The priest was on his knees now, whimpering with pain. I threw the club aside, and when I tugged the blade from his flesh, he screamed; I used the knife to cut the ropes that bound Thorne to the table. The priest’s cry did not alarm me; it was shrill and high and could well have been the shriek of a girl being tortured. It would not bring others to investigate.
We had to get out of the castle, and I intended to use the priest as our hostage. The main barriers to our escape were the remaining archers. They could kill us from a distance.
‘You’re safe,’ I told Thorne, helping her from the table. ‘I know you are hurt and have endured an experience that might have broken the mind of a strong witch. But it is important that you gather yourself and prepare for danger. Are you ready – or do you need a few more moments to compose yourself?’
‘I’m ready now,’ Thorne answered, giving me a brave smile, her voice little more than a croak. I was proud of her at that moment; she had become more than I ever hoped for.
‘Then first we have to retrieve the head of the Fiend.’
After returning my blades and scissors to their sheaths, I tore a strip from the hem of the priest’s cassock and used that to gag him. As I dragged him along, he made no attempt to resist; he looked terrified. We reached our chamber without incident, and soon the leather sack was safely on my shoulder once more.
Pushing the priest ahead of us, we reached the castle yard. It was dark outside, with heavy cloud, and three hours at least till dawn. That would make it more difficult for the archers.
There was a soldier on guard, standing with his back to the portcullis. He held a flickering torch aloft as we approached. It illuminated the figure of the priest first, and I saw the man’s expression of deference and obedience change to incredulity and fear as he saw the priest’s terrified face and the blood-soaked arm of his cassock.
I held a blade to the priest’s throat. ‘We are leaving. Prepare our way or he dies!’
With shaking hands the soldier began to raise the portcullis by turning the capstan. The clanks and rattles of the chains sounded very loud in the darkness. That would attract attention. Others would wonder why someone should be leaving or entering the castle at such an hour.
A voice called down from the battlements: ‘Who goes there? Show yourselves!’
We stepped closer to the wall and pressed ourselves into the shadows. The portcullis was rising very slowly. At last it was high enough for us to duck underneath.
‘That’s enough. Now get that door open! Do it quickly!’ I said, gripping the priest by the hair and pressing the blade against his throat.
The frightened soldier hastened to obey, and unlocked the door quickly, pulling it inwards until it was wide-open, revealing the outer portcullis and the drawbridge beyond. He didn’t wait to be told to work the second capstan, and the portcullis was raised faster this time.
But now I could hear distant shouts of command and footsteps running towards us across the darkness of the yard. We did not enter the gateway, fearing that we might be targeted from the side, as we had been when we’d entered this place. We prepared to meet their attack and I brought them into focus with my keen eyes. They were not archers; just three men armed with pikes.
‘They are yours, Thorne!’ I hissed. I knew that after suffering the pain of the torture it would be good for her to get back into action as soon as possible.
‘All three?’
‘Yes, but make it quick!’
Thorne whirled forward to meet them just as I had taught her. She was fast, and her combat skills were honed almost to perfection. Some had been acquired by long hours of practice, but there were some things that cannot be taught; Thorne had the art born in her, and with consummate grace she avoided the hastily jabbed pikes of the soldiers, and her blades flashed, dealing out death to all three in a matter of seconds.
I could see that within two years Thorne would be my equal.
And after that?
Eventually she would be capable of defeating me just as I had defeated Kernolde. The thought brought me happiness, not fear. I would not wish to live once my powers began to decline. It was good to know that I had a worthy successor.
The soldier was lowering the drawbridge now, but other footsteps were racing towards us through the darkness. This time I did not order Thorne to attack. One of those approaching was smaller than the rest. It was Will, the son of the dead knight.
The group halted about twenty paces from us – five men; the two flanking the boy were the last of the master bowmen.
‘Release Father Hewitt!’ cried the boy. ‘It’s a sin to harm a priest!’
‘Tell your men to put down their weapons and I will allow him to live,’ I said softly. ‘If you refuse, then I will kill this poor excuse for a priest and you will be responsible for his death.’
‘You caused my father’s death!’ Will screamed hysterically. ‘Now you will die too!’
He put his hands on the shoulders of the archers who flanked him. ‘Aim low!’ he cried. ‘They will try to dive beneath your arrows!’
The archers raised their bows and fired.
I chose to bear the Fiend’s child so as to be free of him for ever; and, once I’d decided to pursue that course, nothing could ever have stopped me. My intention is to destroy him. Nothing will stop me now!
FASTER THAN THE flight of the arrow, I yanked the priest in front of me, pushing him to his knees as a shield. They fired low as commanded, and an arrow embedded itself in his chest. He gave a groan of pain and fell, stone dead, to the ground. I glanced to my left and saw that Thorne had deflected the other arrow with her blade.
Before the archers could pull further arrows from their quivers our throwing blades pierced the left eye-socket of each and the bows slipped from their dead fingers as they crumpled at the feet of the boy.
He took a step backwards, terror animating his features. But what would it profit us to slay him? I asked myself. He was just a child whose world had been turned upside down. I could read a whole range of emotions on Thorne’s face. There was anger and outrage at Will, who had tried to kill us, but also sadness and regret. I knew that she felt betrayed.
‘The priest is dead, Will,’ I told him with a grim smile. ‘Your guardian has been retired from his duties. You are in charge here now. Rule wisely and rule well!’
Will looked at Thorne and tried to speak, but the drawbridge was almost down and we couldn’t wait. With Thorne at my heels, I ran up its slippery wooden incline and leaped the narrowing gap to land on the soft earth at the far edge of the moat. Arrows still whistled towards us from the battlements but we were running fast, weaving from side to side, and these were not masters of their craft. In a few seconds we were lost in the safety of the darkness.