‘Just as the dead-bone stink of the fire reached me, the Deanes began to curse their enemies, calling down maimings, death and destruction upon those they named. Remember, child, that curses are not as effective as a blade. Someone old and enfeebled might fall victim to them, but mostly they’re a waste of time because all competent witches have defences against such dark magic.
‘Soon there was a change in the fire: the yellow and ochre flames turned brilliant red – the first sign that the Fiend was about to appear. I heard an expectant gasp go up from the gathering and I brought all my concentration to bear, staring into the fire as he began to materialize.
‘Though he was able to make himself large or small, the Fiend now appeared in his fearsome majesty in order to impress his followers. He stood in the fire, the flames reaching up to his knees; he was tall and broad – perhaps three times the size of an average man – with a long sinuous tail and the curved horns of a ram. His body was covered in thick black hair, and I saw the coven witches reach forward across the flames, eager to touch and stroke their dark lord.’
‘How did you feel?’ Thorne asked excitedly. ‘Were you nervous, or even a little afraid? I certainly would have been! You say now that you fear nothing, but you were young then – no more than seventeen – and you were about to attack the Fiend within sight of an enemy clan.’
‘I was certainly nervous, child, but also excited and angry. If there was fear within me, it was buried so deeply under those other emotions that I was unaware of it. I knew that the Devil would not stay in the flames for long. I had to strike now! So I left my hiding place among the trees and began to sprint towards the fire. I came out of darkness, a blade in each hand, a third gripped tightly between my teeth. I hated the Fiend and was ready to die, either blasted by his power or torn to pieces by the Deanes.
‘So I cast my will before me. Although I had the power to keep him away, I did the opposite now: I willed him to stay. I ran between those on the fringe of the gathering. As the throng became denser, I pushed the witches aside with my elbows and shoulders, surprised and angry faces twisting towards me. At last I reached the coven and threw my first dagger. It struck the Fiend in the chest and buried itself up to the hilt. He shrieked long and loud. I’d done some damage, and his cry of pain was music to my ears. But he twisted away through the flames so that my next two blades did not quite find their intended targets; but, even so, they pierced his flesh deeply.
‘For a moment he looked directly at me, his pupils vertical red slits. I’d nothing with which to defend myself against the power that he could summon. Worse, he would now be certain to find me after my death and inflict never-ending torments on my soul. So I willed him away. Would he go? I wondered. Or would he destroy me first? But he simply vanished, taking the flames of the fire with him so that we were plunged into absolute darkness. The rule had held. I had carried his child so he could not remain in my presence; not unless I wished it.
‘There was confusion all around – shrieks of anger and fear; witches running in all directions. I slipped away into the darkness and made my escape. Of course I knew that they would send assassins after me. It meant I’d have to kill or be killed.
‘I hurried north, passing beyond Pendle Hill, then curved away west towards the distant sea, still running hard. I knew exactly where I was going, having planned my escape far in advance: I would make my stand on the flatlands east of the River Wyre’s estuary. I had wrapped myself in a cloak of dark magic but knew that it was not strong enough to hide me from all those who followed me. Some witches have a special ability that allows them to see through such a cloak, so I needed to fight in a place that would give me the advantage.
‘There is a line of three villages there, aligned roughly north to south and joined by a narrow track that sometimes becomes impassable because of the tide. On all sides they are surrounded by bog and soggy moss. The river is tidal, with extensive salt marshes, and northwest of Staumin, right on the sea margin, stands Arm Hill, a small mound of firm ground which rises above the grassy tussocks and treacherous channels along which the tide races to trap the unwary.
‘On one side is the river, on the other, the salt marsh, and nobody can cross it without being seen from that vantage point. Any witch who ventures there suffers great pain, but I gritted my teeth and made the crossing and waited for my pursuers, knowing there would be more than one.
‘My crime against the Deane clan was terrible. If they caught me, I would die slowly and in agony.
‘The first of my enemies came into sight at dusk, picking her way slowly across the marsh grass. As a witch, I have many skills and talents. One of these proved very useful then. It is a gift that we share, Thorne. As an enemy approaches, we instantly know their worth; their strength and ability in combat. The witch crossing the marsh towards me was competent, but not of the first order. No doubt her abilities as a tracker, which also enabled her to penetrate my dark magical cloak, had brought this one to me first.
‘I waited until she was close, then showed myself to her. I was standing on that small hill, clearly outlined against the fading red of the western sky. She ran towards me, clasping blades in each hand. She did not weave from side to side; made no attempt to present a difficult target. It was me or her. One of us would die. So I pulled my favourite throwing knife from my belt and hurled it at her. My aim was good. It took her in the throat. She made a small gurgling noise, dropped to her knees and fell face down in the marsh grass.
‘Yes, child, she was the first human being I had ever killed, and there was a momentary pang in my chest. But it quickly passed as I concentrated on ensuring my own survival. I hid her body under a shelf of grass tussocks, pushing her down into the mud. I did not take her heart. We had faced each other in combat and she had lost honourably. One night that witch would return from the dead, crawling across the marsh in search of prey. As she posed no further threat to me, I would not deny her that.’
‘If I die before you,’ Thorne said, ‘promise me that you will take my heart. I prefer to go directly into the dark. I don’t want to linger on as a dead witch, shuffling around the dell, waiting for pieces of my body to fall off.’
I nodded. ‘If that is your wish I will not deny you. But if I die first, leave my heart intact. Hunting from the dell is better than suffering eternal torment in the dark at the hands of the Fiend. If we do not destroy him, one day he will be waiting for me – and for you too now, Thorne. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?’