‘Could it take the shape of a worme?’ I asked. Wormes were really scary. When I was working with Bill Arkwright, we had to hunt down one that had killed a child. It had dragged the boy from his bed and eaten him. All that was left was a few blood-spattered pieces of nightshirt.
‘It’s possible, lad – but let’s hope not. Wormes are dangerous creatures – sometimes as big as a carthorse. They love marsh and water. This place would suit one all right.’ The Spook turned to Simon. ‘Their bodies are covered with scales that are very difficult to penetrate with a blade. Moreover, they have powerful jaws and a mouthful of sharp teeth, and when on land they spit a deadly poison that’s absorbed through the victim’s skin. What results is a very unpleasant death indeed…’
I remembered the worme we’d finally cornered. It had spat at Bill, but luckily the venom had landed on his boots. I looked down through the trees and thick vegetation. It was so dense I couldn’t even see the river. Alice and I looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. This place gave us a bad feeling. We returned to the copse, where Captain Baines was waiting with the dogs. Soon after dark we prepared to set off back to the chapel. It had been raining heavily, but now the moon flickered fitfully through tattered clouds, driven across the sky by a blustering westerly wind.
‘Well, lad, let’s get it over with,’ said the Spook, handing me his bag.
The captain and Simon Sulby were to remain behind with the dogs. I suppose the Spook expected Alice to do the same because he first looked surprised, then frowned as she started to follow us.
‘Stay where you are, girl,’ he said. ‘This is spook’s business.’
‘I’ve been useful enough in the past,’ Alice replied.
My master glanced at us in turn, his eyes full of suspicion. He certainly didn’t know about the blood jar, but I could tell that he thought something was wrong.
‘Joined at the hip, are you?’ he asked, frowning.
I smiled and shrugged. With a shake of his head, the Spook set off for the chapel; we both followed behind. We were still quite some distance from the ruins when he brought us to a halt. ‘Keep your wits about you now, lad,’ he said softly.
We continued forward, but much more slowly and cautiously, every step bringing us towards the chapel walls. Eventually we were standing close enough to touch the damp stones.
‘I think it’s near by,’ said the Spook. ‘I can feel it in my bones…’
I knew he was right. A chill was moving down my spine, a warning that something from the dark was very near. The Spook led the way forward along the wall, heading for the trees.
Moments later we were amongst them, a breeze in our faces, shadows dappling the ground briefly each time the moon emerged from behind the clouds. We’d taken another couple of dozen steps when my master came to a sudden halt. There were two men standing amongst the trees about fifty yards ahead of us. One was a thin, tall, scarecrow-like figure in a long dark gown; the other appeared squat and muscular, with a large head and no discernible neck.
The moon came out again and lit them, showing the true horror of what we faced. The tall man had a hard, cruel face, but it was the other figure that filled my heart with dismay and started my knees trembling. It wasn’t a true man at all. The creature had appeared squat because it had been on all fours. Now it suddenly stood upright to reveal its immense size. The face was hairy, as was the rest of the body, but it was more like fur than human hair. We were facing the buggane in the shape of a hairy man – the Cruncher. Its companion had to be the shaman.
No sooner had those thoughts flicked through my head than the buggane dropped onto all fours once more. The moon went behind a cloud, plunging us into darkness, and all I could see was a pair of glowing red eyes. Then it bellowed loudly – a fearful cry that made the ground – and the very trees – shake. So terrifying was that cry that I was rooted to the spot, unable to move.
I heard a click as the Spook released the blade from the tip of his staff, and he began to stride purposefully towards our enemies. But when the moon came out again, we saw only the buggane ahead. The shaman had vanished.
The daemon had now taken the shape of a muscular black bull with enormous horns, its huge front hooves pawing the ground in anger, its nostrils snorting clouds of steam. It was getting ready to charge.
It galloped towards the Spook, hooves drumming on the earth. My master took up a defensive position, holding his staff diagonally across his body. Compared to the buggane he appeared small and frail and looked certain to be gored and trampled underfoot. My heart was in my mouth. I stood there, terrified. My master was about to die.
It was all so quick that at first I didn’t register what had happened. The daemon completely missed the Spook, who had stepped aside at the last moment, stabbing at it with his staff. But then, as it passed, the buggane lunged with its huge head, catching my master with its left horn and tossing him sideways. He fell hard, then rolled over and over before coming to a stop.
He wasn’t moving. Was he dead? If he wasn’t now, he soon would be. The buggane ignored Alice and me and came round in a wide circle, lowering its head so that its sharp horns pointed straight at the prone figure of my master. My heart lurched. It was going to charge him again.
For a moment I was unable to move, but then Alice gave a cry and started to run forward. She was waving her arms, trying to distract the buggane and make it attack her instead.
It stopped and stared at her with its huge red, baleful eyes. Then it charged at her!
All at once I was free to move again. I dropped the bags and sprinted towards Alice in an attempt to get between her and the fearsome creature. I released the blade in my staff as I ran, shouting out to distract it. ‘Here!’ I cried. ‘Here! It’s me you want!’
It ignored my shouts, and my heart was in my mouth: it was upon Alice before I could get into a position to defend her. For one awful moment I thought it had trampled her, but I saw her drop to her knees and roll clear just in time.
The buggane came about again. Once more it pawed the ground and snorted hot breath through its nostrils. This time it was looking at me. I’d got what I wanted. Now I was the target!
It rushed at me, red eyes locked with mine, sharp horns ready to impale me. But I concentrated hard, sucking in a deep breath, trying to slow the flow of time outside myself. It was a gift I’d inherited from Mam – something that I’d only recently discovered I possessed. I’d used it to defend myself against the Ordeen – she’d said I had ‘a speed that mocks the tick of time’.
If so, I certainly wasn’t mocking time now. The gift wasn’t easy to use and I was far from being in full control of it. I tried my best, but if time did slow, it didn’t seem to bother the buggane much. It was upon me in seconds, and as I stepped clear and dropped to one knee, its right horn missed my head by a fraction of an inch.
I’d barely time to get back on my feet before it charged at me again. This time it shook its head, sweeping its horns wide. But I’d already anticipated that, jumped clear and stabbed at it with my staff. The blade cut it just below the ear and the creature bellowed with pain and seemed to stagger slightly before turning to attack again.
The silver blade had hurt it. If the daemon assumed the form of a worme, its armoured scales would make it hard to kill, but now I had an opportunity to plunge my blade into its heart and put an end to it. I felt more confident now and began to focus.
Concentrate! Squeeze time. Slow it. Make it halt!
It was working. The buggane really did seem to be slowing. Before, its legs had been a blur, but now I could see the individual movement of each one. As it came within reach of my staff, it was almost frozen in time, its breath in a still cloud, its red eyes like glass. Seizing my chance, I stepped to one side and raised my staff, ready to stab behind its shoulder and down into its heart. It was almost completely still now. I’d nearly done it – stopped time! One thrust of my blade and the daemon would be no more. I thrust downwards, but, to my intense disappointment, met only empty air.