was why I needed to surprise them out in the open.
Yes! hissed the boggart. It is a good plan. They will be easier to hunt and kill out in the open. My thirst will be slaked more rapidly!
I looked up at the dark tower and the narrow steps that led to the door. With my right hand I drew the sword; with my left the dagger called Bone Cutter.
I began to climb.
THE STEEP STONE steps were barely wide enough for two to walk abreast, and that would serve me well. On either side was a sheer drop to the rocks below, so it would be difficult for my enemies to surround me and come at me from behind. Their superiority in numbers would count for little.
I climbed at a steady pace, wondering if I was being watched. Were there eyes hidden behind the arrow slits? I did not expect to be fired upon – witches did not use bows themselves, though they sometimes employed servants to carry out tasks such as cooking . . . and opening the iron gate that I now approached (direct contact with iron was painful for a witch). They might have people to fight for them too – I just had to hope that none of these were bowmen.
Halfway up the steps, I started to wonder if Alice was still in the balcony room. At the thought of her alone in there with the moustached stranger, my anger flared. I tried to banish it from my mind. If I were to succeed in what I was about to attempt I needed a clear head.
I reached the door and paused before it, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
Then I struck it hard, three times, with the hilt of my sword.
The sound of each blow was loud enough to awaken the dead, echoing around from valley to hill again and again. But there was no response. Nothing seemed to be moving within that dark tower.
So I struck the door three more times – harder than before.
All was still and silent. What were the witches doing? Were they gathering behind the door, ready to attack? If so, they could not take me by surprise, for the door was heavy, and opened only slowly.
For the third time I beat on the door with my sword. And this time I shouted out a challenge:
‘Come out and fight, cowards! Come out and die! What are you waiting for?’
Perhaps they were watching me through the arrow slits – surely thinking that I was touched with madness. Either that or I had reached such depths of despair that I desired death. For what could one person do against so many enemies? But they did not know about the boggart.
The boggart had defended the Spook’s garden for many years. Early in my apprenticeship I’d been pursued by the witch Bony Lizzie and the abhuman Tusk – but I’d reached the sanctuary of the Spook’s garden just in time, and the boggart had driven them away. Even a powerful witch like Lizzie had run from it in terror. It had also fought off that powerful daemon called the Bane and, more recently, Romanian witches. It was a force to be reckoned with.
I hoped it would take these witches completely by surprise. It was unlikely that they could discover the specific danger – though some of them had no doubt long-sniffed the future and sensed the threat of death. If this was the case, they might ignore my challenge and stay inside the tower. Then I would have to command the boggart to go in. It might be able to kill many of them before they could fight back with their magic. But that would not open the door for me. The Fiend’s head would still be out of reach.
Suddenly there was a harsh sound – the grating of metal upon stone – and slowly the door began to move, no doubt dragged open by the witches’ servants. I waited, my blades at the ready. When it was less than a third open, it stopped, and I stared into a darkness that the moonlight could not penetrate. There were eyes glowing in the gloom; the strange wide eyes of witches staring out at me.
All at once my confidence wavered. Fear seized me, filling me with doubts that I had previously thrust to the back of my mind. What if I couldn’t carry out my plan?
Yes! hissed the boggart. It is a good plan. They will be easier to hunt and kill out in the open. My thirst will be slaked more rapidly!
I looked up at the dark tower and the narrow steps that led to the door. With my right hand I drew the sword; with my left the dagger called Bone Cutter.
I began to climb.
THE STEEP STONE steps were barely wide enough for two to walk abreast, and that would serve me well. On either side was a sheer drop to the rocks below, so it would be difficult for my enemies to surround me and come at me from behind. Their superiority in numbers would count for little.
I climbed at a steady pace, wondering if I was being watched. Were there eyes hidden behind the arrow slits? I did not expect to be fired upon – witches did not use bows themselves, though they sometimes employed servants to carry out tasks such as cooking . . . and opening the iron gate that I now approached (direct contact with iron was painful for a witch). They might have people to fight for them too – I just had to hope that none of these were bowmen.
Halfway up the steps, I started to wonder if Alice was still in the balcony room. At the thought of her alone in there with the moustached stranger, my anger flared. I tried to banish it from my mind. If I were to succeed in what I was about to attempt I needed a clear head.
I reached the door and paused before it, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
Then I struck it hard, three times, with the hilt of my sword.
The sound of each blow was loud enough to awaken the dead, echoing around from valley to hill again and again. But there was no response. Nothing seemed to be moving within that dark tower.
So I struck the door three more times – harder than before.
All was still and silent. What were the witches doing? Were they gathering behind the door, ready to attack? If so, they could not take me by surprise, for the door was heavy, and opened only slowly.
For the third time I beat on the door with my sword. And this time I shouted out a challenge:
‘Come out and fight, cowards! Come out and die! What are you waiting for?’
Perhaps they were watching me through the arrow slits – surely thinking that I was touched with madness. Either that or I had reached such depths of despair that I desired death. For what could one person do against so many enemies? But they did not know about the boggart.
The boggart had defended the Spook’s garden for many years. Early in my apprenticeship I’d been pursued by the witch Bony Lizzie and the abhuman Tusk – but I’d reached the sanctuary of the Spook’s garden just in time, and the boggart had driven them away. Even a powerful witch like Lizzie had run from it in terror. It had also fought off that powerful daemon called the Bane and, more recently, Romanian witches. It was a force to be reckoned with.
I hoped it would take these witches completely by surprise. It was unlikely that they could discover the specific danger – though some of them had no doubt long-sniffed the future and sensed the threat of death. If this was the case, they might ignore my challenge and stay inside the tower. Then I would have to command the boggart to go in. It might be able to kill many of them before they could fight back with their magic. But that would not open the door for me. The Fiend’s head would still be out of reach.
Suddenly there was a harsh sound – the grating of metal upon stone – and slowly the door began to move, no doubt dragged open by the witches’ servants. I waited, my blades at the ready. When it was less than a third open, it stopped, and I stared into a darkness that the moonlight could not penetrate. There were eyes glowing in the gloom; the strange wide eyes of witches staring out at me.
All at once my confidence wavered. Fear seized me, filling me with doubts that I had previously thrust to the back of my mind. What if I couldn’t carry out my plan?
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