“I was so terrified I could hardly think and blurted out the first task that came into my head. ‘Tell me how many grains of sand there are on Cockerham’s shore,’ I said. But immediately I realized my mistake. Cockerham’s sands are very large and flat, but what are their exact boundaries? Is it the extent of the sands at the lowest tide or the highest? And where exactly do Cockerham’s sands become Pilling’s sands, the shore of the next village along the coast? But the worst problem of all was that I didn’t know the answer to my own question.
“The Devil disappeared but was gone for less than three seconds. When he was standing before me again, he said a number so big that it was impossible to imagine. Too scared to challenge him, I could only accept his answer and set him another task. I was foolish for a second time. ‘Tell me how many buds there are on all the sycamore trees in Cockerham,’ I said. Again, it was a poor task because, whether the Devil really counted them or not, there was no way to check. I still didn’t know the answer myself, so I just had to take his word for it. But finally I calmed down enough to ask for three days in which to think up a third task. The Devil agreed, and so I had just enough time to get word to you. Can you help me? I’m at my wits’ end!”
“What did he look like, this Devil?” I asked.
“Just the way you’d expect, only worse,” answered the teacher. “He had horns and a tail and he smelled like a goat. I’ve never felt so terrified in my life. That’s why I couldn’t think.”
“Don’t you worry,” I reassured him. “I’ll soon sort him out for you. Just take me to that schoolroom of yours and then come back here and heat up that soup for our suppers. Ten minutes after midnight, and it’ll all be over.”
There were just four things in the big schoolroom: the teacher’s desk, a large cupboard, a sink with a tap, and the Bible, unopened on the desk. I’d taken off my cloak and hood because I didn’t want to be recognized as a spook. I knew that the schoolmaster had really been plagued not by the Devil but by a dangerous hairy boggart that could talk and had the ability to shift its shape. As it had taken human lives already, I had no choice but to proceed to the fourth stage in the process, which was to slay it.
No sooner had I entered the room than there was a bright flash of lightning right outside the window, followed by a clap of thunder so loud that it made the roof shake and the floorboards vibrate beneath my feet. Distracted by that, I glanced toward the window. When I looked back again, something nasty was standing in front of the desk.
Hairy Boggart Disguised as the Devil
The boggart was exactly as the teacher had described, but no words could do justice to actually seeing it in the flesh. In addition to the curved horns and tail, it had cloven hooves just like a goat—and, yes, it certainly did smell very bad. Its body was covered in black hair that gleamed in the candlelight like the coat of a thoroughbred horse groomed for a big race. The face was very long, with two rows of brilliant white teeth.
But its tail reminded me of a rat’s. It was long, thin, and black, and completely hairless. The boggart smiled at me then, a wicked, ugly smile that showed all its teeth. That long tail coiled and uncoiled, rapping three times upon the boards each time it was fully extended.
“What have we got here?” it asked, looking at me like I’d just been served up for supper.
“The schoolteacher’s not feeling too well,” I explained, “so he’s sent me along in his place. I’m here to set the third task.”
“Do you know the rules?”
I nodded.
“Good,” said the evil creature, its tail rapping again on the wooden boards. “So get on with it. Set me my third task!”
“Weave a rope out of the best sand on Cockerham’s shore,” I said. “Then carry it back, wash it under that tap there, and give it to me.”
I was pleased with the task I’d set, because even if the boggart did somehow manage to weave a rope out of sand, it would never be able to wash it under the tap because it would simply dissolve. Witches can’t cross rivers or streams, but all servants of the dark find running water extremely difficult to deal with.
The smile left the boggart’s face. It frowned, showed its teeth, then disappeared. It was maybe all of five seconds before it stood before me once more, now holding a rope made out of sand but looking doubtfully toward the sink.
It didn’t want to do it, but we had a contract of sorts and the creature had no choice. When it held the rope under the tap, of course, the sand just washed away between its fingers and ran down the plughole. So when the boggart walked back toward the desk, its face like a thundercloud, I gave a big smile in order to make it angry.
“I win,” I said mockingly. “Off you go, right back to where you came from!”
It leaned across the desk toward me until its forehead was almost touching mine, and the mean, vindictive expression on its face told me that it had no intention of keeping its end of the bargain. The boggart’s breath smelled so bad that I moved back a little, but not too far. Just so that I could reach into my breeches pockets.
I hurled something white from my right hand and something dark from my left. Salt and iron. Salt to burn the boggart; iron to bleed away its power. They came together, a lethal-white-and black cloud, just as they struck the creature’s face and shoulders.
What happened next wasn’t a pretty sight. The boggart, howling fit to wake the dead, began to crumple and melt. Within seconds it was nothing more than an unpleasant puddle on the schoolroom floor.
After that I went back and had supper with the schoolteacher, explaining that we’d been dealing with a boggart rather than the Devil. He listened patiently, but I’m not sure he really believed me. Later he must have told his version of what happened to all who’d listen, explaining how he’d cleverly invented a third task that the Devil couldn’t perform.
Years later, the tale of how a clever Cockerham schoolmaster outwitted the Devil is still being told across the County. To make things worse, he never did pay me for getting rid of the boggart!
NOTORIOUS BOGGARTS
NAME: Bury Boggart
CATEGORY: Bone breaker—used by the witch Anne Caxton to snatch the bones of the living for dark magic
RANK: 1
BOUND OR SLAIN: Slain
SPOOK: Henry Horrocks (my own master)
APPRENTICE
IN ATTENDANCE: I was with Horrocks but didn’t become his apprentice until five years later
NUMBER OF VICTIMS: Three, including his former apprentice, Brian Harwood
NAME: Coniston Ripper
CATEGORY: Cattle ripper turned rogue
RANK: 1
BOUND OR SLAIN: Slain
SPOOK: Bill Arkwright
APPRENTICE
IN ATTENDANCE: None
NUMBER OF VICTIMS: Thirty at least
NAME: Wheeton Goat
CATEGORY: Hairy boggart
RANK: 2
BOUND OR SLAIN: Slain
SPOOK: John Gregory
APPRENTICE
IN ATTENDANCE: Paul Preston
NUMBER OF VICTIMS: One—my apprentice, Paul Preston
NAME: Horshaw Boggart
CATEGORY: Cattle ripper turned rogue
RANK: 1
BOUND OR SLAIN: Bound
SPOOK: Thomas Ward (apprentice)
NUMBER OF VICTIMS: One—my foolish priest brother
NAME: Pendle Ripper
CATEGORY: Cattle ripper turned rogue; used by Malkin witch clan to attack their enemies
RANK: 1
BOUND OR SLAIN: Still at large
NUMBER OF VICTIMS: More than one hundred deaths in forty years
CURRENT SITUATION: Active more than seventy years ago, now dormant; controlled by dark magic
NAME: Layton Ripper
CATEGORY: Cattle ripper turned rogue
RANK: 1
BOUND OR SLAIN: Slain
SPOOK: John Gregory
NUMBER OF VICTIMS: Just one—my apprentice Billy Bradley, who behaved rashly
NAME: Rivington Sheep Ripper
CATEGORY: Cattle ripper turned rogue; got a taste for shepherds
RANK: 1
BOUND OR SLAIN: Slain
SPOOK: John Gregory
NUMBER OF VICTIMS: Six; killed five shepherds and a parish constable
NAME: Staumin Hall Knocker
CATEGORY: Hall knocker
RANK: 1
BOUND OR SLAIN: Bound
SPOOK: Robert Stocks—by then he had a second trade at his fingertips: He was also a priest
APPRENTICE
IN ATTENDANCE: None
NUMBER OF VICTIMS: One suicide induced by fear
The Bane
The Old Gods
One common debate among spooks concerns the true nature of the Old Gods. There are those who believe that they are not all denizens of the dark and that some are actually benign.
It is true that some seem more evil and cruel than others, but to me the case is beyond dispute. The Old Gods trifled with human emotions, behaved selfishly, caused wars and inflicted terrible cruelties on humankind. Many demanded blood sacrifices. They are all creatures of the dark.
Aphrodite
Her name is derived from the Greek word aphros, which means foam. She was said to have been born from the ocean waves, already a fully formed adult. The golden daughter of Zeus, she presides over all things beautiful in the world. However, she has a malevolent destructive side and seems to delight in the power her beauty allows her to wield over men.
Aphrodite also has the power to drive away storms and calm the winds. Some say she is the wife of Hephaestus, the blacksmith of the gods. It is strange that the ugliest of the Old Gods should win for his bride one of the most beautiful. Or perhaps she used her allure to bind him to her in order to gain some as yet unknown advantage.
Artemis/Hecate
Another goddess who originated in Greece, Artemis is a cruel huntress, a lover of woods and wild places.
Hecate
Beautiful and athletic, she draws the admiration of all men but also takes on a different, hideous shape—that of Hecate, sometimes called the Queen of the Witches. She rules over gloomy places and is especially to be feared on the darkest of nights, when there is no moon.
She is also said to linger near crossroads, taking the souls of those who pass by. Although supposed to be the protector of the young, she sometimes demands blood sacrifices, and many maidens have been put to death in order to placate her. Hecate is another dangerous female to beware of.
The Bane
The Bane was originally one of the Old Gods, worshipped by an ancient people called the Segantii (sometimes also called the Little People). He lived in the long barrows at Heysham but was free to roam the whole County.
The Bane’s physical form was hideous, his squat, muscular body vaguely human in shape but covered in scales, with long, sharp talons sprouting from fingers and toes. His face was ugly indeed, with a long chin that curved upward almost as far as his nose and large ears that resembled those of a wolf.
The Bane terrorized everybody, including the king of the Segantii, King Heys. The Bane demanded a yearly tribute, and King Heys was even forced to sacrifice his own sons. One son died each year, starting with the eldest, but the last and seventh son, Naze, managed to bind the Bane.
He died in doing so, but the Bane was now trapped in the catacombs under Priestown Cathedral behind a silver gate, his strength diminished so that he was no longer a god. The only way he could ever get free was for someone to open that gate.
Over time, despite his imprisonment and initially weakened state, the Bane slowly grew in power.
The Bane
Eventually, whisperings could be heard in some of the cellars of the houses facing the cathedral. These voices gradually became deeper and more disturbing, and the floors and walls would shake and vibrate under the influence of the Bane’s rumbling bass voice.
In recent times the Bane has grown even more powerful and is trying to regain the physical form he possessed so long ago. He can also shift his shape, read minds, and even look out through the eyes of others. Slowly he is starting to control the priests in the cathedral above the catacombs. A great danger now lies in wait for anyone who goes down into the catacombs: the press. The Bane can exert a tremendous pressure, crush bones, and smear the unfortunate victim into the cobbles that line the tunnels.
He has a few weaknesses, however. He needs blood, and will take that of animals if humans aren’t available. But humans must give their blood freely— though when faced with the terror of the press, most will do so eventually. If he has to make do with rats and mice, the Bane grows weaker. He can also be hurt by silver—especially a silver blade. Women make him nervous, and he will often flee from their presence.1 Hence his victims are usually male.
MY FIRST ATTEMPT TO DEAL WITH THE BANE
When I was in my prime, five years after first becoming a spook, I attempted to deal with the Bane. Although bound behind the silver gate under Priestown Cathedral, he was slowly growing in power and needed to be slain.
I entered the town under cover of darkness and went directly to the shop of my brother, Andrew, who was a master locksmith. He feared that I would not survive an encounter with the Bane, but reluctantly agreed to fashion me a key to the silver gate.
We set off for an abandoned house very close to the cathedral; one haunted by a powerful strangler ghost. It was enough to deter people from living there and I’d not tried to send it to the light, because its presence guaranteed that I would always have that access to the catacombs. I’d been planning this attempt on the Bane for over two years.
By means of a trapdoor in the cellar, we climbed down into the crooked cobbled tunnels and headed in the direction of the silver gate. Once there, Andrew drew in a deep breath to steady his shaking hands and took a wax impression of the lock.
Back in his workshop, he shaped the key while I slept: I needed to rest after my journey and gather strength for the struggle ahead. By dusk the key was in my hands, and I set off alone through the dark and deserted streets of Priestown. Using the trapdoor of the haunted house once more, I was soon down in the tunnels. When I reached the gate this time, my own hands began to tremble. Would the key work? Even if it did, there was great danger in opening the gate. The Bane might be lying in wait close by and seize his chance to escape.
One thing reassured me, though. The Bane lacked the power to know what was going on in every corner of the labyrinth, and the instincts of a seventh son of a seventh son were very useful. I closed my eyes and concentrated. Instinctively I felt that the Bane was not nearby, so I inserted the key into the lock. Andrew had done a good job: It turned easily, and the gate swung open. Wasting no time, I closed and locked it again.
So that I wouldn’t get lost in the labyrinth, I used the same method that Theseus employed to kill the minotaur and escape from a similar maze. I carried with me a large ball of twine and tied one end of it to the hinges of the silver gate. That done, I set off into the darkness, slowly unraveling the twine. In my right hand I carried my staff and candle; my silver chain was tied about my waist; salt and iron were in my pockets. Thus prepared, I began an exploration of the tunnels.
I hadn’t been walking along the tunnels for much more than half an hour when a cold feeling ran down my spine, the warning that something from the dark was very near. I halted, placed the candle on the floor, and pressed the recess on my staff so that the blade emerged with a click. Then I untied my silver chain and coiled it about my left wrist, ready to throw. I waited, my heart hammering in my chest, trying to control my breathing.
I would get but one chance. Only if the Bane materialized, taking on a definite physical shape, would I have some hope of dealing with him. A spook cannot usually hope to triumph over one of the Old Gods, but his confinement in the labyrinth meant that he was now no more powerful than a demon; that was bad enough, but he did have weaknesses. So I felt certain that my silver chain could bind him�
��for a while. That would give me time to drive my silver-alloy blade through his heart, and I hoped that would finish him off forever. At least I had to try.
But in his spirit form I had no defense against it. None whatsoever. I hoped that he would just see me as another victim, easy prey. When he attacked, I would be ready.
There was a deep growl from the darkness where the tunnel curved away to the left and the Bane padded into view. He had taken on the shape of a large black dog with sharp yellow teeth and powerful jaws. Saliva dripped from his mouth to splatter on the cobbles; he was hungry for my blood but, unlike a ripper boggart, could not take it unless I gave it freely. It used terror and pain to persuade his victims. First he would seize me in his jaws.
He loped forward, then sprang straight toward me. I unfurled my silver chain and cast it at my assailant. It cracked and dropped toward the head and shoulders of the Bane, but then the beast twisted in midair and the edge of the chain just caught his shoulder. I heard him scream at that contact with silver, but then he simply vanished.
Despite hurting my enemy, I knew I was defeated as good as dead. My only chance of victory had been to pierce his heart with my blade. Now he was in his spirit form, and I had no defense against him. He would never leave the labyrinth. He would now use the press against me, exerting its power until I was crushed and smeared into the cobbles. But he spoke first. I thought he did so partly to torment me, partly to fill me with terror so that I would give my blood freely. But it wasn’t my blood he wanted. It was freedom!
“I’m got proper in this place!” his voice moaned to me out of the darkness. “Bound fast, I am. But you came through the gates and must have a key. Open it for me! Let me out and I’ll let you live!”
“Nay! I can’t do that!” I replied. “My duty is to the County. I must keep you bound within these tunnels even at the price of my own life.”
“One more time I’ll ask. Set me free or I’ll make an end to you!”
“Make an end to me now. Get it over with because my answer’s still the same.”
The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection Page 291