Two minutes later, I crossed a stream and bent down to slake my thirst with cold, clear water. After that I felt a bit better, and as I ran my strength gradually returned; I picked up the pace. By now the moon had disappeared behind a cloud, but I knew the way well, and the darkness hardly impeded me at all.

At last I crossed into the Chipenden garden and ran toward the house. I didn’t bother to go inside. I needed only two things—a lantern and a spade. I snatched both from the lean-to where the tools were kept and headed for the western garden.

This was where my master was buried.

Despite my sorrow and revulsion at what I had to do, I had no choice.

I had to dig up his coffin.

7

The Starblade

AFTER my master’s death at the Battle of the Wardstone, Grimalkin wanted me to keep the Starblade and accompany her to face an even greater threat that she had scryed—from a savage people to the north, the Kobalos. I’d had no stomach for any more fighting and had offered the sword to her, but she had refused. However, I had made sure that it would never fall into the wrong hands. While the protection against magic worked only for me, the ore was very valuable and rare and could be crafted into a different weapon for someone else. I had hidden the sword in a place where only someone strong enough to get past the boggart would have been able to reach it: under my master’s coffin. At the time, I couldn’t imagine ever desecrating the grave to retrieve it.

Now, however, I had urgent need of it. I lit the lantern and hung it from a low branch so that it cast its light over the area. Then, with tears running down my cheeks, I attacked the grave, throwing spadefuls of soil over my shoulder.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I called out as I worked, my words addressed to John Gregory, my dead master. “I’m so sorry!”

What a fool I had been. Could I not have foreseen such a situation when I would need protection against dark magic?

The Starblade should give me a chance against the beast, a chance to save Jenny. I was sure of it.

At last there was the thud of metal against wood. I’d dug down as far as the Spook’s coffin. Now, despite my need for haste, my digging became less frantic and more careful. I didn’t want to damage the casket in which his body lay.

I dug to one side and, once my pit was level with the bottom of the coffin, threw aside the spade and scooped soil away with my hands, trying to excavate underneath it. I was careful at first, because the blade of the sword was really sharp. But then, realizing that time was running out, I threw caution to the wind.

But I couldn’t find the sword!