Joseph Delaney - The Spooks battle

When this was finally accomplished, the Spook turned to face my brother."Well, James, you know what you have to do. As you climb, keep your distance from us three. They won't be able to sniff us out -for, as you know, Tom and I are both seventh sons of seventh sons and long-sniffing doesn't work on us, and Alice has witch blood from both sides of her family, so that should serve her just as well. They won't get a hint until we're in really close, and by then it'll be too late. We'll move to the southeast of the hill and climb up from there directly toward the fire. With a bit of luck, and making the best use of the confusion, I'll bind Wurmalde and bring her back down while the rest flee."James nodded. "Whatever you say, Mr. Gregory. Anyways, I'll be off. So good luck to the three of you. And take care, Tom. I'll be thinking of you…"With that, he gave us a wave and set off at a brisk pace up the hill, moving away from us diagonally, his big hammer across his shoulder. I felt nervous, and not only for myself.

This was a very dangerous situation. The Spook had told the villagers that the witches 'would probably flee from the hill as soon as they attacked-he had to do that. If he gave them the full range of possibilities, they'd probably be too scared to help. It was his duty to use all possible means to stop the Lammas sabbath before something from the dark was released into the County.But things could go badly. The witches might well stand and fight. We weren't just facing covens of thirteen; the clans were also there, to witness what was about to happen. There might be more than a hundred people on the hill; if it came to a pitched battle, we'd be greatly outnumbered. I was worried about the Spook and Alice. James, too. I already had one brother -who was seriously hurt. I didn't want something bad happening to James as well."Well then," said the Spook, "let's get ourselves as close as possible to that fire. We want to be ready when the attack starts. And while I want the others to draw attention to themselves, we must be as quiet as church mice. We need the element of surprise." So saying, he led the way south before gradually beginning a direct ascent toward the beacon. I followed close behind him, glad of my staff, Alice at my own heels. The climb was steep and the grass coarse, with big tussocks and treacherous, uneven ground.

It was dark now, and it would be easy to twist an ankle. The Spook had told me that the plateau atop the hill was just as bad. A lot of rain fell on Pendle, and there were bogs aplenty. But there was also one thing to our advantage -heather.It grew in profusion as we neared the summit and gave us some cover. The Spook put his hand on my shoulder and pressed, signaling that I should drop to my knees. I continued to follow him upward, now crawling through the heather, the wet ground soon soaking the knees of my breeches, while ahead of me the sky grew red, until I could actually see the sparks from the huge fire rising up to soar over us, blasted by the prevailing westerly wind.At last the Spook came to a halt and waved me forward. I crawled until I was kneeling alongside him, Alice taking up a position on my right. We were facing the fire, and what I saw dashed such hopes as I'd had: I no longer had any illusions that we were going to destroy the power of the Pendle covens. Despite the Spook's avowed intention in coming here, I knew now that it just wasn't possible. There were too many of them, and the threat they posed was too great. To our right, there had to be two hundred or more people in an arc facing the fire, all of them either witches or part of the clans. And they were armed to the teeth. The women had knives at their belts, some brandishing them -wildly so that the blades reflected the firelight; the men had long sticks with knives or barbarous hooks lashed to the end.There, beyond the fire, facing the gathering, and -with four other witches at her side -one of them Mab Mouldheel-was the tall, threatening figure of Wurmalde. She -was addressing the clans, moving her arms dramatically to emphasize what she was saying. I could just about hear her voice, carried by the wind, but was too far away to make out the actual -words.There seemed to be little happening in the way of rituals. To one side of the main gathering, sheep were roasting on spits and I could even see casks of ale. It looked like they were planning some sort of celebration.

"I can see Mab, but who are the three others with Wurmalde?" I asked, keeping my voice low-though there was little chance that I could be heard. The wind was blowing toward us and the witches were crying out in response to Wurmalde, some shrieking loud enough to wake the longtime dead.It was Alice who answered. "One on the right is Anne Malkin, coven leader. Next to her is Old Florence, who governs the Deanes. Getting on in years, she is, and little threat to us tonight. They must have carried her up the hill. The third is Grimalkin, the assassin."At the name Grimalkin, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck move. She was the cruel killer whom Wurmalde had threatened to use against Jack and his family, the one who marked the boundaries of Pendle with her warning sign.Suddenly Wurmalde stopped speaking, and after a few moments' silence the witches surged toward the casks of ale and spits of roasting sheep. If the celebrations were beginning, then did it mean the ritual had already been completed?

It was as if the Spook had read my mind. "I don't like the look of this at all," he said. "I'm afraid we've arrived too late…"Soon the clans were celebrating -with abandon, quaffing ale and wolfing down roasted mutton while I could only watch in dismay, my heart sinking lower and lower. Had the Fiend already come through the portal? If so, he would be gathering strength. Soon he would be coming for me.As I -watched, something happened to silence the celebrations. A lone -witch ran to the fire from the northeast. She must have been placed on the summit to keep -watch. Whatever she said to the gathering, all the witches suddenly became less boisterous; some turned their backs on the fire and faced north or east. Some even seemed to be looking in our direction, and even though everything I'd moving purposefully forward. It looked as if all was lost. I wondered what the Spook would do now. It was hopeless, but I couldn't see him remaining hidden here in the shadows while the villagers were slaughtered. In a moment he'd lead me and Alice to join the fray.By now the villagers had come to a halt, standing in a thin, uncertain line. They looked ready to turn and flee at any moment. But then I heard a man shouting what sounded like orders and, to my astonishment, someone burst from the line and ran directly to the waiting witches. It was a big man brandishing a huge hammer.

At first I thought it was Matt Finley, the Downham blacksmith, but then I recognized him beyond all doubt. It was James! He was running flat out, water splashing up each time his boots landed on the soggy ground, the spray glistening orange and red in the firelight so that he seemed to be running through fire -either that, or his boots themselves flickered flames into the darkness.Now, rather than remaining in a thin line, the villagers bunched up tightly behind him and followed him, most been taught told me that they couldn't sniff us out from that distance, I became very nervous.When I glanced down and to my right, I could see the torches moving up the hill. The Spook had planned things well. The villagers were spread out in groups, with the groups themselves not too close together, which gave the illusion that an army was climbing Pendle. But would the witches fall for that? By now the clans were definitely alarmed. Sentinels kept running back from their positions on the summit to report to the gathering.After a while the clans began to shrink back behind the fire and a few were even beginning to slip away to the west, as if trying to lose themselves in the darkness beyond the firelight. But then it all went wrong…Once the villagers reached the summit and moved onto the plateau toward the witches, it became increasingly apparent that they were pitifully few in number. You could see their advance becoming slower and slower as they saw the armed horde they faced. Now the witches began to jeer and yell, brandishing their weapons while running at full pelt.