At first I thought it was Matt Finley, the Downham blacksmith, but then I recognized him beyond all doubt. It was James! He was running flat out, water splashing up each time his boots landed on the soggy ground, the spray glistening orange and red in the firelight so that he seemed to be running through fire -either that, or his boots themselves flickered flames into the darkness.Now, rather than remaining in a thin line, the villagers bunched up tightly behind him and followed him, most been taught told me that they couldn't sniff us out from that distance, I became very nervous.When I glanced down and to my right, I could see the torches moving up the hill. The Spook had planned things well. The villagers were spread out in groups, with the groups themselves not too close together, which gave the illusion that an army was climbing Pendle. But would the witches fall for that? By now the clans were definitely alarmed. Sentinels kept running back from their positions on the summit to report to the gathering.After a while the clans began to shrink back behind the fire and a few were even beginning to slip away to the west, as if trying to lose themselves in the darkness beyond the firelight. But then it all went wrong…Once the villagers reached the summit and moved onto the plateau toward the witches, it became increasingly apparent that they were pitifully few in number. You could see their advance becoming slower and slower as they saw the armed horde they faced. Now the witches began to jeer and yell, brandishing their weapons while running at full pelt.

As if by chance, or maybe some dormant battle instinct, moments before reaching their enemies, they somehow achieved the shape of a wedge, *which drove hard into the massed witches, splitting the group almost into two halves before being brought to a standstill by the sheer weight of their numbers. James was the point of that wedge, and now I could see his hammer rising and falling and hear shrieks and shouts as the 'witches fought back and battle was joined.I feared for James. How long could he survive, pressed hard by so many opponents? But before I could dwell on my fear, the Spook touched my shoulder."Right, lad, follow me. This is our chance. But you stay here, girl," he commanded Alice. "If things go badly, you of all people wouldn't want to fall into their hands!"So saying, the Spook stood up and began to run toward the other side of the fire. I followed close at his heels, and Alice, ignoring his warning, was at my right shoulder. And then we had a stroke of luck. Grimalkin, the assassin, went to join the fray, and now only four witches were standing to the rear of the fire-just Wurmalde, Mab, Old Florence, and Anne Malkin.We were closing on them fast when they finally saw the threat. It was close, so very close. Within moments the Spook would have cast his chain over Wurmalde and carried her off down the hill while I tried to hold off any pursuit. But it was not to be. Wurmalde shrieked out a command, and some witches nearest to the fire turned their backs on the battle and rushed forward, quickly moving between us and our quarry.

The Spook never paused. Still running at full tilt, he downed the first witch with a sideways swing of his staff. The next opponent was a big bear of a man, wielding an enormous cudgel, but this time the Spook used the point of his staff. The blade flashed, and the man went down. But now the Spook was gradually being brought to a halt as witches and their supporters pressed in on us from every side. I started swinging my own staff desperately, but hope was leaving me fast. There were simply too many of them. Two witches faced me. One gripped the end of my staff and held it tightly, her face grimacing with the pain of holding the rowan wood; the second, her expression filled with cruel intent, raised her knife, and I saw the long serrated blade arcing down toward my chest. I brought up my right arm to try and fend off the blow even though I knew I was already too late.But her blade failed to strike home. I glimpsed a dark shape above me and felt a sudden wind, something passing so close above that it almost touched my head, and the witch with the blade screamed as she was lifted clean off her feet and hurled away from me. She fell onto the edge of the fire, throwing up a shower of sparks.

I looked up and saw spread wings -another lamia gliding down toward me with death in its ferocious eyes; in that instant the lightning flashed directly above so that those wings became translucent and I could see the network of veins within. Sharp claws slashed and the feet hooked into the second witch, dragging her hand away from my staff. Then the wings were still no more; faster and faster they beat, becoming a blur, as sharp claws lifted and tore before hurling her away.People were running then. Not toward us; they were fleeing, holding their arms high to ward off the terror that fell upon them from out of the darkness. Ahead, I glimpsed the Spook. He was running hard toward the southwestern edge of the plateau. He was chasing Wurmalde. I glanced around, looking for Alice, but could see no sign of her.

Witches were scattering in every direction, and cries of pain and terror filled the air.So I followed the Spook. After all, Wurmalde was the key to all this, the one who had brought the covens together. He might need my help. I still had my staff and my chain. If anything went wrong, I might still be able to bind the witch.As we ran, the heavens opened and a deluge began, the rain driving in hard from the west. We soon slowed down; the slope was steep and slippery with the rain. I kept losing my balance and falling. Most of the time I struggled downward in darkness, but then, in the far distance, I saw two small specks of light. Even when lightning flashed, there was no sign of Wurmalde; the Spook was getting farther and farther ahead despite all my efforts to keep up. But finally, after what seemed like an endless desperate and difficult descent, the incline became less steep, and in a flash of sheet lightning, I saw the witch some way ahead of the Spook.Far beyond her, waiting on a narrow track, was her black coach. The specks of light I'd seen were the two lanterns, one on either side of the driver, who was twisting round in his seat, staring back up the hill at us.Now that the ground had leveled out somewhat, the speed of the chase increased dramatically.

The Spook was still way ahead of me, his cloak billowing behind him as he ran. His legs seemed to be flying across the grass, and I was struggling to keep up. With every stride, he was gaining on the witch as she ran desperately toward the coach. Cobden looked back at her briefly but made no attempt to get down and assist her. He was staring up at the low clouds boiling overhead and his whip was raised, ready to drive the horses forward.As she grasped the handle and pulled open the door, Wurmalde almost fell, but a moment later she was inside. The Spook had reached the coach and was actually reaching for the handle and raising his staff when Cobden cracked his whip in the air to send the team of horses plunging ahead. His whip cracked again, its tip making cruel contact with the animals' backs; whinnying with pain and fear, they accelerated away while the Spook came to a halt, baffled."She's gotten away!" he said, shaking his head in frustration as I came to his side. "So near. We almost had her! Now she's free to work her evil again!"But the Spook "was wrong. There was another flash of sheet lightning directly above, and out of that light dropped a dark shape. It swooped low over the coach and seemed to strike Cobden from behind. He thrust up an arm to defend himself but had already lost his balance. He fell forward onto the horses, then slipped between them. The hooves trampled him momentarily before the wheels ran over him. I heard the beginning of a scream, but it was drowned out by the thunder.Driverless, the horses plunged on, carrying Wurmalde's coach faster and faster down the steep track. Illuminated by another brilliant flash of lightning, the dark shape plunged downward again to land heavily on the roof of the coach, and in the succeeding darkness I heard its claws begin to rip into the roof before the sound was drowned by thunder once more. I'd seen that coach by moonlight and knew it was constructed from heavy, strong wood.