“What does it use the animus for?”
“Well, we know that for a shaman they’re a source of magical power, giving him control over animals and allowing him to project his spirit far from his body. But as for the buggane, nobody’s ever had a real conversation with such a creature. It whispers, it threatens, then it sucks out the animus and kills its victim, but we don’t know why. The shaman, Lord Barrule, would know more, but he’s dead now. . . .
“Well, lad,” my master went on, “you asked me what this place is, and I’ll tell you. It’s something I didn’t think I’d live to see. Something I’ve only heard tell of. It’s known as the Grim Cache after its creator, and it’s the largest source of animism in the world. It was first accumulated by a shaman called Lucius Grim, many centuries ago. It’s said that he was able to project his spirit into the dark itself, but eventually his soul was consumed by a demon. This is his legacy, no doubt added to by other shamans since—the latest being Lord Barrule. Anyway, let’s move on, but keep close to the cavern wall. Who knows? We might find another way out.”
The Spook led the way, the dogs following behind, still subdued. Underneath our feet, soft mud gave way to rock. It wasn’t long before Alice gasped in astonishment—she had noticed something ahead. “Something up there,” she said. “I can see lights moving. Don’t like the look of ’em.”
We looked up to where she was pointing. Tiny points of yellow light like distant stars were combining to form intricate patterns, moving more like a school of fish than a flock of birds. I tried to count them; it was difficult, but I thought there were seven. Suddenly, one detached itself from the rest and floated down toward us. As it approached, I saw that it was a glowing sphere.
“Fire elementals!” cried Alice. “Just like the ones we saw in Greece.”
We’d faced different types of fire elementals there, ranging from fiery orbs to asteri, which looked like five-pointed stars. They were all deadly and could burn you to cinders in moments. They’d certainly done in Bill Arkwright.
However, the Spook shook his head. “Nay, girl, whatever they are, they won’t be fire elementals. It’s too damp in this cavern. In fact, this whole island has a wet climate very similar to the County. It’s no place for entities like that. They couldn’t survive here.”
As if to prove him right, rather than attacking us, the glowing orb backed away, drifting upward, and once more became a distant point of light, having rejoined its companions in their strange dance. It was as if it had taken a close look at us and decided we were of no interest.
It was then that the Spook first noticed that Alice was carrying a book. “Where did you get that, girl?” he demanded with a frown. “Did it belong to the shaman?”
Alice nodded. “It’s his notebook. Brought it so that Lizzie wouldn’t get her hands on it and learn new things about the dark. Best that we have it, don’t you think?”
My master looked unconvinced but said nothing, and we continued to follow the curved wall of the cavern. Once again it was Alice who brought us to a halt. She sniffed loudly, three times. “There’s something ahead and coming this way,” she warned. “Something from the dark. . . .”
No sooner had she said that than all three dogs began to growl; they had sensed the danger too. We held our lanterns aloft and saw a figure approaching us.
“It’s the abhuman,” Alice said as he moved into the arcs of light.
She was right. Horn was alone. The two holes in his ears where they’d attached the chains still appeared inflamed, and his blind, milky white eyeballs moved as if he were assessing each one of us in turn.
The union between the Fiend and a witch could produce a wide range of different offspring. Grimalkin, the witch assassin, had once given birth to a perfectly human baby boy; the Fiend had killed it on the spot for just that reason. Then there was Alice, born fully human but with the potential to become a powerful witch. Here, at the other end of the scale, was this demonic figure, a horned beast like the father who’d sired him.
The Spook readied his staff and approached the creature.
The abhuman hissed at him through his teeth, then spoke in a harsh voice. “Follow me,” he rasped.
“And why should we do that?” demanded my master, raising his staff threateningly.
“Follow me,” Horn repeated. He turned and headed into the darkness.
I didn’t like the idea of leaving the relative safety of the rock wall. I had a bad feeling about venturing out into the vastness of the cavern: You could get lost, or just be swallowed up by the darkness.
“Wait!” cried the Spook, no doubt thinking the same thing. “You need to give us a good reason to follow you—otherwise we stay here!”
The abhuman turned back to face us, and his face twisted in anger, the glare of a feral beast rather than a human being. “You must follow. You have no choice.”
“There’s always a choice to be made,” said the Spook. “Aye, there’s always that. Suppose we choose to stay here—”
“Then you will stay here in this cavern until you die. There is no escape from here unless I wish it. Now that my master is dead, I control the buggane. Despite all the efforts of the witch, it still does as I command—at least for the moment.”
“He could be lying,” Adriana said, lowering her voice. “It’s safer to stay here.”
“Not if all the entrances and exits are made by the buggane,” I replied.
“And I suspect that’s exactly what we’ll find,” said the Spook. “I fear that the wisest option for now is to do as he asks.”
So we reluctantly followed the abhuman into the cavern. Soon the walls were far behind us and we continued in the pool of yellow light cast by our lanterns, beyond which nothing seemed to exist. Darkness extended in every direction. Our footsteps echoed in the silence, and I grew increasingly nervous.
The situation soon became even worse. Our lanterns all began to dim until, after a few moments, they gave off only the faintest of glows. This had to be the work of dark magic, and the Spook held up his hand, motioning us to halt. No sooner had we done so than the lanterns went out completely, plunging us into absolute darkness.
Was it a trick? I wondered fearfully. Had Horn lured us out here to our deaths?
CHAPTER XX
Immense Power
I stood there, preparing myself for some sort of attack at any moment, but nothing happened.
“Keep moving forward,” Horn commanded from up ahead in the darkness. “We are almost there.”
We shuffled along very slowly; it was so dark that I couldn’t even see the Spook in front of me. But for the sound of his boots on rock, he could have vanished. Then I saw a faint glow.
As we got nearer, the luminosity grew, not in intensity, but in size. It reminded me of the glowing sphere that had descended from the cavern roof to take a look at us. But while that had been small and yellow, this was red and immense. Neither was it a true sphere; it flexed and shifted its shape, as if under pressure from invisible internal or external forces.
From a distance it had appeared to have a definite outline, but as we approached, we saw that it was more like a mist in a forest dell, diffuse on its perimeter but far denser within. Already the abhuman was walking into it and becoming more indistinct. We followed—on my part, with increasing reluctance. I wondered if everybody else felt the same. The skin on my hands and face was tingling, my sense of danger increasing with every step I took. Then the abhuman came to a halt and turned to face us—just a horned silhouette against the radiance.
“This is indeed the cache of Lucius Grim. I was right,” said the Spook.
“It presents no danger to you,” Horn told him. “At least, not in itself. It’s the place where the buggane stores the life force that it steals from the living. It’s energy, that’s all—a vast store of animus reaped over centuries.”
“Think of the hundreds of people it’s murdered.” The Spook shook his head in disgust.
“Not just hundreds�
��thousands upon thousands,” said the abhuman. “Other bugganes have added to the cache; the process has gone on for centuries. This cavern is now a great source of energy and a meeting place for all those who are skilled in animism magic—not only shamans in spirit form, but Romanian witches. At present a coven of seven have temporarily projected their spirits from their distant homeland. They saw you enter the cavern and warned me of your whereabouts.”
The seven lights were now dancing high above our heads—they must be the witches’ spirits, I realized. I remembered reading an entry about such things in the Spook’s Bestiary. They were dangerous; a group like that could suck the life force from a human victim in minutes.
“Come on then! Out with it,” demanded the Spook, an edge of impatience in his voice. “What do you want?”
“Revenge,” said the abhuman, his cruel face contorting in anger. “I want revenge upon the witch who killed my master, Lord Barrule. I want her destroyed!”
“Aye, we’d also like to put an end to her,” said the Spook. “But have you brought us here just to tell us that? If so, it would have been better to let us go on our way.”
“I needed to show you this—and to give you vital information,” Horn went on. “Information that might help you to stop her in her tracks before she rules this whole island. You see, without realizing it, the witch is using my master’s thumb bones as a conduit and drawing on the power stored here. And it will get worse, much worse. I’m using that same power and trying to resist her. But she is stronger than me, far stronger, and will soon have the buggane in her power. Then this vast reservoir will be at her disposal!
“At the moment she knows nothing of this cache, but once she has made the buggane her creature, she will quickly learn the truth. Then she’ll realize what she’s capable of. And she won’t stop here. Eventually nations beyond our shores will be at risk.
“My master was obsessed by gambling and never bothered to harvest more than a fraction of the magic that is available here. The witch is sure to seize it all and use it against those who cross her. You must act quickly before it’s too late!”
The Spook nodded. “We need to get those bones away from her—though that’s easier said than done. How long can you resist her? Just how long can you keep her away from the buggane?”
“It’s impossible to say. All I know is that it’s getting harder with each day that passes,” Horn replied. “There’s no time to waste. I’ll show you a tunnel that will take you up to the forest above. You needn’t face the witch’s bone yard.”
As the abhuman led us across the darkness of the cavern, our lanterns flared back to their full brilliance. He guided us to a freshly dug tunnel before retreating back into the gloom. It went up at a steep angle, and it was indeed clear; within minutes we had emerged among the trees. It was still dark, but the sky was growing lighter on the eastern horizon and we could see Greeba Keep in the distance, lanterns gleaming on its battlements. The guard would be on full alert.
“That tower’s too close for comfort,” said the Spook. “The more distance we can put between it and us, the happier I’ll be.”
“Nowhere’s safe now,” Adriana said. “I’m heading home to Peel—I need to see to my mother. The shock of Father’s death may have been too much for her. You’re welcome to join me.”
“We’re strangers to this island, so we’ll be glad to accept your invitation,” said the Spook, “but first we’d better retrieve our bags.”
They were still where we’d left them. I took the shaman’s notebook from Alice and put it in my bag, which I then picked up, along with my master’s, and we set off west, this time with Adriana leading the way. After a while Alice moved up to walk alongside her and they began to chat.
It was a miserable misty morning, with cold drizzle drifting into our faces out of a gray sky. Our progress was slow because we avoided the main lanes and tracks and cut through woods and along dripping hedgerows. I was soon ready for something to eat and a bit of warmth and shelter.
“Where is Romania?” I asked, picking up my pace to walk with the Spook.
“It’s a forested land to the northwest of your mam’s homeland, Greece, lad. Why? Are you thinking about those seven witches?”
I nodded. “They came a long way to visit the cavern,” I said.
“True, lad, but they didn’t come in person or we’d really have been in trouble. What we saw was their spirits projected from their bodies by the power of animism, drawn there by that cache. They were cooperating with that abhuman, so they didn’t pose a threat. But we have a big task on our hands. Even if we deal with Lizzie and the buggane, leaving all that stored power there is dangerous. Some other denizens of the dark might find and use it for their own ends.”
“So why hasn’t it happened before?”
“Maybe it has, lad, but it takes a lot of skill to control such a cache. Even Lucius Grim didn’t properly understand its power—and that ultimately led to his own destruction. Luckily Lord Barrule was too distracted by his gambling to fully benefit from that resource. However, in time someone with great dark strength is bound to make use of it. There are other bugganes on this island who might add to it; like boggarts, they can use ley lines to travel from place to place. Aye, we have to be wary of that. A big task awaits us.”
We arrived at Peel Mill early in the afternoon. As we emerged from the woods, we saw ahead of us the huge wheel, slowly turning under the force of the water streaming across a long multiarched aqueduct. But we soon discovered that no flour was being ground. On hearing of Patrick Lonan’s death, as a mark of respect, the mill workers had gone home.
The miller’s large house flanked the wheel; we were made very welcome there. After first attending to her mother, Adriana ordered the servants to prepare baths, hot meals, and beds for us all. Her poor father might be dead, but she insisted on business as usual, sending word to the workers to report for duty the following morning.
The abhuman had urged us to attack Lizzie quickly, but we stayed at the mill for two days, resting and gathering our strength, wondering how best to proceed. The Spook was very quiet, and it seemed to me that he had very little hope to offer us.
How could we win now? Lizzie was in control of Greeba Keep, and I saw no reason why the whole island should not soon be hers. And if she learned of the full power at her disposal . . . well, that didn’t bear thinking about.
However, we knew we couldn’t stay at the mill for long. It would be an obvious place to search. Before long the bone witch would send her yeomen after us.
On the morning of our third day there, I awoke at dawn and went for a walk with Alice. It was a bright, cold morning with a light ground frost. Alice seemed very quiet, and I sensed that she was troubled.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her. “I can tell something’s bothering you. Is it Lizzie?”
“Lizzie’s bothering all of us.”
I said nothing for a while, and we walked in silence. But then I decided to question her further. “Lizzie’s your mother, Alice—and everyone wants her dead. That must upset you. Tell me—don’t just keep it to yourself.”
“Hate her, I do. She’s no mother of mine. A murderer, that’s what Lizzie is. She kills children and takes their bones. I’ll be glad when she’s dead.”
“That night I fought her, when you were in the cage, I had her at my mercy. But I couldn’t kill her. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t bring myself to do it in cold blood; it was also because she was your mother. It just didn’t seem right, Alice.”
“You listen to me, Tom. Listen well to what I say. Next time you get the chance, kill her. Don’t hesitate. If you’d killed her that night, you’d have saved everyone a lot of trouble!”
But no sooner had she said that than Alice started to sob uncontrollably. I put my arms around her, and she buried her face in my shoulder. She cried for a long time, but when she was quiet, I squeezed her hand and led her back toward the house.
As we emerged from the trees,
I saw Adriana throwing crumbs to a small flock of birds near the front door. When she spotted us, she clapped her hands, and the birds immediately took flight, most of them landing on the roof. She came across the frosted grass to meet us.
Her face was grave. Her mother was still suffering from the effects of her encounter with Bony Lizzie, and there was still no news of the whereabouts of Simon Sulby; both he and Captain Baines seemed to have disappeared without a trace.
“How’s your mother today?” I asked.
“She seems a little stronger,” Adriana replied. “After a little persuasion, she managed to sip a few mouthfuls of broth this morning. But she’s still confused and doesn’t seem to know she’s back home. Mercifully, she’s forgotten what happened to my father. I dread having to break the news to her. . . .
“And I’m afraid I have some bad news for us all,” she continued with a frown. “I suppose it’s only what we’ve been expecting since we arrived. One of our millers was riding to work across the fields this morning, and he spied a large party of yeomen assembling on the road northwest of St. John’s. It looked like they were preparing to march in this direction. If so, they could be here soon.”
CHAPTER XXI
Prepared to Fight
“WE need to go into hiding,” Alice said. “Or maybe head south down the coast.”
“Yes, you should, but I won’t be able to go with you,” Adriana said. “My mother’s too ill to move. I’ll have to stay here.”
“Let’s see what Mr. Gregory thinks,” I suggested, and we headed back to the house. But before we reached it, Alice spotted a runner—a yeoman—in the distance. At that moment the Spook came out of the house to join us; he must have seen the man from a window. He stood beside us, holding his staff diagonally in a defensive position.
The yeoman approached us but seemed unarmed. He stood there for a few moments, head bowed and hands on his hips, gasping for breath. Then he reached into his pocket and held out an envelope. “It’s for a Tom Ward,” he said.
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