Joseph Delaney - The Spook's Mistake

The following week was hard, but thankfully we didn't fight again and my bruises did slowly begin to fade.

A lot of the time was spent working with the dogs. Being close to them made me nervous but they were well-trained and obedient so I felt safe enough while Arkwright was there. There were boggy woodlands to the east and we practised using the dogs to flush out witches. The scariest part was when I had to play the part of the witch by hiding in the undergrowth. Arkwright called it 'Hunt the Apprentice!' The dogs would circle round behind and drive me straight towards the place where he waited with his barbed staff. It reminded me of rounding up sheep, and when it was finally my turn to hunt him, I started to enjoy it.

Less enjoyable were the swimming lessons. Before I went into the water again I was made to practise the strokes by balancing face down across a chair with my arms and legs sticking out on either side. Arkwright taught me to breathe in while pulling my arms wide and back with my hands cupped in a scooping motion. Then I would breathe out, thrusting my arms forwards, while simultaneously giving the strongest frog-kick I could manage. I soon became proficient but it was a lot harder to do the same thing in the canal.

The first day I swallowed a lot of dirty water and was sick. But subsequently Arkwright joined me in the canal, and with him by my side in case I got into trouble, my confidence steadily grew and I soon managed my first strokes unaided. On the whole things were a lot better and Arkwright seemed to be making an effort with his drinking. He only reached for the bottle after supper, and that was my cue to get myself off to bed.

By the end of the week I could manage five widths of the canal, turning quickly each time by kicking against the bank with my feet. I could also do the 'dogpaddle'; it didn't seem as effective as the other stroke but it enabled me to float in the same spot without sinking — something really useful for someone who'd been as nervous about swimming as me!

'Well, Master Ward,' Arkwright told me, 'you're starting to make progress. But tomorrow it's back to hunting with the dogs, and this time we'll try something different. It's about time you learned to cope with the marsh.'

After breakfast my new master made me clear the table and wash up while he went upstairs for an hour. When he came down, he was carrying a small hand-drawn map, which he placed on the table.

'We're going to repeat the hunting practice, but this time the terrain is far more difficult. Water witches love marshland and sometimes we have to go in there and flush 'em out!

'Here's the canal and the mill,' he said, pointing with his finger, 'and here's the marsh to the south-west. The most treacherous area, which could swallow you up in the blink of an eye, is the mere, so keep away. "Little Mere", they call it. It's not a big lake, but a dangerous

bog extends for some way around it — particularly to the south and east. The rest might prove difficult going but you'd probably survive.

'Now, there are lots of paths through the marsh, three of them marked on this map. It's up to you to work out the best routes. One of 'em might even allow you to outrun the dogs. '

When my jaw dropped, Arkwright smiled, showing a lot of teeth. 'This is where you're heading for,' he said, pointing to the map again. 'It's the ruin of a small monastery on Monks' Hill. Not much left of it now but a couple of walls and some foundations. Reach there before the dogs get you and you've won. That means you won't have to do it again tomorrow! And remember, this is for your own good. Familiarizing yourself with tracts of bog like this is an important part of your training. Right, you've got a couple of minutes to study that map and then we'll get started.'

I spent a nervous few moments peering at Arkwright's map. The most northerly path was the most direct and would allow the least time for the dogs to run me down. It passed close to the Little Mere, with its treacherous, dangerous bogland, but I thought it was worth taking a chance. So, my route chosen, I went out into the garden, ready to get it over with.

Arkwright was sitting on the porch step, the two dogs at his feet. 'Well, Master Ward, know what you're doing?'

I smiled and nodded.

'We could leave it until tomorrow if you like,' he offered. 'The mist's starting to close in again.'

I looked beyond the garden. The mist was creeping in from the west, drifting across the marsh in tendrils to form a grey curtain. But I still felt confident about the path I'd chosen. Might as well get it over with.

'No, I'll do it now. How much start do I get?' I asked with a smile. The hunting and swimming had made me a lot fitter, I thought. It would be nice to win and I wondered if I could.

'Five minutes!' Arkwright growled. 'And I've already started counting. '

I spun away and started to sprint towards the salt moat.

'Oi!' Arkwright shouted. 'You won't be needing your staff!'

Without even looking back, I threw it from me and splashed through the moat. I'd show him! Those dogs were fast and fierce, but with my five-minute start they'd never catch me.

Moments later I was sprinting along my chosen path, the mist thick around me. I'd only been running for a couple of minutes when I heard the dogs barking. Arkwright hadn't kept his word! He'd released them already! He was doing his best to give me the training I needed, but despite that he always liked to win. Annoyed, I drove myself even harder, my feet fairly flying along the path.

But the visibility quickly shrank to a few feet and I was forced to slow right down. Relying on scent, the dogs wouldn't have the same handicap and it slowly began to dawn on me that I wouldn't outrun them after all. Why hadn't I accepted his offer to wait until tomorrow? As I ran, my feet started splashing and I realized that I'd reached the more dangerous part of my journey — the point closest to the mere.

I could still hear the muffled barks of the dogs behind me. The mist distorted the sound and made it difficult to tell how close they were. By now I was reduced to a steady jog — far too slow.

It was then that I heard a strange, plaintive cry from somewhere above. What was it? Some sort of bird? If so, it was one I'd not heard before. A few moments later it was repeated, and for some reason that eerie sound unnerved me. There was something quite unnatural about it. But I carried on, aware that the dogs must be gaining on me.

After another three or four minutes I saw a shape on the path ahead. Slowly I came to halt, the dogs momentarily forgotten.

What was it? I peered into the mist and saw a woman walking ahead of me, shiny dark hair down to her shoulders. She was dressed in a green shawl and a long brown skirt that brushed the ground. I strode on quickly. Once beyond her, I could start running again. Even better, her presence might put the dogs off my trail.

I didn't want to scare the poor woman by coming up behind her and taking her unawares, so when I was about ten paces away, I called out in a friendly voice:

'Hello! Would you mind if I came past? I know the path's really narrow but if you keep still, I'll be able to squeeze by—'

I expected the woman to step to one side or look round to see who'd spoken. But she just stopped on the path with her back to me. The dogs sounded really close now. I just had to get past her or they'd be upon me and Arkwright would have won.

At that moment I felt a sudden chill, a warning that something from the dark was near. But it came far too late.

When I was just a couple of paces behind her, the woman suddenly spun round to look at me and my heart lurched up into my mouth at the nightmare that confronted me. Her mouth opened to reveal two rows of yellow-green teeth, but instead of normal canines she had four immense fangs. I retched as her foul breath washed over me. Her left eye was closed, the right one open — a vertical slit like the cold eye of a snake or lizard — and her nose was a beak of sharp bone without any covering of flesh or even skin. Her hands looked human but for her fingernails, which were sharp, curved talons.