drew a dagger and plunged it into the right eye of the Fiend, twisting the blade savagely.
The head could not cry out because the mouth was filled with the green apple and rose thorns. But nevertheless there was a terrible scream. It seemed to rise from the ground beneath our feet. Then a voice boomed out of the bowels of the earth:
‘ You have failed me! Woe to you all! An eternity of torment awaits those who fail me a second time! What I suffer, you will each suffer a thousandfold! ’
The earth trembled, the tower shook, and a vivid streak of forked lightning rent the sky from north to south, the answering rumble of thunder so loud that it drowned out the horrified screams of the witches below. But I could see their mouths open, their eyes filled with horror at what I had done and what the Fiend had said. They ran around in circles like headless chickens while a great wind buffeted the trees, bowing and shaking their branches.
At last calm descended and I looked down at each and every one of the witches in turn so that they could see the death waiting in my eyes.
‘Be gone from this place. Go far!’ I cried. ‘Tomorrow night at this time I will return to the battlements. If I see or sniff your presence in these woods I will put out your master’s remaining eye! Do I make myself clear?’
No one answered from below. All were silent – even the bearded mage and the kretch. With bowed heads they turned their backs on me and returned slowly to the cover of the trees.
Thorne was staring at me, her eyes shining. ‘You showed them! That shut them up!’ she exclaimed.
I nodded grimly. ‘But for how long?’ I asked.
Black blood was dripping from the ruined eye-socket. I spat on the Fiend’s forehead, then returned his ugly head to the leather sack.
‘If they stay away tomorrow night, we’ll leave this place,’ I said.
‘Aren’t we safer here than anywhere else?’ Thorne asked.
‘That’s not the problem, child. Without the winged lamia to hunt for us we will eventually starve. Not only that – our enemies will gather here in greater and greater numbers. No siege can last for ever.’
She grimaced. ‘Where will we go?’
‘There are several possibilities, but none of them better fortified than here. Let me think a while. In the meantime we should go down to tell Slake what has befallen her sister.’
We went into the storeroom and passed through the trap door onto the spiral steps and into the damp chill of the lower part of the tower. When we reached the dungeons, I sensed the presence of the lamia. She had already left the tunnels.
We found her kneeling at the foot of the lamia gibbet. The dead animals were still suspended from the chains, but blood no longer dripped into the bucket, which was now full to the brim. Just one torch flickered from a wall-bracket nearby. I sensed no immediate danger. Only a few rats moved in the darkness.
Slake was muttering to herself and swaying rhythmically from side to side. At first I thought that she was weaving a spell, chanting some sort of incantation, but her voice was suddenly filled with fervour, as if she had some desperate need to be heard. She lifted her arms towards the gibbet and bowed three times. Was this some kind of worship? Was she praying to her god? If so, who could it be?
I gestured to Thorne, and we moved back into the shadows beyond the pillars. ‘Let her do what she must. We will speak to her when she is ready,’ I whispered.
After a few minutes Slake bowed low before rising to her feet. Then she turned to the bucket of animal blood, gave a guttural cry, lifted it to her lips and drank deeply. Three times she cried out, drinking immediately afterwards. By the third cry I realized that it was a word she was calling out – perhaps someone’s name.
When the bucket was empty, she replaced it at the foot of the gibbet, turned and approached us. I realized that despite her absorption in what she’d been doing, the lamia had been aware
The head could not cry out because the mouth was filled with the green apple and rose thorns. But nevertheless there was a terrible scream. It seemed to rise from the ground beneath our feet. Then a voice boomed out of the bowels of the earth:
‘ You have failed me! Woe to you all! An eternity of torment awaits those who fail me a second time! What I suffer, you will each suffer a thousandfold! ’
The earth trembled, the tower shook, and a vivid streak of forked lightning rent the sky from north to south, the answering rumble of thunder so loud that it drowned out the horrified screams of the witches below. But I could see their mouths open, their eyes filled with horror at what I had done and what the Fiend had said. They ran around in circles like headless chickens while a great wind buffeted the trees, bowing and shaking their branches.
At last calm descended and I looked down at each and every one of the witches in turn so that they could see the death waiting in my eyes.
‘Be gone from this place. Go far!’ I cried. ‘Tomorrow night at this time I will return to the battlements. If I see or sniff your presence in these woods I will put out your master’s remaining eye! Do I make myself clear?’
No one answered from below. All were silent – even the bearded mage and the kretch. With bowed heads they turned their backs on me and returned slowly to the cover of the trees.
Thorne was staring at me, her eyes shining. ‘You showed them! That shut them up!’ she exclaimed.
I nodded grimly. ‘But for how long?’ I asked.
Black blood was dripping from the ruined eye-socket. I spat on the Fiend’s forehead, then returned his ugly head to the leather sack.
‘If they stay away tomorrow night, we’ll leave this place,’ I said.
‘Aren’t we safer here than anywhere else?’ Thorne asked.
‘That’s not the problem, child. Without the winged lamia to hunt for us we will eventually starve. Not only that – our enemies will gather here in greater and greater numbers. No siege can last for ever.’
She grimaced. ‘Where will we go?’
‘There are several possibilities, but none of them better fortified than here. Let me think a while. In the meantime we should go down to tell Slake what has befallen her sister.’
We went into the storeroom and passed through the trap door onto the spiral steps and into the damp chill of the lower part of the tower. When we reached the dungeons, I sensed the presence of the lamia. She had already left the tunnels.
We found her kneeling at the foot of the lamia gibbet. The dead animals were still suspended from the chains, but blood no longer dripped into the bucket, which was now full to the brim. Just one torch flickered from a wall-bracket nearby. I sensed no immediate danger. Only a few rats moved in the darkness.
Slake was muttering to herself and swaying rhythmically from side to side. At first I thought that she was weaving a spell, chanting some sort of incantation, but her voice was suddenly filled with fervour, as if she had some desperate need to be heard. She lifted her arms towards the gibbet and bowed three times. Was this some kind of worship? Was she praying to her god? If so, who could it be?
I gestured to Thorne, and we moved back into the shadows beyond the pillars. ‘Let her do what she must. We will speak to her when she is ready,’ I whispered.
After a few minutes Slake bowed low before rising to her feet. Then she turned to the bucket of animal blood, gave a guttural cry, lifted it to her lips and drank deeply. Three times she cried out, drinking immediately afterwards. By the third cry I realized that it was a word she was calling out – perhaps someone’s name.
When the bucket was empty, she replaced it at the foot of the gibbet, turned and approached us. I realized that despite her absorption in what she’d been doing, the lamia had been aware
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