The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection

by Joseph Delaney

  “You’re going into the Ord with Grimalkin, who’s a witch assassin, a servant of the dark. And you used the dark wish she gave you to save me. So what’s the difference between doing that and using the blood jar to keep the Fiend at bay?” Alice demanded. “Take the jar. A birthday present from me to you.”

  “Leave it, Alice!” I shouted in annoyance. “It’s hard enough without you saying things like that. Don’t make things worse, please.”

  Alice fell silent. I felt as if I was sinking ever downward. Even Mam was forcing me to compromise with the dark. I knew she had little choice and I had to be part of it—nonetheless, all the Spook’s fears seemed to be well founded.

  CHAPTER XV

  The Approach to the Ord

  WE made our way south, fighting against the human tide of those fleeing the Ord. Refugees were everywhere. Some were on foot, clutching possessions or carrying children; others had loaded what they could onto small carts, which they pulled or pushed by hand. Many kept glancing back and called out warnings, telling us to flee with them; they were desperate and fearful for themselves and their families.

  We walked all morning across that arid landscape under the sickly yellow sky. Dark whirlwinds had been visible on the horizon, moving north and destroying everything in their path, but luckily they hadn’t passed close to us. And now the wind had dropped, the air growing warmer and more oppressive by the minute. I was carrying my staff as well as my bag, which I had retrieved from Mam’s wagon. Mam’s escort rode just behind her, and behind them were the Pendle witches, led by Grimalkin. Bill Arkwright and the Spook walked to the right of Alice and me, the three dogs following in their wake. And far to our rear, at least a couple of hundred yards distant, were the mounted mercenaries.

  Alice and I were both weary and afraid of what was to come, so we hardly exchanged a word. At one point Bill Arkwright came up alongside me.

  “Well, Master Ward, how does this compare to the County? Have you changed your mind yet? Would you like to live here?” he asked.

  “I wish I was back home,” I told him. “I miss the green hills and woods—even the rain!”

  “Aye, I know what you mean. This is a parched land, all right, but from what your mam said I think we’ll be getting some rain soon enough.”

  He was referring to the deluge that would come soon after the appearance of the Ord. “There’s something I’d like to ask you, Master Ward. If anything happens to me, would you take care of the dogs? No doubt Mr. Gregory wouldn’t want them at Chipenden—a boggart and dogs don’t mix too well! But you’d be able to find them a good home somewhere, I’m sure.”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Well, let’s hope it won’t come to that. Let’s hope we’re all safely back home in the County before too long. There’s danger ahead, worse than we’ve ever faced before, I fear. So just in case we don’t meet again, here’s my hand in friendship. . . .”

  Arkwright held out his hand, and I shook it. With a nod and a smile toward Alice, he left my side. I felt sad, it was as if we were saying good-bye forever.

  But there was another good-bye to face, this one from the Spook. Awhile later, he too moved across to walk beside me. As he approached, I noticed Alice fall back to join Grimalkin, who was now behind us.

  “Are you nervous, lad?” my master asked me.

  “Nervous and scared,” I told him. “I keep taking slow, deep breaths, but it doesn’t seem to help much.”

  “Well, it will, lad, it will. So just keep at it, and remember all I’ve tried to teach you. And once we get inside that citadel, stay close to me. Who knows what dangers we’ll find there?”

  He patted me on the shoulder, then moved away again. I wondered if that was because he didn’t like walking too close to Alice. Soon afterward we paused for a short rest, and I wrote down what Seilenos had told me about tappers in my notebook. It helped to calm me down. No matter what danger threatened, I had to keep up with my training.

  When we set off again, I had one more visit—one that both Alice and I could well have done without. Mab and her two hook-nosed sisters approached us.

  “What you been up to, Tom?” Mab asked, looking sideways at me. “That’s no dead girl walking beside you. She should be dead by rights, that Alice Deane. Saw it happen. Saw that witch lamia sucking her blood and tearing her with its teeth. Only something from the dark could have saved her. That’s the only thing I couldn’t have seen coming. What you been up to, Tom? Must have meddled with the dark, I think. That’s the only thing that could’ve done it! What does Mr. Gregory think about that, eh?”

  Alice ran and pushed Mab backward so that she almost overbalanced and fell. “Things are bad enough without having to listen to you talk rubbish. Get you gone! Leave Tom alone!”

  Mab turned to Alice and stretched out her hands in front of her, clearly intending to scratch her face, but I quickly stepped between them. Mab shrugged and backed off.

  “We’ll be on our way,” she said, her mouth twisting into a smile. “Leave you to think over what’s been done and what’s been said. You’re close to the dark now, Tom. Closer than you’ve ever been before.”

  With that Mab and her sisters moved away, leaving me with my thoughts. I continued to walk with Alice, but neither of us spoke. What was there to say? We both knew that I’d been compromised by the dark. I was just glad that the Spook hadn’t overheard what Mab had said.

  Late that morning the weather began to change. The wind got up again, blustering into a gale that screamed about our ears. We journeyed on through the heat, but we were now very uncomfortable.

  Soon Alice pointed directly ahead. “Look at that, Tom. Ain’t ever seen anything like that before!”

  At first I could see nothing; then a menacing shape loomed up on the horizon.

  “What is it? A cliff? Or a black ridge of hills?” I asked.

  Alice shook her head. “It’s a cloud, Tom. And a strange dark one for sure. Ain’t natural, that! Don’t like the look of it one little bit.”

  In normal circumstances such a fearsome cloud would have heralded a violent storm, with a heavy downpour to come. But as we drew nearer, I could see that it was curved at its rim like a great black plate or shield. The wind ceased again, and the temperature began to drop alarmingly; whereas before we’d been scorched by the heat, now we began to shiver with cold and fear. We were suddenly plunged into a twilit world, our faces deep in shadow.

  I looked about me: Alice, Arkwright, and the rest of our company, including the Pendle witches, were walking very slowly, with bowed heads, as if oppressed by the weight of the darkness above us. Only the Spook held his head high.

  Although there was now not a breath of wind, I could see that the ominous and unusual cloud was in turmoil, churning and swirling far above as if some giant was stirring it with a massive stick. Soon I could hear a high, shrill shriek; suddenly, on the distant horizon, I saw a column of orange light.

  “That’s what Mam told us about, Alice,” I exclaimed, pointing ahead. “It’s the pillar of fire. The Ord must be somewhere within it!”

  We were at least three miles away from the fiery column, but I could soon feel its warmth on my forehead despite the drop in temperature around us. We were heading for an immense crimson vortex, a gigantic throbbing artery connecting sky to earth. It looked dramatic and disturbing, and seemed to be thickening and flexing rhythmically; I was afraid that it might suddenly explode outward to engulf us all. Lightning forked up from its base, bifurcations of white and blue like the jagged branches of trees reaching out into the black cloud above.

  Although fixed in the same spot, the column was rotating widdershins, against the clock. Swirling dust formed a mushroom at its base, and at its apex combined with the substance of the swirling cloud. The shrill whine grew to a raucous screech and there was now a sharp smell, at first difficult to name. It bit high into my nostrils and I could taste it on the back of my tongue.

  “It smells like burning flesh!” excl
aimed Alice, sniffing the air. “And sounds like souls screaming in Hell. They’re burning! All burning!”

  Yet, if so, it was the reverse of what my senses told me: this was creation rather than cremation, flesh reborn of fire. If what Mam had told me was correct, the Ordeen and her servants were entering our world in the midst of those flames. It was a fiery portal. The heat upon my face abated somewhat; the fury lessened as the colors shifted across the spectrum, crimson slowly transmuting into bronze.

  “There’s a huge building!” cried Alice, pointing fearfully ahead. “Look! Inside! You can see it inside the flames! That’s the Ord!”

  Alice was right. I could see the vortex slowing and shrinking, but the process was one of definition rather than collapse; now almost transparent, it allowed us to make out the shape of the Ord that lay within, that dark dwelling place of the Ordeen.

  It had three twisted spires of equal height, so tall they almost reached up into the cloud. Behind them, as though protected, was the dome Mam had talked about. And both towers and dome rose from a massive edifice that resembled a great cathedral, though far larger and more magnificent than Priestown’s, the biggest church in the County. And while a cathedral sometimes took decades to build, this seemed to have been formed in a matter of moments.

  The pillar of fire had now disappeared altogether. We moved on, getting closer and closer to the dark mass of the Ord, which rose up before us like some gigantic, terrifying beast. Although the outer darkness increased again, there was a strange new light radiating from inside the Ord. It was now lit from within by a bronze glow that was increasing in power even as I watched. Now, for the first time, I was able to appreciate the detail of the structure. Each twisted spire had long, narrow windows, arched at the top like those of a church. They were open to the air, and through them the inner fires shone more brilliantly.

  “There are horrible things moving inside the windows,” Alice whispered, her face filled with awe and terror. “Things from Hell.”

  “It’s just your imagination, Alice,” I told her. “It’s too far away to see anything properly.”

  But notwithstanding my rebuke, I could see movement at some of those windows, indeterminate shapes that flickered like wraiths against the light. I didn’t like to think what they might be. Then my eyes were drawn to the main entrance—the largest of the cavernous doorways that gave access to the structure. It was high and arched, and although it glowed brightly, deep within it was a darkness so complete that I was suddenly seized by dread of what it concealed. The Ord had come through a portal from the dark, and anything might lurk within it.

  We were nearing it now. The citadel was immense, rearing up before us to block out the darkness of the sky.

  A shouted order rang out from behind us, and we turned to see the warriors come to a halt before changing their formation into two crescents, horns facing the Ord. They looked formidable, with their glittering mail and weapons. They had performed the first of their two tasks well. The maenads had been kept at bay; occasionally, small patrols had peeled off from the main force to drive them away and hunt them down. Now these mercenaries faced an even more dangerous assignment: They were soon to ride straight into the heart of the citadel and fight the dark beings within.

  We walked on. It had been agreed that the mercenaries wouldn’t approach until it was time to attack. I gazed at the citadel, searching along its outer wall, and finally my eyes found the secondary entrance that Mam had described. Above it was a gargoyle skull with huge antler horns. This was where the delegation would enter. If we failed, the Ordeen’s servants would surge out through the main entrance to ravage the area.

  Suddenly I felt the first drops of moisture on my face, drops that quickly became a torrent of warm rain falling through the utterly still air. As it descended, drumming furiously on the hard, dry ground, steam began to rise from the Ord, and the fanciful idea came to me that some invisible blacksmith, having completed his work, was now quenching the heat to temper it for his intended purpose.

  Within moments a dense white mist was rolling toward us and the visibility was reduced to a few feet. Everything became eerily silent. It wasn’t long before Grimalkin loomed out of the mist, along with Seilenos and the other members of Mam’s escort who would make up the thirteen of the delegation.

  Mam turned to me, patting me on the shoulder in reassurance. “It’s time. You’ll need to be brave, son. It won’t be easy. But you have the strength to come through it.”

  “Won’t the maenads have warned the Ordeen that we’re approaching? Won’t they tell her that we have an army of mercenaries with us?”

  Mam shook her head. “No, they can’t contact the Ordeen directly. They simply wait for her arrival and then take advantage of the horror that she brings, feasting on the dead and dying.”

  “But won’t we have been seen anyway? Won’t those already awake within the Ord guess what we intend to do?”

  “Although ours is larger than normal, an armed escort always accompanies the delegation to the Ord, so it’s nothing new. To the watchers inside, these assembled warriors are just flesh and blood waiting to be devoured. They won’t expect the attack we’ve planned.”

  Mam suddenly hugged me tightly. When she let me go, there were tears in her eyes. She tried to speak; her mouth opened, but no words came out.

  Someone moved out of the shadows behind her. My master. He laid a hand on my shoulder and drew me to one side.

  “Well, lad, this is it. I don’t like your mother’s methods and I don’t like the company she keeps, but I do know that she belongs to the light and she’s doing what she’s doing for the good of us all. Whatever you face in there, remember all I’ve taught you, be true to yourself, and don’t forget that you’re the best apprentice I’ve ever had.”

  I thanked him for his kind words, and he shook my hand.

  “Just one other thing,” he said as I turned to go. “I don’t know why your mother is sending that little witch in with you.” He gestured at Alice. “She seems to think the girl will protect you. I truly hope so. But don’t for one moment forget who her parents are. She’s the daughter of a witch and the Devil. She’s not one of us and never can be, no matter how hard she tries. You’ll do well to remember that, lad.”

  His words struck at my heart. But there was nothing I could say in reply, so I merely nodded, picked up my bag and staff, and went over to where Grimalkin was waiting with Alice and the others. She led us into the mist, heading to the Ord.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Fill the Cup!

  AS we walked forward, Grimalkin was on my right, Alice on my left. When I glanced back, the ten selected warriors of Mam’s escort, including Seilenos, were following, dark silhouettes in the dense fog.

  Soon everything became silent but for the squelching of our boots and shoes across the ground. It was still raining—not as heavily now, but the ground was rapidly turning to mud.

  And then, too soon, the walls were suddenly right in front of us, huge wet stones glistening in the rain. It was solid, all right: It was incredible to think that it had passed through that portal of fire into our world. We turned left, following the wall for a little way until we reached the smaller entrance. Grimalkin did not falter as she led us forward under the gargoyle and into the Ord. A tunnel stretched away ahead of us, but she turned into a doorway on the left and we followed her into a hall of such vastness that the center of the high vault above was lost in darkness. The light here was dim. I could see no torches, but there was an even diffusion of low light. Directly before us was a long table covered with a cloth of red silk; upon it lay dishes made of silver and bronze, heaped with fruits and meats. There were thirteen ornate high-backed chairs carved from the whitest ivory and upholstered in rich black silk, and on the table before each chair was a golden goblet, exquisitely wrought and filled to the brim with red wine.

  As the light increased, so the colonnades to our right and left came into view, and I could now see that the floor
between the rows of pillars was a fine mosaic depicting great serpents entwined about one another. I was following those meandering forms across the floor when I stopped in shock.

  In the middle of the floor was a dark pit. For some reason that opening filled me with dread. I began to shake with fear. What did it contain? I wondered.

  We all sat down but, remembering Mam’s instructions, ignored the food and drink on the table. The chairs had been positioned on one side of the table so that we all faced the pit.

  We heard echoing footsteps, distant at first, then getting nearer and nearer. A head slowly rose into view out of the pit, as if lifted by a giant hand. Someone was climbing up the steps within it. A dark figure stepped out onto the mosaic floor, a warrior encased from head to foot in black armor. In his left hand he carried a long blade; in his right, a large crystal chalice.

  He walked toward us with measured steps, and I had a few seconds to study him. There was no vent in that black helmet for either mouth or nose, but two thin horizontal slits were positioned where his eyes should have been. But I could see no eyes—nothing but darkness. His armor was black chain mail, and his boots were both unusual and deadly. Their toes ended in sharp barbed spikes.

  He halted by our table, and when he spoke, fear gripped my heart. The voice that boomed out was cold and arrogant, with a harsh metallic quality.

  “Why do you not eat the food provided to sustain you? Why do you not drink from the wine so freely given?” he demanded reproachfully, his words echoing from ceiling to floor and wall to wall.

  His questions brought us all to our feet, but it was Grimalkin who spoke for the rest of us.

  “For your hospitality we thank you,” she replied, her voice calm and dignified. “But, as yet, we neither hunger nor thirst.”