The Pool of Two Moons (62 page)

"And ye have promised to stand for the faeries," Iseult said, "and ye should no' judge the babe for its parentage. She is your niece."

At that, Isabeau gave her sister back the same look and the twins felt their strange connection grow. They heard wolves howling outside, and then the clash of arms. "The Blue Guards come!" Lachlan cried, and bent the longbow, testing it.

There was a loud crash, and they knew the wardrobe had given way. They looked at each other and ran through into Maya's boudoir, securing the door behind them. Suddenly bells began to peal out, loud and insistent. Iseult and Lachlan shared a quick, exultant look.

"The League has done it again!" Lachlan said, grinning. "Now we shall see how long the Ensorcellor rules!"

"Lachlan, we have to get out o' here," Iseult said urgently. "I canna fight them all—we canna! We have to join the Key and save the Lodestar if we wish to prevail. Ye ken that! Ye have precipitated the rebellion before we have the Lodestar and ye ken Meghan says—"

"I do no' give a damn what Meghan says," Lachlan snapped. "If I had gone to Jaspar earlier, I might have convinced him!"

"And ye might have burnt on the fire," Iseult retorted.

There was hammering on both the inner doors and the grand entrance to the Banrigh's suite from the hallway. "We need to retreat and find our friends," Iseult said. "Please, Lachlan, let us go!"

"Where?" Isabeau asked. "They are at both doors— I bolted them while ye were with the Righ, but they will no' last long."

"Out the window!" Lachlan cried, and threw it open.

"What about Isabeau and Finn?" Iseult cried. "They canna fly!" Isabeau felt a peculiar sensation, like a hand closing over her heart. She had not had time to wonder how Lachlan and Iseult had reached the royal suite's windows, five storeys from the ground.

"We shall have to carry them," Lachlan said. "Are ye strong enough to hold Finn? She's only a skinny wee thing."

The sound of one of the inner doors breaking stilled Finn's protests. She clambered onto the windowsill as Lachlan commanded, Isabeau following, her heart slamming in long, hard beats.

"Put your arms about my neck," he commanded, not looking at her. Isabeau obeyed stiffly, keeping a distance between them. With an irritated snort, he grasped her, gripping her so tight she lost all her breath and was not able to take another. He launched off into the air, Iseult following a few seconds later. Behind them soldiers reached the window just as Iseult's foot left the sill. One grasped at her skirt but she kicked him in the face and he fell, nose smashed.

Behind the palace the darkness was lifting, the stars beginning to fade. They fell swiftly into mist, Lachlan struggling to slow their descent. Gradually the powerful beat of his wings steadied and they dropped more slowly, surrounded by gloom. Isabeau could only see his face dimly.

"How does Iseult fly without wings?" she asked.

"Her mother is Ishbel the Winged," he replied and felt the electric shock that ran through her. Through the mist came the dull clash of swords, the screams and cries of dying men. All over the western

« square, Red Guards were in desperate hand-to-hand combat with warriors that seemed strangely insubstantial in the swirling mist. Here and there the dark, lean shapes. of wolves leapt, dragging down the red-clad soldiers.

Then they saw the flowing, changing shapes of ghosts all about them in the mist. As the ghosts flowed through them they both felt a quiver run down their spine, a sudden shock of cold. Isabeau clung to Lachlan, unable to stifle a scream. He landed heavily, stumbling and falling, knocking all the breath out of her. She lay still, her face pressed against his neck, then he hauled his heavy body away from her, scratching her legs with his claws. Red Guards materialized out of the mist, but the ghost warriors swarmed to meet them, so Lachlan had time to unsheathe the claymore. Isabeau knelt behind him, trying to catch her breath, as he moved to engage with the closest Red Guards.

Iseult fought her way towards them, Finn keeping close behind. "Where did all these ghosts come from?" Iseult asked, showing no fear, her dagger dark with blood.

"Who kens? All I know is that they fight for us and no' against us," Lachlan responded. She and Lachlan fought side by side, anticipating each other's every move, fighting as one. Slowly they moved across the square, seeking to reach the garden, but as the light grew the ghost warriors began to fade, and they had difficulty in keeping the Red Guards from overwhelming them. From the garden came the hesitant melody of the first bird.

There was a roar, and a huge man in a faded blue kilt came charging through the mist, swinging his claymore. With him were thirty or more soldiers, and soon it was the Red Guards retreating toward the palace walls.

"Duncan!" Lachlan cried. "Thank Ea ye are here. Come, I have unfinished business in the palace!" Duncan nodded and directed his men to pursue the soldiers. Lachlan leant on his claymore, breathing heavily. He flashed a look at Isabeau and said roughly, "Do ye have the other two parts o' the Key?" Isabeau looked at him warily. "Latifa has them."

He swore and cast a look of intense dislike at her. "The auld fat one. I remember her. Ye were meant to have it! Why do ye no' have it?"

"Latifa guarded it."

"Ye fool! It is dawn now. Are ye no' meant to join it at the turn o' power? Is that no' what Meghan said?"

"We joined it at sunset, moonrise on Midsummer's Eve, but I think any turn in the tides would do it."

"Iseult,
leaman"
he said, the harshness gone from his voice, "ye must get the Key. It was your task, yours and Isabeau's, to join the Key if Meghan was no' with us."

"Meghan is near," Isabeau cried. "She will be here!"

"I have to go and put my sword to that black-hearted witch's throat," Lachlan said. "Then we shall see if she restores me! Then we shall see if her blood flows red or black like the blood o' fish."

"No, Lachlan! Ye must come with us. I fear for your safety. We must stick together, please, Lachlan!"

"Go! Join the Key. I will meet ye at the Pool o' Two Moons. If ye need me, blow the horn and I will come. Do no' fear for me—the rebels will have heard those bells, they will be at the palace gates already. Ye ken this is our plan, we have just done it backwards. Please,
leannan,
let me go. Did Isabeau no' say Meghan was near? And I have the Bow!" He flourished it.

"Lachlan, it's too dangerous! Wait . . ."

"No,
leannan.
I must confront the cursehag. She will turn her foul sorceries against us. Ye do no'

understand her power!"

"No, Lachlan . . ."

"She killed my brothers!" he snarled and ran to join the fighting. From all sides they could hear the clash of arms, screams, and the howling of wolves, closer than ever. As they watched Lachlan swipe and thrust his way through the fighting, Isabeau held her twin's arm comfortingly. For the first time emotion was written clearly on Iseult's face—both longing and terror mingled.

Latifa hurried through the corridors, the babe pressed to her heart.
The puir wee babe, the bonny
Bronwen,
she thought and felt the babe stir in response. She was not crying now, her silvery-pale eyes wide open, her hand clenched into a tiny fist.

The old cook reached her room and locked the door behind her. Her heart was hammering, her breath wheezing.
Too auld and too fat for this.
She laid the baby tenderly on her bed and turned to rummage through her drawers. Her fingers closed upon a thick braid of red hair, as long as she was tall. She pulled it out and held it to her. Indeed, she had thought it may come in useful, this plait of hair that she had cut from Isabeau's head. Already she had used it several times—to call Isabeau to the kitchen that first dawn, to get her to gather the groundsel that had wrought the sickness in Gwilym the
Ugly's
guards, to
call
her when she needed her.

She felt a little guilty, but the lass had been feverish and incoherent and would have died if Latifa did not bring her temperature down. Latifa had some knowledge of herbs, but her skills were in cookery, not healing. The only way she knew to break the fever was to cut away the great length of curly hair. Admiring its fiery vigor, she hid it away and told Isabeau that she had burnt it. Latifa had been sorely troubled by the scene in the Righ's bedroom. Apart from her grief at the death of Jaspar, who had always been her favorite of the prionn-sachan; apart from the sudden appearance of the winged apparition, the ghost that had said such dreadful things and appeared so disturbingly familiar; apart from all her misgivings and confusion, there had been the peculiarity of Isabeau. She had sounded all wrong; worse, she had smelt all wrong. She had smelt of someone who had eaten meat—and Latifa knew Isabeau had never tasted the flesh of any living thing. And she had killed a guard as easily as she would swat a fly. Latifa could not imagine Isabeau, who wept to see a lamb taken to the slaughter, so nonchalantly cutting the throat of a man. It puzzled her greatly, and she could only think that someone had been impersonating her apprentice. Either that, or Isabeau was not what she had seemed. Within a moment the naked emotion on Iseult's face was gone. She said impatiently, "Well, we'd better get the other parts o' the Key then. Do ye know where they are?" With a nonchalant kick of one foot, she knocked out a Red Guard trying to attack them from the rear.

Isabeau closed her eyes, trying to locate Latifa amongst the confusion of minds. "I think she's in her room. I hope she's got Bronwen away safely!"

"Who's Bronwen?"

Isabeau looked her warily. "The babe."

"The Ensorcellor's babe?"

"Maya and Jaspar's babe," Isabeau said, a little shakily. Lachlan had said he would kill them both!

Isabeau had cared for the little Banrigh since her birth a month earlier, and she could not bear the thought of her death. "We have to find Meghan!" she cried. As Iseult protested, she said, "Meghan will guard Lachlan—she will stop him doing anything stupid."

Her twin nodded eagerly. "That's true. She will protect him."

Isabeau now sent out her senses in search of her guardian, and with a glad hammering of her heart, cried,

"She's close, she's very close. Let us find her and tell her what's happening, then we can run and find Latifa. Come on!"

They ran along the side of the square, Finn clutching the elven cat to her breast, and came around the corner. There the fighting was thick, red-cloaked soldiers hand to hand with rough-clad rebels. Wolves were fighting with them, led by a black she-wolf with a thick, upstanding ruff. She was at the head of the rebels, fighting by the side of a tall red-bearded man in a black kilt. The mist was melting away in the pale sunshine, the sky above a wash of blue.

As Finn pushed her fair head between Isabeau's and , Iseult's to see, the black wolf raised her muzzle and sniffed the air. Suddenly she howled in triumph and leapt into a ground-eating lope across the square. The three girls drew back. It looked exactly as if the wolf was heading for them. The wolf tore out the throat of a guard who tried to stop her, fixed her terrible golden eyes on the girls, and leapt toward them. Iseult pushed the other two behind her and drew her dagger.

"No!" They heard Meghan's voice and saw her standing across the square. With her was the man in the black kilt, an agonized expression on his face, his hand thrown up. "No, Iseult!" Meghan cried. "The wolf is a friend. Do no' harm her."

It was too late—the dagger had already left Iseult's hand and was spinning through the air, straight for the black wolf's breast. Isabeau threw up her hand and the dagger spun away, clattering to the ground. The wolf Sung herself on Finn. The little girl fell with a scream, only to have her face licked enthusiastically, the wolfs paws on her chest.

Meghan and her companion hurried toward them, the man staggering, his hand to his head. He was supported by an old man with a long beard thrust through his belt, while a spearhead of rebels slashed through the ranks of palace soldiers. Finn tentatively stroked the wolfs thick ruff, trying to wipe her face dry with her other hand.

The red-bearded man fell on his knees before her, and with one hand wrenched the medallion away, the much-knotted string snapping. Finn wriggling and protesting in his arms, he clasped her to his chest and wept. "My Fionnghal, my Fionnghal," he muttered, rocking back and forth. "I have ye at last, my Fionnghal."

"What's wi' this name all the time?" Finn sighed, pushing herself away from him. "Who are ye? Stop squeezing me!"

"I'm your father," he cried. "Do ye no' recognize me at all? I'm your father!" Her hazel-green eyes widened, and she tugged herself free. She stared at him and said, "I have no father."

"Ye were stolen from me," he cried. "The Awl took ye, to make me do what they said! Five years ye've been kept apart from me. Do ye remember nothing?"

She shook her head, suddenly frightened.

"I gave you this medallion when ye were born. See, here is mine." And he pulled out the medallion he too wore around his neck and showed her the crest on his sword and brooch. The wolf, lying beside them, thrust her black muzzle into the man's hand. "We are MacRur-aichs, clan o' the black wolf," he said.

"This is your aunt, Tabithas."

Finn said with a quaver in her voice, "This is no' a joke, is it?"

"No, no! I have been searching for ye five long years. Ye think I would joke about such a thing? And see! Tabithas knows who ye are. She tracked ye here from the mountains. And did ye no' call the horn?

Ye must have, no one else could have called up the ghost warriors."

"I do no' understand," she said.

Meghan panted up beside them and said, "Anghus, this is she? Ye have her?"

"I have her," he wept and held her so close that Finn could hardly breathe.

"I am glad," she said and dropped her hand on his shoulder. Then she turned and stared at the twins, ignoring the fighting surging around them. "Well, well, Iseult in Isabeau's clothes and Isabeau in Iseult's clothes. Did ye seek to trick me?"