The Whitby Witches 2: A Warlock In Whitby Read online

  Esau let out a rattling breath, tired and weary from his mental exertions. Then, his tongue licked his withered lips and he stared longingly at the still, black water. Lowering his head, like an animal at a pond, he crouched further down and lapped the surface, making a disgusting sucking noise.

  "What are you doing?" asked Nelda, repulsed by his base display.

  Startled, her husband flew backwards, his mouth dripping with oily liquid. He stared at her in alarm, then rage took him. "Spying on me?" he squawked lumbering to his feet. "I'll teach thee, bride of mine!"

  But Nelda pretended to be sorry for surprising him. "Forgive me," she apologised, "I did not mean to creep up on you—I thought you heard me come in!"

  So humble and complete was her contrition that Esau's temper cooled, yet he glanced at the Darkmirror shamefully. "'Twas merely a fancy of mine—nothing more," he hurriedly explained, "I did think I saw a fish swimming there and wished to make certain, that is all."

  Nelda said that she understood; if Esau was mad enough to drink stagnant water that was up to him. She looked at the elder uncertainly, then prepared herself for the task that lay ahead.

  "Husband," she began, "my grandfather's words have frightened me. Are we all to die? Is a great evil really to be awoken by the actions of one human? What will become of us?"

  Esau chortled and wiped the slime from his lips. "Save thy sorrow," he told her.

  "But I cannot," she wept and the tears which brimmed in her eyes were genuine.

  The elder crept forward, reaching out a deformed claw to her cheek. "Poor, sweet wife," he muttered, "thou art indeed afraid. Have no fear—Whitby is safe, I promise you that."

  Nelda stared at him, "How can you be sure?"

  Esau sniggered and tapped his brow with a twig-like finger. "Trust in my wisdom," he cackled. "For nigh on four hundred years I have led the Triad, learned in all lore am I—none save the Three beneath the waves know more. I am master of the rhymes that charm the tides and raise the winds, versed in the mournful speech of sea birds, of the tales carried from forgotten lands in the morning of the world. Have faith in me, my wife—Esau Grendel knows and sees all. When I tell thee no hurt shall befall Whitby, believe it. I am certain because the last protector is safe—no harm will come if it remains where it resides."

  "Then you lied to my grandfather!" she cried. "The guardian does exist!"

  His sharp eyes danced over her and his toothless grin widened unpleasantly. "That is correct, my sweet," he murmured.

  "Tell me where it is!" Nelda begged. "Please."

  But Esau would not be persuaded, he gave her a covetous glance then turned his back and ambled over to the bed.

  Nelda ran after him. "If I guess," she said, "would you tell me if I was right?"

  The elder hauled himself on to the bunk and watched her from beneath hooded lids. "I might," he muttered.

  "Then the lamp!" Nelda declared. "The one above your throne—Irl made it didn't he?"

  Esau chuckled wickedly, and fingered his beard, enjoying the sight of her pleading for his help. "Indeed," he mumbled, "it was Irl's hands that wrought the silver boat and mined the gleaming crystal."

  Nelda made to run from the chamber. She had to take the guardian away from danger, the Mallykin would soon be here to seize it and deliver it to its master.

  As she hurried to the entrance, Esau's cracked voice called out, "But that is not the device Irl made to keep Morgawrus at bay!"

  The girl froze. "Morgawrus?" she repeated.

  Her husband rolled on to the bed and nuzzled his head into the blankets. "The dreaded one," he softly chanted. "That which spreads disease and anguish, that which the Deep Ones overthrew in the beginnings of time and who sleeps beneath us even now—whose slumbering groans rise up from the deep chasm under the bridge of stone."

  "The Gibbering Road," said Nelda. "Then it is not the souls of the dead who cry out?"

  Esau shook his head and sprawled his shrunken body over the bunk. "No, my love," he told her, "the shrieks are but proof of the weakening enchantment. For many years now I have heard the moans grow stronger as the terror begins to stir. But have no fear, the spells will hold whilst Irl's guardian remains in place."

  Nelda edged towards him. "Where is it?" she asked again.

  Her husband only laughed back at her. "Now thou art in my power!" he declared. "Hearken to thyself, where is thy pride now?" He giggled insanely and his face twisted with bitterness and longing. "Did I not see thy scorn and sense the loathing thou felt for me?" he cried. "The strength of thy hatred was mighty. To what distant corner has it slinked, to leave thee begging for my wisdom now?"

  "But the tribe!" she exclaimed. "Do you want everyone to perish?"

  Esau thumped the bed with his fists. "Sacrifices must be made!" he squealed. "Our noble friends do buy us time with their lives. The Mallykin will never venture to this deep realm and who knows—perhaps it will be slain?" He scrutinised her closely, then asked, "What sacrifice wouldst thou make, my bride?"

  "I would do anything to save the tribe," she sobbed, giving up any hope of finding the guardian in time.

  Her husband gave a low, guttural chortle. "Then I have decided to tell thee," he said, rubbing his hands together as a cunning glint shone in his eyes. "On one condition..." he added slyly.

  ***

  At the East Gate, three aufwaders hammered fishing nets into position, resting only when the entrance was completely covered.

  "That's reet," Prawny told them, "now guard it wi' yer lives—at the first sound of owt moving inside, give a shout and stand on guard."

  He dashed along the passage and found Old Parry and Baccy the crone peering suspiciously into a narrow crevice. In their hands they held long knitting needles and a rusting harpoon that had belonged to Parry's late husband.

  When they heard him coming, they whisked round and raised their weapons. "Scupper it!" trilled Baccy, slashing the air with her needles. "Cut the brute's head off—rip his legs out!"

  "Crikes!" shouted Prawny, springing backwards to avoid their fierce onslaught.

  Old Parry uncovered a lantern and grumbled to herself, disappointed to find that it was only him.

  "Well done," he praised them, "if this critter's got any sense it'll keep away from both of 'ee."

  "I tell you it won't dare show its ears," chuntered Parry, "if it's got any that is. Tarr's finally gone feeble in the head; he were allus barmy but now he's real cracked. We're all wastin' our time."

  Baccy jabbed the air with her knitting needles, anxious to stab something. "Spike and stick," she crooned. "By gow, I'll plunge 'em in and wiggle 'em round. Gut the animal—make a broth from its gizzards and patties from its brains, hee, hee!"

  "Foolishness," remarked Old Parry tersely. "We'll be stood about fer days—theer's nowt gonna happen, except maybe she'll get one of her addled notions and try to stab me instead. I've a mind to get meself off home and put my feet up."

  Leaving them to it, one complaining, the other poised for action, Prawny hurried further down the tunnel to check on the rest of the defences. He thought of those two terrible old sea wives awaiting the enemy and grimaced—they had nearly frightened him out of his skin. When the creature itself finally appeared he hoped he would meet it more courageously.

  "Steel yerself, Nusk," he said, keeping a firm hold of the cudgel in his hand. "You don't want to be found lacking when the time comes."

  He thought sadly of his poor wife. She had been dead for many years now, but he could still picture her in his mind when he was lonely or needed to feel close to her. Valdi could always be relied on to cheer him up, or tactfully dispense sound advice. Prawny wished she was there now, to goad him on, and tell him how brave he would be against the unknown enemy.

  "Don't let me bring shame on my line," he implored. "You've faith in yer old spouse, ain'tcha Valdi?" But she, like so many others, had fallen prey to the curse of the Deep Ones and had vanished from this world long ago. Only the echoing dark hear
d him and Prawny felt his courage dwindle like a sputtering candle, trickling down his spine and oozing out of his boots.

  Ducking beneath a low archway, he stepped on to a narrow path that steadily climbed. This led to the high pass, which opened out on to the abbey plain. It was the only entrance he hadn't yet visited to oversee the defences, but knew that four of the tribe had gone to make sure the gate was closed.

  The way was nearly pitch black. In this section of the caves the lamps were few and far between and, as he passed one, his shadow would fly before him, blotting everything out in a nightmarishly distorted shape.

  "Keep yer wits," he sternly reminded himself, "ain't nowt but a shadow. Are yer afraid of that, yer big daisy?" As if in answer his pace increased until he was fairly jogging along—to reach the high pass before the imagined fears that lurked in the darkness reached out and grabbed him.

  At a fork in the passage, he stopped and listened—something was wrong. Holding his breath, Prawny glanced round the rough rocky walls, puzzling over the strange noise.

  A muffled scraping was coming from above his head. As yet it was faint and indistinct, but with every beating second it grew nearer.

  "Rabbits?" he mumbled curiously. "Sometimes their warrens do burrow deep." With a wry smile he remembered the year that the upper chambers had been overrun with them. "Mebbe Baccy'll get her broth after all," he chuckled.

  But the sounds were too frantic and harsh to be the work of rabbits. Something with immense strength and unswerving intent was digging and tearing its way through the ground.

  Prawny stared up at the dark ceiling. It was very low at this point in the tunnel and, standing on tiptoe he pressed his ear against the earthen roof.

  The sounds were much clearer now, he could hear the creature's breath wheezing and gasping as it ripped up the soil and dived further down.

  The aufwader stepped away, his heart thumping violently in his chest. This was it! They had been wrong to assume the enemy would enter by one of the main gates—it was making its own way in!

  With a dull clatter of dry clay and small stones, a fistful of soil showered down upon his head.

  "Bless us!" Prawny choked, gripping the cudgel in his hand and dredging up whatever valour he had left.

  "Well, it'll not get by me!" he said, hoping his voice sounded confident and brave.

  A further cascade of earth poured over the path and the aufwader uttered a curse in fear. Suddenly, a large clod of soil was kicked from above and a mouth-shaped hole gaped down at him from the ceiling.

  Prawny trembled. "No," he breathed in horror.

  Out of the darkness came a squat, misshapen head and a pair of luminous eyes gazed balefully at him.

  "Parry were right," warbled Prawny in a terrified voice, "it don't have no ears." Pressing himself against the wall, he whimpered, "Get you gone! You'll not come down here—I... I won't let 'ee!"

  Silently, the foul creature began to squirm from the hole. Keeping its grim stare fixed steadily upon him, the fish demon crawled out—its gills twitching expectantly.

  "No you don't!" Prawny shouted, swinging his cudgel round in his panic.

  Hissing in dismay, the fish demon snaked back into the ceiling, clawing hastily at the loose earth which rained down in a frenzied stream.

  "That's right!" roared Prawny, greatly encouraged by the creature's apparent cowardice. "There's plenty more where that came from. Come back and I'll give 'ee such a clout, yer'll be flung into next year!"

  But only silence flowed from the hole—the creature had escaped.

  Prawny chuckled to himself, relieved that he had not brought disgrace to the Nusk name. Raising his cudgel, he warily prodded at the opening with it.

  At once the scaly claws flashed out, seized the weapon from his grasp and hurled it far from reach.

  "Help!" Prawny screamed. "It's here! Help me..."

  Before he could run, the ferocious talons bit into his shoulders and, yelling for his life, the aufwader was dragged off his feet.

  "Aaaiiiyeee!" he shrieked, kicking his legs furiously and thrashing wildly with his arms. "Heeeeelp!" Up into the dark hole the Mallykin hauled him—up to where his screams ended abruptly and all his struggles were over.

  On to the tunnel floor, the fiend dropped. Flicking its ugly head from side to side, it sought the subterranean air currents and searched the scents that drifted upon them. The delightful fragrance of fear filled the caves—that was good, its prey would be the tenderer for it. Emitting a horrible screech, it gave a lurching hop, then bounded down the passage—Prawny Nusk's blood still dripping from its jaws.

  ***

  Nelda struggled back into her gansey, shivering with a cold sickness in her stomach. Esau was lying asleep on the bed beside her, his contented, grunting snores wafting a wisp of his beard that had strayed across his face.

  The girl's flesh crawled, she couldn't bear to look at the vile creature any more and she jumped from the bunk as though it had stung her.

  A grim and desolate expression was carved into her features. For the sake of all, she had sacrificed and suffered much, but now that was over—only the future mattered.

  Stealthily, she approached the still pool and, kneeling on the ground, slipped her hand into the black water. The liquid was horribly cold and set her teeth on edge as she fumbled on the slimy bottom, seeking for what Esau had said was there.

  A putrid smell issued up from the disturbed sediment and she balked when she remembered that her husband had drunk this poisonous filth.

  Esau grumbled in his sleep and turned over, his mangled claws groping at the empty space beside him.

  "Where is it?" Nelda murmured fretfully, Esau might awaken at any moment. Had he lied to her? Was this another of his tricks? Just when she thought despair would overwhelm her, her fingertips touched something amid the freezing ooze.

  Trembling, the aufwader drew her hand from the stagnant water and there was the guardian Irl had made.

  Quickly she washed away the clinging foulness and gazed at the wondrous device in her grasp.

  It was made of jet—but the carving was a monstrous, twisting shape, fashioned in the form of a hideous serpent. Nelda shuddered at the sight of it, never had she beheld anything so frightening, a ghastly representation of evil and darkness. The eyes of the serpent were closed, but beneath the lids something golden glimmered and sparkled.

  "Moonkelp," she breathed.

  The coils of the jet beast were twined about the three pronged symbol of the Lords of the Deep and, behind the gruesome head, Irl had inscribed these words: "By the powers of the greater Triad do I commit this guardian. May the bonds of enchantment bind the enemy ever more and keep Morgawrus tethered in the dark."

  Nelda mouthed the inscription with trembling lips, and as she did so, the nape of her neck prickled and a wave of cold seeped down her spine. It was as if an unearthly presence was watching her—was the ghost of Irl standing at her shoulder? A soft breath lightly touched her cheek and Nelda jumped up in alarm, but there was no one there.

  Upon the bed Esau moaned. There was no time left, she had to leave. With a last, contemptuous look at her husband, Nelda fled from the chamber hugging the guardian to her breast.

  ***

  The upper levels of the caves were in uproar. The fish demon had breached the defences and was scampering unchallenged down the tunnels. It was a mad, ravaging nightmare that stormed through the caves like a whirlwind of death and slaughter. Already seven fisherfolk had fallen before its vicious claws and the heat of their blood maddened it even more—driving it insanely on.

  Any who heard its shrieking cries were chilled to the marrow and many cast down their weapons when the first of those curdling calls came echoing down the dim passages. Heedless of all else, they flew blindly through the caverns to escape the oncoming terror, crashing into those still at their posts and struggling with them to get by. One aufwader blundered headlong into a disused chamber and tumbled down a deep mine shaft, smashing
into the sheer sides as he fell and hitting the bottom with an awful, bone-shattering crunch.

  The few who kept their heads and remained on guard were met with savage fury as the pet of Nathaniel Crozier tore into them. Spears and boat hooks were thrown aside as the iron jaws snapped at throats and when the hump-backed fiend had slain them it would throw back its fin-crowned head and give a yodelling gurgle of victory.

  "On!" thundered Tarr, leading a small band through the dim halls to the upper levels. "It must be killed!"

  The others were horribly afraid, but he drove them on by the force of his voice and his commanding will. The creature had to be stopped. If it cost the lives of them all it would be better than running cowardly away and eking out a miserably shameful existence elsewhere.

  "Remember the tribal wars!" he bellowed. "The battles of them days make this seem a reet picnic! This is nowt to the perils our kin endured back then. Draw thy knives and think no fear!"

  "I canna recall that far back," muttered one of the group mutinously, "an' neither can he! 'Sides, them wars were a disaster and cost the lives of most of our folk. Are we to squander our lifeblood as they did?"

  Marching beside this dissenter was Johab. He dug the grumbling aufwader in the ribs and said, "My grandsire did battle in them wars—and so did Tarr's. Hush yer yellow chelpin afore I squander thy blood mesself!"

  But the others were inspired by Tarr's words. They thought of the noble houses of the three tribes that had once been and drew their strength from it. Theirs was a princely lineage, the present tribe was but a gleaning of all that remained of those doughty aufwaders. This coast was theirs by right and only the Lords of the Deep could take it from them—certainly no base fiend from the ancient world.

  In all, there were eight in the company and Tarr herded them up the tunnels, swinging his staff over his head, crying out challenges and defying the fearsome shrieks which sped to meet them. All braced themselves for a brutal encounter, anger kindled their hearts and soon they too were shouting war cries—eager for the combat to begin.