This was where my master was buried.
Despite my sorrow and revulsion at what I had to do, I had no choice.
I had to dig up his coffin.
7
The Starblade
AFTER my master’s death at the Battle of the Wardstone, Grimalkin wanted me to keep the Starblade and accompany her to face an even greater threat that she had scryed—from a savage people to the north, the Kobalos. I’d had no stomach for any more fighting and had offered the sword to her, but she had refused. However, I had made sure that it would never fall into the wrong hands. While the protection against magic worked only for me, the ore was very valuable and rare and could be crafted into a different weapon for someone else. I had hidden the sword in a place where only someone strong enough to get past the boggart would have been able to reach it: under my master’s coffin. At the time, I couldn’t imagine ever desecrating the grave to retrieve it.
Now, however, I had urgent need of it. I lit the lantern and hung it from a low branch so that it cast its light over the area. Then, with tears running down my cheeks, I attacked the grave, throwing spadefuls of soil over my shoulder.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I called out as I worked, my words addressed to John Gregory, my dead master. “I’m so sorry!”
What a fool I had been. Could I not have foreseen such a situation when I would need protection against dark magic?
The Starblade should give me a chance against the beast, a chance to save Jenny. I was sure of it.
At last there was the thud of metal against wood. I’d dug down as far as the Spook’s coffin. Now, despite my need for haste, my digging became less frantic and more careful. I didn’t want to damage the casket in which his body lay.
I dug to one side and, once my pit was level with the bottom of the coffin, threw aside the spade and scooped soil away with my hands, trying to excavate underneath it. I was careful at first, because the blade of the sword was really sharp. But then, realizing that time was running out, I threw caution to the wind.
But I couldn’t find the sword!
I broke out in a cold sweat. Had someone stolen it? I wondered. How could that have happened when the boggart guarded the garden?
I wondered if Grimalkin had taken it with her after all. That night, after burying my master, she had worked her magic to lessen the disfiguring scar where the mage Lukrasta had sliced open my face. Afterward we had both slept, and then, after saying a brief farewell, she had taken her leave. She’d had time to dig it out and put back the soil; after all, I had offered it back to her. It was her right to take it, but how dearly that might cost me now . . . without it, I would be vulnerable to this creature’s powerful magic.
Hope fading, my fingers continued their desperate search beneath the coffin. At last, to my relief, they touched metal. But pulling the sword free wasn’t easy. My fingers found the edge of the blade, and that was enough to cut them and draw blood. I struggled to free the hilt, aware that the threat to Jenny was growing with every passing second. At last I got a firm grip, and moments later I had pulled the blade out of the soil and was sprinting back in the direction of the beast’s lair.
Would I be in time to save Jenny? I feared that she might already be dead.
Once again the moon was out, and by its light I saw the oak tree ahead, clearly visible from a distance, a colossus that towered over the rest of the wood. I stopped running a couple of hundred yards short of it and continued more cautiously.
Speed was important, but I didn’t want to give the creature any warning of my arrival. Surprise might make all the difference here.
The wood was totally silent. Nothing moved in the undergrowth. I could hear nothing from the huge tree, either.
Gripping the sword in my right hand, I approached the massive trunk, searching for the ground-level door. I expected to find it closed and perhaps impossible to open. In that case, I would hammer on the trunk. I would lose the element of surprise, but I would at least draw him out, away from Jenny.
But, to my surprise, it was still ajar—just enough for me to insert the fingers of my left hand. I took a deep breath and eased the door open very slowly. The beast had its back to me, and Jenny was still hanging by her feet. But the creature was no longer using the pipe to draw blood from her neck. Its jaws were clamped about her shoulder, and it was snarling as it shook her body. Blood had soaked through her dress. It had bitten her all over her torso.
Filled with rage, I stepped inside and raised the sword, ready to strike.
Suddenly the creature let go of Jenny and, without bothering to turn and face me, addressed me in its rasping voice. It had known all along that I was entering its lair.
“What a fool you are to return here, little human! Do you care so much for a mere purra that you are willing to sacrifice your own life in a futile attempt to save her? You are breathing hard—you have been running. Did you fear that she would die unless you hastened back? Her blood is sweet and I sip it sparingly, savoring every mouthful. She will live for many days before I finally drain her.”
The creature rose to its feet and turned to face me. It had shrunk and was now barely taller than me. When it spoke, I saw that its teeth and lips were stained red with Jenny’s blood.
“Once sated, I would have hunted you down and slain you anyway. In truth, by returning, all you have done is hasten your demise. Though I have to admit, I am puzzled. I used boska to render you unconscious—a magic that has never before failed me. When I breathed into your face, it seemed as effective as usual. But the spell should have lasted for many days, unless I administered an antidote. How can it be that after just one short hour you have returned to consciousness?”
Its words made me realize how close I had come to disaster. Somehow, against all the odds, I had survived; better still, my recovery had taken the beast by surprise. I wondered if it was something else that I had inherited from Mam. Had my lamia blood enabled me to resist the full effect of this magic . . . whatever it was?
Without replying to the question, I took a step forward and prepared to strike. The creature smiled, muttered a few words, and advanced on me. It seemed totally confident that its magic would render me powerless.
For a second I was certain of this too. Iron and salt had proved useless against the beast, as had my silver chain. What if Grimalkin’s magic was ineffective here too? After all, this was not any sort of human mage I was facing. . . . One way or another, I was about to find out!