Not then.
They began just as the brooding shape of Pendle loomed up out of the murky predawn light.
It started with a disturbance to my vision. Tiny flashes of light appeared at the corners of my eyes. I had never experienced anything like it before, and at first I paid little heed. But gradually the flashes grew worse. I then became breathless, and my heart rate increased. I tried to ignore these symptoms—along with the sack, which seemed to be growing heavier with every stride. Then my legs started to feel unsteady.
Suddenly I was on my knees as a wave of nausea shook me. I vomited my supper onto the grass and crouched there, retching and gasping for air. After a few minutes my breathing returned to something approaching normal, and I struggled to my feet. But when I tried to run, my legs felt like lead and I could only stagger forward a few steps at a time.
Within minutes my condition began to deteriorate further. Each ragged breath that I sucked desperately into my lungs brought a sharp pain. But I couldn’t afford to stop. I imagined the kretch picking up its pace and loping after me. Even if my progress was slow, every painful step would take me nearer to Pendle. Physically, I was exceptionally strong and resilient. My self-belief remained strong: I was sure that I could fight off the effects of the poison.
The mirror moved. I took it out and gazed upon the face of Agnes Sowerbutts once more. Her expression was grim, and she shook her head slowly.
The poison is slow acting but deadly, she mouthed. Without help, you will probably soon be dead. But I cannot tell what will befall you. As I scryed, the mirror went dark.
There was still room for hope, I thought. A darkening mirror merely meant that things were uncertain.
“Could you help me?” I asked.
I’m an old woman and can’t travel to meet you. But if you come here, I’ll do my very best to help.
Agnes was a powerful healer. If I could only reach her cottage . . .
I thanked her, then returned the mirror to its sheath. My whole body was shaking now. I tried to deny it but could not escape the truth. I knew I didn’t have the strength to reach the outskirts of the Deane village alone.
I had always been self-sufficient; mostly I had walked alone. Pride now reared its head up before me, a barrier between me and the help that I needed. Who could I ask anyway? Who could I trust? Above all, I needed someone to carry the Fiend’s head and keep it out of the hands of the kretch.
I had no true friends among the clans, but there were those I had helped or formed temporary alliances with—witches such as Alice Deane. Unfortunately Alice was too far away to help. She was back at Chipenden with John Gregory and Tom Ward.
I went through the list of the ones I might be able to trust but quickly dismissed them in turn. Pendle’s clans had been split into three groups when they had summoned the Fiend to walk the earth: There were those who served him, those who opposed him, and finally, those who watched and waited, perhaps planning to ally themselves with the winners of the conflict.
I had been away from Pendle for many months, and there was no way I could be sure of anyone now. I stared toward the gray mass of Pendle Hill, my mind circling like a moth around a candle flame, going anywhere but into that inevitable fire.
There was one person I could ask for help, but she was young and I didn’t want to endanger her. However, she was also strong and was well able to assist.
Witch assassins are not like spooks; traditionally, they do not take apprentices. But I am not like previous assassins. I trained a girl in secret. Her name?
Thorne.
CHAPTER IV
KILL THAT BEAR!
That beast has arms strong enough to tear you limb from limb,
a fanged mouth big enough to bite off your head.
What chance have you against such a foe?
None at all; you are as good as dead.
I know the answer. It is simple:
Kill it from a distance!
THORNE had sought me out five years before, when she was just ten years old. I was sitting cross-legged under an oak tree close to Bareleigh village, meditating on my next task: to seek out and kill something that wasn’t human. In the forest northeast of Pendle, a bear had turned rogue and had killed three humans in the last month. There were few bears left in the County, but it had to die.
I was not aware of the approach of danger because I did not recognize it in one so young.
The child came very close to me and kicked me hard on the thigh with the toe of her pointy shoe. In a second I was on my feet. I lifted her by her hair and dangled her so that her face was close to mine.
“If you ever do that again,” I warned her, “I will slice off your foot!”
“I’m brave,” she said. “Don’t you agree? Who else would dare to kick the witch assassin?”
I looked at her more closely. She was just a slip of a thing with hardly any meat on her bones, but she had a determination in her eyes that was very unusual in one so young. It was as if something much older and more powerful glared out of that young face. But I wasn’t going to take any non-sense from her.
“You’re more stupid than brave!” I retorted. “Be off with you. Go back to your mother—there’ll be chores for you to do.”
“Don’t have a mother or a father. I live with my ugly uncle. He beats me every day.”
“Do you kick him?”
“Yes—and then he beats me even harder.”
I looked at the girl again, noting the bruises on her arms and the dark mark under her left eye. “What do you want of me, child?”
“I would like you to kill my uncle for me.”
I laughed and set her down on the ground, then knelt so that we were eye to eye once more. “If I killed your uncle, who would then feed and clothe you?”
“I will work. I will feed myself. I will become a witch assassin like you.”
“To become the witch assassin of our clan, you will need to kill me. Are you capable of that? You’re just a child.”
Traditionally, each year three witches were trained to challenge the incumbent clan assassin. But no one had confronted me for many years. After slaying the fifteenth pretender, I had put a stop to the practice, having grown sick and weary of slaying challengers. It was a foolish waste of lives that was gradually bleeding away the strength of the Malkin clan.
“Soon I’ll be as big as you, but I won’t kill you,” the girl said. “You will die one day, and then I’ll be ready to replace you. The clan will need a strong assassin. Train me!”
“Go home, child. Go back and kick your ugly uncle even harder. I will not train you.”
“Then I will come back and kick you again tomorrow!”
With that, she left, and I thought no more about it, but she returned the next day and came to stand before me. I was in my forge, sharpening a new blade.
“Did you kick your ugly uncle again?” I asked, unable to prevent a smile creeping across my face as I rested the completed blade on the anvil.
The child did not reply. She stepped forward and tried to kick me again, but I was ready. I slapped her hard and threw her down into the dirt. I wasn’t angry, but I’d had enough of her foolishness and wanted to show her that I was not to be trifled with. But the girl was stubborn, and yes, she was brave. She attempted another kick. This time I snatched up my blade and pointed it at her throat.
“Before the end of the day, child, this new blade will taste blood! Take care that it isn’t yours!”
Then I threw her over my shoulder and carried her off toward the forest. It was late afternoon when I found the tracks of the bear, dusk when I reached its lair, a cave in a wooded hillside. There were bones outside, scattered across the loam. Some of them were human.
I could hear the animal scuffling about inside its den. It soon caught our scent and moments later emerged on all fours. It was big, brown and fierce; blood was smeared across its snout and paws. It had been eating but still looked hungry. It glared at us for a moment, and I stared
back hard and hissed at it to provoke it. It reared up on its hind legs and gave a terrible bellow of anger.
I set the girl down on the ground at my side. “What’s your name?” I demanded.
“Thorne Malkin.”
I handed her the blade I’d forged and sharpened that morning. “Well, Thorne, go and kill that bear for me!” I commanded.
She stared at the bear, which was now lumbering toward us, its mouth open, ready to charge. For the first time I saw fear in her eyes.
“It’s too big,” she said.
“Nothing is too big to be killed by a witch assassin. Slay that bear for me, and I will train you. Then one day you will take my place.”
“What if it kills me?”
I smiled. The bear was now getting very close. “In that case, I will wait until the bear starts to eat you. Once it is distracted, I will kill it.”
Something happened then that was completely unexpected. By now the child was shaking with fear and looked ready to flee at any second. This was exactly what I wanted. My intention was to cure her of the folly of wishing to become a witch assassin.
And she did run, but not in the direction I expected.
Thorne lifted the blade, gave a yell, and ran straight toward the bear.
When I drew and hurled another blade, she was just seconds away from death. I rarely miss, and my aim was perfect, the dagger burying itself up to the hilt in the bear’s left eye. It staggered and started to fall—but Thorne was still sprinting toward it. As she stabbed it in the left hind leg, the dead animal collapsed on top of her.
She was lucky not to have been killed, or at least seriously hurt by such a weight falling on her. When I dragged her out, she was covered in bear blood but otherwise unhurt. I had been impressed by the courage displayed by one so young; she deserved to walk away unscathed.
“I killed it!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “Now you have to train me.”
I lifted the head of the bear and pointed at the dagger embedded in its left eye.
“I killed it,” I told her. “You merely offered it supper. But now we’ll have a supper of our own. This bear has dined on human flesh for quite a while; now we will eat its heart.”
I was as good as my word. While Thorne collected wood, I took what I needed from the bear: its heart and two tender slices from its rump. Soon I had a fire going and was cooking the meat on a spit. Once it was done, I cut the heart in two and handed half to the girl.
“It’s good,” she said. “I’ve never tasted bear meat before.”
“There are very few bears left, but just in case you ever confront another, there are a couple of things you ought to know. Never stab it in the leg—it only makes it angry. And never get in close. Such an animal must be killed from a distance. They are immensely strong. Once a bear has hold of you, you’re as good as dead. They can tear off your limbs or crush your skull with one bite.”
Thorne chewed her meat thoughtfully. “I’ll remember that the next time we go bear hunting,” she said.
I almost laughed out loud at the presumption of that “we,” and I smiled at her. “You were afraid, child, and yet you obeyed me and attacked the bear. So yes, I will begin to train you. I will give you a month to prove yourself.”
I picked up the new blade that Thorne had used to stab the bear. “Here,” I said, handing it to her. “This is yours now. You have earned it. This is your first blade.”
Thus I began to train Thorne, but I did so in secret. There were three reasons for that. First, if any of my enemies knew of it, the girl would become a target. By capturing or hurting Thorne, they might seek to bring pressure to bear upon me.
Second, I was jealous of my reputation and wished to continue to inspire fear for my ruthlessness and independence. It was for this reason that I carved the image of scissors on trees.
Third, the successor to the Malkin witch assassin had traditionally been chosen through combat. I judged it best that after my death the practice should continue once more. Witches would then compete with each other for the title. I did not wish it to look as if I was personally selecting my protégée as my successor. If Thorne became the next assassin, she would have to earn the position in the conventional manner. I had no doubt that she would do so.
The month passed quickly, and all was to my satisfaction. The girl was courageous, and obedient, too—the latter was important. I prefer to work alone, but with a partner I must be in charge and there is no room for wayward behavior.
I remember the first time Thorne showed her true worth, and I realized just how good an assassin she might one day become.
Water witches dwell in the far north of the County. They are no friend to the Pendle covens, and they had recently killed a Malkin witch who had been traveling south through their territory. I had been dispatched by my clan to kill three of their number in retaliation.
Thorne took no part in the slaying of the water witches. She was there to watch and learn. I killed three, as directed. Then, choosing a clearing in the forest, I placed their heads on stakes, carving the sign of my scissors on the surrounding trees. Thus there could be no mistake. It was not just for vengeance; it was a warning.
With hindsight, I realize that I should have left immediately afterward and sped back to Pendle. Instead, Thorne and I spent a useful day on the shores of the lake some call Coniston. It was a day of training, and I pushed the girl hard. The sun had just gone down behind the trees when we began her knife training. I was trying to teach her to be calm and control her anger. She had the blades; I used my hands.
“Cut me!” I shouted, slapping her face and stepping back out of range.
Thorne whirled toward me, wielding two blades, slashing at me, her face full of fury. I stepped inside her guard and slapped her even harder; twice this time, stinging both cheeks and bringing tears to her eyes.
“Keep calm, girl! It’s only pain!” I mocked. “Think! Concentrate! Cut me!”
She missed again, and I gave her another hard slap. We were close to the water’s edge, and by now it was twilight. Tendrils of mist snaked toward us over the lake’s surface.
Thorne took a deep breath, and I saw her face relax. This time she feinted, and the arc of her first blade came so close that I felt its breath whisper over the skin of my shoulder. I smiled in appreciation and took a rapid step backward to avoid her next thrust. I was inches from the water’s edge, and the lake was deep.
The attack came suddenly, taking us both by surprise. I had my back to the water, and Thorne saw the creature first. Her eyes widened in shock, and I turned and glanced back over my shoulder, seeing the death that was surging toward me.
The beast had arms and long fingers with sharp talons, but it was more fish than man, with a nightmare face and cold cod eyes, a mouthful of sharp teeth and a long, sinuous, eel-like body with a narrow fin.
I tried to twist away, but it surged up out of the water, riding on its tail, then seized me by the shoulder and yanked me backward. As my head went under the cold water, I realized that I had no blade at my disposal. I had been fighting Thorne unarmed, and my leather straps, sheaths and knives were spread out on the grass, some distance from the water’s edge.
But I wasn’t finished yet, and with the nails of my left hand I gouged out the creature’s right eye. Then I bit through its fingers to the bone. However, it was immensely strong and was dragging me deeper and deeper into the murky water. I hadn’t had time to snatch a deep breath and realized that I was now in serious trouble.
But then I saw another shape in the water beside me and felt a knife being pressed into my hand. I used it quickly—to good effect. And I wasn’t alone. Thorne was by my side, and together we cut that creature to pieces.
At dawn we assembled its remaining fragments beside the lake. I had never seen anything quite like it before, but it was without doubt an abhuman. They take many strange forms, and this one had been adapted for an aquatic life. The Fiend sometimes uses such creatures to destroy his enemies. H
e cannot come near me, so he’d sent one of his children instead.
Without doubt Thorne saved my life that day; it had required great courage to join me in the water like that. As a reward, I boiled up the creature’s thumb bones and gave them to her. They were the first bones that she hung on her necklace.
Back in Pendle, I customarily trained Thorne several times a week and occasionally took her with me when I set off on long journeys, seeking out those marked for death by my clan.
I had watched her develop from a young, eager girl into a potential witch assassin who would one day take my place. Because of the war and my journey to Ireland, it was several months since I had last seen her, but I knew she would be ready to answer my call.
I stared into the mirror now and chanted the incantation. Within moments Thorne’s face came into focus. Gone was the child who had charged at the bear. She had gentle eyes, each iris a vivid sapphire blue, but her lean face was that of a warrior, with a wide mouth and sharp nose. Her dark hair was cropped short and she had a small tattoo on her left cheek: the effigy of a bear. She’d had it done to remind her of the day I had agreed to train her.
You’re hurt! she mouthed, showing her teeth. What happened?
I had forbidden her to file her teeth to points until her training was fully completed, so her rare smiles were not yet terrifying to others.
I told her about the kretch and the poison, but it was the severed head of the Fiend that concerned me most, and I explained what I had in the leather sack. That was the real reason why I was reluctantly summoning Thorne into such great danger.
“Whatever happens, it must not be allowed to fall into the hands of the Fiend’s servants,” I continued. “If I die, you must take over that burden.”
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