Raven Flight (24 page)

I schooled my features, trying to breathe deeply. My chest was still tight, though the potion had helped. I waited without a word while the vessel drew in next to the rocks. In a blur of movement the selkie was out and beside me, and my belongings were in the boat. The wee man put up a hand to help me balance; I stepped aboard and seated myself in the bow. The small one seemed in no hurry to hop over himself.

“Are you not coming with us?” I asked.

“Ach, no, I’ve ma ain wee boatie.” He pointed, and now I saw a tiny coracle of wattle and skins bobbing on the waves a little farther along, apparently held there by the same magic that allowed this larger vessel to maintain its position without rope or anchor.

The selkie slid into the sea, graceful despite his bulk. I did not see the moment of changing. With a twist and a roll, he plunged deep and was gone. The little man scrambled into his frail slip of a boat, picked up a paddle, and bobbed out to sea. The waves slapped and rushed at the skerry; farther out, the swell was monstrous.

“Grand wee boatman,” observed the Hag. As the tiny craft was lost to view in the heaving waters, the westerly caught our sails and we headed back toward Far Isle. “Now, let’s have a look at you.” Her gaze was very direct. Perhaps she saw right inside my mind to the tangle of relief and resentment there. I met her stare, holding my head high. I had not endured all those lonely days for nothing. Weary as I was, I did not plan to crumple in exhausted defeat.

“You’re not happy,” she said.

“For a while, when you took Tali away, I thought she had drowned. I know you must have had your reasons for subjecting us to this test. But … what you did … it did not seem altogether right.”

The Hag spread her hands, palms up. “You came to find me. You sought learning. Have you learned nothing from this experience?”

Breathe, Neryn. Count to five before you answer
. “I learned that a Caller does not possess any magic of her own. She is
a … a channel, a conduit for the power that exists in nature.” I could not help adding, “But deep down I knew that already. I feel it every time I use my gift.”

The Hag made no comment, only kept her gaze on me, deep and penetrating. Perhaps she expected some other answer.

“I’m not sure why it was necessary to do this,” I said. “It seemed somewhat … cruel.”

The Hag smiled. “You thought, perhaps, that a hag might be tiny and bent, toothless and frail, happy to drop gems of kindly wisdom in your lap as you fed her sippets of bread dipped in watered mead? Was that it?”

I recalled making the soup up on the cliff top and thinking it might be soothing to an old woman’s stomach. “I am not such a fool as to underestimate any of the Guardians,” I said. “I fear and respect you. I understand what power you can wield if you choose. I will be deeply grateful if you agree to teach me.” Since she seemed to be listening attentively, I went on. “I believe you already know something of my story. A messenger told Tali and me where to find our friend with his boat, ready to cross to the isles; the same messenger was on the cliff top when you came up to meet us. It does seem that word of our mission has come west and that you are prepared to help. You may know, then, that I have lost many of those dear to me. That the rebels are my family now. That I have friends among the Good Folk, trusted and true friends. You know, perhaps, that I have spent years fending for myself and evading the notice of the king’s men.” I paused.

“Go on.”

“Tests of strength, tests of courage, tests of knowledge and wisdom, all of those I accept as preparation for the path that lies before me. When I met the Master of Shadows, I showed him that I met the requirements for training as a Caller. He accepted that I had demonstrated the seven virtues. This time on the skerry …”

A silence, then, “Go on. Cruel, I think you said.”

A sudden wave of weariness came over me. “I have a question,” I said.

“Aye?” She was leaning forward now, as if this mattered where the rest of it had been of little significance.

“Were you displeased with me?” I asked. “Angry that I had used my canny gift several times already, without any proper training? If you were only waiting for me to recognize the power of water, and my own powerlessness, why did you need to spirit Tali away?”

“Angry? No. You have used your gift more sparingly than you might have done. Learning to hold back is important. Birds brought me the tale of your encounter by a ford, when you summoned one of my river folk. On that occasion you acted with due respect. A clumsy call, perhaps, but made in the right spirit.”

“You haven’t answered the question: why?”

The Hag lifted her hand, and the boat came to a sudden halt. We rocked on the waves, halfway between the skerry and Far Isle.

“What do you think I will do next?” asked the Hag, her shimmering pale locks blowing around her strong face. “Tell me. Say exactly what is in your mind.”

“Drop me overboard for daring to challenge you?”

She stared at me a few moments, her eyes a swirl of blue and green and every shade between, night and day, sea and sky, pelt of seal and shining fish scales. Then she threw her head back and roared with laughter. “No wonder the Master of Shadows was so taken with you,” she spluttered. “You may look like a gust of wind would snap you, but you’ve remarkable strength of mind, and you have endurance. You’ll be needing both if you’re to take the path of a Caller. As for tossing you over the side, if I did that, Himself would only lift you back in again. See, he keeps pace with us.” She pointed, and I saw beneath the waves the selkie circling the boat, a graceful, mysterious shadow. “Then he would chide me for treating you too harshly. Besides, I’d have folk to answer to if I happened to lose you on the way; they’ve been pestering me for your return as it is.”

They? Who was there, apart from Tali?

“Neryn,” the Hag said, and her voice was different now, more solemn, but also warmer. “You are safe. You will soon be well again. Perhaps the test seemed unduly hard. But a Caller is a rare thing; we must be sure you are strong enough to do this. Strong enough to learn; brave enough to endure the losses this path will mean. I saw how hard it was for you to bid your man farewell. At the end, you may indeed be all alone. If that is unbearable, if you cannot do without your friends, if you cannot go on without love and support and comradeship, then best you give this up now, before you travel farther down the path. Weigh it up, lassie. It’s indeed a hard road.”

Fresh tears stung my eyes. I blinked them back. I would not let the first note of kindness reduce me to a weeping child again. “I know it’s hard. All of us understand that.” I drew a steadying breath and squared my shoulders under my filthy, wet clothing. “I want to learn. I hope you will teach me, and when I am ready, send me on to the Lord of the North. Even if it means losses and heartbreak, this is something I have to do. For Alban. For those already lost and ruined and broken. For all of us.”

“Mm-hm. You make a good wee speech. What if I told you we would start learning now, right away? What if learning meant going back out to that skerry and sitting there another five days, ten days, twenty days, with only a knife and a fishing line for company?”

I will not cry. I will not be angry
. “If that will teach me to be a better Caller, then I will do it,” I made myself say. My tone was perhaps less than placatory, but it was the best I could manage under the circumstances.

She laughed again, a full-throated sound of sheer pleasure. I could have hit her.

“I can be kind when I choose,” she said, grinning. Her teeth were white and sharp, the teeth of a young, strong woman. “You may rest for a few days before we begin.”

“Thank you.” I tried not to imagine a warm bath, clean clothing, a soft bed. She had promised none of these. “Will I see Tali again?”

“Aye, you will. That lassie does not trust me an inch. She’ll be waiting on the jetty, like as not.”

We sailed on around the southwestern corner of Far Isle, and I saw ahead of us another little cove, and a
precipitous path zigzagging up what seemed a sheer cliff. In the cove was a jetty, and beside it a tiny shelter. There were people on the jetty, but I could not make them out clearly.

“I like your anger,” the Hag said mildly. “I like your resistance. It makes you less than courteous, but altogether more interesting. Let us sail for shelter. There are storms in the west, and they will pass this way at dusk. Your skerry will be underwater.”

The vessel made its graceful way into the cove, and as we drew closer, I saw that there were indeed several folk on the jetty waiting for us. A man in heavy woolen gear, perhaps a fisherman, holding a boat hook. Beside him, unmistakable, the lean, tattooed figure of Tali. She raised both hands in a salute of welcome.

And … a third person. A tall, blunt-featured man in a worn gray cloak, his scarred face wearing quite openly its love and anxiety. The sight of him snatched away my breath. Against all common sense, against every decision that would have kept him and his perilous secret safe, Flint had come back to the isles.

No time for talk, then. The vessel came in, the fisherman held it against the jetty with his boat hook—hardly necessary, but the Hag made no comment—and Tali held out a hand to help me ashore. I stepped onto the jetty and threw my arms around her, and then around Flint, blinded by the tears I had held back all the way from shore to shore. Then I stepped away, wiping a hand across my cheeks. I had seen the looks on both my comrades’ faces, and I knew I must speak before either of them did.

The Hag had not moved from her boat. Beside it in the shallows, the selkie’s head broke the surface. He bobbed there, regarding us with mellow eyes. I wondered what he was to her. Lover, husband, friend, guardian, conscience?
He would chide me for treating you too harshly
.

“Thank you for bringing me safely here,” I said to the Hag, and when Tali would have spoken, I silenced her with a quick gesture. The strength I had gained from the wee man’s draft was ebbing fast. I had spoken with some discourtesy on the boat; I had been angry. It was plain the others felt the same. I was not ashamed that I had challenged the Hag, but we must put this behind us now. She would teach me; that was enough.

“I will return for you in due time.” She fixed me with her gaze. “Rest, recover, consider those matters of which we spoke. The folk of this island will shelter you. They will ask no questions. They will reveal no secrets.” Now she turned that look on Flint. “Step down to the boat. Collect your friends’ belongings.” Then, in a different tone, “You’d want to be leaving this shore as soon as you can, laddie.”

I saw Flint gather himself, swallow furious words. “With your permission,” he said carefully, “I will stay until tomorrow.”

The Hag looked at me.

“Please,” I said.

She did not say yes or no, merely watched as Flint got into the boat and passed the staves, the bags, the bedding, the bundled weapons across to Tali. If Tali was relieved to get her knives back, she gave no sign of it, merely took each
item and stacked it tidily on the jetty. Her features were well governed now, though the set of her body told me a different story. When I tried to help, she murmured, “I’ll do it, Neryn.” Flint stepped back onto the jetty.

I waited for the Hag to say Flint must leave immediately. Such a decision would be typical of her, I thought. But she said nothing, simply exchanged a glance with the selkie, whose sleek head still showed above the water by the boat. It was only an instant, and then he dived down and was lost to our eyes. The Hag looked at the fisherman, and he withdrew the boat hook. The vessel turned and headed out to sea. The selkie swam alongside, a dark form keeping steady pace. The Hag did not look back.

Silence for a few moments. Then the fisherman put the roll of bedding over his shoulder and picked up the two bags, and Tali hefted the weaponry and the staves. I looked up at the zigzag path to the top of the cliff. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to make Tali proud of me. I wanted to show Flint that I was a worthy member of Regan’s Rebels. But my chest hurt, and my legs felt like jelly, and my eyes were blurry. “Just give me a moment to get my breath,” I said, or perhaps I did not say it aloud, for rocks and sea and white faces began to swirl around me, and I was falling down, down, so far down.

Then up again, in Flint’s arms, to find myself over his shoulder with my head dangling.

“I’m sorry, Neryn,” he said. “But it’s steep. I need one hand free to get you up safely.”

We climbed. After a while I shut my eyes. I didn’t
much care for cliff paths even when I had my own feet and hands to rely on. I clenched my teeth and ordered myself not to faint or otherwise disgrace myself.

“It’s all right,” Flint said. “I have you safe. We’ll soon be in shelter.”

“I can’t believe she did that to you,” came Tali’s voice from somewhere behind us. “What if you’d died out there?”

“Thought … you …,” I managed.

“Shh,” said Flint.

We reached the cliff top and he lowered me gently to my feet. My knees buckled; I could not stand. He picked me up again, this time in his arms as if I were a child, and we walked on. It was a small isle. We soon reached a southern settlement, nestled in a hollow a mile or so inland. Its size surprised me. There were at least twenty cottages, each with its drystone wall and its well-protected vegetable patch. Trees were very few, but I spotted one or two survivors, near-prone from a lifetime of westerly gales. Smoke arose from hearth fires; chickens pecked on the pathways. From not far off came the peaceful voices of grazing sheep. This place, I thought, was surely like the Alban of old, the Alban before Keldec.

By the time we went in the gate of one of the little houses, I was struggling to stay awake. The fisherman dropped the bags on the doorstep, exchanged a few words with Tali, and went off. Tali pushed the door open. Flint carried me inside and deposited me on a bed. I was too tired to do anything but lie back on the pillows.

“Get off the bed, you’re wet through.” Tali put an
armful of folded clothing on the storage chest. “Flint, turn your back.”