Mam had been giving me important information. She said she had reached out to unlock the gift. Somehow it all made sense. That was why, lying in my bed in the Spook’s house, I’d had the strange feeling that something was wrong. And, yes, I’d known exactly which direction to take. My new gift had led me to the cottage where Grimalkin lay gravely injured. It was lovely to think that I might really have been talking to Mam, and for a while I was filled with hope. But as the seconds became minutes, the dream seemed less substantial; soon I felt it was merely wishful thinking. What was I doing fooling myself and wasting time? I sat up and cursed myself for sleeping right through the night. The witches would be even further ahead now. Wasting no time, I ate half the remaining cheese and set off west again. This time I didn’t run; I would save that for later. My legs felt stiff, and I contented myself with a fast stride to loosen them up.
I thought about Lukrasta again. He had abducted Alice – Grimalkin had been unable to do anything to stop him. What had happened when he attempted the ritual with the Doomdryte? And more importantly, what might Alice be suffering now? I thought fearfully. I felt helpless. He could be anywhere, and even if I could find him, what could I hope to do against such a mage?
By late morning I was getting worried. I hadn’t found the witches’ tracks again; I was now crossing meadows and rough pasture rather than following lanes and tracks. This meant they could already have turned and headed for the coast. I estimated that I was presently about four miles from the sea, heading south, somewhere between Formby and Liverpool.
I came to a halt, filled with uncertainty. Then, very suddenly, there was a flash of light behind my eyes and a pressure on my forehead – and I knew precisely where they had gone. It was something very similar to the feeling I’d had back in my bedroom in Chipenden – the conviction that something was terribly wrong. Now I felt that certainty again. I knew where the witches were – the direction they had taken with the Fiend’s head. This was surely the gift that Mam was talking about in the dream – the gift that a hunter needs: the ability to track a prey without signs, to pinpoint its location.
They hadn’t gone west to the sea. They were continuing south and were passing east of Liverpool. Where could they be bound? In my mind’s eye I tried to conjure up the maps I’d studied in the Spook’s library, all of which had perished in the fire. Beyond Liverpool lay the County border, and beyond that, county after county – over two hundred miles to the south coast.
That made no sense at all. They needed a port on the west coast to take a boat over the Irish Sea.
I began to run again. Wherever they were heading, I would eventually find out because I could sense their location in my head. For a while they seemed to have changed direction and were heading east, but after a few hours they veered back towards the coast and continued south again.
I came to a wide river, which I guessed was the Mersey: as I forded it, I wondered how the witches had managed to cross over. One possibility was that they had witch dams in place; in Pendle these were used to temporarily hold back running water. They would have had to make a detour east to where the river was narrower. That explained their earlier change of direction. The delay meant that I was closing in on them once more.
After a while, in the far distance, I saw a walled city with a castle and the tower of a cathedral. We were beyond the County border now and, again drawing on my memories of the Spook’s maps, I guessed that the city was Chester – though I’d never travelled this far south over land. If that were the case, it also had a river called the Dee.
Sure enough, I sensed my enemies head east again, no doubt to use another witch dam. I simply forded the river, which meant that I was drawing near to my prey. Beyond the city the witches turned directly west.
Soon I saw mountains ahead, and glimpsed the sea in the distance to the north. We seemed to be following a coastal plain, a wide strip of flat land between the mountains and the water. And now I was on a track that eventually gave way to a wide road. It was muddy, so I slowed down and walked on the grass verge. The occasional cart trundled past, its wheels adding to the deep ruts, but nobody gave me a second glance.
Eventually I came to a large sign that had been nailed to two posts proclaiming:
CYMRU
I remembered that word from my master’s maps. It was in another language: the name for the country that we called Wales. I was entering a foreign land, with its own customs, language and – no doubt – dangers.
I sensed that the witches were no longer moving; they had made camp for the night. I had two choices. Catch up with them now and attack under cover of darkness, or wait one more night and rest to gather my own strength.
I decided on a compromise.
I would rest for a while and then press on. I moved some distance from the road and settled down as best I could. I didn’t have time to set traps for rabbits, so I finished off the rest of my cheese and drank some cold water from a stream. I intended to sleep for about three hours before setting off west again.
I awoke suddenly after just one hour, immediately fully alert. Although my physical senses told me nothing, I had a sudden flash of light inside my head and a pain above my nose.
Something was amiss. I sat up quickly and stared into the darkness. The moon was covered by clouds: I could see nothing and hear nothing. But danger was out there and it was creeping towards me.
I came up onto my knees and reached for the sword that I had placed on the grass beside me before lying down to sleep. My gift was telling me precisely where my enemy was.
A witch was crawling stealthily towards me; she was now less than ten feet away.
No, not the Destiny Blade, I decided; a spook’s primary weapon was more suited to dealing with this threat. So, leaving the hero sword where it was, I seized my staff, released the blade at its tip, ran straight towards the witch and stabbed downwards, piercing her back directly over her heart and pinning her to the ground. She had no time to scream, but I felt her body twitch beneath my staff, and she gave a little gasp.
I knew instantly that she was dead: the inner certainty I had of where she was simply ceased. It went out like a light. I wondered if it was the soul or life force I could detect? Whatever it was, I knew that I’d put an end to her.
I fumbled for my tinderbox and lit the candle-stub I always carry. I looked at the dead witch, holding the light close to her face. I was almost certain that she was one of those who had fled after the attack the previous day. That made me wary. Perhaps the other one had come back too?