The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection Read online

  I knew I had to do something before it was too late. So, using all my willpower, I forced myself to take a step toward her as she heaved more of her body up onto the bank.

  When I got close enough, I did something that I can still remember vividly. I still have nightmares about it. But what choice did I have? It was her or me. Only one of us was going to survive.

  I jabbed the witch with the end of the staff. I jabbed her hard, and I kept on jabbing her until she finally lost her grip on the bank and was swept away into the darkness.

  But it still wasn’t over. What if she managed to get out of the water farther downstream? She could still go to Bony Lizzie’s house. I had to make sure that didn’t happen. I knew it was the wrong thing to kill her and that one day she’d probably come back stronger than ever, but I didn’t have a silver chain, so I couldn’t bind her. It was now that mattered, not the future. No matter how hard it was, I knew I had to follow the river into the trees.

  Very slowly I began to walk along the riverbank, pausing every five or six steps to listen. All I could hear was the wind sighing faintly through the branches above. It was very dark, with only the occasional thin shaft of moonlight managing to penetrate the leaf canopy, each like a long silver spear embedded in the ground.

  The third time I paused, it happened. There was no warning. I didn’t hear a thing. I simply felt it. A hand slithered up onto my boot, and before I could move away, it gripped my left ankle hard.

  I felt the strength in that grip. It was as if my ankle were being crushed. When I looked down, all I could see was a pair of red eyes glaring up at me out of the darkness. Terrified, I jabbed down blindly toward the unseen hand that was clutching my ankle.

  I was too late. My ankle was jerked violently and I fell to the ground, the impact driving all the breath from my body. What was worse, the staff went flying from my hand, leaving me defenseless.

  I lay there for a moment or two, trying to catch my breath, until I felt myself being dragged toward the riverbank. When I heard the splashing, I knew what was happening. Mother Malkin was using me to drag herself out of the river. The witch’s legs were thrashing about in the water, and I knew that one of two things would happen: either she’d manage to get out, or I’d end up in the river with her.

  Desperate to escape, I rolled over to my left, twisting my ankle away. She held on, so I rolled again and came to a halt with my face pressed against the damp earth. Then I saw the staff, its thicker end lying in a shaft of moonlight. It was out of reach, about three or four paces away.

  I rolled toward it. Rolled again and again, digging my fingers into the soft earth, twisting my body like a corkscrew. Mother Malkin had a tight grip on my ankle, but that was all she had. The lower half of her body was still in the water, so despite her great strength, she couldn’t stop me from rolling over and twisting her through the water after me.

  At last I reached the staff and thrust it hard at the witch. But her own hand moved into the moonlight and gripped the other end.

  I thought it was over then. I thought that was the end of me, but to my surprise Mother Malkin suddenly screamed very loudly. Her whole body became rigid, and her eyes rolled up in her head. Then she gave a long, deep sigh and became very still.

  We both lay there on the riverbank for what seemed a long time. Only my chest was rising and falling as I gulped in air; Mother Malkin wasn’t moving at all. When, finally, she did, it wasn’t to take a breath. Very slowly, one hand let go of my ankle and the other released the staff and she slid down the bank into the river, entering the water with hardly a splash. I didn’t know what had happened, but she was dead—I was sure of it.

  I watched her body being carried away from the bank by the current and swirled right into the middle of the river. Still lit by the moon, her head went under. She was gone. Dead and gone.

  CHAPTER X

  Poor Billy

  I WAS so weak afterward that I fell to my knees, and within moments I was sick—sicker than I’d ever been before. I kept heaving and heaving even when there was nothing but bile coming out of my mouth, heaving until my insides felt torn and twisted.

  At last it ended and I managed to

  stand. Even then, it was a long time before my breathing slowed down and my body stopped trembling. I just wanted to go back to the Spook’s house. I’d done enough for one night, surely?

  But I couldn’t—the child was in Lizzie’s house. That was what my instincts told me. The child was the prisoner of a witch who was capable of murder. So I had no choice. There was nobody else but me, and if I didn’t help, then who would? I had to set off for Bony Lizzie’s house.

  There was a storm surging in from the west, a dark jagged line of cloud that was eating into the stars. Very soon now it would begin to rain, but as I started down the hill toward the house, the moon was still out—a full moon, bigger than I ever remembered it.

  It was casting my shadow before me as I went. I watched it grow, and the nearer I got to the house, the bigger it seemed to get. I had my hood up and I was carrying the Spook’s staff in my left hand, so that the shadow didn’t seem to belong to me anymore. It moved on ahead of me until it fell upon Bony Lizzie’s house.

  I glanced backward then, half expecting to see the Spook standing behind me. He wasn’t there. It was just a trick of the light. So I went on until I’d passed through the open gate into the yard.

  I paused before the front door to think. What if I was too late and the child was already dead? Or what if its disappearance was nothing to do with Lizzie and I was just putting myself in danger for nothing? My mind carried on thinking, but, just as it had on the riverbank, my body knew what to do. Before I could stop it, my left hand rapped the staff hard against the wood three times.

  For a few moments there was silence, followed by the sound of footsteps and a sudden crack of light under the door.

  As the door slowly swung open, I took a step backward. To my relief it was Alice. She was holding a lantern level with her head so that one half of her face was lit while the other was in darkness.

  “What do you want?” she asked, her voice filled with anger.

  “You know what I want,” I replied. “I’ve come for the child. For the child that you’ve stolen.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” she said. “Go away before it’s too late. They’ve gone off to meet Mother Malkin. They could be back any minute.”

  Suddenly a child began to cry, a thin wail coming from somewhere inside the house. So I pushed past Alice and went inside.

  There was just a single candle flickering in the narrow passageway, but the rooms themselves were in darkness. The candle was unusual. I’d never seen one made of black wax before, but I snatched it up anyway and let my ears guide me to the right room.

  I eased open the door. The room was empty of furniture, and the child was lying on the floor on a heap of straw and rags.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, trying my best to smile. I leaned my staff against the wall and moved closer.

  The child stopped crying and tottered to its feet, its eyes very wide. “Don’t worry. There’s no need to be scared,” I said, trying to put as much reassurance into my voice as possible. “I’m going to take you home to your mam.”

  I put the candle on the floor and picked up the child. It smelled as bad as the rest of the room, and it was cold and wet. I cradled it with my right arm and wrapped my cloak about it as best I could.

  Suddenly the child spoke. “I’m Tommy,” it said. “I’m Tommy.”

  “Well, Tommy,” I said, “we’ve got the same name. My name’s Tommy, too. You’re safe now. You’re going home.”

  With those words, I picked up my staff and went into the passageway and out through the front door. Alice was standing in the yard near the gate. The lantern had gone out, but the moon was still shining, and as I walked nearer, it threw my shadow onto the side of the barn, a giant shadow ten times bigger than I was.

  I tried to pass her, but she steppe
d directly into my path so that I was forced to halt.

  “Don’t meddle!” she warned, her voice almost a snarl, her teeth gleaming white and sharp in the moonlight. “Ain’t none of your business, this.”

  I was in no mood to waste time arguing with her, and when I moved directly toward her, Alice didn’t try to stop me. She stepped back out of my way and called out after me, “You’re a fool. Give it back before it’s too late. They’ll come after you. You’ll never get away.”

  I didn’t bother to answer. I never even looked back. I went through the gate and began to climb away from the house.

  It started to rain then, hard and heavy, straight into my face. It was the kind of rain that my dad used to call wet rain. All rain is wet, of course, but some kinds do seem to make a better and a faster job of soaking you than others. This was as wet as it got, and I headed back toward the Spook’s house as fast as I could.

  I wasn’t sure if I’d be safe even there. What if the Spook really was dead? Would the boggart still guard his house and garden?

  Soon I had more immediate things to worry about. I began to sense that I was being followed. The first time I felt it, I came to a halt and listened, but there was nothing but the howling of the wind and the rain lashing into the trees and drumming onto the earth. I couldn’t see much either, because it was very dark now.

  So I carried on, taking even bigger strides, just hoping that I was still heading in the right direction. Once I came up against a thick, high hawthorn hedge and had to make a long detour to find a gate, all the time feeling that the danger behind was getting closer. It was just after I’d come through a small wood that I knew for certain that there was someone there. Climbing a hill, I paused for breath close to its summit. The rain had eased for a moment and I looked back down into the darkness, toward the trees. I heard the crack and snap of twigs. Someone was moving very fast through the wood in my direction, not caring where he put his feet.

  At the crest of the hill I looked back once more. The first flash of lightning lit up the sky and the ground below, and I saw two figures come out of the trees and begin to climb the slope. One of them was female, the other shaped like a man, big and burly.

  When the thunder crashed again, Tommy began to cry. “Don’t like thunder!” he wailed. “Don’t like thunder!”

  “Storms can’t hurt you, Tommy,” I told him, knowing it wasn’t true. They scared me as well. One of my uncles had been struck by lightning when he’d been out trying to get some cattle in. He’d died later. It wasn’t safe being out in the open in weather like this. But although lightning terrified me, it did have its uses. It was showing me the way, each vivid flash lighting up my route back to the Spook’s house.

  Soon the breath was sobbing in my throat, too, a mixture of fear and exhaustion, as I forced myself to go faster and faster, just hoping that we’d be safe as soon as we entered the Spook’s garden. Nobody was allowed on the Spook’s property unless invited—I kept telling myself that over and over again, because it was our only chance. If we could just get there first, the boggart would protect us.

  I was in sight of the trees, the bench beneath them, the garden waiting beyond, when I slipped on the wet grass. The fall wasn’t hard, but Tommy began to cry even louder. When I’d managed to pick him up, I heard someone running behind me, feet thumping the earth.

  I glanced back, struggling for breath. It was a mistake. My pursuer was about five or six paces ahead of Lizzie and catching me fast. Lightning flashed again, and I saw the lower half of his face. It looked as if he had horns growing out of each side of his mouth, and as he ran he moved his head from side to side. I remembered what I’d read in the Spook’s library about the dead women who’d been found with their ribs crushed. If Tusk caught me, he’d do the same to me.

  For a moment I was rooted to the spot, but he started to make a bellowing sound, just like a bull, and that started me moving again. I was almost running now. I would have sprinted if I could, but I was carrying Tommy and I was too weary, my legs heavy and sluggish, the breath rasping in my throat. At any moment I expected to be grabbed from behind, but I passed the bench where the Spook often gave me lessons and then, at last, I was beneath the first trees of the garden.

  But was I safe? If I wasn’t, it was all over for both of us, because there was no way I could outrun Tusk to the house. I stopped running, and all I could manage was a few steps before I came to a complete halt, trying to regain my breath.

  It was at that moment that something brushed past my legs. I looked down, but it was too dark to see anything. First I felt the pressure, then I heard something purr, a deep throbbing sound that made the ground beneath my feet vibrate. I sensed it move on beyond me, toward the edge of the trees, positioning itself between us and those who’d been following. I couldn’t hear any running now, but I heard something else.

  Imagine the angry howl of a tomcat multiplied a hundred times. It was a mixture between a throbbing growl and a scream, filling the air with its warning challenge, a sound that could have been heard for miles. It was the most terrifying and threatening sound I’d ever heard, and I knew then why the villagers never came anywhere near the Spook’s house. That cry was filled with death.

  Cross this line, it said, and I’ll rip out your heart. Cross this line, and I’ll gnaw your bones to pulp and gore. Cross this line, and you’ll wish you’d never been born.

  So for now we were safe. By now Bony Lizzie and Tusk would be running back down the hill. Nobody would be foolish enough to tangle with the Spook’s boggart. No wonder they’d needed me to feed Mother Malkin the blood cakes.

  There was hot soup and a blazing fire waiting for us in the kitchen. I wrapped little Tommy in a warm blanket and fed him some soup. Later I brought down a couple of pillows and made up a bed for him close to the fire. He slept like a log while I listened to the wind howling outside and the rain pattering against the windows.

  It was a long night, but I was warm and comfortable and I felt at peace in the Spook’s house, which was one of the safest places in the whole wide world. I knew now that nothing unwelcome could even enter the garden, never mind cross the threshold. It was safer than a castle with high battlements and a wide moat. I began to think of the boggart as my friend, and a very powerful friend at that.

  Just before noon I carried Tommy down to the village. The men were already back from the Long Ridge, and when I went to the butcher’s house, the instant he saw the child, his weary frown turned into a broad smile. I briefly explained what had happened, only going into as much detail as was necessary.

  Once I’d finished, he frowned again. “They need sorting out once and for all,” he said.

  I didn’t stay long. After Tommy had been given to his mother and she’d thanked me for the fifteenth time, it became obvious what was going to happen. By then, about thirty or so of the village men had gathered. Some of them were carrying clubs and stout sticks and they were muttering angrily about stoning and burning.

  I knew that something had to be done, but I didn’t want to be a part of it. Despite all that had happened, I couldn’t stand the thought of Alice being hurt, so I went for a walk on the fells for an hour or so to clear my head before walking slowly back toward the Spook’s house. I’d decided to sit on the bench for a while and enjoy the afternoon sun, but someone was there already.

  It was the Spook. He was safe after all! Until that moment I’d avoided thinking about what I was going to do next. I mean, how long would I have stayed in his house before deciding that he wasn’t going to come back? Now it was all sorted out because there he was, staring across the trees to where a plume of brown smoke was rising. They were burning Bony Lizzie’s house.

  When I got close to the bench, I noticed a big, purple bruise over his left eye. He saw me glance at it and gave me a tired smile.

  “We make a lot of enemies in this job,” he said, “and sometimes you need eyes in the back of your head. Still, things didn’t work out too badly because now
we’ve one less enemy to worry about near Pendle.

  “Take a pew,” he said, patting the bench at his side. “What have you been up to? Tell me what’s been happening here. Start at the beginning and finish at the end, leaving nothing out.”

  So I did. I told him everything. When I’d finished he stood up and looked down at me, his green eyes staring into mine very hard.

  “I wish I’d known Lizzie was back. When I put Mother Malkin into the pit, Lizzie left in a bit of a hurry and I didn’t think she’d ever have the nerve to show her face again. You should have told me about meeting the girl. It would have saved everybody a lot of trouble.”

  I looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

  “What was the worst thing that happened?” he asked.

  The memory came back, sharp and clear, of the old witch grabbing my boot and trying to drag herself out of the water. I remembered her scream as she gripped the end of the Spook’s staff.

  When I told him about it, he sighed long and deep.

  “Are you sure she was dead?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “She wasn’t breathing. Then her body was carried to the middle of the river and swept away.”

  “Well, it was a bad business, all right,” he said, “and the memory of it will stay with you for the rest of your life, but you’ll just have to live with it. You were lucky in taking the smallest of my staffs with you. That’s what saved you in the end. It’s made of rowan, the most effective wood of all when dealing with witches. It wouldn’t usually have bothered a witch that old and that strong, but she was in running water. So you were lucky, but you did all right for a new apprentice. You showed courage, real courage, and you saved a child’s life. But you made two more serious mistakes.”

  I bowed my head. I thought I’d probably made more than two, but I wasn’t going to argue.

  “Your most serious mistake was in killing that witch,” the Spook said. “She should have been brought back here. Mother Malkin is so strong that she could even break free of her bones. It’s very rare, but it can happen. Her spirit could be born into this world again, complete with all her memories. Then she’d come looking for you, lad, and she’d want revenge.”