Dragonclaw (7 page)

‘I would have had lessons in magic?'

‘Ye would have been taught mathematics, history, alchemy, and the auld languages,' Seychella replied coolly. ‘Also astronomy and anatomy.'

Isabeau began to think the Theurgia would not have been much fun after all. ‘But what about magic?'

‘Ye need to understand the laws o' nature and the universe before ye can start comprehending the One Power,' the witch answered sternly, before smiling with unexpected charm. ‘Do no' look so downcast, my bairn. Ye would have learnt to call on your Power and been taught various different ways o' using it, but indeed, I feel ye've learnt as much, if no' more, from Meghan anyway. We o' the Coven believe in a long apprenticeship—it is no' until after the Second Test of Power and acceptance as an apprentice that the real lessons in witchcraft begin.'

It was true that Isabeau had learnt many Skills from just watching Meghan. The One Power was not easy to master. Meghan said many people lived all their life without realising they had any power at all, while sometimes a Skill remained undiscovered, merely because no-one had ever thought of applying the One Power in such a way.

All day Isabeau tried to call the wind, but could not even manage to lift a leaf off the ground or flutter the anemones on their long stalks. At last she gave up in anger and frustration, vowing to ask Seychella to call up the wind again so she could divine the trick of it. In the meantime, she let Seychella instruct her in the art of
ahdayeh
, and found the black-haired witch a much more exacting teacher than Meghan.

Later that day Isabeau was digging for roots and vegetables for their evening meal when she suddenly became aware that she was being watched. Again she was filthy and covered in sweat, since Meghan would never allow her to plant the seeds in a neat, orderly row like other gardens Isabeau had seen. All of their food was grown scattered through the forest so that no sign of cultivation would indicate to any stray intruder that people lived nearby. Isabeau had therefore been scrounging around in the forest undergrowth for the better part of an hour, trying to remember where she had planted the potatoes.

The feeling began as an irritable prickling on the back of her neck. Isabeau rubbed at it with her grubby hand, and continued digging with her small wooden spade. The sensation intensified, and Isabeau suddenly swung round. An old man sat on a log behind her. A stray beam of sunlight fell through the branches and he sat in its light, so at first he was almost invisible in its dazzle. Everything about him was old and frail. His face was a mass of wrinkles; his pale scalp showed clearly through the thin, white hair, and the hand holding a carved staff was gnarled as a bird's claw. His straggly beard was so long it flowed over his knees, trailing in the leaves of the forest floor. In the trees above him a raven sat, regarding Isabeau with bright eyes.

‘So this is the bairn Meghan discovered on the mountain,' the old man said. Isabeau wanted badly to protest her maturity, but something held her silent. She was glad a moment later when the man continued in his faded voice, ‘A bairn no longer, it seems. How auld are ye, lassie?'

‘Sixteen tomorrow,' Isabeau replied gravely.

‘Time then to take your Test,' the old man said.

Isabeau's heart leapt, but still she said nothing, sitting back on her heels and gazing at the old man as he gazed at her. With a shock, Isabeau realised the old man was blind, his eyes glazed over with a white film.

‘I am Jorge the Seer,' the old man said. ‘I have come a long way for ye, Isabeau the Foundling. Come kneel afore me.'

Isabeau's surprise and wonder were so great she could not say a word. Obediently she crossed the clearing and knelt in the dust before the white-haired man. She felt bony fingers on her hair, then Jorge was holding her head, his thumbs together in the middle of Isabeau's forehead. She felt a strange burring in her mind, and shook it off irritably.

‘Odd …' Jorge murmured.

‘What can unlock a dream o' a thousand years?' It was Meghan's voice. Isabeau could not turn to look at her guardian because the old man still held her head firmly in his bony hands, but she heard her cross the clearing.

‘Ah,' the old man said, and leant forward to kiss Isabeau on the forehead, between her eyes. At once Isabeau's head was filled with a thrumming and drumming like the sound of horses' hooves on hard ground. His knobbly fingers dug into the skin of her temples and she had to resist the impulse to pull her head away.

‘It is true, ye do have power,' the old warlock said at last, sitting back and resting his hands on his staff once more. ‘Ye are ignorant, though, ignorant and arrogant. How can ye be so ignorant after living all your life with Meghan o' the Beasts?'

‘She was always a wilful bairn,' Meghan said softly. ‘It is glad I am to see you, Jorge. I could only hope that ye would come. I was afraid …'

‘I have been away a long time,' Jorge said. ‘It must be seven years or more. There are omens in the sky, Meghan, I can feel them tugging me.'

‘Aye, the Red Wanderer is here again. I wish I knew what it meant for us. Ye have heard the tales o' witch-hunts and executions?'

‘Aye. It was very hard for me to come here—passage through the land is growing daily more difficult.'

‘Ye had no trouble finding the way?'

The old warlock chuckled. ‘Dragonclaw was easy enough to find with Jesyah to show me the way. Finding the entrance was a lot harder. Jesyah must have flown into hundreds o' cave mouths on that bloody mountainside. Thank ye for your mind-message yesterday. Are all the witches gathered?'

‘Ye are only the second, Jorge. I have hopes, though. I've been expecting the lad for weeks now, and I sent out messages to all the witches I ken, and still I scry for more.'

‘Aye, but we are so few now and we are all afraid. I have made myself a wee snug home in the Sithiche Mountains so I did no' have to cross the land to get here, or come through the Pass, which is guarded.'

‘What news, Jorge?'

‘Only bad, Meghan. The seas are full o' Fairgean—happen they smell the Rìgh's weakness. I have heard they have penetrated the Wulfrum River as high as the third loch.'

‘That is fearful news indeed.' Meghan got stiffly to her feet. ‘Come back to the house, Jorge, ye must be weary.'

The old warlock got to his feet, the raven fluttering down to sit on his bony shoulder. Jorge stroked the black glossy feathers and said, ‘Will Gitâ mind a visitor?'

‘He willna like it,' Meghan laughed, ‘but he'll be hospitable.' They began to walk back through the forest, Isabeau trailing close behind, consumed with curiosity.

‘Meghan, I did a sighting afore I came. It was very odd. The vision kept changing, though I tried to hold it steady. I feel we are at a junction o' events. The Spinners are weaving new colours into the cloth and what this will mean for us only time can tell.'

‘What did ye see, Jorge?'

‘I saw a babe being born that straddled the world with its feet—one foot upon the land, the other upon the oceans. It carried the Lodestar in its hand. I tried to see deeper into the vision, but it changed and I saw two faces that were the same, as if in a mirror, yet different. Everything I see in my dreams is in pairs, it seems—the double-fruited pomegranate, cherries, a coney with two kittens, two moons that reach out to each other, sometimes to kiss, sometimes to bite. There was one dream which brought me to tears and so woke me. I dreamt I was in Lucescere again. I ran into the auld throne-room, gladness in my heart, and saw there on the throne a winged man who had the Lodestar shining in his hand. Such a strange and bonny sight! And then the dream turned, and again I was running into the throne-room, and all I could hear was the wailing o' a clarsach. And there, on the throne, I saw a woman, with the Lodestar blazing in her fist. At first I am glad, and I see she has the white lock, all the way to her feet as only a true NicCuinn can have. But, Meghan, here is the worst o' it. I come closer, and she is Fairge! No doubt about it, I see her scales shining, and her fins and tail, and her mouth is no mouth o' a woman!'

‘That is a strange sighting indeed,' Meghan said slowly.

‘Indeed, by my beard and the beard o' the Centaur. There is something else … I ken it means something important but yet I canna tell what. Every night I dream o' Magnysson and Gladrielle. I see them in my dreams, rising and setting, and I see one being consumed by the other … Magnysson takes Gladrielle in his arms, as the auld tales always told, but he swallows her, Meghan! He eats her! I think this can only mean war is coming, war as we have no' seen for many centuries.'

‘
When Magnysson shall at last hold Gladrielle in his arms, all will be healed or broken, saved or surrendered
,' Meghan murmured.

‘What is that?' the blind seer asked, leaning closer. ‘What did ye say?'

‘Just an auld saying I remember from my childhood. I have no' thought o' it for many years … Aye, this year is the year for us, I ken it. I wish the Stargazers were still alive. I would give much to ken if my readings o' the skies be correct.'

‘First let us Test this young witch and see if all that promise o' power is to be fulfilled,' Jorge said. ‘What is your Talent, lassie?'

‘I do no' ken,' Isabeau said, confused. This was a secret source of sorrow to her, although Meghan reassured her by saying witches were often quite old before they found their special vocation.

Jorge now did the same. ‘Och well, never mind. I was over forty when I found I had the gift o' seeing into the future, and I had to lose my everyday sight first.' He then turned to Meghan and said, ‘We need the right spot, ye ken, one near water, earth, air and fire.'

‘I have been making ready,' Meghan said. ‘Tonight is Candlemas, the end o' winter and the beginning o' the season o' flowers. We'll begin the Ordeal at sunset, and perform the Candlemas rites at dawn. Let us hope the circle will be complete.'

Isabeau crouched beneath a thorny bush, trying to warm herself by rubbing her bare arms and shoulders with her hands. It was just before dawn on the first day of spring, and bitterly cold. She was tired, having not slept all night, and hungry, not having eaten. As Meghan had directed, she had tried to empty herself, tried to become part of the dark, silent night, the great trees soaring into starry distances, the mingled light of the two moons shining on the snowy peaks. But all she had felt was cold and afraid.

Soon the mountaintops could be seen silhouetted against a pale green sky. Isabeau scrambled to her feet and began to lope down the hillside, her arms crossed over her naked chest. Gradually she began to warm up, and she ran faster, for she was stiff after the long Ordeal, and she thought she might need every advantage in the upcoming Test. Somehow she knew it was important that she do her best this morning, that it would help define her future. Isabeau had no intention of living her life quietly among the trees and the mountains, gathering herbs and making medicines to sell each year at the village festivals. Isabeau wanted adventure.

Through the trees she could see the loch shining faintly in the dawn light. The loch filled most of the bottom of the valley, trickling over the eastern rim to pour in thin ribbons to the plains far below. By the waterfall, a small fire had been lit and Isabeau headed that way.

As she ran, she repeated to herself the rhyme she had been taught as a child:

Unless it rains afore nightfall, it looks as though winter shall have another flight
, Isabeau thought, and remembered how many birthdays had dawned fine, only to have her birthday picnic ruined by storm. Weather in the Sithiche Mountains was dangerously changeable.

On an open patch of earth near the edge of the cliff, the tremulous surface of the waterfall's edge only a few feet away, a large circle had been scratched deeply into the dirt. Within the circle, a five-pointed star had been traced, its shape barely discernible in the dim light.

At four of the five points of the star sat a witch; their staffs stood upright in the soil behind them, marking the point where star and circle met. The witches were naked, their hair unbound, and they sat cross-legged, their eyes closed. They had sat that way all night, each enduring the Ordeal in silence. Isabeau bowed to all four witches, then sat at the fifth point of the pentagram. To her right was Meghan of the Beasts; to her left Seychella, whose powers were strongest in the elements of air. Opposite sat Jorge the Seer, who saw what others could not. At the fourth point sat a witch Isabeau had never seen before. Like Jorge, she was very frail, and she sat wreathed in pale hair that floated about her, long as a banrìgh's wedding train. As Isabeau stared at her wonderingly, she opened her eyes and they were a bright and brilliant blue, and wet with tears.

‘Let us celebrate the rites o' Candlemas,' she said, in a melancholy voice, very soft.

Isabeau bowed her head, and fell into the familiar chant, the rites which she and Meghan had performed at the dawn of the Season of Flowers every year of her life. ‘In the name o' Eà, our mother and our father, thee who is Spinner and Weaver and Cutter o' the Thread; thee who sows the seed, nurtures the crop, and reaps the harvest; by the virtue o' the four elements, wind, stone, flame and rain; by virtue o' clear skies and storm, rainbows and hailstones …'

Deprived of food and rest for a full night, and shivering in her nakedness, Isabeau fell into a light trance, so that the sound of the chanting, the thick scent of the incense and woodsmoke, the gleam of light on the water, came and went in rushing billows. When they rose to dance, she felt as though her body was twisting and stamping her feet into the earth without any prompting or control from her—she was apart, separate, away.

Afterwards Seychella said, ‘Isabeau the Foundling, ye come to the junction o' earth, air, water and fire, do ye bring the spirit?'

‘May my heart be kind, my mind fierce, my spirit brave.'

‘Isabeau, ye come to the pentagram and circle with a request. What is your request?'

‘To learn to wield the One Power in wisdom and in strength. To ask for admittance to the Coven o' Witches so I may learn from them the laws and responsibilities o' the magic. May my heart be kind enough, my mind fierce enough, my spirit brave enough.'

All four witches made a circle with the fingers of their left hand and crossed it with one finger of their right. ‘Meghan, your guide and guardian, says ye have passed the First Test o' Power.' Isabeau looked at Meghan in surprise. ‘She tested ye on your eighth birthday, as the auld laws decree.'

Isabeau remembered her eighth birthday clearly. Meghan had tested her all morning on her witchcraft skills, but she had thought those tests had been to punish her for carelessness, not the First Test of Power.

‘As the Second Test o' Power decrees, ye must first pass the First Test again.' Isabeau looked to Meghan for reassurance but there was none in her grim face. Suddenly a stone was thrown at her by Jorge, a hard throw and directly at her face. Automatically Isabeau deflected the pebble and it spun into the stones.

‘Isabeau the Foundling has passed the Trial o' Air—to move that which is already moving,' the unknown witch said. Her voice was very faint. ‘Breathe deeply o' the good air, my bairn, and goodwish the winds o' the world, for without air we should die.' On the last words, her voice was tremulous with tears.

Obediently Isabeau breathed deeply of the forest-scented air and felt exhilaration fill her. She had passed the first Trial, and it had been easy!

Seychella then got to her feet and, carrying a deep bowl of water between her two hands, crossed the pentagram to where Isabeau sat, careful not to step outside the lines. She placed the bowl on the ground before her. Isabeau was surprised to see the witch's hands were now laden with rings.

It was always possible to judge a witch's strengths by the number of rings, and the order in which they were worn, Meghan had once explained. On the middle finger of Seychella's right hand was the moonstone that was the reward for passing the Second Test of Power. On her heart finger was a blue topaz, showing her strongest element was air, and on her second finger a garnet, showing she had also mastered the Element of Fire. On her left hand, Seychella wore a sapphire on her heart finger, indicating she had passed the Sorceress Test of Air.

Seychella was therefore a powerful sorceress—many witches never earnt more than one or two rings. Only rarely was a witch powerful enough to earn all ten rings, and even Tabithas had only won seven.

Meghan and the silver-haired witch also rose and came to where they could see the bucket of water. Isabeau had time to notice their hands were also laden with rings before Seychella intoned, ‘The Trial o' Water.' Immediately Isabeau focused all her energies on the bowl, trying not to move a finger. It was somehow easier to use the One Power if you could use gestures, but Meghan said that was the sign of a novice: real witches could exert the One Power even if their hands and feet were bound. Isabeau had never found the element of water very easy, and though she strained, there was no response from the bowl. Exerting every ounce of her strength she willed the water to move. At last it began to lurch about in the bowl, slopping from side to side, splashing over the rim.

‘Control,' Meghan said, and gradually the water quietened until it was gently lapping the sides of the bowl.

‘Isabeau the Foundling has passed the Trial o' Water—the ebb and flow o' water contained,' Seychella said. ‘Drink deeply o' the good water, lassie, and goodwish the rivers and seas o' the world, for without water we should die.'

Isabeau gratefully drank from the bowl before her, for she was very thirsty. The water tasted clear and fresh and rushed through her like rain through the dry bed of a burn. Meghan went back to her position where she picked up a pot of soil and three twists of bark. Isabeau sat back confidently, and when her guardian brought over the clay pot, looked carefully at her hands. She could hardly contain a gasp when she saw that Meghan wore seven rings—a moonstone, garnet, jade, turquoise and blue topaz on her right hand that proclaimed her as a master of all five of the elements, and on her left hand, an emerald, the highest level in the Element of Earth, and an opal, sorceress ring of the Element of Spirit.

‘Meghan, are ye … ye must be … Meghan, are ye a sorceress?'

‘How can ye no' ken!' Seychella scolded. ‘Ye live for sixteen years with a Sorceress o' the first order, and ye do no' guess?'

‘Peace, Seychella. The lass has known no witch but me, how was she to ken? All her learning has come from books and from mimicking me—she has never seen the rings afore, they are too precious for bairns to play with and too dangerous for me to wear. How was she to ken?'

‘But—' Isabeau began.

‘No' now, lass. I will answer your questions later. Now I want ye to undertake the Trial o' Earth.'

With shaking hands, Isabeau undid the first twist of bark. She could hardly believe Meghan was a sorceress—and of seven rings! Her dear old grumbly guardian, who limped about the steep meadows as nimbly as Isabeau herself, and knew more about the creatures of the field and forest than anyone Isabeau had ever met. It made everything Isabeau knew suddenly shift out of place, and she shivered a little.

Inside the twist of bark was a collection of seeds, all different shapes and sizes. One by one she held the seeds aloft and named them. ‘Nightshade, madder, sweet balm, hound's tongue, periwinkle, ragwort,' she chanted, while her mind continued to grapple with the revelation that her guardian was no common wood witch. ‘Elder, silverweed, juniper, hazel-nut, bryony, lady's smock, loosestrife, blackberry, bellfruit, apple …'

When she had finished, the four witches did not indicate by word or gesture whether she was correct, but merely told her to choose three of the seeds and plant them in the pot. This was difficult. Isabeau was given no clue as to what the witches wanted from her and each of the seeds had different properties, some healing, some nourishing, some poisonous. After giving the matter due consideration, Isabeau carefully selected three seeds—angelica, oats and hazel—and planted them in the soil. Angelica was sometimes called heart's ease, for its healing and strengthening properties. Every part of the plant from the root to the flower to the seed could be utilised, and it could reduce any fever or inflammation, whether internal or external. Oats was an obvious choice—if food was scarce, a body could live on porridge alone for months. The third seed had been harder, but Isabeau at last settled on hazel, for like angelica it had strong medicinal powers but, like oats, it could also be eaten and was rich in protein and vital minerals. Most importantly, it was one of the sacred woods, the timber from which witches' staffs were often made, and the handles of witch daggers. After she had planted the seeds, she watered them and passed her hand over the soil, concentrating, as she had often seen her guardian do.

Inside the next twist were pieces of fragrant bark, leafy twigs, dried flowers and berries. Again Isabeau named each one and its properties, and again there was no reaction from the witches. With a sigh, Isabeau opened the third twist. It was now fully light, which helped her in naming the powdered ores and minerals contained within. Isabeau had a little more trouble here, for the powders were not ones she came across in her daily life, as the seeds and herbs had been. As she named them, Isabeau scattered some into the pot of soil and watered the minerals in carefully. Next she was asked to recite the first seven languages of beasts, the common speech of birds, fish, insects, reptiles, amphibians, mammals and those other myriad creatures, named by some faery and by others
uile-bheistean
. Isabeau not only knew the common languages, but many of the dialects, particularly the languages of the birds and mammals, so this was an easy challenge for her. Out of a sudden sense of mischief, she recited a full fourteen, but the witches did not seem to notice.

All the while Isabeau had been talking, she continued to concentrate on the seeds in the pot, warming them with her mind, feeding them with her own energy. As she recited the last few languages, she saw the soil begin to stir and blessed the many times she had seen Meghan perform this trick.

A hiss of satisfaction escaped Jorge for his blind eyes had seen what the witches had not. Seychella was on her feet in an instant, and when she saw the first seedlings feeling for the sun she called, ‘Bravo!'

‘Isabeau the Foundling has passed the Trial o' Earth—the challenge o' knowing,' Meghan said, and there was satisfaction in her voice. She brought Isabeau a plate of bread and cheese and apples and a cup of mint tea. ‘Eat deeply o' the good earth, my bairn, and goodwish the fruits and beasts o' the world, for without them we should die.'

Isabeau, who liked her tea hot, heated it with her finger before drinking, and ate some of the bread and cheese. She felt strength returning to her, and jubilation, for she had passed the first three Trials.

The blind warlock now rose to his feet and carried a candle over to Isabeau, who smiled at him and lit the wick without even a twitch. Bored, she decided to give them a demonstration of what she really could do. She lifted her hand so the flame leapt from the candle to the tip of her finger, and then played with the flame, until she was juggling three tiny balls of fire. Before she could do anything more, Meghan said sternly, ‘Ye have shown us the flame, now show us the void.'

Obediently, Isabeau winked the candle flame out, feeling a little resentful.
The challenge o' the flame and the void's an elementary exercise—any novice could do it
, she thought. Nonetheless she waited for the praise she thought inevitable.