Eileanan - The Skull Of The World Part 20

It seemed that no matter how hard she tried to hate and condemn Maya, she always found herself pitying her and empathizing with her. Would Isabeau have acted differently if she had been born in Maya's place? Would she have had the strength or wisdom to make different choices? Whenever she a.s.sured herself that of course she would have, Isabeau found herself remembering her torture at the hands of the Awl. She would have betrayed Meghan then, if she had been able to. She would have told the Awl everything in order to stop the agony of the rack and the pilliwinkes. And she had killed her torturer, murdered him to save her own life. As she had killed others, Margrit among them. It did not really matter that Margrit had died by drinking poison she had meant for Isabeau. Isabeau had still switched the wine and by her action had caused the Thistle to die. In what way was she better than Maya?

Maya had ordered the deaths of thousands, Isabeau reminded herself, and they had died in agony. She might say she did only as she was ordered by her Fairgean father and she was too frightened of the Priestesses of Jor to do otherwise. But the fact remained, she had ordered the deaths while she had been safe on land, married to the most powerful man in the world, rich, pampered and adored.

Her resolve thus bolstered, Isabeau thrust down her own ulterior motives for taking Bronwen back and hurried back to the hut. Tersely she ordered the boys to gather together as many of the milknuts, ruby-fruits, and vegetables as they could, while she oversaw the filling of the waterskins herself.

To Bronwen she said gently, "Dearling, it is time for us to return to the mainland. The sea otters have agreed to pull the sleigh for us, and as they are strong swimmers it should only take a few days. Will ye get together your flute and your wee dolly and anything else ye want?"

"I'm to go with ye?" Bronwen exclaimed, flushing with excitement. Isabeau nodded and she gave a little dance, hugging herself. Suddenly her steps faltered. "What about Mam? Is she coming too?"

"I hope so," Isabeau replied, not entirely truthful.

"But . . . they will kill her!"

"I dinna think so," Isabeau said soothingly, again conscious that she was breaking her oath of truth-speaking. "At least, I hope they will no'. I am sure if I can just explain-"

"I never thought ye were stupid," Maya said coldly from the doorway. Isabeau swung around, her heart pounding.The Fairge was standing with her arms crossed over her breast, her mouth set angrily. "What gives ye the right to steal my daughter away from me? I saved your life and the life o' your wee laddiekins and this is how ye plan to repay me?"

"I've saved your life before myself," Isabeau pointed out coolly. "Several times. And Bronny's, for she would've died at birth if it had no' been for me. And it was me that gave Bronny back to ye in the first place. I dinna give her back to ye so ye could be teaching her how to do evil."

She raised her voice to drown out Maya's protests. "Only six years auld and compelling those around her to do her will, and singing people to death! It's wrong! She has so much Talent, she must be taught how to use it properly and taught the responsibilities o' power." Again she had to raise her voice over Maya's.

"Do ye wish her to end up like ye?" she shouted. "I shallna let ye!"

Maya was shouting back at her, her pale face flushed. Isabeau took a deep breath and calmed her agitation. "Think, Maya, think!" she said. Although her voice was low this time, it was fervent and cut through Maya's anger. The Fairge stared at her.

"If ye let Bronwen go, it will be seen as a sign o' good faith," Isabeau said. "I promise ye that I will never let anyone harm her. Surely ye can see that? I will stand up for ye, tell everyone your story, explain that ye have had a change o' heart, that ye no longer wish to be their enemy. I will tell them how ye saved my life, and Donncan's and Cuckoo's too. I will tell them that ye will help in the fight against the Fairgean, if they offer ye an amnesty o' some sort. They offered pardon to all the Red Guards, why should they no'

offer it to ye? Ye canna go on like this, on the run from human and Fairgean alike. Lachlan is no' a lad anymore, he's a righ! He seeks peace in the land, I ken he does. Why, he sent a messenger to your father seeking to make terms and he was bitterly disappointed when your father refused so horribly. Does that no' show it is a true peace he wants, no' some childish thirst for revenge? He will listen to reason, I am sure o' it. Ye told me once that all ye ever wanted was peace for ye and Bronwen. Well, this may be your chance."

For a moment she thought her words had won Maya over. There was a sorrowful longing on the Fairge's face, a bittersweet regret. Then Maya said sadly, "Och, such a lamb-brained la.s.sie."

She gave a little gesture of one hand. Isabeau felt a sudden lurch. She staggered as the world reeled about her, growing huge and looming with gray shadows. All around her, from above and below, everything stank. She shied away, her hooves sinking into the sand. For a moment there was the familiar confusion of all her senses. She tried to cry out and heard herself bleating. In horror she looked down at herself and saw only woolly legs and little sharp hooves. It took her a moment to realize what had happened, for unfortunately a sheep's thinking processes are rather slow. Once she realized Maya had turned her into a lamb, however, she gave a little shiver of anger and turned herself back.

Bronwen and the boys were crying and shouting, and Maya was saying, "Och, what was I to do? I couldna let her take Bronny away."

Bronwen sobbed. "If s true, ye are an evil-hearted witch! I do no' want to stay wi' ye. Turn her back, turn Beau back!"

"It's all right, Bronny, I turned myself back," Isa-beau said with as much equanimity as she could muster.

Her head was spinning so that she could hardly see and her ears were ringing, but she steadied herself with one hand on the wall and smiled coolly at Maya.

Maya was completely flabbergasted. "How . . . ? what . . . ?"

"Did I no' tell ye? I be a sorceress now," Isabeau said sweetly."But . . . But how could ye? No one ... I turned Tabithas herself into a wolf and she was no' strong enough to reverse the spell. How could ye?" Maya demanded. She was white and frightened.

Isabeau smiled confidently. "Happen she did no' ken the way o' it," she answered. "Meghan always did say that anyone could learn a Skill if they watched and listened hard enough. I've seen ye transform before, remember."

Maya backed away a few paces. It was clear she was afraid Isabeau might decide to turn her into some other creature in retaliation.

Isabeau flexed her fingers and saw the Fairge turn ashen. "I am taking Bronwen and the boys and going home. Do no' try and stop me," she said menacingly. "I am sorry it had to be this way. I really hoped I could help ye somehow. Yet once again ye chose to go your own way."

She gathered up her nyx hair pouch and drew Bronwen and the boys close beside her. Compunction touched her and she said, "I'm sorry, really I am. I wish it dinna have to be like this."

Maya said nothing. Her face was deathly white, her pupils greatly dilated. It was clear she did not know what to do. She made an involuntary gesture toward her chest, as if seeking her clarsach. Isabeau picked up the chest with her mind and hurled it through the gra.s.s-woven side of the hut. "I said do no' try and stop me!"

Bronwen followed her and the boys outside, her steps faltering. With her ragdoll and the flute clutched close to her chest, she suddenly stopped and looked back. "Mam?"

"Bronny!" Maya cried, tears suddenly flooding down her face. "Oh, Bronny, Bronny."

Bronwen ran back and embraced her mother fiercely. "Beau will make everything grand," she gabbled.

"She'll fix it all up so ye can come home too, and we can be happy together and never be afraid again.

Willna ye, Beau?"

"I'll try," Isabeau said, tears springing up in her own eyes. "Though I am afraid your mam will have to stand trial for what she has done."

"Nay, nay, ye'll make it all grand, I ken ye will," Bronwen cried, pressing her face against her mother's shoulder.

Isabeau once again felt all her doubts rise to engulf her. "Bronwen, the tide is on the turn," she said gently.

"We must go."

Maya straightened, holding Bronwen away from her. "Do no' greet, my wee la.s.sie," she said unsteadily.

"Ye must go. The tide is indeed on the turn."

Maya and Isabeau's eyes met. There was a long moment of silent communion, acceptance, understanding, forgiveness. Isabeau helped the children into the sleigh, the sea otters already leaping and barking excitedly in their harness. She picked up the reins. "Maya, how will I let ye ken?"

Maya shrugged. "I will find out. Ye do no' think I would let my daughter into the care o' my greatest enemy without keeping an eye on her, do ye, Red? I am no' totally without power."

Seeing Maya's twisted smile Isabeau suddenly realized, with a triumphant and joyful leap of her heart, that she had succeeded in withstanding the most powerful and dangerous sorceress in the land. Tabithas had been defeated by Maya. Even Meghan had been sorely tested. Isabeau the Shapechanger had, however, defeated her and outwitted her and perhaps even converted her. Isabeau could not help smilingin pure satisfaction.

"If it is the moons that move the tides of the sea, who is it, or what is it, that moves the tides o' destiny?"

Maya suddenly asked.

"It is Ea," Isabeau replied, smiling still. "Ea, the World-Soul, the stuff o' the universe, the source o' all life, all magic. Ea."

Maya stepped back, her brows creasing. Isabeau leaned forward and tapped her on the breastbone.

"We all carry a wee bit o' Ea around with us everywhere we go," she said simply. "Your soul is part o'

the stuff o' the universe, dinna ye realize that? That part o' ye that aches sometimes with the beauty and terror o' it all, that part o' ye that made ye weep just now, that part that wishes ye could live your life over again, be like one o' these wee bairns, all shining with love and trust and promise. Ye think I do no' feel that too?"

Maya was weeping again. "How will I ken? How will I ken?"

"Trust in the Spinners," Isabeau replied serenely and found her own faith renewed, when she had not even known it had been shaken. She reached forward and grasped Maya's hand, and the Fairge's tears fell upon her wrist.

"Have a care for my daughter?"

"I will indeed," Isabeau replied and squeezed Maya's hand one more time before letting it fall.

"Sails ahoy! Two points on the port side, sails ahoy!"

At the shout of the lookout, Iseult looked up. She had been staring blankly at the ornate carvings of lions, angels, devils and gargoyles that decorated the high p.o.o.p of the ship, her expression very somber.

All around the deck, her companions looked up also. The crippled jongleur Enit Silverthroat craned around in her chair, her grandson Dide leaping to his feet in sudden concern. Elfrida NicHilde, her face blotched red from days of weeping, let her sodden handkerchief fall, while her husband Iain of Arran looked up from the navigational chart, his thin face creasing in anxiety. Dillon and Jay had been playing trictrac. The young squire dropped the dice at the shout, leaping to his feet with his hand on his sword hilt.

Even Lachlan came out of his cabin for the first time in three days. He was haggard and disheveled, his shirt hanging untied, his eyes bloodshot. "Sails?" he asked with a slight slur.

"Aye, sails!" the lookout boy called down. "Lots o' them. They're coming fast."

"Pirates?" the ship's captain frowned.

"Pirates?" Lachlan repeated. This time the slur was more p.r.o.nounced. He endeavored to climb up onto the railing, but his foot slipped. Dide put his hand under his elbow and un.o.btrusively helped him up.

Lachlan stared out at the horizon. He squinted first one eye, then the other. "Where?"

"Two points on the port side, Your Highness," Captain Tobias boomed. He was a tall, stern-looking man with close-cropped gray hair under a tricorne hat, and a clean-shaven face, tanned and creased with the sun like a piece of old leather."Speak Eilean, for Ea's sake, man," Lachlan replied irritably.

"Off to the left, master," Dide said softly, 'keeping his hand under Lachlan's elbow.

Lachlan shaded his eyes with his hand and stared where the young jongleur pointed. There on the horizon, like a billowing of soft cloud, were many curved white sails. The Righ's scowl darkened. "Och, there be a fair few o' them."

"Aye," Dide answered. "We canna be fighting off such a fleet! The odds are impossible. What are we to do, master? Try and outrun them?"

Lachlan nodded wearily. "Though they are bearing down upon us, no' attacking from the rear. Unless we turn about, they must meet up with us at some point, if that is their intention. Which it seems to be." He rubbed his temples.

"So should we change course, Your Highness?" Captain Tobias asked, his voice strained.

"Nay!" Lachlan burst out. "We could spend weeks dodging that b.l.o.o.d.y fleet! We have wasted too much time as it is. My son is in terrible danger, we canna let a bunch o' mangy pirates make us turn tail and run.

What are we, chicken-hearted curs? We'll fight them and we'll defeat them!"

"That be the whiskey talking," Captain Tobias said coldly. "We have only six ships, remember, Your Highness, or are ye seeing double?"

Lachlan swung around on the captain, who took an involuntary step back at the look on his face. "Do no'

ever talk to me like that again, do ye understand?" the Righ said softly. "Ye have sworn fealty to me, and by Ea's green blood, ye shall treat me with respect!"

"Aye, Your Highness," the captain replied with a little bow. "I beg your pardon."

"Pardon granted," Lachlan said crisply. "I am no' a fool, captain. I ken we have only six ships and they have thirty or more. I do no' need to understand much about sailing to ken we are in for a battle o' grand proportions. We have right on our side, though, and firepower. Have ye forgot that we have witches on board? No' to mention the Lodestar." He lifted the scepter from its sheath on his belt and a white radiance leaped to life in the milky sphere. "We must prevail and so we shall."

"Aye, Your Highness," Captain Tobias replied with a new respect in his voice. He made a gesture to the bosun who blew shrilly upon his whistle and called in a stentorian voice, "All hands on deck! All hands, I say!"

Though the six ships in the royal fleet strained all their sails and rigging to breaking point, sailing so close to the cliffs at times that all feared they must be swept upon the rocks, still the sails on the horizon grew closer and closer. Soon the fleet of ships were near enough for them to see the dreaded black and red hammerhead flag. There were thirty-seven ships in the attacking fleet, and Lachlan was enraged to see many of them were his own ships, lost to the pirates over the previous few years.

"They look as if they have already been under attack," Captain Tobias observed. "See how their sails are torn and charred? And look, there are holes in the hulls that have been patched with tar. Look at the size o' the hole in that one! That must have been some cannon."

"Isabeau," Iseult said with certainty, unable to help shooting a meaningful look at her husband. "Those holes be caused by witch-fire, no doubt at all."

Lachlan's scowl only grew deeper. He did not look at Iseult, lifting his fingers to surrept.i.tiously ma.s.sagehis temples once more.

The captain snapped out his orders and the sailors leaped to obey. Weapons were handed out from the armory; the cannons were all lifted into position and secured, heavy cannonb.a.l.l.s heaved down their throats and gunpowder carefully poured in. Buckets of water were hauled up the side in case of fire, and the sails were all trimmed and secured.

"Master," Dide said diffidently.

"Aye?"

"Have ye learned to use the Lodestar then? I thought . . ."

Lachlan flushed. He cast Dide an angry look, opened his mouth to snap at him, then closed it again. His wings fidgeted uneasily. "The Lodestar is no' an easy thing to master," he replied in a low voice. "And ye ken as well as I that I have had little time for lessons in witchcraft and witchcunning these past few years.

We've been at war every day since I won the throne! But Iseult and I have been studying with Gwilym every spare moment we've had, and with Meghan when we're with her."

"But can ye sweep away a fleet o' forty ships?"

Lachlan gripped the Lodestar in both hands, his face set like stone. "Let us hope so."

The pirate fleet bore down upon them. They were close enough now to see the jeering faces of the pirates, who all hung over the railing, waving their pistols and cutla.s.ses. Iain and the court sorcerer, Gwilym the Ugly, watched them with narrowed eyes as they discussed the best way to combat the pirates with sorcery. There was a sudden blast of smoke and fire as the pirates began to fire their cannons, and the royal fleet was quick to retaliate. Soon the air was thick with clouds of acrid smoke, the booming of the cannons, the shouts and screams of men, the dull bang of the harquebuses and pistols, the whine of arrows and then, ominously, the clash of arms as pirates leaped on to the deck of the Royal Stag. The crew fought to keep them away from the forecastle deck where Lachlan and his comrades gathered, awaiting their instructions.

"We had best m-m-make a circle o' power," Iain said calmly, taking up a lump of charcoal from the brazier. "Come, Elfrida, I ken ye are no witch but ye have s-s-strong powers, and ye too, Dide and Enit.

J-J-J-oin us."

"If we could just manage to make a full circle o' thirteen, we might be able to summon some real power!"

Gwilym said and began counting the heads of those in the Righ's party. His saturnine face suddenly lit up with a smile of rare charm. "By Ea's green bluid, do ye ken, I think we might just make it!"

As the others drew together at Gwilym's command, the Righ strode up and down the deck, the Lodestar clasped close to his breast. He was muttering under his breath, every now and again groaning and sighing and hitting his head. A soft white glow twisted in the heart of the Lodestar and Iseult could faintly hear the rise and fall of its song as it responded to Lachlan's closeness.

Iain drew a twelve-pointed star within a large circle, leaving a small gap on one side. One by one they filed inside. Lachlan sat cross-legged at the center of the circle, his wings folded behind him, the Lodestar held before him. He faced due east, the direction of the element of air, for that was the element whose power they needed the most.

Of the twelve people who took up their positions at the different points of the star, only Iain, Gwilym and Nellwyn, a Yedda who had been rescued in Tirsoilleir, were fully trained sorcerers. Iseult had beenstudying hard though, and had already shown she had the power to conjure storms.

Elfrida was the descendant of Berhtilde the Bright Warrior-Maid and had shown some power, too, although she had received only a little training in the use of it. The jongleurs Enit and Dide were gifted indeed, even though they had always preferred to remain independent of the Coven. Enit's young apprentice Jay had already proved his strong natural Talent, while Brangaine was the direct descendant of Sian the Storm-Rider and had inherited the power to call up the wind at will. Similarly her cousin Finn was descended from Ruraich the Searcher and although her Talents did not involve the powers of the weather, her strength would lend much potency to the magic circle.

Lachlan's squire Dillon was also chosen for he wielded a magical sword with immense strength and ferocity, a sign that he had strong powers of his own. They had trouble convincing him that he must not draw his sword and join the fighting, for the nature of the sword Joyeuse was that it could not be sheathed until the battle was won.

"If the circle o' power fails," Iseult told him, "well, then we shall all be fighting for our lives and Joyeuse shall be needed indeed. But for now, Dillon, give us the strength o' your spirit and no' your arm."

The last to enter the circle of power was only thirteen years old. Although he was a thin, frail-looking boy, he had the potential to be the most potent of all. Tomas the Healer had the miraculous power to heal with a touch of his hands and so always rode with Lachlan's army, saving many thousands of lives. All thirteen hoped to use the circle of power to support and strengthen Lachlan as he sought to raise the Lodestar, for the magical orb's powers were not easily evoked and the young righ had never before attempted to draw upon it.

"If only Meghan were here," Lachlan said despairingly.

"The Spinners are with us," Iain said rea.s.suringly. "A full thirteen, and m-m-m-most with their greatest strength in the p-p-p-powers o' air and water. Do no' fear. We shall prevail."