The Spook's Bestiary Part 3

He may stand at its center, safe from the demon, or Old G.o.d, that materializes beyond its protecting boundary. The danger here is that the conjured ent.i.ty a"brought from the dark against its willa"may take revenge on innocent people nearby. Sometimes this is deliberate, the conjuring a premeditated act of violence against the mage's enemies.

The safer alternative is when the mage stands outside the pentacle and conjures the ent.i.ty to appear within it, where it is bound until dismissed.

DEALING WITH MAGES.

When dealing with live mages, the techniques used to slay or confine witches usually prove successfula" except for salt and iron, which have no effect at all.

A malevolent mage is a servant of the dark and may be bound with a silver chain or slain with a silver-alloy blade. Rowan wood can also cause some mages severe pain, while others have a tolerance for it. A spook has some degree of immunity against magecraft, but the struggle can become physical: When threatened, most mages quickly resort to extreme violence.

Unlike witches, dead malevolent mages are not bone bound and cannot leave their graves. Their spirits pa.s.s through limbo to their natural home in the dark. Some mages do live extraordinarily long lives, and indeed much of their magic is designed to achieve that end; while malevolent witches accept death through natural old age, knowing they have a physical existence beyond the grave where they will still be able to satisfy their blood l.u.s.t.

Merlin.

Merlin is perhaps the most famous mage of all, the power behind the throne of Arthur, a warlike Celtic king. Merlin had a human mother, but his father was reportedly a demon, and from him he inherited magical powers, including the ability to shift his shape into different people or even animals.

In later life he increased his existing power by learning to use the energy of a dragon, which is a very dangerous thing to do. He then fell in love with the witch Nimueh, who pried out his magical secrets, drained him of power, and used it against him. She trapped Merlin within the aura of a powerful dragon. He still sleeps and will remain there until the end of the world.

Merlin.

TYPES OF MAGES.

Goat Mages Goat mages dwell in Ireland and derive their power through Pan magic, routinely sacrificing goats to that Old G.o.d.1 The idea is that, through worship and blood letting, Pan will grant them power. Fortunately, Pan is unreliable, and the mage is more likely to be driven insane. When, on occasion, Pan does reward the mage, the power received is used with unpredictable and devastating effects. (Pan magic is akin to madness.) Goat mages have a major annual event, which is very sinister and dangerous. A goat is tethered to a high platform and worshipped for a week and a day. Human beings are sacrificed to the cloven-hoofed creature, which is gradually possessed by Pan, the horned G.o.d. Soon the goat acquires the power of speech, stands upon its hind legs, and grows larger, dominating the proceedings and demanding more and more sacrifices.

A Goat Mage The power derived from those eight days of bloodshed lasts the mages for almost a year. Some years Pan is not contacted and the mages must flee, scattering themselves to the winds. They are then totally vulnerable, and their enemies, a federation of landowners to the southwest of that land, hunt them down. But in a good year, when their power is in the ascendancy, they are greatly feared. Then they travel unchecked, seek out their enemies, and put them to death, stealing their land and wealth. The goat mages and the federation are in a perpetual state of war.

Kobalos Mages The Kobalos are not human. They walk upright but have the appearance of a fox or a wolf. The body is covered with dark hair; the face and hands are shaved according to custom; and the mage wears a long black coat with a slit in the back to accommodate his tail, which can function as an extra limb.

These mages are solitary creatures who shun their fellow citizens and usually dwell beyond the fringes of the frozen Kobalos domain, which is far to the north of the continent known as Europa. Each one "farms" a haizda, a territory that he has marked out as his own. Within it there are several hundred humans, living in hamlets, villages, and farms. He rules by fear and magecraft, harvesting souls and acc.u.mulating power. He usually lives in an old, gnarled ghanbala tree, sleeping by day but traveling the boundaries of his haizda by night, taking the blood of humans and animals for sustenance. He can shift his shape, taking on the appearance of animals, and can also vary his size. This type of mage is also a formidable warrior whose favorite weapon is a sabre.

The Kobalos are a fierce, warlike race who, with the exception of their mages, inhabit Valkarky, a city deep within the arctic circle.

The name Valkarky means the City of the Petrified Tree; it is filled with all types of abominations that have been created by dark magic. Its walls are constructed and renewed by creatures that never sleep; creatures that spit soft stone from their mouths. The Kobalos believe that their city will not stop growing until it covers the entire world.2 The Kobalos Necromancers While a spook deals with the unquiet dead as a routine part of his job, talking to them and sending them on their way to the light, a necromancer does the opposite.3 He often uses a grimoire, a book of spells and rituals, and binds the dead so that they serve his purposes and help him to line his pockets with silver. The bereaved will pay hard-earned money for a brief conversationa"or even a glimpse of their loved ones.

He also uses the dead as spies and to terrorize his enemies. Most often it is just a case of trapping graveside lingerers, or those bound to their bones, because they've committed some terrible crime.

Rarely, some very powerful necromancers can trap the dead in limbo and stop them from reaching the light; they can then summon them at will into the presence of the living. Initially this is done by means of a pentacle, which is chalked on the floor, making sure that all five points of the star are of equal length and that a black candle4 is positioned upon each one. After the correct spell has been cast, reading accurately from the grimoire, the lost soul appears in the pentacle and is trapped there until the necromancer has completed further spells of binding.5 The soul is then dismissed and goes back into limbo, with no chance of finding its way to the light. After this, the pentacle is no longer required and the necromancer can summon the ghost to his side with a simple command.

MORGAN'S FIRST ATTEMPT TO RAISE GOLGOTH My apprentice Morgan had many faults, but the two worst were laziness and an extreme l.u.s.t for power. He was approaching the end of the third year of his apprenticeship when he attempted something that could have had terrible consequences for the inhabitants of the County and beyond.

At the time he was tall and strong for his sixteen years, and already giving me much cause for concern. As well as the two serious faults listed above, he was rebellious and imperious, always believing that he was right. It all came to a head when we were staying at my winter house in Anglezarke.

The Hursts, a family who had fostered Morgan until he was almost thirteen, also lived nearby, and theirs was a tragic tale. Within a year of his return, he and their daughter Eveline had fallen in love. Although they weren't blood relatives, the parents considered them to be brother and sister and reacted violently, beating both children and making their lives unbearable. As a result, the distraught Eveline drowned herself in the miserable stretch of gray water that borders their farm.

Morgan was the seventh son of a seventh son and the daughter of a woman called Emily Burns, whom I'd once been very close to. So as a favor to her, and to help Morgan and get him away from that dreadful situation, where his adoptive parents held him responsible for their daughter's death, I took him on as my apprentice. It proved to be one of the biggest mistakes of my long life.

During our winter visits to Anglezarke, unlikely though it might seem, Morgan seemed to grow closer to the Hursts. He took to visiting them at Moor View Farm and even spent the occasional night there. I didn't object, thinking that his presence might afford them some consolation. Perhaps they'd realized that they had played a part in causing Eveline to take her own life and were trying to make amends in some way.

I was carelessa"I realize that now. The boy often wandered onto the bleak moor and was obsessed by an ancient burial mound called the Round Loaf. Beneath it, supposedly, was a secret chamber where the ancients once worshipped one of the Old G.o.ds. This deity was Golgoth, the Lord of Winter, and it was believed that the meddling of those ancient priests as they tried to raise their G.o.d brought about the last Ice Age, when Golgoth had stayed in our world, freezing it in the grip of an extended winter that had resulted in thousands of deaths.

I'd caught Morgan digging into the mound more than once. He didn't find the secret chamber then but discovered something else that I hadn't even suspected was there. Morgan had been preparing for months to attempt a terrible summoning; as his master, I failed to guess the danger. As a spook, I must confess that I failed the County.

Late one winter's night there was a loud rapping on the back door of my winter house; on the doorstep was Mr. Hurst, wrapped up well against the snow that was beginning to whirl down out of the dark clouds above.

"Come inside, man, before you freeze to death!" I cried, welcoming him into the kitchen. "What brings you out on such a night?"

The walk up from the farm was difficult in winter, but when a blizzard threatened, it was dangerous to life. Even someone with a lifetime of local knowledge might get lost in the snow, which would mean certain death before morning.

"We need you back at the farm quickly!" Mr Hurst told me. "Something terrible's happening. . . ." At that, his jaw clamped shut and his whole body began to tremble.

"Take your time," I said, sitting him down on a stool close to the fire and handing him the cup of the hot broth I'd prepared for my supper. "Your need may be urgent, but I must know exactly what I'm dealing with."

So, as the old farmer sipped his broth and got some warmth back into his bones, he began to tell his tale.

"It's that daft lad Morgan," he said. "He's locked himself in his room and is up to no good. He's using dark magic, I'm sure of it!"

"His bedroom?" I asked.

"Nay, the front room, where he writes things in his notebook and does his reading."

*"Reading? What reading?" I asked. Writing up what he'd learned in his notebook was only to be expected, but I brought few books with me from Chipenden to my cold, damp house on Anglezarke Moor; those I did were kept in the warmest room and rarely allowed out of my sight. My books are precious to me, a store of knowledge that I fear to lose.

"He came home with a big leather book a few weeks ago, and he's hardly had his nose out of it since. But tonight he locked himself in the room. First he carried a sack in there; then he dragged the farm dog in. Now he won't answer the door, and the poor animal keeps whining. It sounds terrified out of its skin. There are other sounds, too. And the whole house seems to be getting really cold despite all the logs we heap on the fire. Our breath is steaming and ice is forming on the outside of the door of Morgan's room."

"What other sounds are there?" I cried, jumping to my feet. Suddenly I'd glimpsed how great the danger might be.

"Bells keep ringing. Not small bells. One sounds like a big church bell, so loud that the wooden floors vibrate with each peal. And from time to time there's a deep grinding sound that seems to come from right under the house."

At last, convinced of the need for urgency, I wasted no further time in leading Mr. Hurst out into the night. We headed down the steep clough and onto the slope that led off the snow-clad moor. White flakes were dancing into our faces, and it was bitterly cold. It was a good hour before we had finally trudged across to Moor View Farm. No sooner had we crossed the threshold than I realized that the old farmer had not exaggerated. The farmhouse was unnaturally cold, that strange chill that warns us spooks that something from the dark is close at hand.

As we approached the locked room, I heard an unnerving sound from deep beneath the house: a grinding, crunching, grating roar, as if some huge beast were munching on rock. We both became still, feeling the boards move beneath our feet. When the noise subsided, I rapped hard on the door and called out Morgan's name loudly.

There was no reply. On the outside of the wooden door, rivulets of ice had formed. Suddenly the noise began again, as if some monster were rising up from the depths beneath, clawing aside rocks and earth in its eagerness to be free of its subterranean prison.

I threw my shoulder against the door again and again, desperation lending me strength. At last the hinges sheered away from the wood and the door burst open. I stepped into a cold more severe than that on the bleak moor from which we'd just descended.

I'd been in that room before and knew its layout. Longer than it was wide, it had one window on the far wall, shrouded with heavy black curtains. There was a big table with two chairs; these usually occupied the center of the room, but now they'd been pushed right back against the wall. Morgan was sitting inside a huge pentacle that he had chalked on the floor. At each of its five outer points was a black candle. Their yellow flickering light filled the room and showed me exactly what I was dealing with.

In his left hand Morgan held a grimoire, a book of dark magic incantations. It was bound in green leather, and there was a silver pentacle embossed on its cover. Where he had gotten it from I didn't know, but he was chanting from it, reading words in the Old Tonguea"the language of the ancients who first made their home in the County. His accent was far from perfect, but close enough to make the incantation potent, and although it was invisible, I sensed that something was taking shape just beyond the pentacle, between Morgan and the dark curtains at the window.

Behind me, in the open doorway, I heard Mrs. Hurst scream with fright, and her husband give a deep groan of pure terror. I too was very afraid, but something greater than fear for my own safety urged me forward and gave me the courage I needed. It was a realization of what threatened; the knowledge that the whole County was just a few seconds away from a disaster of almost unimaginable proportions.

There was one other creature in the room: the farm dog. It was chained to a hook in the wall just by the curtains. Flat on its belly, its ears back against its skull, the poor animal was whining softly and trembling all over. The dog was the blood sacrifice that Morgan was offering in order to bring Golgoth into our world. He was trying to raise the Lord of Winter and had almost succeeded.

The cold intensified, blasting toward me; it felt as if sharp knives were cutting into my face. But although my foolish apprentice was far closer to the emerging Old G.o.d, he was protected by the pentacle.

I ran forward and kicked over one of the candles, thus destroying its protective power. Immediately Morgan's eyes widened as he felt the first icy fingers of cold reach toward him. But l.u.s.t for power had filled him with madness, and although he rose to his feet, he continued to chant from the grimoire.

I stepped inside the pentacle and struck his wrists hard with my staff. The book flew from his hands. He stared at me, his expression a mixture of anger, bewilderment, and fear. For a moment he seemed in a trance, unaware of who he was or what he was trying to do. But then his eyes widened in alarm and he looked across to where Golgoth had begun to materialize.

Again that roaring filled the house, the bare stone flags beneath our feet beginning to move. As the noise reached its climax, the dog gave a shrill cry, shuddered, and lay still. It was deada"not because Golgoth had touched it with his cold deadly fingers. It had died of fright.

Gradually the noises subsided, the cold began to lessen, and the fear that had been squeezing my heart slowly released its grip. I had knocked the grimoire from Morgan's hand before he could complete the ritual. Golgoth had been forced to return to the dark. For now, the County was safe.

It was the end of Morgan's apprenticeship to me. I couldn't keep him on after he'd done that. I should really have bound him in a pit. After all, I do that to witches. But his mother begged me not to, and I relented. He turned fully to the dark after that.6 Shamans A shaman uses animism magic and employs the spirit of an animal as his familiar. He feeds it some of his life essence in return for its guidance and protection. Using this, a shaman projects his soul from his body and can venture far in the twinkling of an eye; in addition to his journeys to earthly locations, he routinely ventures into limbo. One famous shaman called Lucius Grim crossed over to the domain of the dark several times, until his soul was finally devoured by a demon. His body continued to breathe for many years afterward, but it was just an empty vessel.

Not all shamans are malevolent. Using their animal spirit, some practice healing; others attempt to control the weather, bringing rainfall to alleviate droughts.

Grimoires These are ancient books, full of spells and rituals, used to invoke the dark. Sometimes they are employed by witches, but they are mainly used by mages, and their spells have to be followed to the letter, or death can result.7 Many of these famous texts have been lost (the Patrixa and the Key of Solomon). The most dangerous and powerful grimoires, however, were written in the Old Tongue by the first men of the County. Primarily used to summon demons, these books contain terrible dark magic. Most have been deliberately destroyed or hidden far from human sight.

The most mysterious, and reputedly most deadly, of these is the Doomdryte. Some believe that this book was dictated word for word by the Fiend to a mage called Lukrasta. That grimoire contains just one long dark magic incantation. If successfully completed (in conjunction with certain rituals), it would allow a mage to achieve immortality, invulnerability, and G.o.dlike powers.

Fortunately no one has ever succeeded, as it requires intense concentration and great endurance: The book takes thirteen hours to read aloud, and you cannot pause for rest.

One word misp.r.o.nounced brings about the immediate death of the mage. Lukrasta was the first to attempt the ritual, and the first to die. Others followed in his foolish footsteps.

We must hope that the Doomdryte remains lost for- ever.

The Pendle witches have their own grimoires, but they never contain the ritual for summoning the Fiend. They consider this too dangerous to be written down: it is learned by heart and pa.s.sed down through the clans from mother to daughter.8 *

Once again it must be stressed that it is very dangerous to trust a womana"especially a witch. There are many good women in the world, but even when dealing with a benign witch, never tell her everything; always hold something in reserve.a"John Gregory 1 This type of magic is rarely practiced by witches.a"John Gregory 2 The above is based upon the writings of a very early spook called Nicholas Browne, who traveled far beyond the borders of the County. Apart from his notebooks, there is no evidence that any of his a.s.sertions are true, but we must keep an open mind. The world is a big place and much remains to be explored.a"John Gregory 3 The word necromancer comes from the Greek nekros, which means corpse. a"apprentice Mark Caster 4 The black candles are identical to those used by malevolent witches in their rituals. Bony Lizzie had them in her house when I rescued the child called Tommy. I've seen them many times since, and their presence is always a bad sign. Their dark color is achieved by mixing human blood into the wax.a"Tom Ward 5 My master's ex-apprentice, Morgan, turned from the light and practiced necromancy. In return for money, he summoned the dead from limbo for grieving families. Even worse, he trapped the spirit of my own father and made him believe that he was burning in h.e.l.l .a"Tom Ward 6 Morgan tried to raise Golgoth a second time and succeeded. However, it cost him his life. It was a horrific death that I will never forget.a"Tom Ward 7 Mr. Gregory keeps a grimoire in the locked writing desk of his Anglezarke house. I once saw him reading it and asked him why it was there. He told me to mind my own business.a"apprentice Andy Cuerden 8 Alice told me that Bony Lizzie owned three grimoires, but they were destroyed by fire when a mob attacked their dwelling near Chipenden. a"Tom Ward A Pendle Witch.

Witches.

Witches have walked the earth from the earliest times, and the development of human language has allowed them to weave ever more complex curses, spells, and rituals. By trial and error they have also learned the potential of plants to either poison or cure. Some witches are benign healers, following a path toward the light and helping their communities; others choose to ally themselves with the dark, lured to sell their souls in exchange for the ability to wield dark magic.

HOW TO TEST A WITCH.

Throughout time, witches have been seen as rivals to organized religion, and consequently persecuted. Some have been burned, some hanged, others drowned or decapitated. Certain tests are used to decide whether or not a woman is a witch. These are usually administered by a witchfinder or quisitor, an agent of the Church, although some communities take the law into their own hands. Many of these tests do not work, and spooks don't hold with them.1 Swimming has been the test most frequently used. The suspected witch is taken to the nearest pond or lake and her hands tied to her feet before she is thrown in. If she floats, she is presumed guilty and taken away to be burned. Sinking supposedly proves her innocence, but in sinking, many innocent women drown or die of pneumonia or shock. Swimming someone in a lake or pond does not work as a means to identify a witch; whether the woman floats or not depends on luck and the kind of body she has.2 p.r.i.c.king is equally cruel. A pin or bodkin (a sharp dagger) is jabbed hard into the flesh of a suspected witch in order to find the devil's mark. The object is to discover a section of her body that cannot feel pain. Sometimes the mark is invisible, but a mole or skin discoloration is considered strong evidence of the guilt of the accused. Again, this is not a sufficient test for finding a true witch.

Pressing involves using thirteen stones. The witch is tied down onto a wooden rack, and the stones are then laid on her body one at a time. Once all are in place, she is left for an hour before the stones are removed. If she survives, it is a.s.sumed that the Devil has saved her and she is hanged. Some quisitors use stones so heavy that the suspected woman is pressed to deatha"either her internal organs are crushed, or she suffocates.

Alternatively, in some parts of the world quisitors use the stones as a means to force a confession from a suspected witch. After the eleventh stone, she is barely able to breathe, but one nod will free her from the press. Yet in admitting that she is a witch, the unfortunate woman has signed her own death warrant.

Human Witches Water witches and lamia witches are only partly human, but each fully human type of witch can be divided up into four general categories.

THE BENIGN.

These are wise women who have a great knowledge of herbs and potions. Some are midwives, others healers, and they have saved countless lives. They serve the light, and any monetary gain is small. If their clients are poor, they will usually work for nothing.

In the County there are a number of benign witches, mainly healers and midwives. The foremost among them are: Maddy Hermside of Kirkham Jenny Bentham of Oakenclough Eliza Brinscall of Sabden Angela Nateby of Belmont Emma Hoole of Rochdale Madge Claughton of Samlesbury3 These women can be relied on to help spooks and their apprentices with their local knowledge and healing capabilities. Charges of witchcraft may be brought against them from time to time, and we should be prepared to defend them and educate their neighbors where necessary.

THE FALSELY ACCUSED.

These are poor women wrongly persecuted by a witchfinder. Often they are victims of malicious gossip, but sometimes conspiracy is involved when the witchfinder colludes with neighbors in order to have an innocent woman tried and condemned, usually with a view to seizing her house and possessions.

THE MALEVOLENT.

These witches draw power from the dark and pursue their own endsa"either without any consideration of the consequences for others, or deliberately setting out to do harm. While some serve the Fiend directly, many act of their own volition. There is also a whole spectrum of power and ability. At the lowest end of the scale, witchcraft is dabbled in to survive; it is a means to fill the belly and gain shelter against the cold ravages of winter. Such witches are little more than beggars. At the highest end of the scale, whole kingdoms may rise or fall at the whim of a powerful witch.

THE BINDING OF MOTHER MALKIN.

The most dangerous malevolent witch I ever had to deal with was, without doubt, Mother Malkin. She had a long history of slaying children. Living on boggy moss land, far to the west of the County, she had once offered homes to young women who, although expecting babies, had no husband to support them. For this supposedly charitable enterprise, she earned the t.i.tle Mother. It was, however, a cruel ruse: Years later, when the local villagers finally grew suspicious and drove her out, they found a field full of bones and rotting flesh. She had slain both mothers and babies to feed her insatiable need for blood.

Mother Malkin I'd spent the long cold winter at my house in Anglezarke, returning late in the spring to find that Chipenden had been terrorized in my absence. Mother Malkin wasn't working alone; she was with her son, a terrifying creature known as Tusk, and her granddaughter, Bony Lizzie. During that long winter people had been afraid to venture out after dark, and the threesome had used the time to steal, intimidate, and commit murder.

Five local children had been taken, the last over a month earlier so there was no hope of retrieving them alive; they would have been sacrificed for blood magic. All I could do was prevent further abductions by dealing with the witches and their thuggish accomplice.

Tracking them down wasn't difficult, as they had set up home in an abandoned farm about three miles southeast of my Chipenden house. As I was dealing with three adversaries, I was forced to compromise: I had only one silver chain and could therefore only hope to bind one witch and put her in the pit I had already prepared in my eastern garden. But I also hoped to drive off the other two and make the area safe once more. First I decided to dispose of the creature. It was clear why the villagers had nicknamed him Tusk. His canine teeth were huge and horribly deformed, protruding sharply from his mouth. He was dangerous and immensely strong, so my first priority was to prevent him from getting too close to me. Many of the victims that were dug up from that boggy moss land had clearly suffered broken ribs. It was thought that Tusk had squeezed the breath from their bodies, shattering their bones in the process. I waited until he returned one night, his large sack of ill-gotten gains over his shoulder, and followed him back through the trees.

Tusk "Put that down, thief!" I called, putting a mixture of disdain and imperiousness into my voice in an attempt to rile the creature so he would charge me recklessly.

It worked almost too well! Even faster than I'd antic.i.p.ated, he whirled round, dropped the sack, and charged straight at me, bellowing like an angry bull. I used my staff, stepping to one side to deliver a heavy blow to his head. He went down hard but scrambled back to his feet within seconds to attack once more. Four or maybe five times I managed to fend him off, bringing him to the ground on two occasions at least. But he became wilder and more aggressive, and I began to tire. I was worried that he'd succeed in grappling with me at close quarters. I had two witches still to deal with, so it was time to finish it.

I pressed the recess in my staff, and with a click, the retractable blade emerged. I was prepared to kill hima"after all, he'd already played his part in the abduction and murder of children. When he charged again, I wounded him in the shoulder. Even that was not enough to deter him, so the next time I stabbed him in the knee. He fell down in the long gra.s.s and howled with pain like a whipped dog. He started to crawl away from me, so I let him go. He was no longer a threat, and my priority was the witches.

I set off for the house of Mother Malkin and Bony Lizzie. As expected, they'd sniffed out the danger and were waiting for me in the trees as I approached. They were strong and very malevolent. The old one, Mother Malkin, used dark magic against mea"the powerful spell called dread. I'd never experienced anything like it, and waves of fear washed toward me so that I began to shiver, shake, and sweat. For a few moments I couldn't move; I stood there, struggling even to breathe, while the younger witch, Bony Lizzie, slowly moved closer, her eyes glistening with blood l.u.s.t, a sharp blade raised to take my life.

My perceptions distorted by the spell, I saw the two women as demons with horned heads and the forked tongues of fanged snakes. Only by a great effort of will was I able to swing my staff and dash the blade from Lizzie's hand. That done, I stunned her with a blow to the head and turned my attention to Mother Malkin. She was by far the more dangerous of the two, the one I most needed to bind.

Mother Malkin and Bony Lizzie I reached under my cloak and eased my silver chain onto my wrist. As I approached, she began to back away warily. Casting a silver chain is a skill that must be honed, and I've always practiced dutifully, routinely throwing the chain at a post in my garden. Of course, it's far harder to cast successfully against a moving target, and other factors have to be allowed for, such as the force of the wind and the elevation of the ground.

I cracked the chain and threw it, and it fell in a perfect spiral to enfold the witch and tighten against her limbs and teeth. She collapsed into the long gra.s.s, twitching and struggling, but to no avail. Seizing her by the left foot, I dragged her for quite some distance until she became quiet. Once she was docile, I carried her over one shoulder back to my eastern garden, calling in at the outskirts of the village on my way to hire the services of the local stonemason and blacksmith.

Under my supervision, they fashioned a stone border for the pit I'd already prepared, and the witch was safely bound. I was pleased with how things had turned outa"but that night, to my surprise, the other witch made an approach to the garden in a hopeless attempt to rescue Mother Malkin. The roar uttered by the boggart must have made her almost jump out of her skin. She ran, but I gave chase. Her flight was difficult because there are many streams east of Chipenden and a witch cannot cross running water! There were no witch dams here, such as one found in the Pendle district.4 Nonetheless, she had a good head start and I was unlikely to catch her. Instead I shouted out to her, telling her of the terrible fate that awaited her should she dare to return. And when she turned to check my progress, I whirled my silver chain aloft to drive the point home.

After that I was content to let her go. The warning from the boggart and the fate of Mother Malkin should have scared her badly, making it unlikely that she would venture into the area of Chipenden again.5 The following day I searched for Tusk; on further reflection I had decided to take his life. There were bloodstains in the gra.s.s and a clear trail where he had crawled away, but the signs ended mysteriously; clearly, powerful dark magic was involved. Despite my best endeavors I was unable to track him down.6 THE UNAWARE.

It is possible for a witch to live out her whole life and not once realize her potential. This never happens in witch communities such as Pendle: here, an unaware witch is quickly sniffed out by the coven and pressure put on her to develop her abilities for the good of the clan. But in some isolated villages, the ability may jump two or three generations and suddenly manifest itself in a child who is completely unaware of her own power. Sometimes this is revealed in a crisis: For example, when her own life or that of a loved one is threatened, a witch's latent power may flare up. Even then, many attribute it to a "miracle" or the intervention of some deity, rather than realizing that the true power lies within.

Celtic Witches These witches come mainly from the southwestern regions of Ireland, sometimes known as the Emerald Isle because of its lush green gra.s.slands, a consequence of even heavier rainfall than the County endures. It is a mysterious land, often shrouded in mist.

Little is known about these Celtic witches other than they worship the Old G.o.d called the Morrigan and operate alone (they do not belong to clans). They also form temporary alliances with the goat mages of that region, who sometimes use them as a.s.sa.s.sins to kill their enemies.

Lamia Witches The first Lamia was a powerful enchantress of great beauty. She loved Zeus, the leader of the Old G.o.ds, who was already married to the G.o.ddess Hera. Unwisely, Lamia then bore Zeus children. On discovering this, the jealous Hera slayed all but one of these unfortunate infants. Driven insane by grief, Lamia began to kill children wherever she found them, so that streams and rivers ran red with their blood and the air trembled with the cries of distraught parents. At last the G.o.ds punished her by shifting her shape so that her lower body became sinuous and scaled like that of a serpent.

Thus changed, she now turned her attentions to young men. She would call to them from a forest glade, only her beautiful head and shoulders visible above the undergrowth. Once she had lured her victim close, she wrapped her lower body around him tightly, squeezing the breath from his helpless body as her mouth fastened upon his neck until the very last drop of blood was drained.

Lamia later had a lover called Chaemog, a spider thing that dwelled in the deepest caverns of the earth. She bore him triplets, all female, and these were the first lamia witches. On their thirteenth birthday, they quarreled with their mother and, after a terrible fight, tore off her limbs and ripped her body to pieces. They fed every bit of her, including her heart, to a herd of wild boars.

Chaemog The three lamia witches reached adulthood and became feared throughout the land. They were long-lived creatures and, by the process of parthenogenesis (needing no father), each gave birth to several children. Over centuries the race of lamia witches began to evolve and breeding patterns changed. Those who consorted with men took on human characteristics and sometimes bore hybrids; those who shunned human companionship retained their original forms and continued to give birth to fatherless children.

Lamia witches can now be cla.s.sified as either feral or domestic. The former retain the shape of the originalsa"the triplets who emerged from Lamia's womb. In their feral form, the majority scuttle about on all fours, have sharp claws, and drink the blood of humans and animals. They use blood magic and can summon victims to their presence and hold them in thrall just as a stoat transfixes a rabbit. Their homeland is Greece, but they often range far be-yond that nation's boundaries and have been found in the County.