The Forbidden Land (39 page)

Midsummer’s Eve:
summer, solstice; time of high magic.

mithuan:
a healing liquid designed to quicken the pulse and numb pain.

moonbane:
a hallucinogenic drug distilled from the moonnower plant. Grows only in the Montrose Islands, to the south-west of the Fair Isles.

Morrell the Fire-Eater:
a jongleur; son of Enit Silverthroat and father of Dide and Nina.

Muileach River:
the northernmost river of Lucescere, which together with the Ban-Bharrach River, make up the Shining Waters.

Murkfane:
lake in the centre of Arran.

Murkmyre:
largest lake in Arran, surrounds the Tower of Mists.

murkwoad:
a rare herb only found in Arran. Grows on trunks of trees and heals anything.

Nic:
daughter of.

nyx:
night spirit. Dark and mysterious, with powers of illusion and concealment.

One Power:
the life-energy that is contained in all things. Witches draw upon the One Power to perform their acts of magic. The One Power contains all the elemental forces of air, earth, water, fire and spirit, and witches are usually more powerful in one force than others.

prionnsa; prionnsachan (pl):
prince, duke.

Ravenscraig:
estate of the MacBrann clan. Once their hunting castle, but they moved their home there after the Berhtfane castle fell into ruin.

Ravenshaw:
deeply forested land west of Rionnagan, owned by the MacBrann clan, descendants of Brann, one of the First Coven of Witches.

Red Wanderer:
comet that comes by every eight years. Also called Dragon Star.

reil:
eight-pointed, star-shaped weapon carried by Scarred Warriors.

Rhyllster:
the main river in Rionnagan.

Rhyssmadill:
the Rìgh’s castle by the sea.

rìgh; rìghrean (pl):
king.

Rionnagan:
together with Clachan and Blèssem, the richest lands in Eileanan. Ruled by MacCuinns, descendants of Cuinn Lionheart, leader of the First Coven of Witches.

Rurach:
wild mountainous land, lying between Tìreich and Siantan. Ruled by MacRuraich clan, descendants of Rùraich, one of the First Coven of Witches.

Rùraich the Searcher:
one of the First Coven of Witches. Known for searching and finding Talent. Located the world of Eileanan on the star-map, allowing Cuinn to set a course for the Great Crossing.

sabre leopard:
savage feline with curved fangs that lives in the remote mountain areas.

sacred woods:
ash, hazel, oak, blackthorn, fir, hawthorn and yew.

Samhain:
first day of winter; festival for the souls of the dead. Best time of year to see the future.

satyricorn:
a race of horned faeries who hunt down enemies for the Banrìgh; they are called the Horned Ones by most of the woodland faeries. The women often take male captives to breed with, since male satyricorn are rare.

Scarred Warrior:
Khan’cohban warriors who are scarred as a mark of achievement. A warrior who receives all seven scars has achieved the highest degree of skill.

Scruffy:
formerly a beggar boy in Lucescere. Also known as Dillon the Bold.

scrying:
to perceive through crystal gazing or other focus. Most witches can scry if the object to be perceived is well known to them.

seanalair:
general of the army.

Seinneadair the Singer:
one of the First Coven of Witches, known for her ability to enchant with song.

seelie:
tall shy race of faeries known for their physical beauty and magical skills.

sennachie:
genealogist of the clan chief’s house. It was his duty to keep the clan register, its records, genealogies and family history; to pronounce the addresses of ceremony at clan assemblies; to deliver the chief’s inauguration, birthday and funeral orations and to invest the new chief on succession.

Sgàilean Mountains:
north-western range of mountains dividing Siantan and Rurach. Rich in precious metals and fine marbles. Name means ‘Shadowy Mountains’.

sgian dubh:
small knife worn in boot.

shadow-hounds:
very large black dogs that move and hunt as a single entity. Are highly intelligent and have very sharp senses.

Shining Waters:
the great waterfall that pours over the cliff into Lucescere Loch.

Sian the Storm-Rider:
one of the First Coven of Witches. A famous weather witch, renowned for whistling up hurricanes.

Siantan:
north-west land of Eileanan, between Rurach and Carraig. Famous for its weather witches. Once ruled by MacSian clan, descendants of Sian, the Storm-rider.

Sithiche Mountains:
northernmost mountains of Rionnagan, peaking at Dragonclaw. Name means ‘Fairy Mountains’.

skeelie:
a village witch or wise woman.

Skill:
a common application of magic, such as lighting a candle or dowsing for water.

solstice:
either of the times when the sun is the furthest distance from the earth.

Sorcha the Red:
one of the twin sorcerers from the First Coven of Witches. Also called Sorcha the Murderess, following her bloodthirsty attack on the people of the Towers of Roses and Thorns after the discovery of her brother’s love affair with a Khan’cohban woman.

Spine of the World, The:
a Khan’cohban term for the range of mountains that runs down the centre of Eileanan; also called Tìrlethan.

Spinners:
goddesses of fate. Include the spinner Sniomhar, the goddess of birth; the weaver Breabadair, goddess of life; and she who cuts the thread, Gearradh, goddess of death.

spring equinox:
when the day reaches the same length as the night.

summer solstice:
the time when the sun is furthest north from the equator; Midsummer’s Eve.

syne:
since.

Tabithas the Wolf-Runner:
Keybearer of the Coven of Witches before she disappeared from Eileanan after the Day of Betrayal. Turned into a wolf.

Talent:
witches often combine their strengths in the different forces to one powerful Talent; e.g., the ability to charm animals, like Meghan; the ability to fly, like Ishbel; the ability to see into the future, like Jorge.

Test of Elements:
once a witch is fully accepted into the Coven at the age of twenty-four, they learn Skills in the element in which they are strongest; i.e., air, earth, fire, water or spirit. The First Test of any element wins them a ring which is worn on the right hand. If they pass the Third Test in any one element, the witch is called a sorcerer or sorceress, and wears a ring on their left hand. It is very rare for any witch to win a sorceress ring in more than one element.

Test of Powers:
a witch is first tested on his or her eighth birthday, and if any magical powers are detected, he or she becomes an acolyte. On their sixteenth birthday, witches are tested again and, if they pass, permitted to become an apprentice. The Third Tests take place on their twenty-fourth birthday and, if successfully completed, the apprentice is admitted into the Coven of Witches.

Theurgia:
a school for acolytes and apprentices.

thigeam:
horse-lairds who tame and ride flying horses.

Tìreich:
land of the horse-lairds—most westerly country of Eileanan, populated by nomadic tribes famous for their horses and ruled by the MacAhern clan.

Tìrlethan:
land of the Twins; once ruled by Faodhagan and Sorcha, twin sorcerers. Called the Spine of the World by Khan’cohbans.

Tìrsoilleir:
the Bright Land, also called the Forbidden Land. North-east land of Eileanan, populated by a race of fierce warriors. Was once ruled by the MacHilde clan, descended from Berhtilde, one of the First Coven of Witches. However, the Tìrsoilleirean have rejected witchcraft and the ruling family in favour of militant religion. Have dreams of controlling Eileanan.

Tòmas the Healer:
one-time acolyte of Jorge the Seer.

Towers, the:
the Towers of the Witches. Thirteen towers built as centres of learning and witchcraft in the twelve lands of Eileanan. The Towers are:

tree-changer:
woodland faery. Can shift shape from tree to humanlike creature. A halfbreed is called a
tree-shifter
and can sometimes look almost human.

Trictrac:
a form of backgammon.

Tuathanach the Farmer:
One of the First Coven of Witches. (See
Bléssem
)

Tuathan Loch:
the loch near Caeryla, the first in the Jewels of Rionnagan.

two moons:
Magnysson and Gladrielle.

uile-bheist; uile-bheistean (pl):
monster.

weaverworm:
a caterpillar that spins a cocoon of silk, used by the Celestines to make their gowns.

Whitelock Mountains:
named for the white lock of hair all MacCuinns have.

will-o’-the-wisp:
faery creature of the marshes.

winter solstice:
the time when the sun is at the most southern point from the equator; Midwinter’s Eve.

Wulfrum River:
river that runs through Rurach.

Yedda:
Sea-witches.

Yeomen of the Guard:
also known as the Blue Guards. The Rìgh’s own personal bodyguard, responsible for his safety on journeys at home or abroad, and on the battlefield. Within the precincts of the palace, they guard the entrances and taste the Rìgh’s food.

zimbara:
large doglike creatures that pull the caravans of the Tìreichans. Known for their faithfulness and great strength.

For those faithful travellers in the world of Eileanan who have missed Isabeau in this adventure, do not fear! Isabeau has been pursuing her own destiny while Finn, Jay, Dide and the others have been fighting sea serpents, surviving shipwrecks and helping Elfrida win back her crown. You can read all about Isabeau’s adventures in the next book in the series,
The Skull of the World
.

Much of the action of
The Skull of the World
takes place at the same time as Finn’s adventures, though in a very different part of the world. Isabeau has immersed herself in the life of the Khan’cohbans but she still hopes to return to Lucescere from her self-imposed exile upon the Spine of the World. First, though, she must undertake her journey of initiation to the Skull of the World, where the cruel and enigmatic Gods of White will reveal her destiny to her. On this journey she will face many dangers but, by overcoming them, will finally discover her true Talent. And when she finally does return to her own people, she will find that she is the only one who can confront Margrit of Arran and overcome her …

I hope that you have enjoyed the tale of Finn the Cat, and that you look forward to once again travelling in the strange and marvellous world of Eileanan. To whet your appetite, please find following a brief taste of
The Skull of the World
.

May Eà shine her bright face upon you!

Kate Forsyth

Extract from
The Skull of the World
, Book Five of the
Witches of Eileanan.

On the Spine of the World winter comes snapping and snarling like a wolf. The wind shrieks white for days, until snow shrouds the landscape and icicles hang like fangs from the mouth of the cave. In winter the world is reduced to absolutes of black or white, death or life, bitter cold or burning hot.

Inside the cave the bonfire leapt high, casting grotesque shadows over the intent faces and still bodies of the Khan’cohbans. They sat cross-legged in a wide circle, watching two figures who circled each other warily. There was no sound save the wail of the storm and the soft slap of the combatants’ feet on the stone.

Isabeau crouched low, her eyes flickering over the face and stance of the warrior opposite her. He was much taller than she was, with two heavy curling horns on either side of his massive brow. He carried a long wooden stave, its metal ends flashing red as they spun in the firelight.

Faster than thought, the staff drove for Isabeau’s shoulder but she threw herself to the right in a low dive, rolled and was on her feet again, just as the wooden stave cracked against the rock mere inches from where she had landed. Her staff was already swinging upwards in response. The warrior swayed away as fluidly as water. Isabeau almost overbalanced as the wood connected with nothing but air. As she recovered he spun on the ball of one foot and struck her hard with the other, just below the junction of her ribs. She fell heavily, the breath knocked out of her. More painful than the impact was the disappointment. Only a few seconds into the contest and already she had received her first blow. Two more and the competition would end, with Isabeau humiliated before her pride.

She rolled and sprang to her feet, her staff flying up. The warrior’s staff hammered into it, almost knocking her down again. Her fingers stung, but she only gripped her staff tighter, turning and thrusting it up to try and slide under his guard. It was like ramming the wind. He simply twisted away, turning a cartwheel that took him well out of her reach.

He was striking at her again before she had a chance to recover her breath, swift as a snake. She swayed first one way, then another, evading his blows, every sense in her body straining to anticipate his next move. Her teacher had told her, ‘Become one with your enemy. When your heart beats with his and your minds move together, only then can you know what his next move will be.’

Isabeau breathed deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth, endeavouring to control her breath and with it that intangible essence the Khan’cohbans called
coh
. Like many words in the Khan’cohban language,
coh
had many subtleties of meaning. God, life-death-energy, spirit. What the witches called the One Power, the source of all life, all magic. Eà.

She felt her heart and her veins fill with power as her lungs filled with air. For minutes they fought as if they were partners in an elaborate dance, wooden staves whistling as they spun through the air. Isabeau’s Scarred Warrior teacher smiled in satisfaction. Then Isabeau was knocked flying again, and his mouth compressed grimly.

But then Isabeau brought her staff round in a low sweeping movement that knocked the Scarred Warrior’s feet from under him. Her teacher punched his left hand into his right palm, the gesture of victory.

Isabeau was on her feet in an instant, triumph filling her. The Scarred Warrior attacked again, more fiercely than ever. Isabeau had to twist and sway and feint more nimbly than ever, panting harshly as she tried to control her breath. With an unexpected move, the Scarred Warrior spun and kicked high, and Isabeau fell as if she had been knocked down with a hammer.

For a moment all her senses reeled. She got to her feet slowly, disappointment clear on her face. That was the third blow. The contest was over.

Isabeau bowed to her opponent, lifting one hand to cover her eyes, the other hand bent outwards in supplication. That was the proper way to greet a Scarred Warrior who had proved his mastery over her. Her opponent brought two fingers sweeping to his brow, then to his heart, then out to the snowy darkness. Then they both turned, heads lowered, and knelt before the old woman in the snow-lion’s cloak. There was a long silence.

‘This is the fourth long darkness that Khan has lived with us on the Spine of the World and so in our eyes she is like a child of only four, as blind and mute as a newborn kitten,’ the Firemaker said, her long-fingered hands sweeping through the air. Beneath the snarling muzzle of the snow-lion cloak, her old face was set in deep lines of pride and determination, the eyes between their hooded lids as blue as Isabeau’s own. Isabeau bent her head lower, unable to help feeling a little prick of humiliation at her great-grandmother’s words.

‘She has lived through twenty-one winters, however, and so in truth is no child. She has been silent and learnt as no child of four can. She has pleased her teachers and now, in the contest of the wooden stave, has struck a blow against one vastly her superior. In the eyes of the Firemaker and the Scarred Warriors, this is proof. Khan is ready to seek out her name and her totem.’

Despite herself, Isabeau’s eyes flew up in excitement. Her great-grandmother made the gesture of assent, and a little shift and murmur ran over the crowd. Isabeau lowered her face again, though her fingers gripped her stave tighter than ever. The naming-quest was one of the most significant events in the life of the Khan’cohbans. Isabeau would never be truly accepted as one of their own until she had undertaken the dark and dangerous journey to the Skull of the World, and returned safely with the knowledge of the White Gods’ intentions for her.

Although Isabeau knew her destiny lay outside the Spine of the World, she still longed to undertake her quest and attain real status within the pride. The storytellers often told the tale of how her famous father Khan’gharad, Dragon-Lord, had won his name. Until Isabeau had survived the journey to the Skull of the World too, she would never truly understand her father and her great-grandmother, or her twin sister, Iseult, whose characters and philosophy had been so moulded by the Khan’cohban way of life.

The queen-dragon had once told Isabeau that she would never find her true calling until she had embraced both her human and faery heritages.
Thee must know thyself before thee can know the universe
, the queen-dragon had said.
Thee must always be searching and asking and answering, thee must listen to the heart of the world, thee must listen to thine own heart. Thee must search out thy ancestors and listen to what they may teach thee, thee must know thy history before thee can know of the future
.

So Isabeau had sworn to do as the queen-dragon had commanded, thus accepting a
geas
that had taken her far away from those that she loved best in the world. She had travelled up to the Spine of the World, spending six months of the year with her newly discovered parents at the Towers of Roses and Thorns, and six months with the Pride of the Fire-Dragon in their snowy mountain home. In the summer she studied the lore of the witches in the great library at the Towers, and in winter she studied the art of the Scarred Warrior and the wisdom of the Soul-Sage with her Khan’cohban teachers. Although she was often lonely and unhappy, Isabeau had worked hard, eager to grasp the secrets of both cultures and philosophies, and now she had her reward in the words of the Firemaker.

Before Isabeau had a chance to feel more than a flush of pride and self-satisfaction, her Scarred Warrior teacher came to her and dissected her performance critically. She had been too quick to attack, he said. ‘The art of the Scarred Warrior is not to fight, but to be still. Not to act, but to react. When the wind blows, the tree bends. When an enemy strikes, the warrior responds. The warrior is not the wind but the tree. You try too hard to be the wind.’

She bowed her head, accepting his words. She knew them to be true.

‘You shall set out on your naming-quest in the morning,’ her teacher said. ‘You must reach the Skull of the World, listen to the words of the White Gods and return to the Haven before the end of the long darkness, or die.’

Isabeau nodded. Fear touched her like an icy finger, but she repressed it sternly. He said then, in an unusually gentle voice, ‘You fought well, Khan. I thank you, for now I am released from my
geas
and can once more hunt with my comrades. I had thought it would be many years before I could once again skim in the chase.’

‘I thank you,’ Isabeau replied. ‘It is not the art of the student but that of the teacher which struck that blow today.’

Although his fierce dark face did not relax, she knew she had pleased him. He said gruffly, ‘Make your preparations. I shall see you in the morning,’ then dismissed her with a gesture.

Isabeau went then to the fire of the Soul-Sage. The shaman of the pride was sitting in meditation, her legs crossed, her eyes closed. In one hand she held a stone of iridescent blue, flecked with gold. A falcon’s talon hung on her breast from a long leather cord around her neck. It rose and fell gently with her breathing.

Isabeau sat opposite her, closing her own eyes. She felt the soft brush of feathers on her hand as the little elf-owl Buba crept out of the blankets and into her palm. She cupped her fingers around the fluffy white bird, not much bigger than a sparrow, and let herself sink into nothingness. Against her sensitive palm she felt the flutter of the owl’s heart and it was like a drumbeat leading her down into a profound meditation. For a long time she floated in this exquisite nonbeing, her heart and the owl’s heart and the pulse of the universe in perfect rhythm.

So you go in search of your name and your totem
, the Soul-Sage said without words.

Isabeau felt another little stir of fear and excitement.
Yes
, she responded.
The Firemaker thinks I am ready
.

I shall cast the bones for you
, the shaman said after a long silence.

Thank you, teacher
, Isabeau responded, her excitement quickening. She opened her eyes. Across the dancing flames the Khan’cohban’s face was inscrutable. She passed the skystone in her hand through the smoke and dropped it back into the little pouch of skin she carried always at her waist. Taking a smouldering stick from the fire, she drew a large circle and quartered it with two swift motions. Then she poured the contents of the pouch out into her hand and brooded over them. Suddenly she threw the bones and stones into the circle without opening her eyes.

Isabeau gazed anxiously at the pattern the thirteen bones had made in the circle. She then looked at the Soul-Sage, who was regarding the pattern intently. After a while the shaman pointed one long, four-jointed finger at the bird’s claw.

‘Sign of the Soul-Sage, a good omen for your quest, so high to the roof of heaven,’ she said. ‘A sign of death as well as wisdom, though, and shadowed by the closeness of the nightstone and the skystone. Change ahead for you, like the change wrought on a landscape by an avalanche. Much danger and struggle.’ Her hand swept down to the fang and the knucklebone and the fiery garnet, and then across to the fish fossil. ‘Dangerous pattern indeed. There are things in your past and in your unknown which shall seize you in their jaws and seek to drag you under.’

The Soul-Sage had said
unza
, another word with many different meanings. With a gesture out into the distance it meant ‘the unknown place’, anywhere beyond the pride’s boundaries. With a circling gesture over the head it meant ‘the place of nightmares’, the dreaming unconscious mind. With a sweep of the hand towards the heart and then between the brows, it meant secret thoughts, secret desires. The Soul-Sage had used all of these gestures, and Isabeau struggled to understand her meaning. ‘My unknown,’ she repeated with the same gestures, and the Soul-Sage nodded impatiently.

The shaman’s hand then darted to touch the finger bone. ‘Forces in balance, past, future, known, unknown. Puzzling. Quest could fail, quest could triumph.’ She touched the purple and white lumps of quartz, and then the skystone again. ‘I think triumph, though many pitfalls in your path. Beware too much pride, too much impetuosity.’ Her finger circled the fool’s gold. ‘Deception, or perhaps a disguise. Hard to tell. A strange conjunction. Troubling.’

She was silent for a long time, her hands folded again in her lap, then slowly she reached out and stroked the smooth green of the moss agate, tracing the shape of the fossilised leaf at its centre. ‘Harmony, contentment, healing. Calm after the storm. You must be at peace with yourself, whatever you discover yourself to be. A good place for this stone. I think all will be well.’

She looked up at Isabeau, and her fierce face with its seven arrow-shaped scars was even grimmer than usual. ‘Not a good casting. Much remains dark to me. I do not know if you will return from your quest at all, let alone with a good name and totem. I am surprised to find your pattern so incoherent.’ Her finger reached out and touched the triangular scar between Isabeau’s brows. ‘I had thought you already chosen by the White Gods.’

Her hand dropped and she brooded over the pattern of the bones for a while longer before sweeping them up and purifying them one by one in the smoke of her fire. Isabeau longed to question her, but knew the Soul-Sage had said all she would say. The little frisson of fear passed through her again, raising the hairs on her arms and causing her stomach muscles to clench. Buba gave a little hoot of reassurance and Isabeau hooted back.

The Soul-Sage looked up from her task and gave an odd little smile. ‘But I forget,’ she said. ‘The owl chooses to fly with you. The owl is the messenger of the White Gods, the queen of the night and death and darkness, the Soul-Sage of birds. That is an omen that should not be forgotten.’

Wondering if the shaman meant her words to be a comfort, Isabeau gathered together her shaggy furs and followed the Soul-Sage to the Rock of Contemplation, a small rock ledge that faced east towards the rising sun. She had to meditate here from sunset to sunrise, without food or water or fire, a harsh tribulation in the bitter cold.