'Oh, Tom – did last night really happen? It was dark and the lamia's teeth were tearing at me. I was growing faint with loss of blood and I thought it was all over. I was dying. Then, the next moment, the sun was shining. And there isn't a single mark on my body. Was it just a nightmare?'
'It did happen,' I told her. 'But you see, Grimalkin gave me two gifts – a blade and a dark wish. So when the lamia dragged you into her lair I used the wish to save you. Then your father appeared.'
So I told her what the Fiend had said – as much as I could remember; how he'd told me I was to be sacrificed. But I still didn't tell Alice that Mam was the original Lamia. I couldn't say it out loud. It hurt too much.
'He's just playing games with us,' Alice said bitterly. 'Using everything to his advantage as usual. As for you being a sacrifice – don't even give it a moment's thought. Your mam has risked everything to protect you. Even last night she sent you away from danger. Lying, he is, Tom. Lying as always . . .'
'Maybe. But he wasn't lying last spring when he told me you were his daughter, was he? And what he said last night is possible. Even though Mam loves me, she might well sacrifice me and accept the pain – if it brought victory. Maybe she's been protecting me so that she can sacrifice me when she needs to.'
'Your mam wouldn't do that, Tom.'
'Not even if it was the only way to defeat the dark? Remember, she had me for that reason. She once told the Spook that I was her "gift to the County". I was born for a purpose.'
'But she'd ask you first. Just like she asked you to give her the money from the trunks and come to Greece with her.'
I paused, remembering Mam's love for her family. 'I think you're right, Alice. If it's meant to happen, then she will ask me.'
'And what would your answer be, Tom?'
I didn't reply. I didn't even like to think about it.
'We both know you'd say yes.'
'But it would all be for nothing anyway,' I said bitterly. 'The Fiend will support the Ordeen with his own power while he lessens Mam's. He's already damaged her. Now she can't see into the future any longer. That's why she needs Mab. Even if the Ordeen was to be defeated, there's still the Fiend to reckon with. It all seems so hopeless.'
Without another word, we set off eastwards once more, following the meandering path through the mountains. It was a long time before we spoke again.
We finally descended through a pine forest, then crossed the arid plain towards Meteora. I knew that the monasteries were built on high rocks, so even if we'd wandered too far south, we should still be able to see them from a good distance.
On the second day of our journey we thought we saw dust rising into the sky on the horizon. It could have been Mam's party – or maybe it was the maenads who'd attacked them. So to avoid the risk of capture we kept our distance.
Then at last, to the north-east, we saw the rocks of Meteora. The closer we got, the more spectacular they appeared. Rising from green thickets of trees and scrub, huge pillars of rock, sculpted by the elements, towered above us. And perched on their summits were the famed monasteries. It seemed impossible that such buildings could have been constructed on those perilous heights, let alone made secure enough to withstand the ravages of weather and time.
The small walled town of Kalambaka lay at the foot of the rocks, bordered to the south by groves of olive trees. Shielding my eyes against the sun, I searched the horizon. Mam had feared that we might be too late, but there was as yet no sign of the Ordeen's citadel.
We skirted the town and made our camp deep within the thickets below the rocks, hiding away from any watchers. Only the monks could look down on us from their strongholds.
The town was lit by lanterns strung on ropes between the houses; they moved to and fro when the wind was up. That first night we spent hours watching them: the stars above slowly wheeling about the sky from east to west while the lanterns danced below. We ate well too. Alice caught some rabbits and they proved to be as succulent as any we'd tasted in the County.
On the second night, while we were eating, Alice sniffed danger and stood up quickly, her finger to her lips. But her warning came too late.
A massive shape came out of the trees into the clearing where we were eating. I heard a snort and a metallic sound, and at that moment the crescent moon appeared from behind a cloud, conjuring up a gleaming silver apparition before our startled gaze.
It was a horseman dressed in chain-mail, two great swords attached to his saddle. And what a horse he rode! This was no heavy lumbering beast such as those used to draw barges or pull wagons back in the County; it was a thoroughbred, fine and high-stepping, with an arched neck and a form built for speed. Its rider was a warrior from head to toe; he had an aquiline nose and high cheekbones, long hair and a full moustache that obscured his mouth.
The rider drew his sword, and for a moment I thought he intended to attack, but he simply indicated that we should leave the clearing. We didn't argue; we simply turned and headed into the trees.
At dawn we realized that this warrior was a scout, clearing the way for his followers. A large group of them – a thousand strong at least – were soon approaching across the plain. Their armour gleamed in the sunlight like burnished silver and the dust erupted behind them like a storm-cloud. They looked formidable.
They set up camp at the edge of the trees just north of the town. Who were they? I wondered.
'Do you think they're something to do with the Ordeen, Alice? Maybe more of her supporters?'
'Not sure, Tom, but your mam never mentioned anything about enemy warriors such as these, did she? Only that she was going to hire mercenaries to keep us safe from the maenads. That could well be them. In which case they're on our side. Didn't expect so many though.'
'It would be nice to think it's them, but we can't risk approaching them.'
So we kept our distance, retreating further into the trees, wondering who they were – friends or foes. As we waited, Alice turned to me, reached into the pocket of her dress and held up a small earthen jar. It was the blood jar she'd once showed me back in the County.
'I've been thinking about the Fiend a lot recently,' she said. 'We could make him keep his distance – from you at least – by using this.'
There were two methods that witches employed to keep the Fiend at bay. One was to bear him a child. Grimalkin had done just that, and as a consequence he was forced to keep away from her. The other was to use a blood jar. Alice claimed that this one contained a few drops of blood from the dead water witch, Morwena, who'd been the Fiend's daughter. If this was mixed with my blood, and carried by me, it would mean that he could have no contact with me.