I was planning to go round the house and creep into the store. ‘We’ll hide in there,’ I said, pointing. ‘He’ll never know.’
But as we drew level with the house, we saw that the door was partly open. There was a dark shape lying across the threshold, with something dumped down on top of it…
I thought I heard a high, eerie humming in the air.
I smelt a familiar metallic smell.
With a muttered exclamation, Jack stepped over whatever lay in the doorway and pushed open the further door, into the living quarters. Soft light spilled out from the hearth. It looked as if the fire hadn’t long been made up.
Two earthenware mugs stood beside the hearth, steam rising from their fragrant contents.
With huge reluctance, I looked down.
Morgan lay at my feet. Cat was splayed across his body, as if perhaps he had tried to protect him. Both were dead, their throats torn out.
The humming increased its intensity. It seemed that the air was stiff with chill.
I couldn’t move. I stood sick with horror, trembling.
Then Jack took hold of my arm. ‘Come inside the house,’ he said firmly. He pulled me with him. ‘We must check to see if anything is missing, and we must be quick.’
I had forgotten about the patrol. I looked up and saw their lights, still along the quayside. I nodded. ‘Very well.’ My mouth was almost too dry for speech.
Morgan kept many of his supplies inside the house, and hastily, frantically, my eyes raked along the neatly ordered shelves and worktops. Something on the broad stained workbench caught my eye: an experiment, I guessed, that Morgan had been working on. I was puzzled. Why on earth would he be doing that?
There was a sound from outside.
Someone – something – was out there but it wasn’t the patrol. I’d only just seen the lights of their torches, back on the quayside, and they couldn’t possibly have got here so quickly.
The high humming had risen to a pitch that hurt the ears. It was now accompanied by a sort of low, vibrating, drumming sound, as if the air was disturbed by huge blows struck by some unnatural, unknown means. Then, horribly, through those sounds there threaded a weird, inhuman laugh.
And instantly I remembered what old Adela had said about what Mistress Judith had done when she peered outside her house: she laughed.
Oh, oh, supposing it wasn’t Mistress Judith who had laughed? Supposing it was the Night Wanderer? And now he was right outside, his evil magic affecting the very air, his terrible laughter filtering inside like a poisonous miasma?
Then, from within my satchel, I felt an answering thrumming. My fingers suddenly strong and capable, I undid the straps and reached inside. Loosened the strings that hold the soft leather bag closed, I thrust my hand within.
The shining stone was hot to my touch, and, as if it felt the vast sense of threat and was fighting back, it too was throbbing. In the blink of an eye it showed me an image – a line of symbols, swirling and twisting, out of which a word formed which seemed to say animal, or perhaps anima. There was no time to decide, for the symbols vanished. I felt the waves of power coming off the stone and into my head came the wordless, furious, urgent message: we had to get out.
It was my turn to grab Jack. I did so, my fingers closing on his upper arm like a vice. Not caring who or what heard me, I yelled, ‘We must go! Now!’
Perhaps the shining stone was working on him, too. Perhaps it was simply that he trusted me; or, more likely, recognized desperation when he heard it. Together we leapt over Morgan and Cat – I sent them a swift message asking their forgiveness for abandoning them, and I thought I heard Morgan’s gentle spirit murmur back, Hurry! Save yourselves! – and I made a silent promise to return when I could and see them safely into the ground in a way they would have wished.
Jack and I ran. Over the humpy, hillocky grass at first, tripping and stumbling, holding tightly to each other’s hands, my free hand always on the stone, feeding from it, heartened and strengthened by it. And oh, we needed all the help it could give: something awful seemed to press down on us, and I felt that at any moment that clawed hand with its long, sharp, cruel and bloody talons would reach out for us, wind itself around my neck, take out my throat.
Aghast with dread, I sobbed as I ran.
Then grass gave way to smoother ground, and our pace became more even. Ahead were the houses that lined the road leading up to the Great Bridge from the south-east: somehow, by pure luck, we had stumbled upon the old, half-forgotten track leading from the road out to the sacred well.
There was purity and deep, ancient goodness in the very stones of that track. Had it called out to us as we fled from evil? Had the shining stone guided us? I had no idea and, as we reached the first of the houses and both saw and heard the blessed signs of human presence, I didn’t care.
My hand was still clutched around the stone. It had gone still and quiet: I sensed it was telling me we were safe.
Safe, anyway, from the terror that stalked out in the fields.
Jack edged forward between two of the houses and peered out into the road. ‘All clear,’ he whispered. Light from a small high window fell on his face as he turned to me. He was as pale as I felt.
Treading softly, we emerged on to the road. Keeping as much as possible to the shadow of the houses, we hurried along to the Great Bridge. Looking over the parapet, we could see the lights of the patrol, at the far end of the quay. I was just thinking that they hadn’t got very far when I realized that time had become confused. Only a very short time had passed since we first saw the men of the night watch.
We reached the far side of the bridge and soon, with great relief, plunged off down the alley that wound round the castle rise and led to the deserted village. It seemed to embrace us; as I’d remarked to Jack, it was a good place.
His house, at the far end of the lane, was like a haven. He closed and barred the door, poked up the fire, fed it with small and then larger pieces of wood, and put water on to heat. He went through into the far room and came back with a thick, warm blanket, which he wrapped round me. I hadn’t realized that I was shivering so much that my teeth were rattling.
He made the drinks – hot, sweetened with honey, infinitely comforting – and we stood side by side, close to the hearth, revelling in its warmth. Then he said, ‘Tomorrow at first light, I shall take you back to Aelf Fen.’
I swallowed too fast, scalding my throat. ‘I’m not going.’
He looked at me, his green eyes steady. ‘I believe you must.’
‘I can’t!’ I snapped. ‘I have work to do here, I have people I need to treat, I must make sure Adela is all right, I need to ensure that Morgan and Cat are buried according to their own rites, and I must look after Gurdyman’s house. Or had you forgotten he’s missing?’
The last bit was uncalled-for, but I was very distressed, although I hadn’t worked out precisely why, and it is so often the human instinct to hit out under such circumstances.
Jack went on looking at me. ‘It’s not safe here,’ he said.
‘No, I know that!’ I cried. ‘People are scared, they’re in danger, there’s widespread panic looming because of the Night Wanderer, and I can help! I’m a healer, Jack, and it’s what I do, look after people when they need it!’