The Pool of Two Moons (12 page)

"So what does this mean to us?" Lachlan asked. "Is it a good omen or bad?"

"When Magnysson at last holds Gladrielle in his arms, all will be healed or broken, saved or surrendered

. . ." Meghan murmured.

"What does that mean?"

"I will think on it," Meghan replied. "I do ken my head is swarming with ideas. We will see what, if anything, comes o' them. At least we know now the meaning o' Jorge's dreams. An eclipse o' the moons is a time o' great magical significance! There will be power abroad that night!"

"When will it happen?"

"My father wrought the Lodestar on my eighth birthday, at Samhain, the night when the veils between the worlds are at their thinnest. That will be the night. If we can rescue the Lodestar on the night o' the eclipse and bathe it in the enchanted waters, then we can restore its powers. That is what Cloudshadow meant when she said Samhain was the time!"

For two more weeks the League of the Healing Hand hurried through the Whitelock Mountains, managing to avoid the soldiers scouring the hills. Jesyah the raven was invaluable, flying high over the heavily wooded valleys and warning them of any encampments ahead.

The Sithiche and the Whitelock Mountains met just below the great triangular peak called the Fang, but the mountains were so steep, paths through the mountains were rare. One of the few ways to cross from one range to another was a high ridge of bare rock. Called the Goat Bridge because nothing but wild goats would make the crossing, it arched far above the green valleys of Rionnagan. When Dillon realized that his Master intended them to traverse that narrow bridge, his step faltered.

"Mercy me! Ye canna be thinking o' crossing that?"

Jorge looked around. "Ah, ye can see it now, can ye? Good, good. Jesyah, fly for me?" With a hoarse caw, the raven launched himself into the air, scanning the ground with his bright, beady eyes. "Now, Dillon, my lad, lead me forward."

One by one, their exuberance gone, the children followed him, casting scared glances up at the bridge of stone. There was a narrow gap between an outcropping of boulders and the cliff face. Slipping between, they found themselves scrambling up a narrow staircase naturally formed by rock and water. In places they had to climb, digging their fingers into tiny crevices and trying not to look down. Of them all, Finn found the climb the easiest, having often been forced to break into castles by climbing their outer walls. She darted about like a wild goat herself, the elven cat, whom she called Goblin, bounding along at her heels.

When they at last reached the top, they all flopped onto their bellies on the slanted ridge, their heads hanging over one edge, their feet over another. On either side the ground dived away, nothing between them and the valley floor but dizzying distance. "I'm sacred," Johanna whimpered, clinging to the ridge with both hands.

"I'm scaaaared," Finn mimicked.

"Stop being such a scaredy-cat!" Dillon commanded.

"Soldiers!" Jorge said suddenly. "Get down, bairns, keep your heads low!" All nine children lay closer to the ridge, their faces pressed against the rough stone, their hearts pounding. Dillon raised one eye above the edge and peered down at the company of soldiers riding through the valley below.

Finding the valley came to what seemed an abrupt dead end, the captain ordered his men to retrace their steps, and the soldiers moved out, not noticing the natural stairway which led to the bridge of stone above. Although they were too far away to hear a word the soldiers said, Dillon noted the lackadaisical attitude of the soldiers and smiled to himself. This was a routine maneuver—the soldiers did not know they were there.

"We'd better be lying still a wee while longer," Dillon said. "Else they'll be seeing us when we cross the ridge."

"How low is the sun?" Jorge asked. "It makes no difference to me, o' course, night and day are the same. Ye may find it difficult to cross after dark, though."

Johanna gave a little cry of distress and hugged her brother closer. Even Finn looked a little concerned, and they all turned and scanned the western horizon. The shadow of the needle-tipped ranges fell dark across the valleys. "Maybe an hour or two left," Dillon calculated.

"Plenty of time," Jorge beamed as the raven flew lazily toward them, his wings black against the bright sky.

Jorge's prediction proved sanguine. By the time the sun had set he had crossed the ridge with ease, but most of the children were still strung out along its narrow length. At last the entire League was safely on the other side, and so exhausted that they camped where they dropped. The dawn breaking over the mountains woke them, and they sat together on the edge of the great expanse of rock, overawed at the vastness of the world spread out before them.

"We can see three countries from here," Johanna said. "Can ye see? That wee silver thread down there is the Wulfrum River, and all that dark forest on the other side is Rurach."

"Rurach," Finn said slowly. She crept closer to the western edge so she could see down to the thickly forested slopes below. Behind them the conical peak of the Fang reared against the brightening sky, its tip wreathed with clouds. "It looks wild," she said softly, "wild and lonely."

"They say the forests o' Rurach still be filled with many strange creatures that are all but gone here in Rionnagan." Johanna gave a little shudder. "It's dangerous indeed, they say."

"It sounds like a place ye'd have adventures in," Finn said softly. They kept on moving after a scanty breakfast and by noon had descended from the heights into another valley. Each hour they traveled, Jorge grew more excited, his limping step longer and faster. They came at last to a tumbling brook and followed its course up a steep slope, thorny with graygorse and goldensloe. Above them towered great walls of rock, one section much better, as if there had once been a landslide there. The stream bubbled through the rocks behind them, forming a shallow pool where they could wash their hot faces and drink deeply of its cold refreshment. Only then did they look about them and wonder if the Master had not somehow been led astray, for they could see no valley entrance, only massive tumbled boulders.

"This way." Feeling the rock face with his fingers, Jorge walked around the biggest boulder of them all and disappeared.

The children followed quickly, the boulder concealing a narrow, twisting pathway through the cliffs. Once the stream would have gushed freely through the chasm, but the landslide had all but blocked its passageway, and the children had to squeeze through gaps in the fallen rocks to make their way through. At last they reached the far end, coming out into a broad, long valley surrounded on all sides by a great red cliff like a wave of bloody water turned to stone. At the far end was a small loch, fed by long waterfalls that poured over the edge of the cliffs from the white glacier towering above.

"Jesyah tells me there are many caves in the walls, but the one I have turned into my home is over in this direction." Jorge set off along the corrie's edge, bringing them at last to the far edge of the valley. The loch glimmered a dark green in the overhang of the cliff, the waterfalls frothing into white at their base. Dark openings here and there indicated many small caves. Jorge led the way into one, lighting a witch light at the end of his staff so they could see how cosy it was.

Thick fur rugs covered the floor, and books, scrolls and bottles were crowded on wooden shelves attached precariously to the overarching walls. Dried herbs hung from a badly made rack, and a deep nest of furs and blankets covered the floor. A deeply scarred wooden rod overhead showed where the raven roosted.

"Now out, all o' ye! There is no' enough room in here for all ye lumbering bairns. Ye'll have to find yourselves caves in which to sleep, for this wee crevice is barely large enough for Jesyah and me!" Excitedly the children raced outside. For the next few hours their cries rang all round the corrie. They discovered caves bigger than any merchant's house, and as ornately decorated, though with pillars and arches of stone rather than cushions and tapestries. They raced through thickets and copses of tress, startling a flock of tree-swallows from their massive nests high in the boughs. They squabbled over the caves, Finn and Johanna at last triumphantly securing the best of them— small but deep, with a spring near the entrance and a smoke-stained crack at the back that showed fires had been lit there in the past. The boys settled on a cave across the valley from Jorge's. It was much larger than the girls' and had a soft, sandy floor and a high, intricate ceiling. Although there was no natural chimney to lead the smoke from their fire out of the cave, there was a pool of icy-cold water at the very back, and passages that led to other caves, giving them all separate bedrooms if they wished. They began cutting bracken to make mattresses, and Johanna decided to cook them all a feast to celebrate the end of their journeying. The valley was filled with plants and animals, and Dillon was sure he could catch a fish in the loch. It was near sunset when they sent Connor across the valley floor to fetch Jorge for the feast. When he returned, the little boy was quiet with awe, for the old man striding along behind him was no longer the dirty, shabby beggar they all knew. He had bathed in the loch, and his snowy white hair and beard flowed down over a long, finely woven robe of pale blue. Gilt thread glittered in an intricate border around the hem and collar and sleeves, and a dark-blue plaid was pinned at his breast with a jewelled brooch. He seemed taller, and carried himself proudly, barely leaning on his staff at all. They greeted him with unusual deference, and seated him by the campfire. He smiled at them gravely, and said, "I have spoken with Meghan at last and she has made a suggestion which pleases me greatly. She wishes me to establish a Theurgia here, the first such school in sixteen years. Ye can all stay here with me and learn whatever I can teach ye."

"I never heard o' a Theurgia afore," Dillon said carefully, not at all sure he liked the sound of it.

"It is a school, bairns. A school for fledgling witches. Do no' feel so dismayed! I can sense your consternation from here. Would ye rather be living hand to mouth in the slums o' Lucescere or here in this safe valley with me and Tomas?" Obediently the children murmured that they would much rather be here, of course. "All o' the Towers had schools, and bairns would be sent from one to another according to their Talents. If ye had no clear Talent, or if your mentor felt a wider, more general education was necessary, ye would have gone to the Theurgia at the Tower o' Two Moons. It was the biggest o' the schools and the most highly regarded, since acolytes were taught many different Skills there." As he talked, the warlock ate hungrily, though the children's ardent appetite seemed to have diminished. As Jorge described to them all the things they would learn, they gradually stopped eating altogether, looking at each other in dismay.

Then, as an afterthought, the old warlock said, "Some other news that may interest ye. Meghan asked me to find out from Jesyah as much as I could about the geography o' this valley. When I described to her what he saw, she said she may send us company. It seems she is searching for a place to set up the rebel encampment. .."

Immediately the boys leapt to their feet, cheering with excitement. "The rebels are coming here? They'll be stationed here, in this valley?" Dillon shouted. "They'd teach us to fight with swords, maybe? And happen the Cripple will come. Is he no' the leader o' all the rebels in the land? Hurrah! Things'U start happening then!" The children danced an impromptu jig around the fire, all thoughts of the Theurgia vanished in their excitement.

It was dark and stifling within the filthy folds of sacking. Sweat-stung his eyes, and he twisted against his bonds although he knew there was no escape. He had tested the strength of the ropes for days now, and all he had done was chafe his wrists till they bled. Whoever had caught him had made sure he could not escape.

Douglas MacSeinn was not sure how many days it had been since he had been kidnapped from the forests surrounding Rhyssmadill. It seemed like an eternity. He had been riding through the forest when his mare had suddenly reared, neighing in alarm. Something had darted out of the trees directly toward him. He had an impression of fluttering gray, and a strange, dank smell like that of an open grave. Then a great winged ghost was looming over him, its glittering eyes holding his gaze. The world tilted and slowed; the earth rushed past in a blur, then darkness swallowed him.

He had woken much later, bound in ropes and sacking, his head aching, his senses confused. Occasionally the sacking was pulled aside so he could drink water or force down spoonfuls of cold, gluey porridge. Even more rarely, his bonds were untied so he could stumble to a bush to relieve himself. He saw very little at those times, his eyes dazzled, but he heard a deep droning noise. The alien nature of the sound, along with his captors' claw-like grasp, convinced him he had not been kidnapped by humans.
But by what? By whom?

Douglas shuddered with fear at the idea he was the captive of some demon-spawned
uile-bheist,
and he wracked his brains trying to figure out
why.
Although he was the only living child and heir of the Prionnsa of Carraig, Linley MacSeinn, their country had been lost to the Fairgean five years earlier. Once one of the richest and proudest of the prionnsachan, the MacSeinns were now refugees from their land, dependent upon the Righ for their survival. Kidnapping Douglas in hope of a ransom was futile, for his father, the MacSeinn, simply could not afford to pay.

The rippling sound of water was all about him, and he smelt swamp through the musty odor of the sacking.
Where can I be?
he thought, pushing down the panic rising in his throat. He was swung into the air and carried forward, the ropes biting deep into his stomach, then dropped with-< out warning onto a very hard, very cold floor. He was unable to help crying out in pain, and he heard a woman's autocratic voice say, "I told ye he was no' to be harmed! Bring him into the throne room!"