Brother Wulf, page 18
‘Confused?’ I asked, confused myself.
‘Yes, he might not be quite himself. Don’t be afraid though. He wouldn’t hurt a hair on your head. Just remind him who you are and call out his name. He’ll follow you back to me. Could you do that for me, Wulf?’
I nodded. How could I refuse Alice after all she’d done for me?
Still carrying Tom’s staff and bag, I suppressed every instinct that told me to flee and set off towards the howling creatures. I was filled with dread: I might find Tom hurt, or even worse. How could he hope to defend himself against those creatures with no weapons to hand? And, if he couldn’t deal with them, then I’d be their next victim. I could never refuse Alice – and she never seemed to have any qualms about sending me off into danger.
It was almost dark, and the wood was gloomy and full of shadows. All at once the sounds ahead became even more terrifying – a loud roar punctuated by shrill screams. I hoped that it wasn’t Tom screaming in pain.
As I advanced fearfully through the trees, I saw evidence that some sort of violent struggle had taken place. There was a lot of blood splattered across a tree trunk, and what looked like pieces of an animal dotted the grass – bloodied clumps of black-and-white fur attached to flesh and fragments of bone. Was that one of the Magi? I wondered. How could that be possible?
The sudden scream directly ahead of me was so shrill that it hurt my ears, and I almost dropped the staff and bag as I struggled to cover them with my hands. I stood there trembling, unable to take another step towards that terrible sound.
Then I realized that something large was moving through the trees. I could hear it padding heavily towards me, breaking branches and snapping twigs as it approached. When I saw it, my heart lurched inside my chest and almost stopped beating.
Its cruel eyes were red vertical slits that glowed in the gloom, and its huge body was feline, sleek fur patterned with black-and-white stripes. Those eyes looked into mine, and I knew instantly that I was as good as dead. The mouth opened to reveal the deadly fangs, and the creature roared and bounded towards me.
Terrified, but no longer frozen to the spot, I dropped the bag and held Tom Ward’s staff in both hands, fumbling for the catch that would release the silver-alloy blade at its tip. I heard the click as it emerged, and I pointed it at the beast, struggling to hold it steady.
Against that huge predator, I had no chance at all. I remembered how Circe had described its methods of hunting. It could tear out my throat so that I would choke and gasp in agony as my blood gushed forth. Or maybe it would simply crush my skull in its powerful jaws. Or, worst of all, it might play with me, delighting in my torment as it gripped me in its jaws and then used the claws on its hind legs to lacerate my stomach and disembowel me.
The monster’s huge eyes were locked on mine as its paws thumped down on the ground. I was numb, the staff shaking in my hands; I was just waiting for death. I muttered a quick prayer to St Andrew Avellino, the patron saint of those fearing a violent death. The saint didn’t respond.
But something else did.
There was a blur of motion from my right. Just before the creature reached me, something collided with it and swept it away. I turned to see two beasts locked together in a life-and-death struggle. One was the huge cat pawing the air, its talons frantically seeking flesh while its jaws roared forth its fury. The other, covered in blood and vaguely human in shape, sat on the back of the cat, both arms wrapped around its neck. At first I thought it was trying to strangle it but, as it forced the head further and further back, I guessed that it was trying to break its neck.
There was a loud crack. The roaring ceased and the beast went limp. Trembling with fear, I watched the monster that had slain it clamber to its feet. What on earth was this terrible beast? Would I be its next victim? I thought as I stood there, frozen.
As it fixed its pitiless gaze upon me, the world spun, and I staggered and almost fell. Having neither the will nor the courage to defend myself, I let the staff fall to the ground.
The creature’s face resembled that of a human but was covered in green scales and elongated, the long jaw jutting forward. The mouth was wide and the teeth were needle-sharp. The scaled hands were larger than those of a man, and each finger ended in a long sharp talon. It had clothes that were saturated in red blood, and black boots; the right one, I saw, was tied not with a lace but with string.
Then the truth finally pierced my befuddled brain. I knew this monster.
It was Tom Ward.
The Face of Circe
As the Spook started to walk towards me, there was no recognition in his eyes. His gaze was pitiless. He’d changed into something that was so far from being human that he might kill me without a thought.
Then I remembered what Alice had told me …
Just remind him who you are and call his name. He’ll follow you back to me.
I felt far from certain that this would work, but I called out anyway.
‘Tom! Tom!’ I shouted. ‘It’s me, Wulf!’
There was still no recognition in his eyes, though he halted five paces short of me.
‘Follow me, Tom. I’ll lead you back to Alice,’ I went on firmly.
He didn’t move, just stared at me and gave a deep growl. I wondered if he was angry; maybe he was about to leap on me and snap my neck? I realized that he must be incredibly strong to have broken the neck of that cat-beast. Then I remembered the pieces of flesh on the ground – flesh with tufts of black-and-white fur. It must have been the remains of another of the Magi – did he rip it to pieces? And where was the third? Had he killed that too?
I had to try to get him back to Alice as quickly as possible. I certainly didn’t want to be alone with him any longer than I had to.
‘Follow me, Tom!’ I called again. Then I picked up the bag and staff, carefully turned my back on him and began to walk away.
I was holding my breath, fearing a sudden onslaught from behind, but then I heard him coming and gave a sigh of relief.
The moon rose into the sky, painting everything with its silver light. For hours we walked north towards Chipenden, following the path Alice and Spook Johnson had taken. The thing that was Tom Ward was behind me all the time. I did not expect to catch the others soon. They would be walking quickly; our pace was quite slow.
I was suddenly aware that I could no longer hear the footsteps behind me, and I turned to see Tom veering away towards a clump of bushes and trees. I followed him, keeping some distance between us. He knelt down on the bank of a small stream. I heard him sip from the water, then he began to sluice his face, hands and arms, washing away the blood.
When he turned his face up to the moonlight, I saw that the scales were gone. He was himself again. He gave me a weary smile. ‘Thanks for coming after me and leading me in the right direction, Wulf,’ he said gratefully.
‘You should thank Alice,’ I told him. ‘It was her idea.’
He nodded, and drank from the stream again. Then he held out his hand for the staff and I handed it to him, though I kept the bag, carrying it for him as if I were his apprentice. We set off again, walking side by side now.
I glanced down at his hands and saw that they too had returned to normal. All that was left of that human-shaped monster was the blood that it had spilled. It still soaked his garments and its coppery stink was very strong upon the air.
‘I wish you hadn’t seen that, Wulf,’ Tom said at last. ‘I think I owe you an explanation.’
I didn’t reply. I was still in a state of shock.
He went on: ‘Like you, Wulf, I’m the seventh son of a seventh son, and that gives us both abilities that help us to fight the dark …’
Something awful occurred to me. ‘Could I change in the same way?’ I asked, terrified. What must it be like to transform into such a terrible beast, your mind no longer your own? You might kill a friend or a member of your own family; kill without knowing what you did.
Tom shook his head and reached across to pat me on the shoulder. I couldn’t help myself – I flinched, and he withdrew his hand. I saw the disappointment on his face.
‘No, Wulf, you wouldn’t change like I did. You see, I’ve something in addition to what we share – it’s what I inherited from my mam. She was a lamia …’
I remembered what Circe had said about Tom’s lamia blood. I also remembered reading something about lamias in Spook Johnson’s library.
‘That’s a type of witch,’ I said. ‘They can shift their shape from human to …’
I left the rest of the sentence unsaid.
Tom nodded. ‘Lamia witches are slow shape-shifters who take two main forms. The first is called a domestic lamia, and it’s indistinguishable from a human except for one thing. They have a line of green and yellow scales along their spine. But they can slowly change into what’s known as a feral lamia. These creatures scuttle around on four legs; they are covered in scales and have a mouthful of fangs that can crunch bones and tear flesh.
‘My mother was domestic, as well as being benign. She was the best mother anyone could hope to have. She loved my dad, and helped work the farm and bring up seven sons. Nevertheless her lamia blood runs in my veins as surely as does that of my father. When I’m in extreme danger, I change into a form that can better defend itself.’
‘Can you control the change?’ I asked.
‘I’m slowly getting better at it – but, no, I can’t fully control it. That’s why I left my staff and bag behind; when I faced those creatures I wanted to be totally unarmed. My life was in extreme peril and an attack would trigger the change. And, of course, when it’s all over it takes a while before I’m aware of who I am and what’s happened. That’s why Alice sent you after me.’
I nodded and we continued on in silence. I was thinking over what he’d said; I was far from happy. I’d judged Tom to be calm and civilized – a man who would make a good master, a teacher and colleague. But he too was flawed. Dark blood ran in his veins. It was that blood and the fact that he was the seventh son of a seventh son that had driven Circe to seek out his child: a child that also had Alice’s blood.
Alice had been good to me, but there was no denying that she was a powerful witch. No wonder they had formed such a close bond and had a child together.
I reflected that, despite his best intentions, Tom might change from man to beast at any time. Those big cats had scared me, but after he had slain them and turned his gaze upon me, I had known terror such as I had never experienced before.
I certainly had a difficult decision to make, though I felt uncomfortable walking alongside Tom Ward now. I couldn’t get what I’d seen out of my head. Fortunately, Alice and Johnson were waiting for us not too far ahead. I was glad of their company.
In the late evening of the following day we finally reached the house close to Chipenden. We were all weary and footsore, and went to bed as soon as we arrived, too tired even to bother with supper.
Once again Tom directed me to the room with the green door: the one that had been used by so many spook’s apprentices over the years. Before climbing into bed, I looked once more at the names scratched onto the wall. There was possibly just enough room to add my own, but it would have to be written in extremely small script.
But I knew I would never write my name there. After what I’d seen, I was going to be Spook Johnson’s apprentice, not Tom Ward’s.
I blew out the candle and climbed between the cool sheets, feeling better now that I’d made my decision.
However, almost immediately I sensed a sinister coldness in the air. No, not now, I thought … Hadn’t I faced enough? After all that, the demon was here to torment me again. I was terrified. It seemed that even in the house of the Spook, the demon could still reach me.
I gazed up, and saw the shadow of the stick-demon beginning to form on the ceiling.
I cringed, expecting taunts or sudden agonizing pain, but instead I was stunned by what confronted me.
This time the demon had a face.
It was the face of Circe.
‘Now you know who I truly am, priest,’ taunted the goddess. ‘I have enjoyed tormenting you and bending you to my will. I sent you north to Chipenden to lure Tom Ward into my clutches. I knew that once I had her beloved spook, Alice Deane would hasten to his aid, bringing her child with her.’
‘You planned all that from the start?’ I asked, slowly realizing the extent of Circe’s deception.
‘Yes! You were my little puppet, so easy to direct. Afterwards I would have let you go free, allowed you to resume your little life. But you betrayed me. You made it possible for Alice to deceive me and escape. For that there is no forgiveness! Very soon I will slay the two spooks and Alice Deane. Then I will slay you. The child will be mine sooner or later, its blood mine to sip. And all will have been for nothing. So here is something as a foretaste of that …’
Then the pain began, and it was worse than it had ever been.
I convulsed and arched my back, fearing as I always did that my spine would snap. This time it really felt like it would.
I began to scream in agony.
The Wandering Spook
My screams brought Alice running to the bedroom.
‘Wulf? Are you all right?’ she called, knocking on my door. ‘What’s happening!’
‘Help!’ I cried, and she wrenched open the door and strode in carrying a candle. Her eyes widened as she saw my body arched and twisted under the blanket. Then her expression darkened in anger as she saw the image on the ceiling directly above the bed.
‘Avaunt! Be gone!’ Alice cried.
For a moment nothing happened; then the face of Circe twisted in scorn and there was a roar like that of some wild beast. A powerful wind buffeted the room, lifting the curtains, blowing out Alice’s candle and sending her crashing back against the door.
The room was dark, but the glowing figure of a triumphant Circe was still visible on the ceiling. My pain had eased a little, I thought as I sat up, but now I prepared myself for the agony to be intensified – for how could Alice win?
Suddenly a bright light flared like sheet lightning – but it came from Alice, not from Circe. She had dropped the candle and was holding both hands outstretched, her forefingers pointing directly at the image on the ceiling. Another kind of lightning, blue and forked, exploded from her fingers to obliterate the image of Circe.
Again the room grew dark … but then Alice was holding the candle again, its flame shining brightly. Even as she held it aloft, the candle I’d placed on the window ledge also flickered into life. I realize that both had been lit by Alice’s magic: the same magic that had driven Circe away.
There was a smell of burning, and Alice pointed up at the ceiling, where the plaster was singed and smoking.
‘Tom ain’t going to be pleased at that!’ she said with a smile.
As she drew closer to the bed, I held the blanket up to my chin. I was still trembling with pain. It felt as if flames were burning inside me while needles pierced my limbs.
She pulled up the small chair and sat close to me. I was still whimpering and groaning with pain, but when Alice placed her hand on my brow it ceased immediately.
Still, it was a long time before my breathing and heart rate slowed and I was able to speak. Finally I told her what had happened and how Circe had manipulated me.
‘I’m sorry, Alice,’ I said in conclusion. ‘A lot of what’s happened was my fault.’
She shook her head. ‘You’re always blaming yourself, Wulf. That ain’t necessary. The only thing you did wrong was not telling me about your visitations when we first met. I could have done something about them – though that wouldn’t have changed nothing. Tom’s sense of duty would always have sent him off to Salford to help Johnson. That’s just the way he is. And because I’m the way I am, I’d always have followed him there with Tilda. Don’t you worry. Tomorrow I’ll give you something to keep Circe away. So … have you finally decided to be apprenticed to Will Johnson?’
Here she was, reading my mind again! I sighed. ‘Yes. I’m sorry for not choosing Tom.’
She smiled. ‘Don’t be. You might change your mind later. Everyone’s allowed to do that.’
Spook Johnson and I stayed at the Chipenden house while we regained our strength and his shoulder began to heal. As she had promised, Alice gave me a ward against Circe. It was a little red feather plucked from a robin’s breast. While it was in my possession, it would prevent Circe’s spirit intruding into my mind.
I was sad when the time came to leave the warmth and security of that home – it was a safe place to be – but at last, after breakfast on the third morning after our arrival, we took our leave. We were heading for the house north of Caster that stood near the canal.
Johnson didn’t waste time on goodbyes, and set off at a fast pace, swaggering as usual. I gave Tom a final wave, then turned and hurried at my master’s heels, carrying his bag. I had told Tom my decision face to face, but I hadn’t explained how I’d arrived at it. We hadn’t mentioned the night he’d changed into a lamia.
We’d only just left the garden when we saw Alice approaching us through the trees. I hadn’t heard a sound and she startled me. Sometimes she almost seemed to float rather than walk.
‘My good wishes to you, Will Johnson. May you prosper and be safe. I just want a last word with Wulf,’ she told him.
He gave the faintest of smiles and nodded in acknowledgement. Then he turned to me. ‘Don’t dawdle too long, boy. You’ll catch me up in five minutes if you know what’s good for you.’
Alice moved close and gave me a warm smile. ‘You’ve made a mistake, Wulf. You’d have been better off with Tom,’ she said quietly. ‘I won’t ask you for your reasoning but I have my suspicions.’
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t meet her gaze, so I looked down at my boots.
‘Well, we’ll all just have to make the best of it. Ain’t a total disaster after all. Just keep your wits about you and you’ll be fine. And if you ever do change your mind, Tom will still be happy to take you on as his apprentice.
