‘It annoyed me at the time because of its presumption,’ the Spook explained. ‘I’d never met your mam then, and I wondered just who she thought she was – to decide who my apprentice would be. Not only that: there was an element of prophecy in her letter – and as you know, I believe in free will; that we shape the future ourselves with our daily choices.’
‘But that letter made you want to visit the Wardstone again? Is that right? Was it something to do with my name and the name of the hill being the same?’
‘Curb your curiosity and practise a little patience; it’s a quality that’s very useful when studying the unexplained. You’ll find out when we get there, lad,’ my master retorted. ‘Now the sun will be going down in a couple of hours, so I think we’ve gone far enough for one day. Why don’t you catch us a couple of rabbits for our supper?’
I was hungry and only too pleased to nod in agreement. The Spook found us a hollow in which to shelter from the wind, and I was glad to put down our bags and my staff and remove the bundle of wood from my back. My master was already laying the fire as I set off to hunt for our supper.
A couple of hours later we were eating the rabbits I’d caught and cooked. We didn’t speak much, but we were both enjoying ourselves. It was just like the early days, when I first became his apprentice and we used to walk across the fells a lot. I’d been nervous about the job and sometimes scared too. But there’d been a sense of everything just beginning. Things had seemed so simple, I realized; now everything was much more complicated. Sometimes it was just good to appreciate being alive and not worry about the more problematic things . . . though the delicious rabbits put me in mind of Alice. She usually did the hunting and cooking when we were travelling and the thought tempered my happiness a little.
The rain began just before dawn and woke us. By then, the wind had become a gale, driving the rain almost horizontally above us so that mostly we remained dry in our hollow. But we could hear it drumming on the ground above and I knew that the second phase of our journey to the Wardstone would be delayed.
‘We’ll sleep late, lad,’ said the Spook. ‘It’ll be wet enough up on yonder hill without turning ourselves into drowned rats before we even begin.’
It was almost noon before the rain finally stopped and we were able to continue our journey east. The wind had died away almost to nothing, but the visibility was worsening.
‘I’ll carry my own bag,’ the Spook told me. ‘The going gets difficult soon and you’ll need the support of your staff.’
He was quickly proved correct as we left what he told me was Grit Fell – to follow a meandering muddy track through clumps of reddish grass.
‘Keep to the path, lad,’ he warned. ‘The ground on either side is not just soggy. There are deep pools of stagnant water, no doubt swollen by the recent heavy rain. It’s worse where the grass grows tallest.’
Without the Spook to guide me, I’d probably have blundered into the bog. He knew the County like the back of his hand, and still had lots to teach me about travelling across it, particularly remote places like this.
Finally we reached the summit of the Wardstone. Here we were shrouded in low cloud and unable to see that we were walking across one of the highest places in the County.
‘There it is!’ The Spook pointed ahead of us. Through the mist I could see a gigantic rock to which the name ‘Wardstone’ was also given. There were smaller rocks surrounding it, half buried in the ground.
My master walked right up to it and put his left hand against the wall of stone that rose into the sky before him. ‘Place your palm against it too,’ he commanded.
I obeyed.
‘Tell me what you feel,’ he said.
‘It’s warm to the touch.’
It was strange but true – there was no doubt. Despite the chill, damp air, the rock seemed to be radiating heat.
‘And what else, lad? There’s something else. Can you tell what it is?’
At first I couldn’t work out what he meant, but then I became aware that everything seemed very still. I was breathing very slowly – unnaturally slowly. I could feel the pulse of blood circulating through my body too. It was so slow that I thought for a moment that my heart had stopped.
I snatched my hand away from the rock, and immediately my breathing and heart-rate returned to normal. When I put my hand back on it, everything slowed again. The Spook beckoned me away from the Wardstone, and I followed him for about twenty paces.
‘Did you feel it?’ he asked, coming to a halt.
‘It slows time. The Wardstone slows down time!’ I exclaimed excitedly.
‘And you can do that too, lad, can’t you? But what’s the difference here?’
My ability to slow down time was a gift that had saved my life on many occasions when fighting servants of the dark – most importantly the Fiend, who had the same power. I’d prevented him from moving for long enough for us to launch our attack on him.
But what was the difference here? I thought carefully before replying.
‘When I use my gift, I’m in control. Everything slows down, but I’m free to move. Here, it’s the Wardstone slowing time, affecting everything around it. But, of course, being a big chunk of rock, it can’t move.’
‘Can’t it, lad? Are you sure?’
‘How can a rock move?’
‘Maybe it can move through time. I’m just speculating, but it’s a possibility. I’ll tell you the reason for my thinking. There are eye-witness accounts from some who’ve climbed to the summit of this big hill to find, to their astonishment, that the rock wasn’t there. It had vanished. So where would it go, lad, but into a different time?’
‘Were they reliable witnesses?’
‘Some were fools, that’s for sure,’ the Spook answered with a smile, ‘but others were sensible folk not much given to flights of fantasy. But it’s a coincidence, isn’t it: a rock that goes by your name also being able to affect time? And isn’t it strange that this should be the location specified for the ritual? There’s a lot needs explaining . . . Now I’m going to show you something that’s also strange.’
My master led the way widdershins around the rock. He came to a sudden halt, staring at its surface, then moved closer. For a moment I thought he intended to place his hand against it again. Instead he pointed with his index finger.