the room, kicking and struggling – it took four men to control her.
Two of the yeomen guards moved aside to allow them into the circle, and she was forced to face me. It was the Lizzie I remembered – almost the spitting image of Alice, but older, in her late thirties perhaps, and with shifty eyes and a sneering expression. Her lips were stitched together just like Alice’s. The moment she saw me, the witch stopped struggling and a strange, sly look came into her eyes; one of calculation and cunning.
Someone behind me pushed my staff into my lefthand. Instantly I transferred it to my right, feeling in the left pocket of my cloak to check my silver chain. That would offer me the best chance of victory. One disadvantage was that I still ached from the beating I’d received when I was captured. The food I’d eaten had made me stronger physically but I was far from my best.
One of the yeomen handed Lizzie two long knives, each murderously sharp. Our eyes met again and I released the retractable blade on my staff with a click and held it diagonally across me. Lizzie might not realize that I had the chain. For now, I would keep it in reserve.
Lord Barrule clapped his hands three times, and silence fell over the gathering. I could hear Lizzie breathing hard through her nose, almost snorting. I suddenly remembered something about her: in the past she’d always seemed to have her mouth slightly open – no doubt she naturally breathed through it. Or maybe she had a cold? Either way it would be to my advantage if she were struggling for air.
‘Let the contest begin!’ cried Lord Barrule. ‘A fight to the death!’
Wasting no time, Lizzie lunged at me with the blade in her left hand, but I parried it with my staff and began to retreat widdershins, against the clock, moving warily in a slow circle. Her face began to change, eyes bulging. Now, instead of hair, a nest of black snakes writhed from her scalp, forked tongues flickering, their fangs spitting a cloud of venom towards me. A wave of fear washed over me, and I staggered and took a step backwards, a chill gripping my heart.
She was using dread against me – the enchantment used by malevolent witches to make themselves terrifying, freezing their helpless opponents to the spot. Such was Lizzie’s power that she could cast it without the incantation. What would she be capable of if her mouth were not stitched?
I took a deep breath and resisted. I’d faced worse than this last summer in Greece when I’d tried to enter the Ord, the terrifying citadel of the Ordeen. If I could withstand that terrible pulse of fear – it had caused theinstant death of brave warriors – I could overcome whatever Lizzie could throw at me.
I stepped forward and swung my staff at her head. She leaned back, almost overbalancing, and retreated. Now the snakes had disappeared, to be replaced by hair again; her face almost human. The spell was fading. And then a voice spoke right inside my head …
Fool! We should work together!
Was it the buggane? But it was a harsh, sibilant voice – not the insidious whisper that I’d been told about. Then I heard it again:
Neither of us can win here. He intends to slay us both!
It had to be Lizzie. But how was she doing it? What spell could grant her that power?
I refused to listen and whirled in fast, avoided a stab from her left hand then cracked her on the right wrist to send the blade spinning from her hand.
There were loud whoops of excitement from the spectators – along with a few groans. I wondered what Lizzie was doing. How could we work together? Wasshe mad? How could we hope to escape from this room together?
Help me! Do it for my daughter, Alice, or we’ll all die here!
Her use of Alice’s name angered me, and I thrust my left hand into my pocket and coiled the silver chain about my wrist. As I did so, Lizzie attacked, moving in quickly and catching me off balance. I leaned away but I wasn’t fast enough. I felt a sharp pain
Two of the yeomen guards moved aside to allow them into the circle, and she was forced to face me. It was the Lizzie I remembered – almost the spitting image of Alice, but older, in her late thirties perhaps, and with shifty eyes and a sneering expression. Her lips were stitched together just like Alice’s. The moment she saw me, the witch stopped struggling and a strange, sly look came into her eyes; one of calculation and cunning.
Someone behind me pushed my staff into my lefthand. Instantly I transferred it to my right, feeling in the left pocket of my cloak to check my silver chain. That would offer me the best chance of victory. One disadvantage was that I still ached from the beating I’d received when I was captured. The food I’d eaten had made me stronger physically but I was far from my best.
One of the yeomen handed Lizzie two long knives, each murderously sharp. Our eyes met again and I released the retractable blade on my staff with a click and held it diagonally across me. Lizzie might not realize that I had the chain. For now, I would keep it in reserve.
Lord Barrule clapped his hands three times, and silence fell over the gathering. I could hear Lizzie breathing hard through her nose, almost snorting. I suddenly remembered something about her: in the past she’d always seemed to have her mouth slightly open – no doubt she naturally breathed through it. Or maybe she had a cold? Either way it would be to my advantage if she were struggling for air.
‘Let the contest begin!’ cried Lord Barrule. ‘A fight to the death!’
Wasting no time, Lizzie lunged at me with the blade in her left hand, but I parried it with my staff and began to retreat widdershins, against the clock, moving warily in a slow circle. Her face began to change, eyes bulging. Now, instead of hair, a nest of black snakes writhed from her scalp, forked tongues flickering, their fangs spitting a cloud of venom towards me. A wave of fear washed over me, and I staggered and took a step backwards, a chill gripping my heart.
She was using dread against me – the enchantment used by malevolent witches to make themselves terrifying, freezing their helpless opponents to the spot. Such was Lizzie’s power that she could cast it without the incantation. What would she be capable of if her mouth were not stitched?
I took a deep breath and resisted. I’d faced worse than this last summer in Greece when I’d tried to enter the Ord, the terrifying citadel of the Ordeen. If I could withstand that terrible pulse of fear – it had caused theinstant death of brave warriors – I could overcome whatever Lizzie could throw at me.
I stepped forward and swung my staff at her head. She leaned back, almost overbalancing, and retreated. Now the snakes had disappeared, to be replaced by hair again; her face almost human. The spell was fading. And then a voice spoke right inside my head …
Fool! We should work together!
Was it the buggane? But it was a harsh, sibilant voice – not the insidious whisper that I’d been told about. Then I heard it again:
Neither of us can win here. He intends to slay us both!
It had to be Lizzie. But how was she doing it? What spell could grant her that power?
I refused to listen and whirled in fast, avoided a stab from her left hand then cracked her on the right wrist to send the blade spinning from her hand.
There were loud whoops of excitement from the spectators – along with a few groans. I wondered what Lizzie was doing. How could we work together? Wasshe mad? How could we hope to escape from this room together?
Help me! Do it for my daughter, Alice, or we’ll all die here!
Her use of Alice’s name angered me, and I thrust my left hand into my pocket and coiled the silver chain about my wrist. As I did so, Lizzie attacked, moving in quickly and catching me off balance. I leaned away but I wasn’t fast enough. I felt a sharp pain
Similar Books
