Then it was the warrior's turn to gain the ascendancy. The witch assassin had no armour, and now, in retreat, that drawback became apparent. Twice he directed kicks at her body, the spike threatening to disembowel her, but she spun like a wheel, with great economy of movement, staying too close for him to use the chain and orb. Again and again her blades struck her opponent's body with metallic clangs, but were deflected by the armour that encased it. It seemed impossible that she could survive, let alone win. What chance had she against such a heavily protected foe? Her legs and arms were naked; her flesh vulnerable.
It suddenly struck me that she had given up something that would have been greatly to her advantage.
Had she retained the blade and dark wish, she could have employed them now. She had made a great sacrifice indeed.
Now Grimalkin whirled away from her enemy, moving widdershins in a circling retreat towards our table. I became concerned. The tactic seemed ill -advised. At this distance the warrior could once more wield his deadly orb effectively against her. He began to whirl it above his head, faster and faster, readying himself for the killer blow. Grimalkin stepped towards him, as if placing herself in the perfect position and waiting for the spiked orb to crush her. My heart was in my mouth. I thought it was all over.
But when the weapon descended, the witch assassin was no longer there. The orb struck the table a terrible blow, sending dishes and goblets crashing to the floor. And then Grimalkin committed herself, aiming directly for the slit in the helmet that marked the position of her enemy's unseen left eye. Her blade struck home and a great scream of pain filled the hall.
In an instant all became dark, the air freezing cold. Powerful dark magic was being used. I felt dizzy and reached out towards the table to steady myself. The great hall was silent as the echo of that shriek faded. But then, in the darkness, I saw two glittering eyes moving towards us from the direction of the pit.
Again the light steadily increased and we were all seated at the table – although I couldn't remember having sat down. The goblets and dishes that a moment ago littered the floor had been returned to their proper places. Grimalkin was back in her original position at the table.
The dark warrior was once more standing directly before us, carrying the crystal chalice and his long blade. Was it the same man? Had he been returned to life by dark magic? It was as if the fight with Grimalkin had never happened.
'My mistress needs sustenance. She must drink warm blood from the body of the boy!' he declared, pointing his blade directly towards me again. 'Fill the cup!'
As the fearsome warrior held out the crystal chalice, my heart fluttered in my chest with fear.
'We've won, child!' Grimalkin whispered into my ear, her voice filled with triumph. 'He no longer demands your life – just that we fill the cup. It's exactly what we want.'
Silently the warrior placed the crystal goblet on the red silk of the tablecloth. Grimalkin picked it up and withdrew a short knife from its leather scabbard. She turned towards me. 'Roll up your sleeve, child. The right arm . . .'
With shaking fingers I did as she asked. 'Now take the chalice and hold it under your arm to catch the blood.'
I lifted my bare arm and positioned the exquisitely wrought vessel beneath it. Grimalkin made a small cut into my flesh. I hardly felt it, but blood began to drip downwards; however, it stopped flowing before the chalice was half full.
'Just one more cut and it's done,' she said.
I felt the blade again and sucked in my breath as the sharp pain bit. This time my blood cascaded freely, and to my surprise the vessel suddenly became much heavier. It filled rapidly, but no sooner had the blood reached the rim than the flow suddenly ceased. I saw that it had already congealed into a thin red line against the pale flesh of my arm.
The witch assassin placed the cup on the table; the warrior picked it up and carried it towards the pit. We watched him descending the steps until he was lost to view, then waited in silence until he was some distance from the hall. We couldn't risk him hearing a disturbance and turning back. It was vital that my blood was given to the Ordeen. The minutes passed slowly, but at last Grimalkin smiled and pulled a small mirror from her sleeve, preparing to signal our success.
However, before she could do so, everything went dark and I felt a sudden chill again. Once more bright, glittering eyes moved towards us from the direction of the pit. Had the servants of the Ordeen guessed our intent?
Suddenly I was aware that, notwithstanding the intense silence, the hall was now full of people. And what strange and terrifying people they were!
The men were very tall, with long pointy noses and chins and elongated faces. They must be daemons, I thought, with their cavernous eyes, and their dark, loose clothes that hung from their bodies like gossamer sails stretched over willowy trees. At their belts were long curved swords.
The daemons brought to my mind an old County proverb:
Pointy nose and pointy chin, Darkness surely dwells within!
By contrast, the women were sleek, with voluptuous curves, revealing skin that glistened as if freshly anointed. And they were dancing – whirling rhythmically to the beat of a distant unseen drum. These women danced alone while the men brooded on the edge of the dancing space or lurked in the gloom of the pillars, watching with hungry eyes.
I looked back along the table and saw that everyone in our party seemed transfixed by the dancers. Their strange movements held some sort of enchantment. Grimalkin still had the mirror in her hand but seemed powerless to use it. We were helpless. Had we got so close to success only to be thwarted at the last moment?
And then I realized that some of Mam's escort, Seilenos among them, were eating greedily from their plates and gulping wine from the golden goblets – despite the warning they'd been given. I knew then that the Greek spook lacked the willpower and determination of John Gregory – it would now surely be his undoing.
I turned back to the women dancing before the pit and saw that whereas each had previously danced alone, now they spun in twos, woman with woman, following the mosaic patterns of the long serpents. The drumbeat was getting louder, faster and more frantic, and now there was more than one drum. It made me want to tap my feet, and I felt a strong urge to rise from my seat. I looked across to Alice and saw that she too was gripping her seat, stopping herself from joining the dancers. I slowed my breathing and fought the impulse to move until it began to subside.
Then I saw that one of the dancers was actually a man – one I recognized. It was Seilenos. Just moments earlier I'd seen him eating the forbidden food; now he was suddenly part of that wild dance. I lost sight of him for a moment, but then he whirled back into view, this time much closer to our table. And I could see that a woman had her mouth against his neck, her teeth biting deep into his flesh; blood was dribbling onto his chest. Terror showed in his bulging eyes; they rolled wildly in their sockets. His belly seemed to be convulsing and his clothes were torn, revealing deep wounds across his back. The woman was draining Seilenos of blood. He was spun back into the press of bodies closer to the pit and I didn't see him again.