‘Immediately I did what no other challenger had done before. Most crept into the dell, nervous and fearful, in dread of what they faced. Some were braver but still entered cautiously. I was different. I announced my presence in a loud clear voice.’
‘Let me say it for you, Grimalkin. Please!’ Thorne interrupted.
I nodded, and Thorne got to her feet, put on a very serious face and called out the words that I had used all those long years ago:
‘“I’m here, Kernolde! My name is Grimalkin and I am your death!”’ she shouted at the top of her voice. ‘“I’m coming for you, Kernolde! I’m coming for you! And nothing living or dead can stop me!”’
She sat down and we both laughed for a while. ‘Did you mean it?’ Thorne asked. ‘Did you really believe your own words?’
‘To a certain extent I believed. It was not just bravado, although that played no small part. My behaviour was a product of much thought and calculation. I knew that my shouts would bring the dead witches towards me, and that’s what I wanted. Now I would know where they were. It is always important to spy out the location of any danger that we face.
‘Most dead witches are slow, and I knew that I could outpace them. It was the powerful ones I had to beware of. One of them was named Gertrude the Grim because of her intimidating and repulsive appearance, and she was both strong and quick for one who had been dead for more than a century. She roamed far and wide beyond the dell, hunting for blood. But tonight she would be waiting within it, for she was Kernolde’s closest accomplice, well-rewarded in blood for aiding each victory.
‘I waited for fifteen minutes or so, long enough to let the slowest witch get near to me. I’d already sniffed out Gertrude, the old one. She’d been close to the edge of the dell for some time but had chosen not to venture into the open; she had moved in amongst the trees so that her slower sisters could threaten me first. I could hear the rustling of leaves and the occasional faint crack of a twig as they shuffled forward. They were slow, but never underestimate a dead witch. They have great strength, and once they have hold of your flesh they cannot easily be prised free. Soon they begin to suck your blood, until you weaken and can fight no more. Some would be in the ground, hiding within the dead leaves and mud, ready to reach out and grasp at my ankles as I sped by.
‘I sprinted into the trees. I had already sniffed Kernolde and she was exactly where I expected, waiting beneath the branches of the oldest oak in the dell. This was her tree; the one in which she stored her magic; her place of power.’
I enjoyed telling the tale to Thorne and thus re-living my fight to become the witch assassin. I have won many battles since, but that first victory brought me the greatest enjoyment because it was where Grimalkin truly began.
‘A hand reached up towards me from the leaves. Without breaking stride, I slipped a dagger from the scabbard on my left thigh and pinned the dead witch to the thick gnarled root of a tree. And here is some good advice for you, Thorne. Never pin a witch through the palm of her hand – she can simply tear herself free. Always thrust your blade into the wrist rather than the palm. That is what I did.
‘Another witch shuffled towards me from the right, her hideous face lit by a shaft of moonlight. Rivulets of saliva dribbled down her chin and dripped onto her tattered gown, which was covered in dark stains. She jabbered curses at me, eager for my blood. Instead she got my blade, which I plucked from my right shoulder sheath, hurling it towards her. The point took her in the throat, throwing her backwards. I ran on even faster.
‘Four more times my blades speared dead flesh, and by now the other witches were left behind; the slow and those I’d maimed. But Kernolde and the powerful old one waited somewhere ahead. I wore eight sheaths that day; each contained a blade. Now only two remained.
I leaped a hidden pit; then a second. Although they were covered with leaves and mud, I knew they were there. At last Grim Gertrude barred my path. I came to a halt and awaited her attack. Let her come to me! Her tangled hair fell down to her knees. She was grim indeed, and well-named! A worm wriggled and dropped from her left nostril. Maggots and beetles scuttled through the slimy curtain that obscured all of her face save one malevolent eye; that and an elongated black tooth that jutted upwards over her top lip almost as far as her left nostril.
‘She ran towards me, kicking up leaves, her hands extended to claw at my face or squeeze my throat. She was fast for a dead witch; very fast. But not fast enough. With my left hand, I drew the largest of my blades from its scabbard at my hip. As you know, this knife is not crafted for throwing; it is more akin to a short sword, with razor-sharp edges. I leaped forward to meet Grim Gertrude, and with one blow I cut her head clean from her shoulders.
‘It bounced off a root and rolled away. I ran on, glancing back to see her searching amongst the pile of rotting leaves where it had come to rest.’
‘Is Gertrude still to be found in the dell?’ Thorne asked.
‘There are few sightings of her now,’ I answered. ‘She is failing, her mind decaying more quickly than her body. No doubt I hastened her demise. But back to my story … Once Gertrude was dealt with, I was ready to face Kernolde. She was waiting beneath her tree; ropes hung from the branches, ready to bind and hang my body. She was rubbing her back against the bark, drawing strength for the fight. But I was not afraid – to me she looked like an old she-bear ridding herself of fleas rather than the dreaded witch assassin feared by all. Running at full pelt straight for her I drew the last of my throwing knives and hurled it at her throat. End over end it spun, my aim fast and true, but she knocked it to one side with a disdainful flick of her wrist. Undaunted, I increased my pace and prepared to use the long blade. But then the ground opened up beneath my feet, my heart lurched and I fell into a hidden pit.
‘I remember my feeling of shock at that moment. I had been so confident, but as I fell I realized that I had underestimated my opponent. A speedy victory had been snatched away – however, I was resilient and still determined to survive and fight on.
‘The moon was high, and as I fell I saw the sharp spikes waiting to impale me. I twisted desperately, trying to avoid them, but it was impossible. All I could do was contort myself so that my body suffered the least damage.
‘The least, did I say? The spike hurt me enough; damaged me badly. It pierced my outer thigh and I bear the scar to this day. Down its length I slid, until I hit the ground hard and all the breath left my body, the long blade flying from my hand to lie out of reach. I lay there in agony, struggling to breathe and control the extreme pain in my leg. The spikes were sharp, thin and very long – more than six feet – so there was no way I could lift my leg and free it. I cursed my folly. I had thought myself safe, but Kernolde had dug another pit – probably the previous night. No doubt she’d been aware of my forays into the dell and had waited until the very last moment to add this extra trap.