‘You’ve got to use your magic, Alice. We can’t just let them escape or it’s over for all of us – you, me, Tom and John Gregory. Surely you can do something?’
‘There is a way, but it’ll cost me again!’ Alice said, her voice full of bitterness. ‘What choice do I have now? Everything’s against me. It’s as if all this was meant to happen long in advance. I ain’t got no choice but to go along with it!’
She raised her arms and pointed up into the sky; then she began to chant. At first it was hardly more than a sing-song under her breath, but as she began to spin, her voice grew steadily louder.
There had been a wind blowing from the southeast filling the ship’s sails, but now that stopped very suddenly. I watched the sails become limp.
Was that what Alice Deane was trying to accomplish? To use her magic to becalm the ship and prevent it from sailing for Ireland? If so, how long could she hope to maintain such a situation?
‘What are you trying to do, Alice?’ I demanded. There had to be a better way of dealing with our enemies.
But Alice did not reply; she looked rapt, deep in a magical trance, gathering her power.
I need not have concerned myself because, within seconds, everything changed dramatically. The wind sprang up again, but this time from a different direction – from the west, from the sea, driving straight into our faces. It lifted clouds of sand up off the beach and drove spray towards me, stinging my face – which I covered with my hands, peering through my fingers.
I saw the witches and the kretch turn away and cower down on the sands with their backs to the waves; they were much closer to the sea, and the salt spray would be burning them. Salt water is deadly to witches, and those on board the ship would be wearing protective hoods and gloves – maybe knitted face-masks too – and cowering down in the hold. Despite the frantic efforts of the crew, the ship was now turning in the water. Faster and faster she came about, and the surging waves began to move her towards the shore.
Alice was still chanting and spinning, her voice almost lost in the shrill shrieks of the wind. Dark clouds raced in from the sea and the gale drove the ship before it relentlessly. There was no way the crew could turn her round. Soon she would run aground.
But for the witches there was even worse to come.
Forked lighting ripped the sky apart to the west, and within less than a second there came an answering deep rumble of thunder, like the growl of a huge vengeful beast. The second flash of lightning came at the same time as the thunderclap. The third lit the whole sky and struck the central mast of the ship, which instantly ignited. Suddenly the whole sail was on fire, and then, moments later, the second and third sails were alight. We could hear the screams and shouts of those on board, carried to us by the wind.
Which would be first? Would the boat run aground, or would it burn? Whatever happened, it was no place for witches. Either they would burn or they would be immersed in salt water.
Then I saw figures climbing down the rope ladder to the two small boats lashed to the ship’s stern. One witch shrieked as she fell into the waves. Thrashing about desperately, she sank within seconds. But others were managing to clamber into the boats. Some of them might survive.
I glanced at Alice and saw the exultation in her face. She was enjoying this; relishing her power. And why shouldn’t she? This was a formidable display of magic. Even after weeks of preparation the whole Malkin coven would be hard pressed to match this spontaneous display of raw magical power.
Now was the best time to attack. I should cut them down as they walked up the beach – the kretch too if it got in my way. But then Alice stopped spinning and fell to the ground. I quickly ran forward and knelt beside her.
For one terrible moment I thought that her spirit had fled her body. It is possible for a witch to over-extend herself, using so much of her power that her body can no longer function. Although Alice was hardly breathing and had exhausted herself to the point of death, she was somehow clinging onto life. I let out a sigh of relief.
The immediate crisis was over. For now our enemies were going nowhere far. So I picked up Alice, threw her over my shoulder and retreated from the shore.
I took refuge in an abandoned farmhouse. There were only three walls standing, but it provided shelter from the chill westerly wind. The roof would provide no protection from the rain; all that remained of it was the wooden supports, a ribcage above which a gibbous moon glinted through the patchwork of fast-moving clouds.
If our enemies still had the Fiend’s head, I would take it from them later. Perhaps it had sunk to the bottom of the sea. At least that would put it beyond the reach of witches. But no doubt in time they would get someone to dive and retrieve it for them. For now, however, the immediate danger was over: I could deal with my enemies at my leisure, slaying them one by one. I shivered with pleasure. I had waited a long time for this and intended to savour each succulent moment of my revenge.
I had decided to attend to Alice and seek them out later, after dark. She opened her eyes and looked up at me, then tried to sit up. The effort was too much for her, and I rested my hand on her shoulder in reassurance. Her eyes closed.
‘Sleep,’ I commanded her softly. ‘You are exhausted.’
She resisted and tried in vain to open her eyes again; after a few moments the rhythm of her breathing told me that she had fallen into a deep sleep. It was true that using such powerful magic had exhausted her, but I had also given her something to ensure that she would sleep until dawn, at least. I had used an infusion of two herbs. She had taken three sips, that was all, but it was enough for my purposes.
I looked at her hair and smiled. It was dark at the roots. Soon it would grow out as black as it had been before. But would her mind heal as quickly? I doubted it. Few had suffered as much as Alice at the hands of the Fiend.
* * *
The survivors of the shipwreck had gathered in a wood about three miles to the south of us. I had been close to them already without being detected and had sniffed out their situation. Now I carried out one final reconnaissance, this time using powerful magic to cloak myself. I moved in. In all, about thirty remained; but, to my delight, I saw that eight of the witches were suffering from the effects of salt water, two so badly contaminated that they were sure to die. I sniffed repeatedly to learn as much as possible about their situation. It was wonderful to sense the general feeling of gloom and desperation. Most of them were clearly terrified; after all, they had let down their lord, the Fiend. They feared his wrath.