Slake had used the word fortuitous, suggesting that the blade had come into my hands by chance. But the name alone told the truth of the matter. It was destiny that had united me with it. We were meant to be together, intended to bring about the final destruction of the Fiend. Either that, or I would die in the attempt.
“This is the second object,” she went on, reaching down into the trunk. Her clawed hand emerged clutching a dagger. One glance told me that its slim blade was crafted from a silver alloy, a material particularly effective against denizens of the dark.
The lamia held it out to me handle first, and the moment my fingers touched it I knew instinctively that I had also been born to bear this weapon. Although far smaller, visually it was the twin of the Destiny Blade, its handle shaped in the form of a skelt’s head, the blade taking the place of the bone tube used to take its victims’ blood. The skelt was a deadly creature that lurked in narrow crevices close to water. When somebody passed by, it would dart out and thrust that long bone tube into its victim’s neck. When I went to work with the spook Bill Arkwright, I had been attacked by such a creature, and he saved me by smashing its head in with a stone.
No sooner had I gripped the handle of the dagger than the two ruby eyes began to drip blood.
“Was this also forged by Hephaestus?” I asked. He was the Old God who had crafted special weapons for his peers—the greatest blacksmith who had ever existed.
Slake nodded her fearsome head. “Yes, he forged all three of the sacred objects. They are known as hero swords, although in truth two of them are just daggers. Some say that they were once used as swords by the Segantii, the little people who once dwelt in the north of the County.”
I remembered seeing the small stone graves chiseled out of rock to hold the bodies of the Segantii. In their hands the daggers would have indeed seemed as large as swords.
“Do I need all three?” I asked.
“All three must be used together. I know where the other is to be found—though it lies in a place that is inaccessible to mortals. It is hidden within the dark, could be brought forth by one who is brave, powerful and resourceful.”
“I’m not that brave,” I said, “and I doubt I have the power, but if someone has to venture into the dark, it must be me.”
The Old God Pan had told me that. Each powerful dark entity had its own private dwelling within the dark—a huge place with many domains, the most powerful and dangerous belonging to the Fiend.
“Your mother, Zenobia, knows precisely where it is to be found. She will tell you herself and explain what must be done.”
“What? Mam will speak to me. When?” I asked excitedly. “When will that happen?”
“She will appear tonight within this chamber—but to you alone. Her words are for your ears only.”
That night I waited in the chamber, sitting beside Mam’s trunk. A single candle flame danced on the table nearby, sending grotesque shadows flickering up onto the far wall.
I had spoken to Alice and explained the situation, and she hadn’t seemed put out. “It’s natural, Tom, that after all this time apart your mam would want to speak to you alone,” she’d said. “It is family business, after all, ain’t it? I’ll just settle down here with Agnes. You can tell me all about it in the morning.”
Thus Alice, Agnes, and Slake were somewhere in the lower part of the tower, leaving me to a lonely, excited, but nervous vigil. I wondered what form Mam would take to visit me. Would she be the fierce lamia with snow-white wings like the angels of myth, or the warm, understanding Mam who had cared for me as a child?
There had been another surprise. I was prepared to make an immediate start sifting through the materials in the trunk, hoping to learn more about the ritual I must perform—how the hobbling of the Fiend could be extended to destroy him forever. But Slake had told me that this would no longer be necessary. It seemed that with Mam’s guidance she had already done the necessary decoding and had written down the instructions, to be given to me after Mam had made contact.
At first I was excited, longing to see Mam again, and couldn’t sleep. But gradually I grew weary and my head began to nod. I kept jerking awake and opening my eyes, but finally I must have fallen into a deep sleep.
Then, very suddenly, I was wide awake again, my heart thudding in my chest. The candle had gone out, but there was another light—a pale, bright column—in the room beside me. Standing before me was Mam, in the shape she had assumed back in Greece just before the final battle with her terrible enemy, the Ordeen. Her cheekbones were high and sharply defined, her cruel eyes those of a predator. I felt nervous and upset, and a small cry escaped my lips as my heart began to beat more rapidly—I didn’t like seeing her in this form. She was nothing like the woman who had been a mother to me and my brothers. Her body was covered in scales very similar to Slake’s, and sharp talons sprouted from her fingers and toes, but her folded wings were exactly as I remembered them—covered in white feathers. Then, as I watched, to my relief, she began to change.
The wings shrank rapidly, withering back into the shoulders; the scales melted away, to be replaced by a long dark skirt and blouse and a green shawl. The most significant change was to the eyes. They softened, lost their cruelty, and were filled with warmth. Then she smiled, radiating love.
It was Mam, just as she had been back on the farm, the woman who had loved my dad, raised seven sons, and been the local midwife and healer. And it seemed to me that she wasn’t simply an apparition; she looked as solid a presence here as she’d ever been in our farmhouse kitchen.
Tears were running down my cheeks now, and I stepped forward to embrace her. The smile slipped from her face. She stepped backward and held up a hand as if to ward me off. I stared at her, baffled, as my tears of joy changed to those of rejection and hurt.
Mam smiled again. “Dry your eyes, son,” she said softly. “More than anything in the world I would love to give you a hug, but it just isn’t possible. Your spirit is still clothed in human flesh, whereas mine has a very different covering. Were we to touch, your life would be over. And you’re needed in this world. You still have much to do. Maybe even more than you realize.”
I rubbed my eyes with the backs of my hands and did my best to return her smile. “Sorry, Mam. I understand. It’s just so good to see you again.”
“And it’s good to see you too. But now we must get down to business. I cannot remain in this world for more than a few minutes at a time.”
“It’s all right, Mam. Just tell me what I have to do.”
“You now have the dagger and also, through your own endeavors, the sword in your possession. The third artifact is to be found in the dark. It is hidden right at the heart of the Fiend’s lair—under the throne within his citadel. Slake will instruct you on the ritual that needs to be performed, and with those three sacred objects in your possession, you will be able to destroy the Fiend for all time. I had only two but was still able to hobble him. You will complete what I began.”
“I’ll do my best,” I told her. “I want you to be proud of me.”
“Whatever happens, Tom, I’ll always love you and be proud of you—but now we come to the really difficult part. . . . Even if I’d had all three objects, I would still have failed—because the most important part of the ritual is the sacrifice of the person you love best on this earth. In your case, it is she whom you most love.”
I was appalled and opened my mouth, but no words came out. Finally I managed to speak. “You, Mam? I have to sacrifice you?”
“No, Tom,” she replied. “It must be a living person, and although I know you still love me, there is one now living in this world whom you care for even more.”
“No, Mam!” I cried. “That’s not true!”
“Look into your heart, son, and you will see that it is true. Every mother must face the time when her son cares for another woman more.”
She was telling me something that, deep down, I already knew. The full import of her words d
awned on me.
“No! No! You can’t mean that!” I protested.
“Yes, son, it grieves me to say so, but there is no other way. In order to destroy the Fiend, you must sacrifice Alice.”
CHAPTER V
ANOTHER USE FOR THE GIRL
“I must take Alice’s life?” I cried. “Is there no other means?”
“It is the only way, Tom—the price that must be paid. And she must offer her life willingly. So I leave it to your own judgment when you tell her what must be done.
“I faced something very similar but was unable to do it,” Mam continued. “My sisters tried to persuade me to kill your father or give him to them to devour. Then, later, they begged me to use him as a sacrifice to enhance the power of my magic. Without all three sacred objects, it would not have succeeded in destroying the Fiend, but I would have increased the limitations on his power. I decided against it because there was already a spark of love between me and your father—and I saw the future: how I could give birth to you, the seventh son of a seventh son, and forge you as a weapon to destroy the Fiend.”
Mam’s words disturbed me. She was describing me as if I were an asset, something to be used against our enemy, rather than a cherished son.
“But I think you will prove to be more disciplined than I was. You have a strong sense of duty, its seed planted by your father and nurtured by John Gregory. Not only that—my powerful blood flows within your veins, along with my gifts. Use everything that I have bequeathed to you. You must destroy the Fiend, whatever the cost, or the consequences will be terrible. Imagine a world completely in thrall to the dark! There would be famine, disease, and lawlessness. Families would be divided; brother would kill brother. The Fiend’s servants would be unchecked, preying on men, women, and children, devouring their flesh and drinking their blood. And where would you be, son? You would know that it was your failure that had brought about that horror. Even worse—you would no longer care because you would have lost yourself and yielded your soul to the Fiend. All this could come to pass unless you act decisively. The people of the County and the wider world beyond need you to perform this deed. I am sure you won’t let them down—despite the cost to you personally. I’m sorry, son, but I can stay no longer. Destroy the Fiend—that’s what is important. It is your destiny! It is why you were born.”
Mam began to fade, and I called out desperately. “Please, Mam, don’t go yet. We need to talk some more. There’s got to be another way. This can’t be right! I can’t believe what you’re asking me to do!”
As she faded, she changed back into the fierce lamia with the feathered wings. The last thing, I saw were her cruel eyes. Then she was gone.
The room was immediately plunged into darkness, so, with shaking hands, I eased the tinderbox out of my pocket and managed to light the candle. Next I sat down on the floor beside the trunk and examined the tinderbox, turning it over and over in my hands. It had been the one thing Dad had given me when I left home to become John Gregory’s apprentice. I could see him now in my mind’s eye, and I remembered his exact words:
“I want you to have this, son. It might come in useful in your new job. And come back and see us soon. Just because you’ve left home, it doesn’t mean that you can’t come back and visit.”
The tinderbox had certainly proved useful in my line of work, and I’d used it many times.
Poor Dad! He’d worked hard on the farm but had not lived to enjoy his retirement. I thought back to the story of how he’d met Mam in Greece. Dad was a sailor then, and he’d found her bound to a rock with a silver chain. Mam had always been vulnerable to sunlight, and her enemies had left her to die on a mountainside. But Dad had saved her, shielding her from the sun.
Before sailing back to the County with her to begin his new life as a farmer, Dad had stayed at her house in Greece. Something he’d told me about his time there made sense now. Mam’s two sisters sometimes came after dark, and the three of them danced around a fire in the walled garden. He’d heard them arguing and thought that the sisters had taken against him: they used to glare at him through the window, looking really angry, and Mam would wave him away.
The two sisters were the lamias Wynde and Slake, who’d then been transported to the County hidden in Mam’s trunks. They continued to argue with her, and now I knew why. They had been trying to persuade her to strengthen the hobble on the Fiend by sacrificing Dad.
I was roused from my thoughts by the sound of someone coming up the steps into the storeroom. I realized that it was Slake, who no longer walked and moved like a human being. The sight of her in the flickering candlelight chilled me to the bone. Her wings were folded, but her claws were extended, as if ready to attack me. Instead she smiled, and I rose to my feet.
“Has Zenobia spoken to you?” she asked, her voice harsher than before. I had to concentrate hard to understand what she was saying.
“Yes, but I don’t like what I’ve been asked to do.”
“Ah! You mean the sacrifice. She said that it would be hard for you, but that you were a dutiful son and had the strength to do what was necessary.”
“Strength and duty—they’re just words!” I said bitterly. “Mam couldn’t do it; why should I?”
I stared at Slake, trying to control my anger. Had the lamia and her sister had their way, Dad would have died in Greece, and my brothers and I would never have been born.
“Calm yourself,” she said. “You need time to think, time to meditate upon that which must be done. And you cannot deal with the Fiend unless the third sacred object is in your possession. To find that must be your priority.”
“That artifact lies in the dark—and, moreover, under the very throne of the Fiend,” I responded, full of rage now. “How am I supposed to lay my hands on that?”
“It is not you who must do it. We have another use for the girl. Alice has spent time in the dark already. Not only will she find it relatively easy to return there, she will be familiar with the Fiend’s domain. And so long as his head remains separated from his body, the danger will be much reduced.”
“No!” I shouted. “I can’t ask her to do that. After her first visit she almost lost her mind.”
“The second one will be easier,” insisted Slake. “She will gradually become immune to the adverse effects.”
“But at what cost?” I retorted. “By becoming closer and closer to the dark until she belongs to it entirely?”
The lamia did not reply. Instead she reached into the trunk and handed me a piece of paper. “Read this first,” she said. “It is written in my hand but was dictated to me by your mother.”
I accepted the paper, and with shaking hands began to read.
The Dark Lord wished that I return to his fold and make obeisance to him once more. For a long time I resisted, while taking regular counsel from my friends and supporters. Some advised that I bear his child—a witch’s usual means of being rid of him forever. But the thought was abhorrent to me.
At the time, I was tormented by a decision that I must soon make. Taking me by surprise, enemies had seized me. . . .
Mam then went on to repeat what I already knew—how she’d been bound to a rock with a silver chain and rescued by a sailor. That sailor had been Dad, of course—he’d told me the story not long before he died. I knew the rest of it too, how Dad had been given shelter in her house. But her next words chilled me to the bone.
It soon became clear that my rescuer had feelings for me. I was grateful for what he had done, but he was a mere human, and I felt no great physical attraction to him.
I felt a pain in my heart at those words. I thought Mam and Dad had loved each other from the beginning. Dad had made it sound that way, anyway. It was what he’d believed. I had to force myself to keep on reading.
However, on learning that he was the seventh son of his father, I began to formulate a plan. If I were to bear him sons, the seventh would have special powers when dealing with the dark. Not only that: the child would carry s
ome of my attributes, gifts that would augment his other powers. Thus this child might one day be able to destroy the Fiend. It was not easy to decide what to do. Bearing his seventh child might give me the means to finally destroy my enemy. Yet John Ward was just a poor sailor. He came from farming stock, but even if I bought him a farm of his own, still I would have to live that life with him, the stench of the farmyard forever in my nostrils.
Thinking of poor Dad, I stifled a sob. There was no mention of love here. All Mam seemed to care about was destroying the Fiend. Dad was just a means to achieving that end. Maybe that’s all I was too.
My sisters’ counsel was that I kill him or else give him to them. I refused to do this because I owed him my life. The choice was between turning him out of my house so he could find a ship to take him home, or returning with him.
I glanced up from the sheet of paper and glared at Slake, who extended her claws in anger at my reaction. This was one of the two lamias who had argued that Dad should be killed! I continued reading.
But to make the second a possibility, I first had to hobble my enemy, the Fiend. This I did by subterfuge. I arranged a meeting on the Feast of Lammas—just the Fiend and me. After choosing my location carefully, I built a large bonfire, and at midnight made the necessary invocation to bring him temporarily into our world.
He appeared right in the midst of the flames, and I bowed to him and made what seemed like obeisance—but I was already muttering the words of a powerful spell and I held the two sacred objects in my hand. Despite all his attempts to thwart me, I successfully completed the hobble, paving the way for the next stage of my plan—which began with my voyage to the County and the purchase of a farm.
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