Alice (12 page)

However, just as we set off again, there was the sound of barking from the party crossing the sands, and Lizzie pulled me down into a clump of bushes.

‘Could it be? Could it be . . .?’ she whispered. ‘Might just be farm dogs . . . but could I be that lucky? Could I really? Sometimes things are just meant to be, and this could be one of ’em!’

I wondered what Lizzie was ranting on about. Great teacher, she was – always went to great pains to explain what was going on.

There was a tall man with a shaven head walking behind the coach, a big dog on either side of him. I crossed my fingers
they didn’t sniff us out, for they looked like huge wolfhounds.

‘It’s William Arkwright, the spook I told you about,’ Lizzie said excitedly. ‘He’ll be off hunting our slimy sisters further north. Could be away for days. He’ll certainly need the tide to be right before he can cross the bay again. His place will be deserted – couldn’t be better!’

Lizzie didn’t bother to explain anything, but once the party had moved on, reaching the shore at least half a mile further south, she led us forward again.

‘Are we going to the mill where he lives?’ I asked.

‘We are that, girl. There’s a marsh behind the mill that he keeps free of our slimy sisters. But it’s a place that’s sacred to them. While the cat’s away, the mice will play, I’m sure of it. Every water witch for miles around will head for that marsh. And we’ll be there to meet ’em!’

We journeyed on through the night until we came to the canal again, and turned south along its western bank. Before dawn we left the towpath lest we encounter bargemen or anyone else who might identify Lizzie as a witch. But we didn’t rest; if anything, Lizzie drove us on at an even more furious pace. By now the sky was overcast and a light drizzle was wafting into our faces.

At last, about an hour before dusk, we reached the mill that was home to the spook. It was hidden by trees and surrounded by tall iron palings; a ditch marked the boundary of the garden.

I didn’t like the look of that ditch. Lizzie was dragging me into danger again. I wished we could go home. ‘It’s like the moat that encircles Malkin Tower!’ I exclaimed.

‘Aye, girl, that’s exactly what it is, but it’s a very special kind of moat. Arkwright dissolves tubs of salt in it to keep the water witches out.’ I wondered how we’d make it, but Lizzie didn’t seem too bothered. ‘That won’t stop us. Not as difficult a crossing as that big river. You could easily carry me across. Love to explore that old mill, I would. Old Jacob Stone had that leather egg. No doubt Arkwright’s got something hidden too. That’s what spooks do. If they find something useful to the dark, they either destroy it or hide it away from us!’

Lizzie led the way round to the gate and stared at that broken-down old mill for a long time. I kept thinking she’d ask me to carry her across the moat, but finally she shook her head. I breathed a sigh of relief.

‘I’m tempted, but I’ve decided it’s not worth the risk, girl. Do you know what the biggest danger is?’

I thought for a moment, and then the answer came to me. ‘The dogs,’ I said. ‘If we cross the moat, they’ll get our scent. Arkwright would be able to use those big dogs to hunt us down!’

For a minute Lizzie seemed almost proud of me. ‘That he would, girl. If those wolfhounds can follow the trail of our slimy sisters across a marsh, they’d have no trouble at all finding us. And we need to stay here until our business is done.’

With that, Lizzie turned her back on the mill and led us along a narrow path through the marsh. Slimy bogs with clumps of reeds and marsh grass made up most of it; there were also dark, stagnant pools of water that looked really deep. It was slippery, and I was scared of falling in. And what if there were
water witches hiding just below the surface of the bog? It was all very well Lizzie saying that she was going to work with them and form a temporary coven. But they didn’t know that yet, did they? They might just attack anything that moved through their territory. And because Arkwright was away, lots of ’em could be on their way right now! Some might already be here!

Fear heightened my senses, and I kept thinking I saw things out of the corner of my eye, or heard the faintest of ripples or other minute disturbances of the water. Maybe it was just my imagination. Or perhaps it was some small nocturnal insects or water creatures. I could see nothing, but it would be so easy for a water witch to hide beneath that murk and slime, and I half expected a hand to come up out of the bog and grab my ankle. However, soon the footing became less slippery and squelchy; we were walking on dry land again. As we climbed a small hill, I saw a couple of stone walls and the foundations of a building at its summit.

‘This is called Monks’ Hill,’ Lizzie told me. ‘This was once a monastery – until the monks were taken and drained of their blood one by one. This marsh used to be home to scores of water witches who did as they liked. Until the spooks grew stronger in the County, that is. Even now, but for Arkwright and his dogs they’d soon be back for good. Ain’t no doubt about that, girl.’

Lizzie led the way to the top of the incline and hunkered down with her back to the wall, facing the marsh. I settled down at her side and followed her gaze. Nothing moved, but I felt very uneasy. There wasn’t even a breath of wind, and a
mist was starting to rise, its snake-like tendrils twisting up onto the lower slopes of the
hill
.

Suddenly Lizzie sniffed three times before giving me an evil grin. ‘They’ll be here shortly, but I’d as soon watch ’em for a while without being seen.’

Didn’t bother sniffing myself, did I: I was sure Lizzie was right – I could sense danger approaching.

She began to mutter under her breath, and I recognized the cloaking spell.

‘That should keep us hidden,’ Lizzie said.

I was confused. ‘I thought you wanted to form a coven with them?’

‘It all depends which of our slimy sisters show up here,’ she replied. ‘Most water witches are stupid – little better than animals. In return for a bit of blood they’ll help me capture the seven children I need. But there’s one sister who is really dangerous – I don’t want any dealings with her: she’d want the egg all for herself. Her name is Morwena, and her father was the Fiend himself. No, we don’t want her to see us!’

As Lizzie spoke the name ‘Morwena’, a ripple of cold fear ran right up my spine. I felt sure I’d heard that name before; it was as if someone had walked over my grave.

I was surprised to see fear in Lizzie’s eyes too. ‘How dangerous is she?’ I asked. ‘Has she powerful dark magic?’

‘Aye, that she has, girl. She’s stronger and faster than any of her sisters, and she has a deadly weapon – a blood-filled eye. One glance and you’re paralysed, rooted to the spot like a defenceless tree before a forester with a big sharp axe.
You’re helpless while she sinks her sharp fangs into your throat. So, if we see her here tonight, we’ll leave and look elsewhere for the help I need.’

We waited in silence until darkness fell and we could no longer see the edge of the marsh. But the sky was clearing, and soon a moon shone down, bathing the whole area in its silvery light.

All at once I saw a movement below – and this time I wasn’t imagining it: a ripple on the water, the lightest of splashes, and then a dark shape dragged itself up onto dry ground at the foot of the hill. It was the first of the water witches, and she stood with her back to us, water dripping from her tattered clothes, which seemed to be composed of weed and slime rather than cloth.

Suddenly she turned in our direction and sniffed very loudly, as if searching for us. I held my breath, but Lizzie’s cloaking magic proved strong enough. The witch turned back to face the water, but not before I’d glimpsed the long fangs protruding from her open mouth and the sharp talons that sprouted from each finger. And then I noticed that each of her forefingers was exceptionally long.

Soon other water witches joined her on the bank, and they began to talk. I say ‘talk’, but it was hardly speech. I recognized a few words, such as ‘hungry’ and ‘blood’, but mostly it was just a series of grunts and belches.

I had always looked down on most of the Malkins. The stench of their cottages, with the heaps of bones left in the sink or by the door, turned my stomach; but these creatures were
far worse. Lizzie was right: these water witches were little better than animals. Did we really want to be teaming up with them? I asked myself.

Soon there were about a dozen witches dripping on the edge of the marsh; a few were dragging something strange onto the bank. It was a tubular wooden cage, about one and a half times the length of a tall man, but considerably narrower than a human torso. Within it, something was moving.

And more was to come. The next three witches to emerge from the water brought prisoners with them: two men and a woman, who looked half drowned. They were choking and sputtering, the whites of their eyes showing, and covered in bog slime from head to toe. They were thrown down into the mud without ceremony, rolled onto their backs, dragged about ten paces away from each other and arranged in a row. Next, short stakes were driven into the ground a little way from their heads and feet. Then, quickly and efficiently, their arms and legs were bound to the stakes with narrow twine. The two men were hardly breathing now, but the woman groaned as the twine was pulled taut, stretching her arms and legs wide.

The witches formed a line on the bank facing the prisoners. This meant that they were now looking towards Lizzie and me too. As they joined hands and began to chant, I wondered whether their combined magical power might allow them to see through the magical cloak that Lizzie had summoned. That made me nervous.

Wasn’t bad at cloaking spells myself, but, as much as
I wanted to, I daren’t add mine to hers. Take it as an insult, she would – it would seem like I doubted her.

I needn’t have worried: her magic proved strong enough. Soon the water witches stopped chanting, and one of them left the line. This one did not approach the prisoners, as I had assumed she would. She made directly for the wooden cage. In seconds she had opened a hinged door at the end; then she rejoined her slimy companions.

I stared at the cage, fascinated. For a few moments nothing moved; then something slowly emerged from the open door. It looked like a large insect, and stepped delicately on long thin legs. All at once I saw its elongated head, and I began to tremble with fear. It had a long thin snout – which I knew was called a ‘bone-tube’. I had never seen such a creature in the flesh before, but I had seen drawings in a book from Lizzie’s small library about dark magic.

This creature was a skelt.

For a moment it seemed to be looking right at me. Suddenly it gave a loud hiss and turned to face the three captives. With a shrug, it appeared to grow larger and, on eight multi-jointed legs, scuttled towards the nearer man. It thrust its long snout into his chest, and the victim cried out in pain. Immediately I saw the bone-tube darken. If I had been watching by sunlight rather than moonlight, I knew I would have seen the transparent tube turn a bright red. The creature was sucking up blood from its victim at an alarming rate.

After that first cry of pain, the victim merely gave a series of moans, which gradually became weaker. When the
skelt withdrew its bone-tube, the man gave a loud gasp and a sigh. I knew he had taken his final breath.

Now the skelt turned its attention to the next in line. This was the woman; she began to struggle against her bonds and scream at the top of her voice. But in vain: the skelt was upon her in seconds, this time thrusting its sharp snout into her neck. Once more the tube darkened and the woman’s screams became a choking gurgle – until the skelt had drained her of blood and she twitched and lay still.

The third victim did not scream or struggle. He began to pray out loud.

‘Father, forgive them!’ he cried into the night. ‘Let them see the error of their ways and turn away from the darkness. I accept the pain of my death. Use it to lessen the pain of others.’

I wondered if he was a priest. But priest, farmer, innkeeper or bargeman, it made no difference to the predator, which scrambled up onto his body. The man tried to speak again, but instead his body convulsed as the skelt stabbed his neck. Soon he too lay still.

The skelt moved slowly away from his body, and then turned towards the still and silent line of witches, who were staring at it as if waiting for something.

Surely it wasn’t going to attack them? I thought. How much blood did the terrible creature need?

But it was not the skelt that attacked.

It was the witches!

They surged towards us, madness in their eyes.

FOR A HEART-STOPPING
moment I thought Lizzie and I were their target. But I was wrong. As if at some silent, invisible signal, they ran towards the skelt, mouths wide, showing their sharp fangs. They stretched their hands out towards it; long talons gleamed in the moonlight.

The creature tried to scuttle through the surging throng to reach the water, but there were too many of them and they were too fast.

Ferociously, they fell upon the skelt and, to my horror, began to tear it to pieces. Arms, legs and head were ripped from the body as blood began to pool on the muddy ground: no doubt its own blood as well as that of the three people it had
gorged itself on. Like some insects, its body was divided into two segments, and these were quickly sundered by the taloned hands. Even afterwards, the legs and body segments continued to twitch.