breached. He’ll be after me again. And who’s going to believe me?” I asked, getting more frightened by the second at the thought that I might still be taken off to Caster Castle.

  “Calm yourself, lad. Hanging’s the least of your worries! Word has it that Master Nowell and Constable Barnes have both gone missing. I suspect that neither will be in any condition to press charges.”

  Suddenly I remembered what the housekeeper had said to me in the cell at Read Hall. “Wurmalde told me that Nowell would be dead within days and that the whole district would be in their hands.”

  “The first might well be true,” said the Spook, “but not the second. This land of ours may be at war, but we’ve a battle or two of our own to fight yet. It’s not over by any means—not while I’ve breath still left in my body. We’re probably already too late to save the magistrate, but we can still deal with Wurmalde—whoever she is.”

  “She’s an old enemy of Mam’s, as I told you in my letter,” I said. “She’s the driving force behind what they’re going to attempt at Lammas. She wants to destroy all the good that Mam’s fought for. She wants to kill me, prevent me from being a spook, and then plunge the County into darkness. That’s why she wanted Mam’s trunks. She probably thinks they contain the source of Mam’s power. And it’s her idea to raise the Fiend. Mab had refused to join with the other clans, but just before the lamias chased her and her clan from the tower, she got angry and said that she was going to join with the Malkins and Deanes, that she was going to help Wurmalde.”

  The Spook scratched at his beard thoughtfully. “Looks like we’ve paid a high price for driving them from this tower. Keeping the clans apart is our main objective, so these trunks have cost us dear. It seems to me that Wurmalde is the key to all this. Once we settle with her, there’s half a chance the whole scheme will just fall apart. The witch clans have always been at one another’s throats. With her gone, it’ll be back to normal. It’s just three days to Lammas, so we’ve little time to waste. We need to carry the fight to her. We’ll strike where and when she least expects it.

  “Then, win or lose, we’ll turn our attention to the witches’ sabbath and try to halt the ceremony. James finally convinced the villagers at Downham that the futures of their families depended on them helping us, so they promised to lend a hand. They were feeling brave at the time, fresh from driving out the Deanes, but a few days have passed since then, and reflecting on the danger might have lessened their commitment—though I’m sure some will keep their promise. Well, lad,” said the Spook, staring into the embers and rubbing his hands, “where are those baked potatoes? I’m as ravenous as a wolf, so I might as well risk one after all!”

  The new ones weren’t ready yet, but I used a stick to drag one I’d cooked for myself out of the embers. I picked it up and quickly tossed it toward my master. He caught it deftly, and I tried not to smile too much as he started passing it from hand to hand to stop his fingers from burning.

  And despite all the bad things that had happened, I could afford to grin. I’d already had more than one piece of good news. Ellie and her child were safe and Jack, if not recovered, seemed to be improving. And perhaps I wouldn’t be taken to Caster.

  But there was something I hadn’t told the Spook. Not believing in prophecy, he would only have been annoyed. Mam had said in her letter that the dark made flesh would soon walk the earth. By that she meant the Fiend. Mam had been right before. If she was right this time, then we would fail to break up the Lammas Sabbath, leaving the Devil loosed into the world.

  It soon grew dark outside, and as we ate, bathed in the light and warmth of the fire, I felt better than I had for days. At least Mam had balanced her dark words with optimism. I couldn’t understand how I’d find the strength to stand up to the Devil, but I had to trust in what she believed.

  After about an hour it was decided that we should get some rest; with everything that had happened and the excitement of seeing James, Alice, and the Spook again, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I volunteered to keep watch. In any case, it was better that I was alert in case the two lamias came sniffing around. I was confident that James and I wouldn’t be on the menu, but I wasn’t so sure about the others. At first I’d intended to tell James that they were his aunts, but the longer I thought about it, the less it seemed like a good idea. Despite over a year’s training to be a spook, I still found it hard to deal with the idea that the two creatures were actually Mam’s sisters. It would be much harder for James to cope with. So, on reflection, unless it proved absolutely necessary, I decided to keep it from him.

  The Spook and Alice were soon fast asleep, but after a while James stood up, put a finger to his lips, and pointed away from the fire toward the far wall, where Mam’s trunk was. I followed him over.

  “I can’t sleep, Tom,” he said. “I just wondered if you’d like to talk?”

  “Of course I would, James. It’s really good to see you. I’m just sorry things are this way. I keep thinking it’s my fault,” I told him. “Being apprenticed to a spook just seems to attract trouble. Ellie and Jack had been worried all along that something like this might happen—”

  James shook his head. “There’s more to it than that, Tom. A lot more. Mam wanted you to take on that job. She wanted it more than anything else in the world. That’s what she told me at Dad’s funeral. And something else. She pulled me to one side and said that evil was growing in the world and that we’d have to fight it. She asked me, if the time came, to move back to the farm and give my support to Jack and his family. And I agreed.”

  “You mean live there?” I asked.

  James nodded. “Why not? I’ve no real ties at Ormskirk. There was a girl I grew fond of, but it came to nothing in the end. She married a local farmer last year and I was hurt for some time, but you have to move on. I could give Jack a bit of a hand with the farm when things are busy. I even thought we could build a forge behind the barn.”

  “You’d get some work but not enough to live on,” I told him. “There are two smiths working from Topley now. Everyone goes to them.”

  “Thought I might try brewing some ale on the side as well. That’s how Dad’s farm got its original name.”

  That was true enough. Once, long before Mam bought it for Dad, it had been called Brewer’s Farm and had supplied ale to the local farms and villages.

  “But you don’t know anything about brewing!” I protested.

  “No, but I know good ale when I taste it!” James countered with a grin. “I could learn, couldn’t I? Who knows what can be achieved wh
en you set your mind to it! What is it, Tom? You don’t look that happy at the idea of me coming home to live. Is it that?”

  “It’s not that, James. It just worries me, that’s all. The Pendle witches know where the farm is now. Whatever we do here, it won’t be over. It’ll never be over. I just don’t want to see another brother hurt.”

  “Well, it’s what Mam wanted, and I’m going to do it. I think the time she spoke of has already come; if there is some sort of enduring threat, then I think I should stand by my brother and his family. Anyways, it might be quite a while before Jack fully regains his strength. It’s my duty—that’s the way I see it, so my mind’s made up.”

  I nodded and smiled. I knew all about duty, and I knew what my brother meant.

  James pointed down at Mam’s trunk. “What have you found in there? Was it worth all the trouble?” he asked.

  “I think so, James. The story of Mam’s life is somewhere inside this trunk—but it might take time to work it all out. And there might just be something very powerful; something that we could use to fight the dark. It’s got lots of her books in it—some look like diaries; accounts from when we were children. There’s money as well. Would you like to take a look?”

  “Oh, yes, please, Tom, I’d really like that,” James said eagerly, so I lifted the lid.

  As he stared at the contents of the trunk with wide eyes, I lifted out one of the bags of money and untied the string before pulling out a handful of guineas.

  “There’s a fortune there, Tom!” he gasped. “Has that money been in the house all these years?”

  “Must have been. And those two other bags are full of the same,” I replied. “We should split it seven ways—it belongs to all Mam’s sons, not just me. Your share could pay for the cost of a forge and keep the wolf from your door until you’ve gotten established.”

  “That’s very generous of you, Tom,” James said, looking doubtful and shaking his head, “but if that’s what Mam had wanted, she’d have shared it among us herself. No, the fact that it’s in the trunk, together with all the other things that’ll be useful to you in your trade, means you might need it for something else. Something more important . . .”

  I hadn’t thought of that. There was a reason for everything Mam did. It needed thinking about some more.

  James picked up the largest of the leather-bound books, the one that had attracted my eye when I first opened the trunk. He opened it at a page close to the front.

  “What’s this?” he asked, looking puzzled. “It looks like Mam’s handwriting, but I can’t make moss nor sand of it. It’s in a foreign language.”

  “It’s Mam’s language, Greek,” I told him.

  “Of course, Tom. I wasn’t thinking. But she taught you the language, didn’t she? I wonder why she didn’t teach me?” For a moment he looked sad, but then his face brightened. “I expect it was because of the trade she wanted you to follow, Tom. She had a good reason for everything and always did things for the best. I don’t suppose you could read a little of the book to me? Would you mind? Just a few words . . .”

  So saying, he handed me the book, still open at the original page that he’d chosen at random. I glanced at it quickly. “It’s Mam’s diary, James,” I told him before reading aloud, translating from the top.

  Yesterday I gave birth to a fine healthy son. We will call him James, a good County name and his father’s choice. But my own secret name for him shall be Hephaestus, named after the god of the forge. For I see its light in his eyes just as I see the hammer in his hand. I have never been happier. How I wish I could be a mother with young children forever. How sad it is that they must grow up and do what must be done.

  I stopped reading and James looked at me in astonishment. “And I became a blacksmith!” he exclaimed. “It’s almost as if she chose that for me from birth. . . .”

  “Maybe she did, James. Dad arranged your apprenticeship, but maybe Mam chose your trade. That’s certainly what happened in my case.”

  There was something else that I didn’t bother to mention. But perhaps, in time, James would realize it for himself. It was the way he had picked the page that referred directly to his birth and name. It was almost as if Mam had reached out from afar and made him choose that page. This was the book that had attracted me, too; the book from which the letter had fallen, telling me what I needed to know about the contents of the other two trunks.

  If that was the case, it made me realize just how powerful Mam was. She’d prevented the witches from opening the trunks, and now they were in our hands and protected by her lamia sisters. Thinking that made me more optimistic. The dangers ahead were great, but with a mam like mine behind me and my master at my side, maybe things would all work out in the end.

  CHAPTER XIX

  Agnes Sowerbutts

  IN the morning Alice cooked us a good breakfast, making the best of the ingredients available. I helped her by cleaning out the pots and pans and peeling and chopping potatoes, carrots, and turnips. We boiled one of the hams as well, after Alice had sniffed it carefully to make sure that it hadn’t been poisoned.

  “Make the most of this, lad,” the Spook told me as I tucked into the steaming stew. “It’s the last big meal we’ll be eating for some time. After this we’ll be fasting and getting ready to deal with the dark!”

  My master hadn’t yet outlined his plans for the day, but I was more concerned about something that had kept me awake for much of the night.

  “I’m worried about my family,” I told him. “Can’t we go to Roughlee and bring them back here? There might be something in Mam’s trunk that we can use to cure Jack.”

  The Spook nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, that sounds like a good idea. Best to get them out of Deane territory. It’ll be dangerous, but with the girl to guide you I’m sure you’ll manage all right.”

  “It’ll be fine, Tom,” Alice agreed. “Don’t worry, they’re all right—we’ll get ’em back here safe and sound in a couple of hours. And I’m sure there’ll be something in the trunk to help your brother.”

  “And while you’re doing that,” said the Spook, “James and I will pay another visit to Downham. Time’s getting short, and it seems to me that it would be wise to rally some of the village men and get them back here to the refuge of the tower. We’d be better placed to strike when the need arises. And on our way there, we’ll be on the lookout for Wurmalde and young Mab. The first needs binding and putting out of harm’s way. The second should have calmed down a bit by now and might just listen to reason.”

  After breakfast I took a clean shirt from my bag and discarded the bloodstained one, glad to be rid of it at last, with the terrible memories it evoked of poor Father Stocks’s death. Less than an hour later we were on our way. With nobody to raise the drawbridge after we’d left, we had to use the tunnel. The Spook took the lead carrying one lantern; Alice brought up the rear, lighting the steps from behind with another. As we descended, everything was silent and deserted, and I noticed that the bodies of the witch and her male companion had been removed from the foot of the stairwell. But once through the lower trapdoor, I sensed a presence. The lanterns revealed nothing, and the only sound was the echo of our footsteps. But the circular hall was large and there were lots of dark shadows beyond the pillars; as we left the steps, the hair on the back of my neck began to rise.

  “What have we here?” asked the Spook, pointing at the farthest of the pillars.

  He walked toward it, his staff at the ready, lantern raised. I was at his shoulder, my own staff in my left hand, Alice and James close at my heels.

  At the foot of the pillar was a wooden bucket, and something was dripping into it steadily. Another step forward, and I saw that it contained blood and that it was slowly being filled as we watched.

  Looking up, I saw that there were chains hanging from the darkness of the ceiling far above, chains that had no doubt been used to bind prisoners while they were tortured or left to die of starvation. Now those chains had been
put to another use. Attached to them at intervals, all the way up into the dark, were small animals: rats, weasels, rabbits, stoats, and the odd squirrel or two. Some were fastened by their tails, others by their legs, but all hung head downward. They had been killed, and their blood was dripping into the bucket. It reminded me of a gamekeeper’s gibbet: dead animals nailed to a fence, both as a warning and as a display of kills made.

  “It’s a grim sight,” the Spook said, shaking his head. “But we must be grateful for small mercies. There could be people hanging there.”

  “Why have the lamias done that? What’s it for?” I asked.

  The Spook shook his head. “When I find out, lad, I’ll write it up in my notebook. This is new to me. I’ve never dealt with this type of winged lamia before, so we’ve a lot to learn. It could be that it’s just a way of collecting blood together from a lot of small animals to make it amount to a more satisfying meal. Or it could be something that only makes sense to a feral lamia. Year by year our store of knowledge grows, but we must think ahead, lad, and not always expect immediate answers. Perhaps one day you’ll finally get a chance to read your mam’s notebooks and find the answer there. Anyway, let’s move on. We’ve no time to waste.”

  When he had finished speaking, there came a slight scratching noise from somewhere above. I looked up nervously and heard a click as the Spook released the blade from its recess in his staff. As we watched, a dark shape scuttled down the pillar toward the arc of light cast by the lanterns. It was one of the feral lamias.

  The creature had climbed down headfirst. Its wings were folded across its back, and its body was in shadow. Only its head was clearly illuminated. The Spook angled his blade at the lamia, and James stepped forward and raised his huge hammer, ready to strike. The lamia responded by opening its mouth wide and hissing, giving us a glimpse of razor-sharp white teeth.