The Whitby Witches 3: The Whitby Child (31 page)

"It's that already," Tarr snapped impatiently. "Tha canna threaten me no more, tha'll not wriggle out of this!"

"Wouldst thou really submit that child to unending pain and suffering?"
the resonant voice asked.
"The fate that does await her now would be a blessed release compared to that which thou wouldst inflict upon her."

Tarr scowled and he looked at the figure with less confidence than before. "What does tha mean?" he asked.

At the foot of the column on which they stood, the water surged and bubbled and the familiar shape of the wooden boat rose swiftly to the surface. Still seated within the craft the herald turned and bowed to his masters, the sea-green cloak dripping with weed and brine.

Laughing insidiously, the Lord of the Frozen Wastes muttered in a sharp and malicious tone.
"Behold, oh leader of the wading rabble. See what horrors the urchin Nelda can expect. Is this, our messenger, not the most reliable and trustworthy of slaves? Doth he not perform his duties well? Dost thou know how long he hath been chained within that craft to do our bidding?"

Tarr stared down at the herald who now sat with his head down, abashed and afraid.

"Didst thou not think him a being of the deep?"
the repulsive voice persisted.
"Yea, that is the way of it now, but 'twas not always thus. Once this cringing baseness walked amongst thy kind
—
in truth he was one of thy greatest warriors and wisest craftsmen."

"No," Tarr gasped in horror.

"Yes,"
the mocking friend answered,
"thy trusty guide who brought thee hither this night
—
is none other than Irl himself."

"Still alive?" Tarr cried. "After all these ages?"

"Oh yes, we have many ways of extending the span of thy flickering lifetimes. Yet to live forever would be no punishment; there is always a price to be paid. Irl—show him."

The herald refused to move and the voice grew harsher and more repellent than ever.

"Show him!"
it commanded.

Very slowly, and shivering with his head cast downwards, the herald unclasped the cloak and removed the hood from his head.

Miss Boston uttered a cry of dismay and Tarr staggered against his staff.

Sitting inside the boat was the most disgusting, unnatural mutation of scale and clammy flesh they would ever see. Pale green was the deformed monster's slimy skin and it stretched in sagging, ulcerous swathes about the crippled frame. Five tentacles snaked out from beneath the grotesque bent body, three spiky gills twitched and flapped around a parrot-like beak, and covering the horribly swollen head were two clusters of compound eyes that glittered under the light of the lanterns and the glow of the moonkelp.

Tarr turned away and his pity went out to the frightened, tortured creature below.

"A fine pet hath Irl made,"
the Lord of the Frozen Wastes declared,
"though he refused to reveal to us where our treasure lay hid, no matter what we did to him. Is he not comely to thine eyes, Tarr? Yet his every movement is an agony and the very touch of his own flesh is abhorrent and fills his waking hours with despair. Canst thou not see thine own grandchild arrayed thus in the raiment of the deep? How shall she fare in the eternal night if thou release Morgawrus? Better than us no doubt, but couldst thou consign her to such an existence? There are many other diverse forms she could wear—Irl's handsome mantle is but one. Wouldst thou like dear little Nelda to be even as he and suffer forever?"

"No," Tarr wept, "dinna cast that at her—please, I beg of you!"

The voice laughed at him and Miss Boston shook her head sadly as the aufwader broke down and slumped to his knees, craving their forgiveness.

"The guardian shall not be smashed!" he wailed. "Leave my Nelda be—ah beseech you, oh mighty lords. Ah'd rather she die under the curse than exist as such a nightmare!"

"Then we do accept thy entreaty,"
the central figure murmured sorrowfully.
"The widow of Esau shall perish swiftly and the infant with her, and to show that we are compassionate, by our mercy shall her time come soon. I perceive now that only woe and strife hath come about when the landbreed and thy kind have dwelt side by side—it will be best for all this way. Alas thy race will be doomed to extinction. Hast thou anything more to say?"

But Tarr could not answer. His anguish was unbearable and he blubbered like a baby himself helpless upon the floor with his head in his hands.

"He might have nothing to say!' Miss Boston suddenly shouted, brandishing her walking stick imperiously, "but I most certainly do!"

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