The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection

by Joseph Delaney

  After about ten minutes I placed my hands against the glass again. Now I thought about the time when I’d taken Alice to stay with her aunt in Staumin. I remembered eating the delicious rabbits that Alice had caught and cooked, and how afterward she’d reached across and held my hand. Her left hand had held mine and I’d felt a little guilty, knowing the Spook wouldn’t like it, but I’d been truly happy.

  Immediately the mirror began to brighten, the glass warming beneath my palms, and suddenly there was Alice’s face. I dropped my hands and stared back into her eyes.

  Her mouth opened and she began to speak, but the mirror was silent. I knew that witches used mirrors to spy on one another and their intended victims, but did they actually communicate by reading one another’s lips? I couldn’t make out what she was saying and shook my head. At that she leaned forward and the mirror began to cloud. Quickly she wrote on the glass:

  What did it mean? For a moment I was puzzled, but then I managed to decipher the message. The mirror had reversed her words. It was an instruction. Breathe and write! She was telling me how to speak to her.

  So I leaned forward, misted the glass with my breath, and wrote quickly:

  Alice’s eyes widened and she breathed on the glass and wrote again:

  This time I found it easier to read. Where are you? So I wiped the glass with the palm of my hand and breathed on it again before writing:

  After a few seconds I wiped the mirror again so that I could see Alice’s face. She nodded and gave me a faint smile, but she looked very anxious. As I watched, her face faded until I was looking at my own reflection again.

  Then I lay back on the bed and waited for dawn. The sooner I was clear of this place, the better.

  CHAPTER XVII

  Pursuit

  AT first light I prepared to leave. The bill had been paid in advance for three days, covering our rooms and breakfasts. But I wouldn’t risk showing my face downstairs. Questions would be asked about my master’s disappearance; perhaps the landlord or his customers were in league with Morwena. I couldn’t take any risks. So carrying my bag and staff, I slipped out by the back door and was soon heading south.

  The easiest and most direct route was down the western shore of Coniston Water. I kept my distance from it, just in case Morwena or any of the other water witches were following me. But it was late afternoon, when I was already well past the lake’s southern extremity, before I began to suspect that I was indeed being pursued.

  There were faint but disturbing noises behind me: an occasional rustling in the undergrowth and once the distant crack of a breaking twig. At first it was hard to be sure because when I stopped, all became quiet. As soon as I walked on, the sounds continued, and gradually over the next few miles they seemed to be closing in on me. By now I was sure I was being stalked. The light was fading and I didn’t relish the prospect of being hunted in the dark, so with my heart pounding, I put down my bag, released the blade from the top of my staff and turned to face my pursuer. I waited tensely, my body rigid, all my senses alert, but it wasn’t a witch who emerged from the thickets to my rear. It was Claw.

  She whined and came to lie at my feet, her head almost resting on my left shoe. Relieved, I let out a sigh and reached down to pat her head. I realized I was actually pleased to see her. A lot had happened since I’d been afraid to turn my back on her. If I was being pursued by witches, I now had a formidable ally.

  “Good girl!” I said softly, then turned and continued on my way just as fast as I could, Claw close at my heels. My instincts told me that I was still in danger. The sooner I was back at the mill, the better, but I had a decision to make. I could take the long route east, following the wide curve of the bay, but this might enable any pursuers to overtake me or even cut me off. Alternatively I could cross the dangerous sands. That would mean waiting for the tide and the guide and would waste precious time, perhaps allowing Morwena to catch up with me anyway. It was a difficult choice but I finally opted for the sand crossing.

  I was exhausted but forced myself to continue through the night. Keeping to the lower ground, I passed to the west of the hills where we’d stayed with the hermit but was soon forced to climb again. At last I began to descend toward the bay. The distant sea gleamed in the moonlight. The tide seemed a long way out, but was it safe to cross?

  I’d have to wait for dawn, then try to find the guide. I didn’t know where he lived but I just had to hope that he was on this side of the bay, not on the far shore. I halted at last on the edge of a low cliff, staring out at the flat sands stretching into the distance. To the east there was a faint purple light on the horizon that hinted at sunrise but it was still well over an hour before dawn.

  Claw stretched out on the frosty grass beside me but she seemed uneasy. Her ears were flat against her head and she kept growling low in her throat. At last she settled down and became quiet. My head kept nodding, but each time I jerked awake suddenly, alert for danger. The long walk had exhausted me, and without realizing it, I eventually fell into a dark, dreamless slumber.

  I was probably asleep for no more than thirty minutes when a low growl from Claw and her teeth tugging at my breeches woke me. The sky was much lighter and a stiff breeze was blowing in from the bay. I could smell the approach of rain. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw something move. I looked up the hill. At first I could see nothing, but the hairs on the back of my neck began to rise and I sensed danger. After persevering for a minute or so, I finally made out a figure moving down the slope toward me, keeping within the shelter of the trees. Claw growled again. Was it Morwena?

  I stood up, clutching my staff. After a few moments I knew for sure that I was watching the approach of a water witch. It was something about the way she walked, a strange rolling of the body, perhaps caused by the talons and webbed toes. She was a creature more suited to water and bog than the firm surface of a grassy slope. But was it Morwena or another less dangerous witch? She was much nearer now but it was still impossible to tell.

  Should I confront her? I had both my staff and my silver chain. In theory either was sufficient to deal with an ordinary water witch. But they could move very quickly indeed. If I let her get close enough, she’d hook me with her finger. I was good with my silver chain but the practice post in the Spook’s garden was no match for the real thing. I’d faced Grimalkin, the witch assassin, and missed her—probably because of fear, nerves, and exhaustion. I was very tired now, and the fear was starting to build inside me.

  If I failed with the chain, I’d have to keep the water witch at bay with my staff, but I would only get one opportunity. If I missed, she’d be under my guard. Would Claw try to help me then? The dog was certainly brave and loyal enough. But I remembered what had happened to her mate, Tooth.

  I would be failing in my duty if I left a witch at large. What if she seized someone else because of my failure to act? A child maybe? No, I had to face her.

  The witch had approached to within fifty paces when I changed my mind again. Her face was no longer in shadow and I could see that her left eye was closed. I could also see the sharp splinter of bone that pinned the two eyelids together. It was Morwena! Once she opened that bloodeye I’d be paralyzed, petrified, helpless.

  Claw growled a warning but it was too late. The witch reached toward her left eye and withdrew the pin. The blood-filled eye opened very wide and stared straight at me. I was already lost. I felt the strength leave my body; the will to move leave my mind. All I could see was that red eye growing brighter and larger.

  Suddenly I heard a growl and felt a hard blow to my back, which knocked me clean off my feet. I was sent sprawling facedown into the dirt, banging my forehead. For a moment I was stunned, but then I felt warm breath as Claw began to lick my face. I reached up and patted her with my right hand, realizing that I could move again. Immediately I understood. The dog had not been under the power of the witch. Morwena’s bloodeye could only transfix one person or animal at a time. Claw had leaped at me,
hurling me to the ground, breaking the spell of the red eye.

  I came quickly to my knees but kept my eyes down. I could hear the witch’s feet slapping the ground as she ran full tilt down the slope toward me. Don’t look at the witch! I told myself, keeping my eyes glued to the ground. Look anywhere except at that blood-filled eye!

  I was on my feet in a flash and fleeing from her toward the shore, Claw at my heels. My silver chain was still gripped in my left hand, but how could I ever hope to use it when one glance at my enemy would bind me to the spot? My legs trembled as I ran; surely I wasn’t quick enough to escape her. I wanted to check over my shoulder and see how close she was but daren’t for fear of that paralyzing eye. At any moment I expected to feel the witch’s talons pierce my neck or stab into my throat.

  “Claw!” I shouted as I jumped down onto the sands. As the dog panted at my side, I felt more and more relieved with every step. We were safe from the witch for now. I knew Morwena wouldn’t be able to tolerate the salt deposited on the sands by the tide. Bare webbed feet couldn’t walk on that. But how long could we stay out here? She’d be watching and waiting for when we tried to leave the sands again. And what would I do when the tide came in?

  Even if I could manage to evade her and get off the sands, I knew Morwena would follow me all the way back to the mill. I was exhausted already but I knew a witch as strong as Morwena would never tire. Following around the bay with her behind me and possibly other witches lying in wait somewhere along the route would surely be a mistake.

  If only the sand guide were here to guide me across. But he was nowhere to be seen. The sea looked a long way out, but I had no way of judging if it was safe to cross now. Arkwright had told me how dangerous the incoming tides were. Travelers drowned; coaches, passengers, and horses were swept away, never to be seen again.

  If it hadn’t been for Claw I’d have dithered there for hours, but she suddenly darted away from me toward the sea, then turned and barked. I stared at her stupidly; she ran back to my side and then away in the same direction, as if she wanted me to follow. Still I hesitated, but the third time she came back she seized hold of my breeches and tugged violently, almost pulling me over. Then she growled and raced away again.

  This time I followed her. It made sense, I told myself. She must have made this crossing many times with her master and she knew the way. I should trust her instincts and follow her. Perhaps if he’d set off recently she’d take me to where the sand guide was waiting.

  I walked fast, heading southeast. The sky was brightening rapidly. If I could cross the sands and reach the mill safely, the salt moat would keep Morwena and her allies out. Not only that, she’d have to go the long way round to reach Arkwright’s mill, which would take her a day at least. By then, with any luck, the Spook and Alice would have arrived. My master would know how best to defeat her.

  When Claw and I reached the river Kent’s channel, it was starting to rain and a thick mist was descending. There seemed plenty of water down there in the gully, but it was impossible to tell how deep it was without testing it with my staff. But Claw seemed to know what she was doing and headed north, parallel with the bank. We followed the channel until it curved, at which point Claw barked, plunged down the slope and swam straight across. It was only about fifteen or sixteen paces to the other side. Holding my bag high, I tested the water with my staff before taking each careful stride. It was cold, but the deepest part came up only to my thighs, and I was soon across.

  Feeling more confident now, I began to jog behind Claw. The wind was getting up, and the rain was starting to drive harder from my left. The sea was somewhere to my right. I could hear waves crashing in the distance, but the visibility was worsening by the minute and I couldn’t see more than a few dozen yards ahead.

  I walked on, but as the sea fog grew thicker, I began to feel more and more isolated. How many miles was it to the second river channel? I consoled myself with the thought that, once across, it wasn’t more than half an hour or so to Hest Bank and safety. We walked and walked and I began to lose all track of time. The wind had been coming from my left but now it seemed to have changed direction, driving rain hard into my back. Or had we changed direction? I couldn’t tell. Wherever I looked, all I could see was a wall of gray mist, but I felt sure the sound of the waves was getting louder. What if we were heading out to sea?

  Were we lost? I’d been afraid of the witch, but in my desperation to escape, had I put too much faith in Claw? Even if she could guide us to the far shore, why had I believed that she could possibly know about the tides? It seemed to me that the tide had already turned, but by now it was too late to retrace my steps. The sea would be sweeping in fast down both channels to cut me off. The water would be too deep for me to wade across, and the current would surely carry me away.

  As I began to lose all hope, I looked at the sand at my feet and saw something that restored my confidence in Claw. There were tracks there: horses’ hooves and two parallel lines recently made by the wheels of a coach. I hadn’t seen the coach set off, but we seemed to have caught up with it. We were following the sand guide! Claw was leading me in the right direction after all.

  But when we reached the next channel, I despaired again. The water in the channel looked deep and the current was strong, water surging from right to left. The tide was coming in fast now.

  Again Claw followed the bank for some way, this time to the right, which worried me because I knew that was probably taking us nearer to the sea. Soon she plunged into the water and swam across. I clambered down the bank as before and waded in. There was less distance to cover this time—maybe only ten paces—but three steps in and the water was up to my waist. Two more and it was almost up to my chest, the fierce current starting to pull me over. I struggled on, my feet sinking into the soft sand at the bottom of the channel as I tried to keep my bag clear of the water.

  Just when the water reached my neck and I thought I would be swept away, I found higher ground. A few more strides brought me out of the water, and I clambered up the bank to safety. But my ordeal wasn’t over yet. The tide was now racing in over the flat sands. The mist had lifted and I could see the shore but it still seemed a long way off. The first incoming wave swept over my boots; the second well over my ankles. Soon Claw was swimming and the water was almost to my waist again. If I had to swim, I would lose my staff and my bag, which contained my silver chain.

  I urged myself on as fast as I could and finally, miraculously, I reached the edge of the bay and collapsed onto the bank above, struggling for breath, my limbs trembling with exhaustion and fear.

  I heard Claw give a warning growl, and I looked up to see a man with a staff standing over me. For a second I thought it was a spook but then realized it was Sam Jennings, the sand guide.

  “You’re a fool, boy!” he growled. “What possessed you to cross so late and without a guide? I brought a coach over well before first light. One of the horses went lame and we barely made it in time ourselves.”

  “I’m sorry!” I said, stumbling to my feet. “But I was being chased. I had no choice.”

  “Sorry? Don’t waste your time apologizing to me. Think of your family who’d be left behind to grieve—your poor mother who’d have lost a son. Who was chasing you?”

  I didn’t reply. I’d said enough already.

  He looked me up and down, glancing warily at my bag and staff. “Even if it were the Devil himself at your heels, you did a reckless thing, boy. Bill told me himself that he’d warned you about the dangers here. He’s crossed the sands with me more times than I can remember. Why didn’t you listen?”

  I said nothing.

  “Anyway, let’s hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he continued. “Look, my cottage isn’t too far yonder. Come and dry yourself off. No doubt my wife could find you some hot food to warm your bones.”

  “Thanks for the offer,” I said, “but I’ve got to get back to the mill.”

  “Off you go, then, boy. But think on.
Remember what I’ve told you. Too many have drowned out on those sands. Don’t you be another!”

  I set off, shivering in my cold, wet clothes. At least I was a day ahead of the witch, and with any luck Alice and the Spook would join me soon. I hadn’t told the guide that Arkwright was dead because it involved too much spook’s business. It seemed to me Arkwright would be missed. For all his faults, he’d done a good job protecting those in the north of the County, and people knew and respected him almost as part of the community.

  I’d just had a dangerous encounter with the sea, but the wetlands of the northern County weren’t finished with me yet. In an attempt to save time, rather than heading directly for the canal and following it toward the mill, I tried a more direct approach from the north. I skirted the Little Mere, heading for the path where I’d first faced Morwena. I thought I was well clear of the bog but I was wrong. One moment I was squelching along quite happily, the next my right boot began to sink into the soft ground.

  The more I struggled, the worse it got, and the soft mud quickly climbed halfway to my knee. I started to panic but then took a deep breath to calm myself. My other foot hadn’t sunk in very far and must be on firmer ground. So, taking my weight on my staff, very slowly I managed to drag my right leg clear. The boot freed itself with a loud sucking sound and I almost overbalanced.

  After that I was much more careful about where I put my feet. It had made me realize just how dangerous the marsh could be. At last I reached the path and pressed on more swiftly toward the mill.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Two Messages

  IT was only as I approached the mill that I remembered the press-gang and how one of them had threatened to kill us. Arkwright had laughed it off at the time but I wasn’t as confident.