Before she could reply, the guards came for her. She gave us a nervous smile, then went over to the barrel and crawled inside without a word.
Rap! Tap!
Now the barrel was on its way down. It was a smooth descent with no bumps. Had she survived? Again there was a sound of splintering wood as they pried off the lid.
“Another live one here! This one’s a witch for sure!” shouted Stanton.
As soon as Adriana crawled out of the barrel, she was hauled to her feet and marched away by a further two guards. I noticed that she was limping, but she too had survived the descent. I suddenly felt more optimistic. We could worry about the buggane later.
Alice gave me a little smile as they dragged her away. It seemed that I would be the last to be tested. Alice crawled into the barrel quickly, like Adriana. As soon as they tapped on the lid, she’d wedge herself into position.
This time the descent was rough, the barrel bouncing twice—though at least it didn’t hit a tree. When it reached the bottom, my heart was in my mouth. Had Alice managed to position herself properly? The remaining guard took off the lid, and I waited expectantly for her to emerge. Instead there was a pause before he dragged her out of the barrel.
“Another dead one!” shouted the commander. “Send down the little warlock. Let’s get it over with! I’m ready for my breakfast!”
My throat constricted, and a huge sob built up in my chest. Down below, they were laying Alice’s body out alongside the other two corpses.
CHAPTER VII
Thumb Bones Were Taken
I couldn’t believe she was dead. We’d gone through so much together, survived so many dangers. . . . As my eyes filled with tears, I was seized and pushed to my knees in front of an open barrel.
“In you get, lad. Stop blubbing and make it easier on yourself!”
Blinded by tears, I started to crawl into the barrel, the spikes jabbing painfully into my hands and knees as I did so. No sooner was I in than the lid was clamped on top, plunging me into darkness.
Rap! Tap!
The barrel began to move and, just in time, I used my elbows and knees to brace my body against the inner curve of the wood, somehow managing to find gaps among the murderous spikes. The barrel began to spin faster and faster, the force pressing me harder against the points. There was a jolt, and I was almost shaken onto the barbs. Then I slowed and finally came to a halt. I didn’t move until the lid was forced off, filling the inside of the barrel with light.
A face peered in at me. It was Commander Stanton. “Got another live one here!” he shouted. Then he spoke to me, his voice lower but filled with sneering contempt. “Out you come, you little warlock! It’s the buggane for you.”
I crawled out, the spikes jabbing painfully into my hands and knees. Suddenly I heard a dull thud and a cry of pain. As I got shakily to my feet, Stanton spun away from me, reaching for his sword. He started to draw it, but then there was another thud and he fell to his knees, blood flowing down over his forehead.
“Alice!”
She was standing facing me, holding a rock in her left hand. She’d used it to fell both Stanton and the remaining guard. A mixture of emotions came over me in waves: shock, relief, happiness and then fear again.
I heard shouts from the top of the hill and glanced up to see some of the guards heading toward us.
“Run, Tom!” Alice cried, throwing down the rock and sprinting into the trees.
I followed at her heels. The trees were old and mature to begin with, well spaced with big branches. I glanced back and saw figures less than a hundred yards behind us now. We splashed across a stream and headed toward a denser part of the wood where the saplings hadn’t been trimmed back. Before we entered the thicket, I looked behind again and saw to my satisfaction that our pursuers were no nearer. Now it would be a question of who had the greater endurance—or perhaps we could somehow lose them in the dense wood.
We ran on for five minutes, thin branches snapping as we passed, dead twigs crunching underfoot. We were making a lot of noise, but so were those following us, and they seemed to be falling farther and farther behind.
Suddenly Alice halted and pointed to our left. She dropped to her knees and began to crawl into an even denser thicket. For some time we moved forward on all fours, doing our best to make as little noise as possible. Then we waited, listening out for our yeomen. We heard sounds in the distance, but they grew fainter and fainter and finally faded away altogether.
Alice reached across and took my hand. “Sorry, Tom. Did I give you a scare?”
“I thought you were dead, Alice,” I said, filling up with emotion again. “Don’t know how that guard made such a mistake.”
“Didn’t make a mistake—not really. I stopped my own heart and breath. Easy when you know how. Lizzie used to make me practice it—it’s very useful when talking to spirits. Dangerous, though. Some witches forget to start breathing again and never wake up!”
“I wish I’d known what you intended to do,” I said, squeezing her hand.
“I didn’t know myself until I got into the barrel. No sooner wedged myself in than I thought of that and did it as soon as the barrel came to rest at the foot of the hill. Better than being taken to the buggane, ain’t it? Mind you, we didn’t get off scot-free!”
I smiled. She was right: We were both covered in gashes from the spikes, and there were ragged tears in my shirt and breeches and Alice’s dress.
“We both look like Mouldheels now!” I joked, looking down at Alice’s muddy feet. The Mouldheel witch clan were well known for their bare feet and ragged clothes.
“Well, Tom, you certainly know how to make a girl feel good about herself,” she said sarcastically. My face dropped, but then she gave me a warm smile and squeezed my hand again.
“Poor Adriana,” she went on after a while. “Told us how to survive, but it ain’t done her much good. They’ll feed her to the buggane now for sure.”
We waited for about an hour before leaving our hiding place, then headed southeast, toward the hill where the Spook had waited while we went down into Douglas. We just had to hope that he’d still be there.
We hadn’t been walking long when we heard dogs barking in the distance. “Sounds like tracker dogs!” I said.
The animals seemed to be approaching us from the east. Just when we thought we were safe, the pursuit had begun again. If we were caught, we’d no doubt receive a good beating because of what Alice had done—before being taken to the buggane. We could expect little mercy.
Once again we began to run, but this time the sounds of pursuit drew steadily closer no matter how quickly we sprinted. At one point I glanced back and saw three men in the distance; however, the dogs were gaining fast.
I had no staff, no weapons to fight off the dogs. In minutes they would catch us and we’d feel their teeth for sure. They might do us a lot of damage before their handlers caught up.
It was then that something cut right through my fear and panic and brought me to a breathless halt. Alice turned to look back at me and stopped, too.
“It’s all right, Alice!” I said, struggling to get the words out as I fought for breath. You see, I’d recognized the barks at last. “They’re Bill Arkwright’s dogs!”
Theirs was a distinctive harsh sound, accompanied by the occasional howl. And I was soon proved right. It was Claw and her pups, Blood and Bone. They bounded toward me, and moments later were in competition to lick my face and hands. But who were the three men following them? There should just be one—my master.
I peered at them carefully. One was indeed the Spook, I realized, and he was carrying both our bags and staffs. As they approached, I recognized the second as Captain Baines. He must have found my master and told him about our capture and what we’d faced. But who was the third? He was a young man no older than twenty or so, with fair hair and an open, honest face.
“Well,” said the Spook when they finally reached us, “you certainly led us a merry dance.”<
br />
“We’ve been chased already,” I told him. “We thought it was more of the same lot from Greeba Keep.”
“How did you get away?” asked the captain.
“We were tested in the barrels on Slieau Whallian—we wedged ourselves in and managed to survive in one piece. Then Alice pretended to be dead and knocked the guards out with a rock.”
I couldn’t tell the Spook that she’d used dark magic to stop her heart and breathing, so I left that bit out. He’d already be angry that she’d come with me after he’d forbidden it.
“They’ve rolled you already?” the fair-haired man demanded, speaking for the first time. He looked distraught. “They weren’t supposed to do the next batch until late evening!”
“They did it early—just before dawn, to stop too many people coming to gawp,” I told him.
“Then what happened to the others? Did they escape, too? Was there a girl there called Adriana?” he asked anxiously.
I nodded. “There were six of us in all. Adriana was alive when she reached the bottom and was taken away with another survivor. Two other women died in the barrels.”
“Then I’m too late to save her,” he groaned. “Now they’ll take her to the buggane at Greeba Keep.”
“This is young Simon Sulby,” explained the captain. “He was on his way to try and rescue his lady friend when the dogs sniffed him out and our paths converged, so it seemed wise to proceed in convoy. Sadly, it seems that we’re too late.”
“I’ll head for the keep!” said the young man, his face twisted with desperation. “I’ve got to try and save her—”
“No, that’s madness,” said Captain Baines, seizing him by the arm. “No good setting off alone and half rigged.”
“Aye, I agree with that,” said the Spook. “But in the meantime we could all head toward Greeba. That will give us time to collect our thoughts. I’d also like to tell you all I know about bugganes—it might just help. And here, lad, you can carry these. I’ve lugged them around long enough!”
So saying, the Spook handed me both bags and my staff; then, after Alice had put on her shoes, we set off for Greeba Keep.
The most direct way was to follow the narrow track the cart had used. But to avoid bumping into the yeomen, we took a more roundabout route. The country was hilly, with mountains in the distance. The wooded valleys reminded me of the County. The journey was pleasant but overshadowed by Simon Sulby’s grief; he was near to despair. After all, what hope did he have of rescuing Adriana from those dungeons?
In the early evening we halted for the night in a small wood overlooked by Greeba Mountain. I made the fire, and Alice went off and caught three rabbits and a large hare. While she cooked them, we gathered around the fire and talked over what had happened in more detail.
“So a real County witch came ashore,” said the Spook.
“One or more?”
Captain Baines shrugged. “Who knows? But there were two men dead, and it gave the ruling council just the excuse they needed to authorize the testing.”
“And thumb bones were taken, you say?”
“Aye, and both fishermen were dead and drained of blood. Their throats had been cut.”
“That could suggest two witches,” said the Spook, “a bone witch and a blood witch.”
“Or it could be Lizzie,” said Alice, turning the hare on the spit. “She uses both blood and bone magic. She had a familiar once, too, but it was killed. Maybe she was cut off from Pendle after she escaped from the pit—and headed west toward the coast!”
“It’s a possibility, girl, I’ll grant you that, so we must be on our guard.”
Soon we were tucking into our supper. I shared the hare with Alice, but Simon stared at his rabbit for a long time before pushing it away.
“Eat up, Simon. Try a little bit at least. You need to keep your strength,” advised Captain Baines.
“No,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’ve got to press on toward the keep. Once it’s dark, the buggane will go into the dungeons and Adriana—”
“Sit yourself down,” said the Spook. “She’s in no danger tonight—and perhaps not for several nights to come, either. Trust me, although I’ve never had to deal with one directly, I know as much about bugganes as anybody. No doubt there are still things to be found out, but I know that they concentrate on one victim at a time and usually drain them over several days. How many prisoners have already been taken to the keep?”
“They’ve been testing for almost a week,” Simon answered. “At least seven or eight have been pulled alive from the barrels. A couple may have died of their injuries, though.”
“Are they all County refugees?”
“All but Adriana. But for Lord Barrule’s interest in her she’d be safe at home.”
“Well, that makes my mind up for me,” said the Spook. “We need to help those people. I serve the County and its inhabitants, whether at home or abroad. It’s my duty.”
“So we’re going to try and rescue them from the dungeons?” I asked.
“Maybe we will in time, lad, although at present I can’t see how. No, we’re going to make them safe from the dark in another way. We’re not going to the keep. If the ruined chapel is where the buggane is to be found, that’s where we’re going!”
After supper we sat around the embers of the fire and continued to discuss what we faced. The sun had gone down and the stars were starting to appear overhead. There was no wind and the wood was very quiet. The loudest sound was the panting of the dogs.
“Just how dangerous is a buggane?” Captain Baines asked.
“Well, you might as well all know the worst,” the Spook replied. “And you get your notebook out, lad, and jot down some of what I say. There are a few things that needed adding to my Bestiary, so you don’t know it all. This is all part of your training.”
He waited while I got the bottle of ink, pen, and notebook out of my bag. Then he began.
CHAPTER VIII
Buggane Lore
“A buggane is a demon that usually lurks near a ruin,” the Spook began, “but it can roam quite a distance from this central point.
They’re immune to salt and iron, which makes them hard to deal with—though they’re vulnerable to a silver-alloy blade. You have to thrust it into the heart of the creature when it’s fully materialized. The good news is that we spooks have such a blade.”
By way of demonstration, he reached across for his staff, and pressed the recessed switch so that the blade emerged with a click.
“As my apprentice already knows, they usually confine themselves to two shapes—a black bull and a huge hairy man.”
“What’s the main threat when it’s in the form of a bull?” I asked.
“It bellows loudly, and the sound draws upon the dark energy at its disposal. It often fills its victims with such dread that they’re unable to move. Then it charges, goring and trampling anything in its path.”
The Spook fell silent and seemed deep in thought. After a while I prompted him: “What about the hairy man? They call it the Cruncher here.”
“That’s an apt name for it, lad. The buggane takes on that shape to dig its tunnels. Its sharp claws and teeth can chomp through tree trunks or roots that it finds in its path. I’ve just been searching my memory for any snippets of information. . . . That’s why the burning of my library is such a tremendous loss. There are things that only exist in my head now, and when I die, they’re gone forever.”
“Then you need to write ’em down again, Mr. Gregory. Soon as possible,” Alice told him.
“Aye, you’re right, girl,” the Spook acknowledged. “Just as soon as I get the chance, I’ll do exactly that.” He sighed, then continued staring into space as he pulled the details from his memory. “The buggane does its most deadly work in its invisible, spirit form—”
“It’s worse than just dying!” Simon interrupted, his voice full of emotion as he thought of the fate that awaited Adriana. “The buggane sucks the victim’
s soul right out of its body!”
The Spook shook his head. “No, that’s not so—even though it’s what most people believe. The soul survives and moves on. What the buggane sucks out is the animus, or life force, which is quite a different thing. It feeds on the energy that gives a body and mind strength; it consumes its vitality so that it dies. It’s just that the mind dies first, and that’s why the person seems to be just an empty vessel.
“There are mages known as shamans who practice the same sort of magic, which we call animism. A buggane may gain strength from an alliance with a shaman; in return for human sacrifices, it will destroy an enemy or share its store of animus with the mage.
“And that’s what I fear most—that we may not just be dealing with a buggane alone. There may be a dark shaman involved. Let’s face it, in supposedly dealing with the dark—testing and killing falsely accused witches—the dark itself is being used: not only the buggane, but also an abhuman. So tell me, Simon, when did all this start?”
“Well over twenty-five years ago, before I was born, a witch landed on our western shore in company with that abhuman. Turned out it was her son. She was fed to the buggane and he was imprisoned and used to hunt down other witches. Potential witches have always been tested using spiked barrels, but the guilty were formerly burned at the stake. They’ve always picked on foreigners—immigrants who’ve come ashore and tried to make this their home. Adriana is one of the first to be accused from among our own people.”
At that point Simon’s voice failed him, and he choked back a sob. The Spook waited patiently for him to regain his composure before questioning him further.
“I know this is hard, Simon, but anything you can tell me will give us a chance of dealing successfully with what we face. You say ‘they,’ but who’s behind it all? Who’s in charge of what goes on?”
“The head of the ruling council is Lord Barrule of Greeba Keep, the one who condemned Adriana. It was his decision to let the abhuman live and use him to search for witches. He also said that nothing could be done about the buggane; however, feeding it witches, rather than burning them, would keep it quiet, and our own folk safer.”
The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection Page 138