The Pool of Two Moons (14 page)

"She is a N-N-NicHilde," he explained. "My m-m-m-mother has signed an alliance w-w-with the Bright Soldiers o' Tirsoilleir. In return for allowing them to m-m-march through Arran, we win more land, gain their f-fforbidden library and a bride for the b-b-b-banprionn-sa's idiot son." There was bitterness in his voice.

"The Bright Soldiers wish to march through Arran? Why?" Douglas's voice was tense. His country had suffered much from the warlike Tirsoilleirean over the past thousand years.

"I be no' sure—I think they w-w-wish to strike at the MacCuinn, for the Witches' Decree has rid the land o' m-m-m-much o' its strength. My m-m-m-mother says the Tirsoilleirean have wearied o' marching up and down the streets o' Bride with n-n-n-nothing to strike at. She says b-b-better the MacCuinn than us, for the Bright Soldiers wish to attack someone and we may as well d-d-direct their attention to our ancient enemy, the M-M-MacCuinn, and see what we can gain in the m-m-m-meantime.''

Douglas was white as chalk, his vivid sea-green eyes blazing. "We must escape!" he cried. "We have to warn the Righ! We canna be allowing the Tirsoilleirean to attack. They'll burn the crops and murder the people— I have seen what they do when they're on the march. They must be meaning to strike at Dun Eidean, before marching on Dun Gorm . . . My father is at Rhyssmadill, and all the clan! We have to warn them!"

Iain had never given much thought to the rest of Eilea-nan, his country having been independent for a thousand years. He had always heard his mother speak of the Righ with contemptuous malevolence, and knew the story of their antagonism as well as he knew his own face. He had thought of the implications of his mother's treaty only in relation to himself, but Douglas's words immediately kindled his concern. He knew at once that Douglas was right. If they could escape and warn the Righ of the impending invasion, perhaps much bloodshed and sorrow could be avoided, and the ancient rivalry between MacCuinn and MacFoghnan at last laid to rest.

So an alliance between MacFoghnan and MacSeinn was forged, and the two conspirators began to plan their escape from the marshes and fenlands of Arran. All they needed was an opportunity . . .
Beltane Night

The week after Fools' Day, Lachlan returned from the forest, his face lit with excitement, and opened his hand to show Meghan a moonstone. "I found it in the burn," he said, suppressed delight in his voice. He shot a look at Iseult, and said, "See, she is no' the only one to find a moonstone!"

"Did ye go looking for it?" Meghan asked sternly, and he quirked his mouth.

"I have," he admitted, "but today I swear I was no' even thinking about it."

"Good," the old witch said and tucked the glimmering white stone away. She heard from Jorge the very next day. The blind seer and his band of beggar children were safe in his valley hideaway. At Meghan's request, Jorge sent his familiar Jesyah to fly over the come and he told her what the raven saw. To Iseult and Lachlan's excitement it se.emed sure it was big enough and secret enough to conceal near a thousand men. Talking eagerly about their plans for a rebel encampment, they did not notice the sudden silence from the old sorceress. Then Lachlan said sharply, "Meghan, what's wrong? Ye have had bad news?"

"Aye, Lachlan, in a sense." Meghan's face was paper white, her eyes glittering like shards of black glass.

"What have we to fear?" Iseult said briskly. "Do we need to make defenses?"

"Perhaps ..." Meghan stroked the velvety brown don-beag as he curled into a ball between her chin and shoulder. "Hush, Gita, be still. There is no need to fear." She cleared her throat as her voice cracked, then said grimly, "I am sorry to have to have startled ye. Jorge has had visions of a black wolf on my trail."

"A wolf?" Iseult echoed blankly. "I have killed many wolves, auld mother. There be no need to fear."

"I doubt ye have killed a wolf-like this one." Meghan's voice was bleak. "Besides, I should no' let ye. This is a wolf I would be glad to see normally. Come, get back to your studies. There's no need to stand gawking and wringing your hands over a dream. Time shall tell whether it be a true seeing." She paced the clearing, one hand cradling Gita as he burrowed under her chin. "Iseult, where's that broken arrow I pulled out o' my pouch?"

When Iseult had found her the white-fletched arrow, the sorceress sat by the fireplace again, her narrow face pensive. "This arrow is near a thousand years auld," she said slowly. "It was made by Owein o' the Longbow, my ancestor and Lachlan's. I have been watching ye bairns as ye fight and play, and it seems clear to me that Lachlan has the makings o' a very fine archer. In less than a month he already can hit the clout more times than no'."

Iseult looked with pride at her pupil. Indeed he had both the talent and the strength to far outstrip her with the bow and arrow.

"Jorge has had a vision o' Lachlan wielding a bow o' fire and magic. He says Lachlan won many a triumph with this bow. Immediately I thought o' Owein's Bow, which was kept at the Tower o' Two Moons, along with many other objects o' magical significance. When the soldiers attacked the Tower, I locked up the relic room, hiding the door and warding it cannily. Owein's Bow was there. I want to find it and give it to ye, Lachlan. The Bow was made by Owein MacCuinn's own hands and carried by him all his life. His magic should have soaked in deep."

"But ye do no' even ken if the bow escaped the Burning," Lachlan protested.

"Is there any harm in finding out?" Meghan responded irritably.

"But how?" Lachlan drummed his fingers against his book in impatience.

"If ye will let me finish, I will tell ye," Meghan said just as impatiently. "Jorge has gathered around him a motley collection o' beggar children. One seems to have the Talent o' Searching. Jorge says she is amazingly strong, has merely to concentrate her will on what she desires and knows at once what direction it is in."

"But does she no' need to ken what she is Searching for? She has never seen the Bow or felt its psychic emanations, how is she—"

"Lachlan, why do ye argue with me? She can use the arrow, o' course. If she bears her mind upon it, I am sure she'll be able to tell if the Bow still exists. We need to go to Lucescere to retrieve the Lodestar—how much more difficult will it be for the lassie to search the ruins for the Bow first, so ye have it when ye need it most? If Jorge's vision is true, ye shall be invincible with it in your hand." The idea appealed to Lachlan. His topaz eyes blazed; his swarthy face was alight with excitement. Unable to sit still, he began to stride around the clearing, his glossy wings moving restlessly. Iseult gazed at him in painful tenderness. It was when he was excited like this, his immense vitality bursting its bounds, that Iseult found it hardest to remember that he was forbidden to her.

Meghan had to shush him with a laugh, saying, "Do no' get too excited, my lad, it may have been burnt or lost, or she may no' be able to locate it. It is an idea only, and an idea that shall take some pondering." She turned to Iseult, still gazing up at Lachlan, and cleared her throat to gain her attention. Iseult flushed crimson and bent her head over
The Book of Shadows
once more. There was a suspicion of laughter in Meghan's voice as she said, "I have been watching ye also, Iseult. I have only ever seen one other person somersault as ye do. Is this common among your people?"

"Many o' the Scarred Warriors excel at such defensive maneuvers, but I am considered among the best," Iseult replied with spurious modesty.

"Ye do it very fast and with such power—can ye do it slowly?"

Iseult looked at her in surprise. "I suppose so," she said. She did a leisurely and elegant tumbling run that took her high in the air.

"Beautiful!" Meghan applauded, while Lachlan gave a grunt and scowled at her. He always grew sullen when Iseult demonstrated her ease and grace of movement, the contrast between his own clumsy movements so sharp.

"Could ye jump out o' that branch without hurt?" Meghan asked, pointing to a great twisted branch about ten feet off the ground.

Iseult smiled. "Easy," she said, climbing with effortless agility and bounding off.

"What about that one?"

Iseult frowned and shrugged. "I'll try if ye like."

Lachlan scowled. "She'll hurt herself, ye auld fool," he said disrespectfully.

"I dinna think so," Meghan replied and, sure enough, Iseult managed the twenty-foot drop with no difficulty. Meghan pointed out another, and with a shrug and a grin, Iseult climbed the tree again. From this height she could see over most of the forest. She looked down, and her heart pounded heavily against her ribs.

"Are ye all right?" Lachlan called anxiously. "Do no' do it if ye are afraid, Iseult, the drop'll surely kill ye." At that Iseult jumped. It was a long way and she fell fast. Her curls blew back from her face, and tears started to her eyes. The woods blurred into a haze of brown and green, then the earth was flying toward her. Terror gripped her, but she prepared her body for landing, loosening her muscles and centering her sense of balance. The world steadied, slowed. She dropped to the ground, and though she stumbled and fell, she did not even bruise herself.

"By Ea's green blood!" Lachlan breathed. His face was white, his body tense. He helped her up and gripped her wrist in his hand. "Ye fool!" he snapped. "What were ye thinking? Ye could have been killed!"

"Meghan would no' have asked me to do it if she did no' think I could," Iseult answered, though now she was on the ground her legs were shaky.

"Indeed I would no', though it was a risk, that I admit. I have seen other witches do such a trick, but was no' sure if Iseult could."

"She might have been killed!"

"Lachlan, my lad, Iseult's mother was Ishbel the Winged. She could float in the air as easily as a bellfruit seed in a breeze. O' course I wondered if Iseult had inherited any o' her Talent. It's clear she has strong powers in air and spirit, and the only other person I've seen to somersault like that was Ishbel."

"Ye think I can fly!" Iseult gasped.

"Perhaps no'," Meghan answered. "No-one needed to teach Ishbel to fly, she did it as naturally as breathing. She used to float above her bed as she slept. I've seen no evidence o' such profound Talent in ye. Still, I wondered. Even if ye canna fly, I can see how the leaping o' high walls would be o' great use indeed."

"Ye are thinking o' the rampart behind the Tower, which protects Lucescere from the forest," Lachlan said.

"Indeed I am. We might set Iseult to practicing jumping while we are here." Over the next few weeks Iseult found she could jump barriers far greater than her own height and could drop from heights of well over a hundred feet without more than a few bumps. To her amazement she began to be able to control her speed of falling, and by Beltane she could float down as slowly as a feather.

The first of May dawned fresh and clear. Meghan woke them as usual, but as they ate their porridge and drank their tea, she said, smiling, "It be Beltane today. Why do ye no' have a holiday? Ye have both been good, patient bairns and worked hard. No one should work on May Day." Both Iseult and Lachlan were pleased at the idea, though it soon became clear that Meghan had plans for them. They were to have a May Day feast and invite the Celestines for, as Meghan said, "Ye canna have much o' a feast with only the three o' us!" She needed firewood for the bonfire, plenty of flowers for their wreaths, as well as whatever nuts and fruits they could find. Like Meghan, none of the Celestines ever ate meat, and the amount of vegetables and fruit it took to fill all their stomachs seemed colossal. Iseult and Lachlan set off into the forest with light hearts. After over an hour of gentle meandering, they came to a path that ran between a stand of moss-oaks, their great silvery trunks writhing upwards in fluid shapes. Iseult followed the trail as it wound up the slope of a hill, thorny bushes pressing all around. At last it led into a small clearing around a tarn. On the tarn's shores was a hut, built of stones and earth. A thin tendril of smoke trickled from the chimney.

"I think we had better go back." Iseult hesitated on the verge of the clearing.

"Because o' a wee hut?" Lachlan jeered, pushing past her. "I dinna think so! Come on, let's go and see who bides here."

"Meghan says . . ."

"Meghan says, Meghan says! Do ye always have to do what Meghan says?"

"Nay, it just makes sense. Meghan said there are many wicked faeries living in the forest, remember?"

"Do no' be afraid, my bonny lass, I'll protect ye!" Lachlan grinned.

"Why, ye couldna protect a duck!" she retorted, following him across the clearing. She looked around carefully, but could see no sign of life. Beside the shack was a carefully cultivated garden, thick with herbs and vegetables, and two beehives were set against the trees. Among the thyme and comfrey stood a small, crooked menhir, with some smaller boulders clustered nearby. A greenberry tree trailed its branches in the tarn, pale lilies floating across its wind-trembled surface.

"I see no one but I feel like we're being watched," Iseult whispered and drew an arrow from her quiver, notching it to her crossbow. Unable to shake off a sense of unease, she moved forward, her bow at the ready. She stepped up to the roughly made door and pushed it open with her hand. Inside she could see a neat little room, with a table to one side, a high-backed chair made from polished branches and three stools. A pot bubbled over the fire.

"There's no one here, but they canna have gone far," she said. "Lachlan, let's go. I do no' think we should be here."

He shrugged his agreement and they stepped away from the cottage, turning back toward the path. Hearing another noise, she twisted round and realized that the boulders had somehow moved.

"Come on, Lachlan, it's no' safe here." She quickened her step, raising her bow so that it was aimed at the tallest of the stones. Immediately her bow burst into flame. She dropped it with a cry. As it hit the ground the flames disappeared and she saw her bow was unharmed. She bent to retrieve it and strong arms suddenly seized her around the waist and dragged her down. Immediately she fought back, but her wrists were caught in an unbreakable hold.