The Whitby Witches 3: The Whitby Child Read online

  Flinging her tweed cape behind her, the old lady drew a deep and vehement breath then berated the Deep Ones vigorously.

  "Is this your great and vaunted wisdom?" she demanded. "Will you stand aside and let a mother and child die because of some stupid law which you made up in the first place? By all that's holy I have never heard such utter balderdash! You are nothing but meddling cowards—mountebanks the lot!"

  The shadowy figures writhed at her furious attack but Miss Boston would not be quelled. "If you are as mighty as you pretend," she bellowed indignantly, "then what are you afraid of? What warped and twisted pleasure do you enjoy from the misery of others? It isn't tears that flow into your precious waters but the blood of innocents! How much have you spilled to muddy your precious realm and cover your despicable tracks? Fie upon all three of you if you spill more! And remember this—you may indeed be the powers of this world, but beyond your reach there is a higher authority and it is to Him you shall answer!"

  "Enough!" roared the Lord of the Circling Seas, and the violence of his thundering thought as it broke into her mind sent Miss Boston stumbling back.

  "Never before has an audience been granted to one of the lesser breeds of man—thou, old crone, art the first and last. Yet if thou dost not put a guard upon that garrulous and incautious tongue then I shall let the waters roll over thy insolent head now."

  Miss Boston pursed her lips and gazed at him truculently. "Would it, pray," she began sarcastically, "be too much to inquire exactly why I have been brought here? Or do you simply like showing off? In my day there was only one deterrent for a bully—hit the perisher soundly with a slipper. I only wish I had one big enough."

  "Mice Boston," the shadowy form said curtly, "it is for thee to tell us why thou art here."

  The old lady waggled the stick at him. "What are you blabbering on about now?" she cried.

  "By small degrees thy strength hath returned to thee," he continued in a strange and almost admiring tone. "Day after day thou hast cast thy petty spells and laboured over what clumsy remedies are in thy puny power. But what then? Once thy ailments are defeated and thou art restored, how much further wouldst thou press?"

  Then the Lord of the Roaring Waters took over. "Curious were we," he said softly, "much have we desired to look on the one who put the final chain upon Morgawrus. None save we can remember the desolation the serpent wrought in the early morning of the world. Gone are the peoples of the kingdom he despoiled and their noble blood is thinned with that of baser creatures. Thus are we grateful to the one who returned the destroyer to the prison which we fashioned in those forgotten days."

  "So," Miss Boston remarked, "I'm here for a pat on the head, is that it? Well, I don't want your congratulations, thank you very much! If you hadn't botched the job in the first place Nathaniel Crozier would never have been able to awaken the brute."

  A deadly silence descended and the figures sat motionless upon the towering thrones. Then in a sneering, malevolent whisper, the voice of the Frozen Wastes said, "The serpent may indeed be at rest—yet for how long?"

  The old lady tutted. "You don't have to go over that again," she barked. "There's nothing to fear, the guardian is safe."

  "Yet the hand which invoked the forces locked within that mighty charm may also undo them."

  "Don't be ridiculous!" she cried. "Why should I do that?"

  "With the aid of the guardian thou wouldst be able to control the serpent and bind it to thy service—is that not the reason for thy recovery?"

  Miss Boston spluttered speechlessly. "Absurd!" she eventually blurted. "I refute that ludicrous accusation absolutely!"

  "Then why hast thou cheated Death?" the Lord of the Circling Seas demanded. "The date was set down but the hour appointed has come and still thou livest. Thrice now hast thou evaded the angel—why hast thou dared to survive?"

  "What are you saying?" she cried in bemusement. "I haven't the faintest idea..."

  "No?" The Lord of the Frozen Wastes' stinging hiss whipped into her mind. "See how the lies drip from her tongue, my brothers! The witch hath flouted our design and refuses to pass over—she conspires against us!"

  "Nonsense!" she laughed. "I'm most awfully sorry if I haven't popped my clogs, but I have no intention of doing that for some time."

  "Then what is thine intent? Art thou indeed determined to regain all thy former vigour?"

  "I am!"

  "And once that is achieved—what then? Art thou to pursue this dubious cause? Is it thy desire to dispel utterly the chains of age and never fear them again? What deeds wouldst thou perform to attain that, I wonder. Is there naught thou wouldst not do? Are there things thou hast already done which thou wouldst never have dreamed of before this obsession gripped thee?"

  Miss Boston frowned. "I've done nothing to be ashamed of," she answered.

  The voice dwindled into a prying murmur. "Really?" it oozed. "Is neglect not a crime—is that not a matter for guilt and shame? "

  "Neglect?" she cried. "I haven't neglected anything!"

  "What of those in thy care? 'Tis they who have suffered."

  A look of understanding passed over the old lady's face. "The children?" she muttered. "But how have I neglected them? I love them both dearly!"

  "Thy constant striving to regain thy strength hath made thee blind to their needs and wants. Too long hast thou pored over thy sorceries, too many hours have they been alone. Yet was it not for their sake that this laborious task of misguided self-healing was undertaken—or hast thou forgotten that also?"

  "Of course not!" she denied passionately. "I am pledged to protect them—Jennet and Benjamin are my only concern! I don't care what happens to me, all I want is to be able to defend them when the time comes!"

  At this, the shadowy figure upon the middle throne said, "If that is true, then consign the boy into our care. As the one who returned our treasure to us, he has our favour and thus are we committed to guard and watch over him."

  "Proclaim thy devotion to the child," urged the voice of the Roaring Seas. "Reveal to us the meaning of compassion. Make the ultimate sacrifice, Alice Boston, and we shall look after him."

  "Beware, my brothers!" the Lord of the Frozen Wastes interrupted. "The Witch is not to be trusted. Do not put your faith in this ambitious female—for is she not already tutoring the boy in the ways of her feeble craft? How else could he have thwarted the angel? Verily I warn you, the hag is no fool—she is nurturing a dangerous power within that human whelp and to what evil purpose will this lead? "

  Miss Boston shook her head in disbelief at all they had said. "I'm not tutoring anyone!" she announced. "Least of all Benjamin. Why, the very idea is totally preposterous."

  Moved by the words of his wheedling brother, the Lord of the Circling Seas angrily replied, "Not so! The child has been studying thy Book of Shadows, and his knowledge of things best left hidden increases with every moonrise!"

  "Benjamin!" Miss Boston said crossly. "I had no idea—I'm sure it's all perfectly harmless."

  "Harmless?" the bitter voce raged. "The child was brought to Whitby for one purpose alone. To aid the aufwader girl and discover the moonkelp! That he hath done—we cannot permit him to develop his gifts any further!"

  Hearing these words, Tarr raised his head sharply and rose to his feet.

  Miss Boston opened her mouth to say something but could only splutter as she realised what had been said.

  "What... what do you mean by that?" she murmured. "You did not bring Benjamin to Whitby—he came with Jennet because..."

  Her voice failed as finally she understood and Miss Boston's horrified outrage boiled and flared within her breast.

  "The children", she began, struggling to control her contemptuous fury, "came to live with me because their parents were killed. They drowned when their car plunged into a river. My God—were you so desperate for your precious weed that you committed murder in order to manipulate one little boy and his sister? You disgust me!"

  She clo
sed her eyes and turned away from the sight of the three thrones, too appalled to speak any further.

  At her side Tarr's face was drawn into a horrible expression of hate. "Now ah know," he snarled, pointing an accusing finger at the powers of the world, "why, out of all others, my Nelda was allowed to live after she were born. She were only a puppet fer tha to use in tha greedy search. Tha needed her to be ready to meet a human child wi' the sight! That was all she were good fer! Her whole short life were leadin' up to that one moment when she'd help the lad find your poxy treasure—ain't that so?

  "Well, now her part's been done an' theer's naught else tha got planned fer her, so she might as well die. Good thing too, eh? Makes the whole nasty business that much tidier!"

  Shaking with rage, the aufwader strode to the edge of the high platform and spat as far as he could. "Damn yers all!" he yelled.

  Miss Boston watched him approvingly, then stared back at the shimmering wall of water and spoke up in a clear and strident voice. "A curse on you!" she said. "I pray long and hard that you shall get what you deserve. Do you honestly expect me to surrender the children into your care? You must think I am mad! I am now more determined than ever to protect them from your unholy influence and shall do so unto the last breath in my body!"

  Behind the thrones the light of the moonkelp dimmed as the sea grew dark.

  "Silence!" commanded the Lord of the Frozen Wastes. "Hag! Thou hast asked why thou wert summoned to this place—for one purpose only was the audience permitted. Know now the judgement of the almighty Triad!"

  "The boy child has indeed done us great service," the central figure boomed. "Our coveted prize is returned to us, yet still he associates with the aufwaders. Henceforth this must cease!"

  Tarr laughed grimly. "Tha can't do nowt to stop the lad," he growled. "He's more than welcome in our midst—an' more so when I tells the rest what I've 'eard this night. The boy can come a-visitin' whenever he chooses. Alone amongst humans he has touched the moonkelp and so is under tha protection. Theer's nowt tha can do to stop 'im."

  "Is there not?" the voice echoed mysteriously. "We believe a solution has been found and our oath of protection need not be broken. Look to the water."

  Miss Boston and Tarr glanced down as the smooth surface of the placid lake was pierced by thousands of bubbles. From the black depths, an object resembling a small stone came floating upwards.

  With a mild splash it burst into the air, then rolled and spun in the water as it drifted towards the pinnacle of rock.

  Miss Boston descended the winding stair as the curious object came to rest against the bottommost step, and with the handle of her walking stick she fished it out.

  Glistening in her palm was a round earthenware jar no larger than a tennis ball, and she examined it cautiously. The container was glazed a deep swirling green; around the base weird characters and symbols were inscribed and removing the wax that sealed the lid, she warily looked inside.

  A pale, almost luminous cream filled the jar and the old lady sniffed it tentatively.

  "And what might this be?" she asked.

  In a soft, mellifluous voice the Lord of the Circling Seas replied, "In thy hands is the answer we have sought. Take the salve and with it anoint the boy's eyes."

  "Why?" she demanded.

  "We cannot permit the child to continue mingling with the aufwaders. That singular ointment will remove his special sight. Never again shall he see the folk who dwell by the shore, nor the shades of those who have passed through the veil."

  "How dare you ask me to do such a dreadful thing!" the old lady shouted. "Benjamin's sight is a wondrous and most marvellous gift—I would not dream of stealing it from him!"

  Upon the left-hand throne, the Lord of the Frozen Wastes swelled with anger and his enormous shadow whipped and thrashed in the icy waters.

  "Behold the ignorance of mortal kind!" he thundered to his brothers. "Let us destroy these two now and send the herald back with fierce words of warning to those who wait upon the shore."

  "Peace," the voice of the Circling Seas called. "The leader of the aufwaders must return to make certain the guardian remains unharmed, and who can measure a human's heart? Perhaps our words shall weigh upon thee, Alice Boston, and thou shalt use the salve ere long."

  "I rather think that is highly unlikely," she replied.

  Without warning, the Lord of the Frozen Waters let out a wrathful shriek that shook the cavern.

  "Then begone from this place!" he roared, rising from the throne, thrashing his snaking limbs. "Thou art dismissed!"

  At once the glimmering images behind the wall of water were engulfed in darkness and Miss Boston gazed grimly at Tarr.

  "It would appear the audience is over," she observed.

  A rush of froth and foam signalled the return of the small rowing boat and it floated back to the surface. Still crouched within, the tortured remains of Irl gazed at Miss Boston from beneath the hood of his cloak and he spoke urgently.

  "Quickly—thou must make haste. The way back to thy world will soon collapse!"

  Miss Boston and Tarr hurriedly clambered aboard the boat but as soon as they were seated, the immense barrier of dark water trembled, and with a tremendous rending crash, the might of the Deep Ones was withdrawn and the freezing torrent came flooding into the chamber.

  The pinnacle of rock was thrown down and the seething tides hammered into the quartz-covered walls, snatched the lanterns from their huge iron hooks, and smashed against the vaulted ceiling.

  But the small wooden boat was already tearing through the dimly-lit grottoes beyond. Carried on the racing currents, it soared wildly through the passages hewn into the mountain and pitched uncontrollably as the incredible forces of the whirling vortex clutched and seized it.

  Out into the cold deeps the little boat shot, hurtling back along the spinning tunnel, but the journey was faster than before and Miss Boston was thrown from side to side as the craft darted wildly forward.

  The eyes of the herald sparkled in alarm as he stared behind them and saw that the spinning walls of the enchanted way were closing. Violent surges thrust the boat onward as the tunnel snapped out of existence, unravelling with a furious turbulence that tore apart the ocean floor, leaving a path of foaming destruction in its wake.

  Over the drowned continent the vessel rampaged, but swiftly the decaying cities vanished from sight as the tunnel convulsed and buckled, threatening to dash the boat to pieces at any moment.

  "Hold on!" the herald yelled and his voice rang with fear. "Save us, oh masters! The way fails too swiftly—we shall be torn apart!"

  Only the savage, screaming waters answered him as they stampeded malevolently and raced for the boat. The spray of the collapsing vortex blasted into Tarr's face as he glanced round and saw that the terrible, churning cataclysm was only metres away. Beyond the roaring confusion of the unwinding tunnel, the murderous pressures of the deep were waiting, eager to crush and kill.

  Tarr wrenched his eyes from the horrendous sight and stared anxiously at the herald. "We'll not make it!" he bawled.

  "Have faith, Mr Shrimp!" Miss Boston cried. "They wouldn't dare let anything happen to us, otherwise Nelda will destroy the guardian. This is just a show of bluster."

  Suddenly her hat was plucked from her head and sucked into the darkness behind. The old lady snorted tersely. "Steady on!" she shouted into the storm.

  At a breakneck speed the boat flew through the cold reaches, rocketing ever upwards until, with a sickening jolt that rattled its timbers, the little craft was hurled from the sea and flung out beneath the fading stars.

  The waves lashed and the wind tore at Miss Boston's cloak as the mouth of the gigantic whirlpool toppled and came raging down, smiting the waters and splitting them asunder in its ruinous downfall. A tempestuous cauldron steamed and foamed within the sea, its choking vapours hissed into the air, obliterating the heavens with billowing clouds of thick white mist.

  Wraith-like, the rowing boa
t sailed noiselessly through the mist and its occupants took great glad gulps of the cool night air, relieved to be above the waves once more. Neither Tarr nor Miss Boston ventured to speak; they were both thinking about what they had learned and the vile knowledge angered and depressed them. As they drifted towards the distant shores of Whitby, their spirits sank ever lower and with downcast faces they floated into the night.

  Finally it was the herald who broke the forbidding silence.

  "There is fear in the Deeps," he said in a soft and conspiring voice. "For only the second time in the history of the world the cold regions are filled with dread—the Triad is afraid."

  Miss Boston was startled out of her despondency and Tarr stared at the huddled figure keenly.

  "Messages and rumours spread swiftly beneath the waves," the herald continued. "Many are the frightened tales spreading from the bitter realms. 'Tis said that the Lord of the Frozen Wastes is especially fearful and has despatched many spies to watch the shores of my ancient home."

  "Theer's nowt to see theer," Tarr said sourly, "save misery and hopelessness."

  Leaning across to Miss Boston, the tormented remains of Irl whispered to her anxiously. "Cruel and devoid of compassion are my masters," he began, "yet they are wise beyond all others. Use the thing they have given to thee, rub the salve well into the boy's eyes. His sight is a curse and only woe shall befall him and those he loves."

  "I'm afraid you cannot persuade me," she answered stubbornly. "I swear here and now as God is my witness that I will never use their despicable ointment."

  So adamant was the old lady that she took the jar from her pocket and stretched out her arm ready to throw it back into the sea, but the herald called for her to stop and the command in his voice was so compelling that Miss Boston wavered.

  "I beg thee not to cast it aside," he cried. "The gifts of the Deep Ones should not be lightly surrendered."

  The folds of the sea-green cloak stirred as the hideous shapes within uncoiled and a putrescent, snaking tentacle emerged—creeping towards Miss Boston.

  For a brief second she feared that the creature was going to strike her, then she saw that bound about the tapering tip of the extended limb was a piece of carved jet, suspended on a fine gold chain.