The Witches of Eileanan (23 page)

"Is that what happened? Is that why this is called the Cursed Valley?"

Khan'derin came out into the dim light, dressed all in white fur, with a crossbow and quiver of arrows slung over one shoulder and a small satchel over the other. "The Red Sorceress stayed her twin brother and all who tried to stay her hand. Only when the corridors o' the Towers of Roses and Thorns were red with blood did she kill herself. Everyone else fled, and for centuries no one would come near, for the halls were filled with the ghosts o' the slain. That is why I dreaded the dragons' command, and tried to stay with the prides when I had been told to come here. That is why no one else ever comes near."

Looking around at the ravaged carvings, the dismal curtains of cobwebs, the broken archways and dark, gaping doorways, Meghan could understand why. She shivered and pulled her woolly plaid closer about her, and was glad when they finally came out of the ruined hall into the gray gloom of the thorn trees. At least the air outside was fresh, and the spurs of the trees were budding with the promise of spring.

Khan'derin looked at her, and her cold, expressionless face seemed to stir with sympathy. '"In summer, when I am bid to stay here, I spend as much time as I can outside. It is an uncanny place. I still find it so. even after eight years."

Meghan smiled at her in commiseration for the frightened eight year old she had been, but Khan'derin's face did not kindle in response, and Meghan's smile withered away. She hardly knew what to say to Khan'derin. Although her features were identical to Isabeau's, she could not have been more different. Meghan had not once seen her smile or laugh, she never spoke unless addressed, and she had all sorts of strange mannerisms. In silence they pushed their way through the entwining branches, Khan'derin clearing a path with her ax and knife.

On the opposite side of the loch, the dragon princess was practising aerial maneuvers, her green-gold body shining against the blue sky. As Meghan watched, she executed a perfect triple loop and, obviously pleased with herself, gave a triumphant bugle then swooped down above their heads, landing gracefully on the far shore.

Meghan smiled at the dragon princess, who gambolled playfully about, making it difficult for Khan'derin to strap on the harness. At last, though, they were mounted and ready, Gitâ huddled down in Meghan's pocket, trembling at the smell of dragon but comforted by Meghan's promise that they would soon be home.

Asrohc flew toward the secret valley. The journey which had taken Meghan seven days was accomplished in less than an hour, the dragon princess landing lightly on the wide rock by the waterfall. Meghan slid off the dragon with her hand clapped over her nose and mouth in a futile attempt to shut out the foul stench of corrupting flesh. All around her were the bodies of Red Guards, flyblown after a week in the sun, plus the corpses of animals who had died in the fighting or in the fires with which the Red Guards had tried to destroy the valley.

Asrohc looked round her with a certain dragonish pleasure, and began to paw at the body of the great stag who had once lorded over this valley.

Meghan held up her hand.
Please leave them be,
she said.
I
will bury them, as is our custom.

Khan'derin looked surprised at her words but was otherwise unaffected by the carnage around her. Meghan could not help comparing her to Isabeau, who would have been sobbing at the sight. A crested falcon flew down to her wrist immediately and told her much of what the Red Guards had done in their frustration and anger. Many of the valley's animal inhabitants were dead, most shot down for sport. The entire litter of elven cats was dead, their mother's tiny body studded with arrows, the bodies of her kittens scattered around her. The thick undergrowth had been scorched away, the great trees now merely blackened trunks. Once the dragon had flown away with a farewell bugle, what animals had survived came running out. their fur or feathers burned away in patches, most holding up a damaged paw or injured leg for Meghan to examine. She spent a few minutes petting them and crooning in their languages before making her way around the loch, her face grim, her mouth folded tightly. The way was now much easier without the flowering bushes that once had trailed their branches in the water, but by the time she reached the tree house, the hem of her skirt was black with ashes. At the foot of the great tree lay Seychella, her face covered by a red cloak to keep the birds of prey away.

"At least they had some decency," Meghan said, and lifted the cloak. Seychella's neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, but there was a smile on her decaying face. "They say to die in the Mesmerd's arms is to die in bliss," Meghan said, and dropped the cloak back.

She looked around at the ruin of her valley one more time, then lay her gnarled hand on the massive bole of the tree that was her home. "She is damaged," Meghan said softly, "but she still lives."

Gitâ was sitting on Meghan's shoulder, his bright eyes filled with distress at the death of his animal friends and the burning of the forest. Meghan stroked his fur and said idly,
Are ye glad now ye braved the dragons with me?
He laid his cold black-tipped paw against her neck and chittered loudly.
Will ye go into the house for me, Gita, and make sure these cursed Guards have no' left any nasty surprises for me? Be careful, though.

Reluctantly Gitâ bounded down Meghan's body and crept into the entrance to the secret passage, which had once been concealed by a great thorny bush but now could easily be seen as a narrow crack in the rock. He did not come out for almost ten minutes but neither Meghan nor Khan'derin showed any signs of impatience. At last he came bounding out, chittering anxiously, and Meghan bent and picked him up, stroking his silky brown fur.
Thank ye.
"Come, Khan'derin, Gitâ says it is safe."

Inside bodies littered the kitchen, which stank of putrefying flesh. Khan'derin tied her white scarf over her mouth but again showed little distaste or discomfort. Most of the Guards seemed to have died in an attempt to breach the trapdoor through into the upper floors. They had easily broken the wooden bolt but had not thought to check whether an enchantment also guarded the door. The blast had killed nine of the Red Guards, and must have injured more for Meghan found several fingers, hands and unidentified globs of flesh that did not seem to belong to the bodies. There was also a small pile of dust and ashes that smelled strangely of the marshes, a not altogether unpleasant smell but completely out of place in the dry, cold air of the mountains.

Meghan bent and examined the pile of dust and bone remnants carefully, not touching it and not allowing Khan'derin to go near. After a while she carefully swept it up, keeping her mouth and nose covered and careful not to let any of the dust drift onto her skin. Only when the pile was completely gone did she stop to examine the rest of her house, and then she scowled at the sight of her smashed plates and ruined furniture, the marks of axe and fire everywhere in the small room.

"Well, let's get this all cleaned up," she said.

They toiled all the long afternoon to gather together the dead, both human and animal. Khan'derin was surprised that Meghan would show the same concern and courtesy toward the animals as she did to the slaughtered guards but said nothing, working hard and willingly in the hot sun.

They buried Seychella and the stag in the sun-dappled glen overlooking the loch. The other corpses were tipped into the crevice which Meghan had created during the fight with the Red Guards a week ago. By the time they had finished, the deep crevice was almost filled. Meghan bent her head and drew upon the One Power, then brought her hands together smartly with a loud crack. Slowly the lips of the giant fissure closed, burying Guard and animal together. Meghan then spoke the rituals of death over the graves, and scattered there earth, seeds and ashes, watered in thoroughly. Khan'derin watched with interest, sitting cross-legged in the shade, hands upturned in her lap, far less affected by the events than Meghan herself. When at last they were finished—filthy, sweaty and Meghan sick to her stomach— they walked back to the tree house in the gathering dusk, each pondering the mystery of the other.

In the fresh blue morning they began the task of cleaning and bandaging the many burns and wounds of the surviving animals. Khan'derin had done everything so competently till now that Meghan was surprised to discover she had no knowledge or aptitude for healing. Neither did she show any affection or pity for any of the wounded animals, who had been Isabeau's only friends. After a while, Meghan sent her away, expecting her to have a swim or explore, as Isabeau would have done. Instead, though, Khan'derin stripped off her tight leather suit and began a series of stylized movements similar to those the witches called
ahdayeh.
These were far more aggressive however, and executed with much greater skill and grace than Isabeau had ever demonstrated. Khan'derin worked for over an hour in the sun, kicking, punching, tumbling, working with a wooden stave she made from a branch, as well as with the strange variety of weapons she wore strapped to a leather belt around her bare waist. There was a sharp skewer, a mace on a short stick with a detachable head that could be swung around her head on a leather strap, an eight-pointed star that glittered as she flung it at a tree, then came straight back to her hand, a rope that she swung with amazing dexterity, and a long knife with one edge wickedly serrated. Meghan stopped her poulticing and bandaging to watch her. She was interested that Khan'derin worked naked, except for her weapons belt and a long-tailed linen cap that covered her hair.

Khan'derin paused, her white skin shining faintly with sweat, and looked around for a more interesting target. On a branch of a greenberry tree sat a bird, trilling happily in the sun. So fast her hand was merely a blur, Khan'derin threw the sharp-edged star at the bird.

With a cry Meghan flung out her hand and deflected the weapon before it could strike. "Any beast within this valley is under my protection," Meghan said gently. "Ye may no' kill here."

Khan'derin balanced on the balls of her feet, and brought the star back to her hand. She looked at Meghan with interest, but said nothing.

By the time Meghan had tended every animal left alive in the valley, there were only a few hours of sunlight left. The wood witch straightened her aching back, and looked around for her new ward. "Khan'derin? Come and help me gather what provisions we can, for I want to set out at first light tomorrow." The white-capped girl rose from the log where she had been silently waiting, and came to Meghan's side. "It is early yet for there to be much to find, but this valley is fertile and the weather here generally much milder than elsewhere on the mountain, so one can usually find something," the old woman said.

"Ye wish me to gather foodstuffs?"

"Aye, o' course. What else would I be meaning?"

"I do no' gather. That is a chore for children and feeble old women."

"Suitable for me then, but no' for one such as yourself?" Meghan responded sarcastically.

"Exactly," Khan'derin agreed.

For a moment the old witch was taken aback. She glared at her incredulously, then said, "That may be the case on the Spine o' the World, lassie, but here, if ye do no' gather ye do no' eat. Come with me and I will show ye where the best plants grow."

Khan'derin did not budge. "I am a Scarred Warrior. I hunt and I fight. I do no' gather nuts like a squirrel."

"It's a little early for nuts, though the squirrels and donbeags will no doubt let me have some of their winter store. There's plenty else we can find, though."

"I am a Scarred Warrior." Khan'derin's voice rose a little, and her cheeks reddened, showing the white line of her scars along her cheekbones. "We do no' gather! It is an insult to ask me."

"I'll be insulting you harder if ye do no' come and help me!" Meghan said irritably. "What do ye think ye are going to eat on our journey if we do no' pluck what the valley has to offer and take it with us? It'll do us no good rotting on the ground, will it now? And we need to move swiftly, I want to try to catch up with Isabeau, we canna be foraging as we walk. Bring that basket, and I will tell ye what to pick."

The girl stood her ground.

"Khan'derin, pick up that basket and come and help me forage! I am too auld to be bending and digging for long, and if ye think I am going to let ye sit and watch me labor, ye're entirely mistaken."

With tightly compressed lips and scarlet cheeks, Khan'derin picked up the basket and followed the wood witch through the forest. It had rained overnight, and a few early mushrooms had sprouted here and there. Sullenly she picked them, then pulled great copper-colored fungi off tree trunks, as directed by the wood witch. Here and there she was instructed to dig for roots and tubers, or to cut flower heads heavy with seeds, or to strip a branch of its leaves. By the time Gladrielle was rising, the sun just disappearing behind the far horizon, her basket was laden and she was hot and very dirty. Apart from the giving of brisk orders, Meghan had said little, and Khan'derin had been as silent as an elven cat.

Back in the tree house she was set to washing and cutting while Meghan swung down her great iron pot and laid out her skillets and pans. Khan'derin did all she was told, but showed no initiative or pleasure in the task, even though the kitchen was soon redolent with cooking fumes. She was clearly unhappy and, after sliding the bread pans into the coals of the fire, Meghan put out her hand to comfort her, saying, "I am sorry if ye find gathering and cooking an onerous task, Khan'derin, but indeed ye shall have to get used to doing many things ye have never done before."