Joseph Delaney - The Spooks battle

It was summer, but it suddenly became very cold. My breath steamed in the freezing air, and the grass at my feet whitened with hoarfrost. Hoarfrost in August!So I ran on toward Jack's farm, the only sound that of my boots beating a rhythmical tattoo on the hardening earth.I seemed to be running for an eternity, but at last I saw Hangman's Hill ahead of me. Beyond it was the farm. Soon I was jogging up into the trees that shrouded its upper reaches. I was so close now; so close to the refuge that Mam had prepared. But the moon was red -so red, bathing everything in its lurid, baleful light. And the hanging men 'were there. The ghasts. The remnants of those -who had been hanged long ago, during the civil war that had torn the whole land asunder, dividing the County, ripping families apart, setting brother against brother.I'd seen the ghasts before. The Spook had made me confront them as -we set off from the farm in the first minutes of my apprenticeship. As a young lad, I'd heard them from my bedroom. They were a fact; they scared the farm dogs, keeping them from the pastures immediately below. But even when I'd confronted them with the Spook, they had never seemed so vivid, never so real. Now they groaned and choked as they slowly turned, suspended from the creaking branches. And their eyes seemed to be staring toward me in accusation -eyes that seemed to be saying that it was somehow my fault; that I was to blame for them hanging there.But they were just ghasts, I told myself, remembering one of the very first things the Spook had taught me. They weren't ghosts -lingering sentient spirits, bound to the scene of their death. They were just fragments, memories remaining while their spirits had passed on, hopefully to a better place. Still, they stared hard at me, and their gaze chilled me to the bone. And then there was a sudden alarming sound: Someone was running up the hill toward me, feet thundering on the hard, frozen ground!Grimalkin, the witch assassin, was behind me, and she was closing in for the kill.

Despair

THE witch was chasing me through the dark wood, getting nearer and nearer by the second.I was running as fast as I was able, weaving desperately, with branches whipping into my face. Twice I ducked aside as cold, dead fingers brushed my forehead. Ghast fingers. The Fingers of the hanging men.Ghasts were mostly phantasms -images without substance. But fear gave them strength and solidity, and I was terrified: terrified of the assassin, terrified of the death that chased me through the wood. And my terror was feeding the dark.I was tired and my strength was failing, but I drove myself harder and harder toward the summit of Hangman's Hill. Once I'd reached it, a faint hope quivered within me. Downhill, the going was easier.

Beyond the trees -was the fence that bordered the northern pasture of the farm. Climb over that fence, and it -wasn't more than half a mile or so to the farmyard and the back door of the house. Then up the stairs. Turn the key to Mam's room. Get inside. Lock it behind me. Do that and I'd be safe! But would I have time for any of that?Grimalkin might pull me back as I climbed over the fence. She could catch me crossing the pasture. Or the yard. Then I would have to wait while I unlocked the door. I imagined my trembling fingers trying to insert the key into the lock as she ran up the stairs behind me.But would I even reach the fence? She was getting nearer now. Much nearer. I could hear her feet pounding down the slope toward me. Better to turn and fight, said a voice inside my head. Better to face her now than be cut down from behind. But what chance did I have against a trained and experienced assassin? What hope against the strength and speed of a witch whose talent was murder?In my right hand I gripped the Spook's staff; in my left was my silver chain, coiled about my wrist, ready for throwing. I ran on, the blood moon flickering its baleful light through the leaf canopy to my left. I'd almost reached the edge of Hangman's Wood, but the witch assassin was very close now. I could hear the pad-pad of her feet and the swish-wish of her breath.As I ran beyond the final tree, the farm fence directly ahead, the witch sprinted toward me from the right, a dagger in each hand, the long blades reflecting the moon's red light. I staggered to my left and cracked the chain to send it hurtling at her.

But all my training proved useless. I was weary, terrified, and on the verge of despair. The chain fell harmlessly onto the grass. So, exhausted, I finally turned to face the witch.It was over, and I knew it. All I had now was the Spook's staff, but I barely had the strength to lift it. My heart was hammering, my breath rasping, and the world seemed to spin about me.Now I could see Grimalkin for the first time. She wore a short black smock tied at her waist, but her skirt was divided and strapped tightly to each thigh to aid running. Her body was crisscrossed with narrow leather straps to which sheaths were bound, each holding a weapon: blades of different lengths; sharp hooks; small implements like shears…Suddenly I remembered what the Spook had pointed out carved on the oak tree soon after we'd entered Pendle. They weren't shears. They were sharp scissors, used to cut flesh and bone! And around the witch's neck was a necklace of bones. Some I recognized as human -fingers and toes -and thumb bones hung from each ear-lobe. Trophies from those she'd slain. She was powerful and also beautiful in a strange sort of way, and looking at her made my teeth tingle. But her lips were painted black, and when she opened her mouth in a travesty of a smile, I saw that her teeth had been filed to points. And at that moment I recalled Tibb's words.I was looking into the mouth of death.

"You're a disappointment," Grimalkin said, leaning back against the trunk of the final tree and pointing her daggers downward so that the long blades crossed against her knees. "I've heard so much about you, and despite your youth I hoped for more. Now I see that you're just a child and hardly worthy of my skills. It's a pity I can't wait until you become a man."Then let me go, please," I begged, seeing just a faint glimmer of hope in 'what she said. "They told me that you like a kill to be difficult. So why don't you wait? When I'm older, we'll meet again. Then I'd be able to put up a fight. Let me live!"I do what must be done," she said, shaking her head, genuine sadness in her eyes. "I wish it were otherwise but…" She shrugged and allowed the blade to fall from her right hand and bury itself in the soft earth at her feet. Then she held her right arm wide as if offering an embrace. "Come here, child. Rest your head against my bosom and close your eyes. I will make it swift. There will be a brief moment of pain-hardly more than a mother's kiss against your throat -and then your struggle against this life will be over. Trust me. I will give you peace at last."I nodded, lowered my head, and approached her, my heart racing. As I took the second step toward her waiting embrace, tears suddenly flowed down my cheeks, and I heard her give a deep sigh. But in completing that step, I flicked the Spook's staff from my right hand to my left. And with all the speed and strength that I could muster, I drove it hard at her so that the blade went straight through her left shoulder, pinning her to the trunk of the tree.She uttered no sound at all. The pain must have been terrible, but her only reaction was a slight tightening of the lips. I released the staff, leaving it still quivering in the wood, then turned to run.

The blade had gone deep into the tree and the staff itself was rowan. She would find it difficult and painful to free herself. Now I had a chance to reach the safety of Mam's room.I'd only taken two steps when something made me turn and look back toward the witch. She had reached across with her right hand and taken the blade from her left, and now, with incredible speed and force, she hurled the knife straight at my head.I watched it spinning toward me, its blade reflecting the red light of the moon. End over end it came. I could have tried to duck or even step to one side, but neither movement would have saved me from the speed and force of that blade.