Spook's Destiny (25 page)

But then, just when it seemed that all hope was gone, there was a sudden change. I felt something yield very slightly. My heart began to thud inside my chest – slowly at first, then faster and faster! I was in control again, my blood surging through my veins. The Fiend was standing before me, large and terrifying – but immobile. Now he was still and
I
was moving!

I thrust the silver spear up into his side. There was momentary resistance, then a spurt of black blood. I pushed it upwards even harder, deep into his hairy hide. The Fiend screamed, a noise that stabbed into my eardrums; a cry of pain and anger with the power to split the earth asunder and make the very stones bleed. It buffeted me so hard that I lost my concentration – and my grip on time.

Suddenly the Fiend burst free of my control, twisted towards me and brought his huge fist scything downwards. I ducked; felt it brush past my hair.

But time was moving freely again, and now the others were able to attack. The Fiend bellowed for a second time as the Spook plunged his own spear deep into his hairy belly, bringing him to his knees.

Above, there was a flash of forked lightning, followed immediately by a deep rumble of thunder. A storm burst overhead, torrential rain drumming into the ground. It seemed to have come from nowhere.

I looked up and saw Grimalkin balanced on the balls of her feet, taking careful aim. The witch assassin never missed – surely she wouldn’t this time? My heart was in my mouth, but I needn’t have feared. She thrust downwards powerfully, and her spear pierced the Fiend’s back. It went right through his body and, with an explosion of black gore, the bloodied point emerged from his chest. She’d speared his heart with silver. But would it be enough?

Lightning flashed again, dividing the sky, and a fury of rain plummeted into the pit as the witch assassin threw her second spear to pierce the Fiend’s body within an inch of the first. His heart was now transfixed by two silver spears. He gave a great groan of pain and bowed forward, blood and saliva dripping from his open mouth. Grimalkin now leaped down into the pit to his left. In one hand was a hammer; in the other gloved hand a fistful of silver nails. Meanwhile the Spook moved towards the Fiend’s right arm.

By now the Fiend was on all fours, tossing his head like a wounded bull and roaring with pain. The witch assassin seized her chance and stabbed a nail into his left hand, then struck the broad head three times with the hammer, driving it right through his flesh to pin that huge hairy paw tightly to the rock. He twisted his head, opened his mouth wide and lunged towards her as if to bite her head from her body. But, lithe as a cat, she avoided that deadly mouth and swung the hammer back hard into his face, smashing his front teeth into fragments and leaving only broken bloody stumps.

I watched my master quickly drive a nail into the Fiend’s right hand, the muscles bunching in his shoulder as he swung the heavy hammer with a rhythm and power that belied his age. Seconds later, working as a team, the Spook and Grimalkin had driven a nail through each of the Fiend’s ankles. As he roared with pain, Grimalkin pointed towards me.

‘His head!’ she cried. ‘Now! Strike off his head! Do it now!’

I drew the hero sword and stepped towards the Fiend; as I did so, blood started to drip from both its ruby eyes. I lifted it up high, took a deep breath, tensed my muscles and brought it down towards his neck. Black blood spurted up as the blade cut into his flesh. But my arm jarred as it struck bone and sinew. The Fiend screamed, the blade jammed, and it took a couple of seconds for me to tug it free.

‘Strike again!’ shouted Grimalkin. ‘Do it!’

Once more I brought the sword down on the same place on the neck. This time the resistance was slight, and the sword severed the Fiend’s huge head from his shoulders. It fell into the pit and rolled away, to end up at Grimalkin’s feet.

My eyes met the Spook’s, but there was no victory there. He simply nodded.

Grimalkin seized the head by the curved horns and held it aloft. Black blood dripped from it, and the Fiend’s swollen lips moved over his shattered teeth as if he was trying to speak. But his eyes had rolled up into his head; only the whites were showing. Grimalkin sprang out of the pit and pushed the head into her new leather sack. After tying the neck securely, she returned to the pit, where the Fiend’s decapitated body still shuddered and writhed.

The Spook and I got our spades and quickly started to fill in the pit with the mound of iron- and salt-laced soil. I glanced up at the gantry. The rigger and his mate were nowhere to be seen. They had fled.

With torrential rain still falling, the three of us chucked soil into the pit just as fast as we could. Drenched to the skin, we worked rapidly, frantic to hide the monstrous beast, not knowing yet what he was capable of. I wondered whether, even without a head, he could tear himself free. Gradually his struggles lessened; the groans from the head in the sack were quieter too.

Some time later, the rigger and his mate returned. By then the decapitated body of the Fiend was almost covered, though the soil still twitched and heaved. Shamefaced, the two men mumbled their apologies. The Spook simply patted them on the back. With the extra hands, our progress was faster – though it took almost another hour before we had finally filled in the pit and stamped down the earth. The work completed, we stood there, looking down, our chests still heaving with the exertion. At last it was time to lower the flat stone lid onto the pit.

By now the rain had ceased, but it was slippery underfoot so we had to take care. With the rigger working the chain, Grimalkin and I grasped one side of the stone while the Spook and the rigger’s mate held the other. It came down smoothly, and at the last moment we pulled our hands clear and the lid fell into position, a perfect fit.

Next the rigger’s mate dragged the chain across and set the hook into the ring in the boulder. Soon it was being lifted into the air and lowered into position in the centre of the stone lid. Then, its work done, the rigger unscrewed the iron ring. Finally we heaped the last of the soil over the lid and around the boulder. Once the grass grew, it would look just like a central thirteenth standing stone amid the twelve that surrounded it. Folk would never know that the body of the Fiend lay buried here within the stone circle at Kenmare.

But Grimalkin wasn’t finished yet. She added to the dragon’s threat by casting a cloaking spell of her own to hide the Fiend’s presence from the servants of the dark. The Spook turned his back as she completed the ritual, walking three times around the outside of the stones; as she walked, she chanted her powerful spell.

At last she came to stand beside us. It seemed that we’d succeeded. The great beast was bound; despite all his efforts, he had been unable to tear himself free. We remained standing there for some time, saying nothing, hardly able to believe what we’d just accomplished.

‘The Fiend isn’t bound for ever, though, is he?’ I dared ask, my voice hardly more than a whisper. ‘One way or another, some day he’ll be free …’

‘Nothing lasts for ever, lad,’ said the Spook, frowning. ‘But now he can’t leave that shape because his flesh is pierced with silver and he’s bound to the rock. And separating him from his head makes the binding even stronger. He’ll be here until we find a way to put an end to him for good. But what I fear most is that someone or something else might release him. That’s the biggest danger now.’

‘That won’t happen,’ said Grimalkin. ‘As you say, so long as the head and the body are separated, the Fiend will remain bound. At first I intended to bury the head in a different place – maybe far across the sea. But now I’ve thought of a better way.

‘The head belongs to me now. I will be its custodian. I plan to travel back to the County and keep it near me at all times. Denizens of the dark will hunt me down. They will come after me to retrieve the head and return it here, but I will kill them one by one. I will keep it as long as I can’ – Grimalkin looked down – ‘though it’s true that I cannot run and fight for ever. There will be too many, and they will catch me in the end.’ She looked at me directly. ‘While I hold them off, use the time to find a way to finish him once and for all.’

I drew the sword and held it towards her, hilt first. ‘Take the sword,’ I said. ‘It will help!’

Grimalkin shook her head. ‘No, I have my own weapons, and your need will be greater. Remember, the servants of the Fiend will follow you too. They will know what has been done – and recognize your part in it. Besides, you are the keeper of the Destiny Blade now. You will know when it is time to hand it on to another. As we drove the silver spears into the body of the Fiend, we drove a sliver of fear into all denizens of the dark, no matter how powerful. They now know what it is like to be afraid. And from the moment you sliced off the Fiend’s head your destiny was changed. Where once you were hunted, now you have become the hunter of the dark!’

Then, without a backward glance, Grimalkin lifted the leather sack, threw it over her left shoulder and ran off into the night.

The Spook glanced at me sternly. ‘Best take her words with a pinch of salt. The truth is that after your foolish pact, you were lucky to get another chance, lad,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘She’s right on one count, though: there will be a final reckoning with the Fiend; until then we’ve bought ourselves a bit of respite. We need to put it to good use.’

WE STAYED ON
at Shey’s house while the buds on the hawthorn hedges burst into leaf and the sun coaxed the first reluctant spring flowers into bloom. Blustery winds still occasionally drove squalls of rain in from the west, but when the sun
did
shine, it had real warmth.

Good news had arrived from the County. As Grimalkin had predicted, both the Lowland and Highland Scots had joined a coalition of the free northern counties. A big battle had been fought north of Kendal. The enemy had been driven south, but the conflict was far from over yet. They had regrouped near Priestown, and another battle was imminent. Each day I waited expectantly, hoping for news. I wanted to go home.

The guards around the house had been doubled ever since one of them had mysteriously disappeared without a trace. I had noted Grimalkin’s warning, but I had not seen any sign of the servants of the dark. The long war between the mages and the landowners had once more settled into the uneasy stalemate that had endured for centuries. Despite our best efforts, nothing had really changed.

Early one morning, with the sun shining in a cloudless sky, I was out exercising the dogs. I’d had an uncomfortable night and hadn’t slept well. I’d been thinking about Alice. Her loss was a pain that still kept me awake.

The dogs sensed something first. All three of them stopped barking and came to a sudden halt. They were staring towards a wood about half a mile to the west. Suddenly, with Claw in the lead, they bounded away towards it, yelping excitedly. I called them back, but they ignored me, so I had no choice but to run after them.

I thought it was unlikely to be a rabbit or a hare. Claw, Blood and Bone were usually obedient dogs, and no matter how strong the scent they’d picked up, once given a command, they came to heel. What was wrong with them?

By the time I reached the trees, the dogs had already bounded far ahead, deep in the wood. I could hear their barks growing fainter and fainter. Annoyed, I slowed to a walk. Immediately I noticed that it was very quiet beneath the canopy of fresh green leaves. The breeze had died away and there was no birdsong. Nothing was moving. And then I heard it – the sound of distant pipes. I’d heard that music before.
It was Pan!

I began to run. With every stride I took, the music grew louder. Moments later I burst into a clearing. The god had once again taken the form of a boy dressed in green, and was sitting on a log, a smile on his face. Around him stood a circle of bewitched animals: stoats, ferrets, rabbits, hares, along with my three dogs – all staring at him intently. Above, the branches were laden with birds. And there, at his feet, was a girl in a mud-splattered white dress.

She was lying on her back with her head resting against the log. Although young, her hair was white. It was not a pretty ash-blonde but the stark white of old age. She was wearing pointy shoes. With a shock, I suddenly recognized her: Alice.

Pan stopped playing and lowered his pipe. Immediately all the animals, with the exception of my dogs, fled into the trees. Above my head there was a beating of wings as the birds dispersed. Claw, Blood and Bone moved towards me and began to whine softly. Now that the music had stopped, they were afraid.