‘But Agnes is our concern too! We owe her much. I can’t believe that you are prepared to allow her to die! You are Grimalkin! Don’t forget that. Or has the kretch’s poison made you less than you were?’
‘Be silent!’ I commanded. ‘Yes, we owe her, but we have another greater priority. Obey me in this or I will train you no longer!’
‘Soon the time will come when you’ll have nought left to teach me!’
I smiled mockingly, showing her my teeth. Sometimes Thorne wound herself up so tightly that she exploded with rage. It was in her nature, but she had to learn discipline and be reminded of her place.
In that moment she attacked.
She sprang to her feet and directed a kick at my left shoulder. I caught her foot and twisted, and she came down hard. But she was up again and on me in an instant. We rolled together on the wet flags, Thorne fighting like a wild cat, scratching and biting.
I let the battle continue for a few moments so that she could release her anger and tension, then I put an end to the nonsense. I thrust a finger hard into each of her nostrils and dragged her up onto her feet. Still keeping my grip, I slammed her hard against the outer wall of the tower next to the steps, driving the breath from her body. I twisted her head away from me, opened my mouth wide and prepared to bite her throat. I would not hurt her badly, but a little pain would teach her a lesson.
At the last possible moment she drummed her left foot three times against the wall. It was the sign of submission so I released her. She stood there swaying, her face pale. Blood mixed with mucus dribbled from her left nostril. But as usual after such a struggle, her eyes were shining. We stared at each other until, after a few seconds, the corners of her mouth twitched up into a smile.
I nodded to her and went to sit down again. The two lamias were looking at us in astonishment. But it was nothing new. We had fought together many times; it was part of Thorne’s training. From time to time I needed to demonstrate to her what her true position was. As well as being reckless, the girl sometimes got above herself.
‘I will go and see what is afoot,’ Wynde declared. Then she launched herself from the battlements and swooped towards the trees. She circled the tower three times, then gained height before flying south towards Roughlee.
We waited in silence with water dripping from our hair. When Wynde returned ten minutes later, the news was not good. She landed gracefully, then scuttled down the steps out of the rain and perched on the chest, waiting for us to climb down to her.
‘What did you see, sister?’ Slake demanded.
‘Many witches heading towards Crow Wood, all carrying weapons – but they come to their deaths,’ Wynde declared, water running off her wings to form a big puddle on the flags. ‘I have had some sport already.’
I glanced down and saw that her hind feet were freshly stained with blood and that there were streaks of it in the water below the chest. She had already killed at least one of our enemies. I felt frustrated that I was unable to kill some of them myself. It was a great advantage to have wings.
‘Do you think they mean to attack? Maybe they’ll come up through the tunnel?’ Thorne suggested.
‘They’d have to reach the entrance first,’ Wynde said.
‘A few might be able to get inside. The thicket around the sepulchre would offer cover,’ I said. ‘But we could easily defend the tunnel. Just one of us could hold them off. We are in no immediate danger.’
‘Then I will go down there now,’ said Slake. ‘I will stay until dusk, when another should take my place.’
I nodded in agreement and the lamia crossed into the storeroom and went down the steps to the lower reaches of the tower.
‘If only Agnes had managed to get here,’ said Thorne. ‘I wonder what’s befallen her. I can’t stop thinking about what they are doing to her.’
Just before noon we found out. We were watching from the battlements when a score of witches strolled from the trees and headed directly towards us. Wynde prepared to take to the air and attack but I bade her wait a while.
‘Why must I wait?’ she demanded, fixing me with her savage eyes.
‘Because they have Agnes with them as a prisoner and she still lives,’ I said, pointing to a figure to the fore of the group approaching the tower. I glanced sideways at Thorne, watching her eyes widen with concern at my words. I knew that whatever happened next would be bad, and we would be forced to bear witness to it.
Agnes was bound, her hands tied behind her back and a noose around her neck; the rope was in the hands of a black-bearded mage who walked ahead of her. I would have expected to see terror on Agnes’s face but she seemed calm. Was she aware of the imminence of her own death, and had she therefore become resigned to it? Or did she hope to be rescued – perhaps by the winged lamia?
My attention was then drawn back to the mage. I sniffed quickly three times. Instantly I knew a lot about him. He was capable of powerful dark magic and was also the leader of those who had created the kretch. Additionally, he was a skilled warrior, his strength such that in combat I would have to be wary of him. Only a fool would underestimate such a mage.
‘I will kill that one next!’ Wynde said.
‘If I had your wings I’d do it now!’ hissed Thorne.
‘Hush!’ I commanded them both. ‘Let us listen to what he has to say for himself.’
They came right to the edge of the moat and halted. Immediately the mage looked up at us and called out his demands in a loud, imperious voice.
‘I am Bowker,’ he shouted, ‘the appointed leader of the Fiend’s servants. You have until sunset to give us what is ours. If you refuse, the first to die will be your friend and ally, this old witch. She likes peering into mirrors too much! Her death will not be easy.’
He turned and led the group back towards the trees, tugging roughly on the noose around poor Agnes’s neck – her groan of pain was clearly audible. Wynde fluttered her wings, preparing to take flight and attack.
‘No!’ I warned. ‘If you attack, he will slay Agnes immediately.’
The lamia shook her head. ‘He will kill her anyway. Once back amongst the trees the advantage will be theirs. I must strike now while they are still in the open!’
She took off from the battlements, gained height, then swooped down towards the group of witches, attacking them from the rear. There was a scream of pain as Wynde soared aloft again. She was carrying one of the enemy witches, whom she released when she’d risen to twice the height of the surrounding trees. Whether or not her victim was already dead was impossible to say, but there was no scream as she fell, and the body thudded heavily onto the ground.