“Well, he won’t be your apprentice while he’s here with us, old man. We’ve no call for those of your trade and have our own ways of dealing with witches. Once sorted, those chosen will all work on the land. It’s food we need, not your hocus-pocus.”
“Sorted?” asked the Spook. “Explain what you mean by that!”
“We didn’t ask you to come here,” growled the yeoman, lifting his club again. “The lad’s young and strong, and will certainly be put to work. But some go back into the sea—and we might have different remedies for others. . . .” His gaze fell on Alice.
I didn’t like the sound of that, so I stepped forward to stand beside my master.
“What do you mean by ‘back into the sea’?” I demanded.
The Spook rested his hand on my shoulder. “Take it easy, lad. I think we both know what he means.”
“Aye—those who can’t work are food for the fishes. Old men like you. And as for witches,” the yeoman said, scowling at Alice, “you’re not the first to have tried to sneak ashore this past week. You’ll all get what’s coming to you. We have our own way of dealing with your kind!”
“I think we’ve heard enough,” said the Spook, rain dripping off the end of his nose. He lifted his staff and held it across his body in the defensive position. The man gave a mirthless grin and stepped forward aggressively.
Everything happened very fast then. The stranger swung his club at my master’s head, but it didn’t make contact. The “old man” was no longer there. The Spook stepped to one side and delivered two rapid blows. The first cracked his assailant on the wrist, to send the club spinning from his hand and a cry of pain bursting from his lips. The second thwacked him hard on the side of the head, to drop him unconscious at our feet.
“Not exactly the best of starts, lad!” said my master, shaking his head.
I looked back. The four fishermen had come out of their shelter and were staring at us. The Spook followed my gaze, then pointed up the hill. “Best we put some distance between ourselves and the shore,” he said immediately, striding out at a furious pace that had Alice and me struggling to keep up.
CHAPTER IV
Rats with Wings
WE climbed up through the trees, the Spook some distance ahead.
For the next half hour or so, my master did his best to take a route that would throw any trackers, even hounds, off our trail. We walked up to our knees in two different streams, once leaving by a different bank, the next time by the same. When he was finally satisfied, the Spook led us northward at a slower pace.
“We’d have been better off taking our chances in the County,” Alice remarked. “Don’t care how many streams we cross, they’ll hunt us down now for sure. Soon find us on an island this size.”
“I don’t think Mona’s that small, Alice. There’ll be plenty of places to hide,” I told her. I hoped I was right.
The Spook had reached the summit of a hill and was staring off into the distance.
“Think they’ll make a serious effort to find us?” I asked him, catching up at last.
“Could do, lad. I reckon our friend back there will wake up with a bit of a headache—he certainly won’t come after us alone. Those fishermen didn’t chase after us, so he’ll need to find himself some proper help and that’ll take time. Did you see that symbol and sign on his shoulder?”
“Three armored legs in a circle,” I replied.
“And the Latin underneath means . . . ?” my master asked.
“Wherever you throw me I’ll stand?”
“Aye, that’s near enough. It suggests self-reliance, lad. They’re a tough, resilient people, and we’ve clearly come to the wrong place. That said, I reckon we’ve shaken ’em off our trail now. Besides,” he continued, pointing down the hill, “they’ve got more than just us to worry about!”
Far below I could see a large town and a harbor full of boats of all sizes. Beyond that lay a wide half-moon bay with a scattering of larger vessels, some of them a good distance from the land. Smaller boats were ferrying people to the shore. A huge flock of seagulls circled over the harbor, making a racket that we could hear up on the hill.
“That’s Douglas, the largest town on the island. More people seeking refuge like ourselves,” said the Spook. “Some of those ships will be sailing away again soon, but most probably not back to the County. I might just have enough money to get us a passage farther west, to Ireland. We should receive a warmer welcome there. It certainly couldn’t be any worse.”
“But will they let us leave?” I asked.
“Best if we go without ’em noticing, lad. We’ll wait until nightfall, then you go down into the town. Most sailors like a drink or two—you’ll find them in the waterfront taverns. With a bit of luck you’ll be able to hire someone with a small boat.”
“I’ll go with Tom,” Alice said quickly, “and keep my eyes peeled for danger—”
“No, girl, you stay with me and the dogs. The lad will be better off alone this time.”
“Why can’t Alice come with me? Two pairs of eyes are better than one,” I suggested.
The Spook glared at us in turn. “Are you two bound by an invisible chain?” he asked, shaking his head. “You’ve hardly been apart lately. No, I’ve made up my mind. The girl stays here!”
Alice glanced at me, and I saw fear flicker in her eyes as she thought of the blood jar, the only thing keeping the Fiend at bay. Inside that jar were six drops of blood: three of hers and three of mine. Alice was safe, too—as long as she stayed close to me. But if I went down into the town alone, there was nothing to stop the Fiend from taking his revenge upon her. So I knew that, although she didn’t argue now, she’d disobey the Spook and follow me.
I set off down the hill soon after dark, leaving my cloak, bag, and staff behind. It seemed that the islanders didn’t welcome spooks—or their apprentices. By now they could be searching for us in the town. The clouds had blown away, and it was a clear, starry night with a pale half-moon high in the sky. Once I’d walked a hundred yards or so, I stopped and waited. It wasn’t long before Alice was by my side.
“Did Mr. Gregory try to stop you?” I asked.
Alice shook her head. “Told him I was off hunting for rabbits, but he shook his head and glanced down at my feet, so I know he didn’t believe me.”
I saw that her feet were bare.
“I sneaked my shoes into your bag, Tom. Less chance of anyone thinking I’m a witch that way.”
We set off down the hill and soon emerged from the trees onto a grassy slope made slippery by the recent rain. Alice wasn’t used to going barefoot and slipped onto her bottom twice before we reached the first of the cottages and found a gritted track.
Ten minutes later we were in the town, making our way through the narrow cobbled streets toward the harbor. Douglas thronged with sailors, but there were a few women about too, some of them barefoot like Alice—so apart from being the prettiest by far, she didn’t stand out in any way.
There were almost as many seagulls as people, and they seemed aggressive and fearless, swooping down toward people’s heads. I saw one snatch a slice of bread from a man’s hand just as he was about to take a bite.
“Horrible birds, those,” said Alice. “Rats with wings, they are.”
After a while we came to a broad, busy thoroughfare in which every fifth house seemed to be an inn. I glanced through the window of the first tavern. It looked full, but I didn’t realize how full until I opened the door. Warm air and a strong odor of ale wafted over me; the loud, boisterous crowd of drinkers inside were standing shoulder to shoulder. I saw that I would have had to push my way in forcefully, so I turned, shook my head at Alice, and led the way down the street.
All the other inns we passed looked equally busy, but then I glanced down a side street that sloped away toward the harbor and saw what looked like another tavern. When I opened the door, it was almost deserted, with just a few men sitting on stools at the bar. I was about to step inside
when the proprietor shook his fist at me and Alice.
“Be off with you! We don’t allow riffraff in here!” he shouted.
I didn’t need telling twice—the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. I was just about to head back toward the main thoroughfare when Alice pointed in the opposite direction.
“Try there, Tom. Looks like another tavern farther down. . . .”
She was soon proved right. It was at the end of the narrow street, on the corner, the main door facing the harbor. Like the last tavern, it was almost empty, with just a few people standing at the bar clutching tankards of ale. The proprietor looked across at me with interest rather than hostility, and that curiosity quickly decided me—it was better to get out.
But just as I turned to go, a voice called my name.
“Well, if it isn’t Tom Ward!” And a large red-faced man with side whiskers strode toward me.
It was Captain Baines of the Celeste, the ship that Mam had chartered for our voyage to Greece the previous summer. He operated out of Sunderland Point. No doubt he’d sailed here with a hold full of those fleeing the invaders.
“It’s good to see you, lad. The girl, too!” he said, looking at Alice, who was standing in the open doorway. “Come across and warm yourselves by the fire.”
The captain wore a long, dark waterproof coat with a thick gray woolen sweater underneath; sailors certainly knew how to dress for cold weather. He led the way back to a bare wooden table in the corner, and we sat down on stools facing him.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
I nodded. I was starving. Apart from a few mouthfuls of cheese, the last thing we’d eaten had been the rabbits that Alice had cooked the previous night.
“Landlord, bring us two steak-and-ale pies, and make them piping hot!” he called out toward the bar, then turned back to face us. “Who brought you across the water?” he asked, lowering his voice.
“We came in a small fishing boat. We were dropped south of Douglas but ran into trouble right away. We were lucky to escape. A man with a club tried to arrest us, but Mr. Gregory knocked him out.”
“Where’s your master now?”
“He’s up on the hillside south of the town. He sent me down to see if I could hire a boat to take us farther west, to Ireland.”
“You’ve little chance of that, young Tom. My own ship, the Celeste, is impounded and has armed guards on board. As for the people I brought here, they’re all in custody. Same with the refugees from the other ships. You can’t really blame the islanders, though. The last thing they want is for the invaders to come here. They’re scared of witches fleeing the County, too—and with good reason. A small fishing boat came ashore to the north. Both crew members were dead—they’d been drained of blood and their thumb bones cut away.”
At that Alice gave a little gasp. I knew what she was thinking. The Pendle witches would no doubt stay put and wait to see what happened. But this could well be the work of another witch—some would have fled the County—and what if it was Alice’s mother?
What if Bony Lizzie was at large on the island?
CHAPTER V
The Abhuman
WE both tucked into our hot steak-and-ale pies while the captain told us what he knew. It seemed that almost all the refugees were being returned to the County. The leaders of the island’s ruling council were afraid that if they weren’t, Mona would be the next place to come under attack.
“That’s why the Celeste is impounded. Soon I’ll be sailing back to Sunderland Point, returning those who fled to the tender mercies of the enemy. There’ll still be armed guards on board to make sure that I do just that. The only ones who’ll stay here are the witches they find—not that I was carrying any. Mind you, some who aren’t really witches will be tested and found guilty. No doubt innocents will suffer.”
He was referring to what the Spook called the “falsely accused.” He was right. No doubt at least one real witch had reached Mona, but many other innocent women would be forced to pay a terrible price for what she’d done.
“My advice would be to head inland, then toward the southwestern coast. There’s a fishing town, Port Erin, and lots of small villages farther south on that peninsula. Refugees aren’t likely to put ashore there, so there’ll be fewer people watching out for them. You might get yourselves a passage to Ireland from there.”
“Sounds like good advice to me, Tom,” Alice said with a smile.
I smiled back, but then the expression on her face changed to one of fear and horror. She was staring at the door, as if sensing danger.
Suddenly it burst open and half a dozen large men brandishing clubs surged in. They wore leather jerkins with the three-legged insignia—yeomen. A tall man with a dark mustache, carrying a sword at his hip—clearly their leader—followed them inside. They all halted near the door, their eyes sweeping the room, looking at the occupants of each table as well as those standing at the bar. It was then that I noticed they had a prisoner.
He also wore a leather jerkin with the badge. It accentuated his bulk; he was tall and very thickset. Why would they hold one of their own captive? I wondered. What had he done wrong? Then I saw that the man was bound, but in a strange, cruel way. A length of fine silver chain ran from each ear to the hands of the two guards who flanked him. His ears had been pierced very close to his head, and the holes through which the chains passed were red and inflamed.
The prisoner sniffed loudly three times and spoke, his voice as harsh as a file rasping against metal. “I smell woman! There’s a woman here, Commander Stanton,” he said, turning toward the tall man with the mustache.
The guards all stared at Alice. She was the only female in the room.
The prisoner started to approach our table, the two flanking guards keeping pace, with Stanton farther to one side. As he did so, I noticed two things simultaneously. The first was that he was blind, his eyeballs milky white; the second sent a tremor of fear down my spine, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
He had dark, curly, matted hair—more like the hide of an animal than human hair. Through it, very high on his forehead, protruded two very short curved horns. They were white, and each came to a sharp point. This wasn’t a man; it was an abhuman, the result of a union between the Fiend and a witch.
“This is no woman!” laughed Stanton. “It’s just a scrawny girl with dirty feet. Try again!”
This time the abhuman didn’t sniff; he just peered at Alice as though his blind eyes could actually see her. A puzzled expression creased his face.
“Well, come on,” the commander demanded in an impatient voice. “Is the girl a witch or not?”
“She has darkness inside her!” cried the abhuman. “Dark power!”
“Well, that’s all we need to know! Seize her, lads!” he cried, and two men stepped forward and dragged Alice off her stool. She didn’t try to struggle—her eyes were wide and filled with fear.
I knew just one thing—wherever they took Alice, I had to go too. If she was separated from the blood jar, the Fiend would take his revenge on her. However, as it turned out, I didn’t need to do anything.
“Check the other two!” Stanton commanded. “They were talking to a witch. Could be they’re in league together. Maybe one of them’s a warlock.”
The abhuman looked at Captain Baines next. “No darkness here,” he growled.
“What about the boy, then?”
Now it was my turn, but after studying me with his blind eyes, the creature looked even more puzzled. His mouth opened twice to reveal two rows of sharp yellow teeth, but no words came out.
“We haven’t got all day. What’s the problem?”
“A sliver of darkness is buried deep within his soul. A very small piece . . .”
“It’s enough! Bring him along!” snapped Stanton. “It’s a long time since we tested a male witch. They’re very rare.”
I just had time to glance back at Captain Baines’s anxious face before I was seized to
o, and moments later my hands were tied behind my back and I was outside the tavern with Alice, being dragged by rough hands up the hill toward the main thoroughfare.
After a forced march through the busy streets, during which we were jostled, jeered, and spat on, we arrived at last at the outskirts of the town and were pushed aboard a dray cart pulled by four sturdy shire horses. The driver cracked his whip and we set off along a track; having glanced up at the stars and noted the position of the Plow constellation, I judged it was taking us roughly northwest. Alice and I weren’t alone in the cart. We were guarded by three thickset men with clubs who looked more than willing to use them. Our hands were still tied, and there wasn’t the slightest chance of escape.
The men didn’t speak at first and seemed content to stare at us. We both lowered our eyes, not wanting to give them any excuse for violence, and kept quiet, but after a little less than an hour, I judged, one of them nudged me with his club.
“See that, boy?” he said, pointing to his right.
In the distance, lit by the moon, was some sort of fortification. I could see a tower surrounded by castellated walls, with a mountain beyond it.
“That’s Greeba Keep,” he continued. “You might just live to see it again!”
The other yeomen laughed. “But once in there you’ll wish you’d died! It’s the lucky ones who are pulled out dead!” said one.
I didn’t bother to ask him what he meant and remained silent until the cart finally came to a halt. We seemed to have reached a village. It was surrounded by trees, and hills rose up on either side. We were pulled down from the cart and taken past a large, curious mound of earth. It was shaped like a barrow but had four tiers. I’d never seen anything quite like it. Beyond stood another stone tower—this one much smaller than the first. I wondered if it was for holding prisoners, and was soon proved correct.
We were dragged up some steps to a door about halfway up the tower, and after our hands had been untied we were thrust inside. The door clanged behind us, a key turned in the lock, and the guards went back down the stairs, their footsteps echoing off the stones.
The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection Page 136