The real danger now lay somewhere ahead. Had the kretch regenerated itself yet? Would the mage and the witches know that we had left the castle?
The answer to my first question was uncertain, but it was likely that spies would be watching. They would have heard the shouts and seen the drawbridge being lowered. Even now they would be alerting their sister witches.
So we ran hard in a direction that was roughly east, towards the rising sun. I was thinking desperately: Where could we go? What refuge remained?
My mind twisted first one way then another, seeking what was not there to be found. It was true that there was one place we might use to our advantage, although we might encounter more enemies than friends there. I changed direction and picked up my pace.
‘Witch Dell lies directly ahead!’ Thorne said, running alongside me.
‘Yes, that’s where we are heading, child. It may prove a good place to stand and fight!’
Before long, Pendle Hill dominated the skyline. It was shaped like a huge whale – the great sea mammal I had glimpsed on one of my journeys across the great northern sea that lay beyond the borders of the County.
We rested for a while in a wood, confident that we had put a good distance between us and our pursuers. We would not approach Witch Dell until nightfall.
I turned to Thorne. ‘How do you feel, child?’ I asked. I wondered whether her experiences in the dungeon might affect her ability to fight.
‘Feel?’ she snapped. ‘Feel about what – the boy?’
‘Yes, the boy – and also the physical hurt that you received.’
‘The boy is nothing to me now. Are all men fools like that?’
‘Not all men are fools, though there are plenty of dolts to spare for women who want them. But do not think too badly of Will. He lost his father – and, by making a bargain with us, set up the chain of events that led to his father’s death. But forget him now. He is in the past and could never have been part of your life, anyway. You are a witch and will soon become a fully-fledged assassin. He will become a knight. You come from different worlds.’
‘Yes, I will try to forget him. I will push him from my mind.’
Thorne fell silent, so after a while I spoke again. ‘What about the torture?’ I asked.
‘The pain of being stabbed with the bodkin was terrible at first,’ Thorne answered, ‘but after a while I grew less sensitive and coped better. The priest realized that, so he threatened to take my thumb-bones. He was enjoying my fear and really meant to cut them from me while I still lived. I could read it in his eyes. It was unbearable. Never have I felt such terror and despair. All that I have been, and could have become, would have been taken from me. I would have been nothing – a shameful thing to be ridiculed for ever.’
‘Well, it did not happen, child. You were brave and bore the pain well. The priest is dead and you live to fight another day. We will destroy our enemies and prevail.’
‘Will we be safe in the dell?’ Thorne asked. ‘Will we find allies there?’
‘Nowhere on this earth is safe for us now, child. But it depends whom we encounter first. Some of the dead may be well-disposed towards us; most will just want our blood. But they will protect their territory. If we can get into the heart of the dell, they will defend it against the larger threat of those who pursue us.’
‘Witch Dell is the place where you fought Kernolde and became the witch assassin, isn’t it?’ Thorne asked.
‘It is indeed, child. Years have passed but it seems like only yesterday.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Thorne asked.
‘You know the story well. You’ve heard it from my own lips more than once.’
I listened to the wind sighing through the trees and checked our surroundings for danger. All was clear. Our enemies were still some distance away.
‘Then please tell it one more time. Stories change a little with each telling. A good teller of tales remembers new things and forgets what is least important.’
I sighed, but then began my tale. Why not? It would distract us both for a while from the danger that lay ahead and behind.
‘The challenge always took place north of the three villages of the Malkins, Deanes and Mouldheels; the spot was usually selected by the then assassin.
‘Kernolde chose as her killing ground Witch Dell, where she routinely used these dead things as her allies, the only witch who has ever done so successfully. More than one challenger was drained of blood by the dead before Kernolde took her thumb-bones as proof of victory.’
‘Wasn’t that cheating – to use dead witches to aid her?’ Thorne asked.
‘Some might think so, but she had been the Malkin assassin for many years. She was feared. Who would dare to question what she did?’
‘I’ve heard that some of the dead witches are really strong and can roam for miles seeking their prey. How many are there at present like that?’ Thorne asked.
‘There were five until autumn, but, as you know, even dead witches do not survive for ever. Gradually they weaken, and parts of their bodies begin to decay and fall off. I learned from Agnes that the winter took its toll; now there are only three really strong ones.’
‘Who will they side with – you or our enemies?’
‘That is uncertain, child. But if at least two fight alongside us, the balance of power will be in our favour.’
Thorne nodded, deep in thought. ‘Tell me more about Kernolde,’ she demanded.
‘Kernolde often proved victorious without her dead allies. She was skilled with blades, ropes, traps and pits full of spikes, but her speciality was strangulation. Once they were defeated she in variably strangled her opponents. She enjoyed inflicting that slow death upon those she had overcome.
‘I knew this well before my challenge began: I’d thought long and hard about it and had visited the dell many times during the previous months. I had usually gone there in daylight, when the dead witches were dormant and Kernolde was away hunting prey. I had sniffed out every inch of the wood; knew every tree, every blade of grass; the whereabouts of every pit and trap. And there were lots of those. Some who fought Kernolde died even before they reached her.
‘So I was ready: I stood outside the dell in the shadow of the trees just before midnight, the appointed time for combat to begin. High to my left was the large mass of Pendle Hill, its eastern slopes bathed in the light of the full moon, which had risen high to the south. Within moments a beacon flared at the summit, sparks shooting upwards into the air to signal the beginning of my challenge.