Dragonclaw (18 page)

‘I thought they were your enemies,' Khan'derin shouted into the wind.

‘They were,' Meghan said, trying to wipe her mouth without loosening her grip on the dragon.

‘Then why do ye weep and sigh and empty your stomach at their death? Is this no' what ye wanted?'

‘Aye,' Meghan said grimly. ‘This is what I wanted. Now I am sure that blaygird times are with us!'

A little taken aback that Meghan did not find the full-scale slaughter as interesting and exciting as she did, Asrohc turned away from the sight and flew steadily over the shoulder of Dragonclaw, heading due north. Meghan had a brief glimpse of her secret valley, its loch shining green in the morning light, then they were over the high range and swooping down the other side of the mountain. Meghan peered down, seeing a wide snow-covered valley split by a river which wound away to the north. All around was peak after glittering peak of snowy mountains, where the slopes would stay white all year. In the centre of the valley was a thorny forest.

‘That is the Cursed Valley below. From here ye can just see the tops o' the Towers. Can ye see them?' Khan'derin said.

Wondering at her words, Meghan strained to see but her eyes were old, and all she could see were trees. They began the descent, both shivering in the cold wind that blew straight off the ice plains to the north. ‘What is the Cursed Valley?'

‘Do ye no' ken? Are ye no' a Tower witch?'

‘Indeed, I was when there were Towers,' Meghan replied. ‘But they are all gone now.'

‘No' all,' Khan'derin replied.

The small dragon dropped them at the foot of the northern Great Stairway, explaining that she could not fly closer because of the thickness of the forest, which would tear her fragile wings.
Besides, I am forbidden to fly very far from the Circle yet, and we have a pact with the prides not to frighten their herds
.

Meghan wondered how old the dragon was. The princess answered her unspoken thought, saying
I am only a kitten, almost a hundred years old. I am the last of the dragons to be born, and mother says I must be careful, for all the other females are now getting too old to breed and so it is up to me to have many eggs
.

How auld must ye be to breed?
Meghan asked, and the dragon answered,
I am almost old enough now, though I mislike most of the young males, who do not treat me with the respect I deserve
.

As the dragon launched her sinuous green body in the air again, Khan'derin went behind a bush and dragged out a long, curved sled. Longer than her body, curved at either end and painted with the design of a ferocious red dragon, the wooden board must have been heavy, but she handled it with ease and dexterity. In the sled was a satchel of the same supple white leather as her breeches, and she rummaged inside, pulling out a variety of oddly shaped weapons and tools that she strapped tightly in place on her belt.

Meghan, feeling as finely drawn as a newly spun thread, sat down with her back to the great arch. She stared at the scrolled carving decorating the stone walls. Between every triptych was a device she recognised from her climb up the Stairway—two roses etched in waving lines of thorns. She studied these closely, wondering yet again what their significance was.

‘Do ye ken what the pictures in the stone mean?' she asked the girl.

‘Some,' Khan'derin answered. ‘They were carved by the Red, o' course.'

‘Why o' course?'

‘Why, the roses and thorns,' Khan'derin said in surprise, and Meghan nodded slowly. She remembered being taught the early history of Eileanan as a child, and how the Thirteen Towers had been established. There had been one, she recollected vaguely, or rather two, called the Towers of Roses and Thorns. They had been ruined long, long ago. There had been some tragedy, she remembered, and the Towers were lost.

‘The Red? Who is the Red?'

‘The Red Sorcerer,' Khan'derin replied.

Meghan had learnt her history more than four hundred years ago, and much of it had been rewritten since the Day of Betrayal, so that it was hard to remember what was real and what was not. ‘There were brother and sister sorcerers, were there no'? Who came up into the Spine o' the World and built their Towers there. Was one o' those the Red?'

‘They were both the Red,' Khan'derin said. ‘Or so I've been taught.'

‘Tìrlethan!' Meghan said, and Khan'derin flashed her a strange, hostile look. ‘Of course. This place is Tìrlethan, now, is it no'? Dragonclaw marks the boundary on the map. Land o' the Twins. They were twins, and red-haired too!'

‘Twins are forbidden,' Khan'derin said in a stifled voice. Meghan looked at her aghast. ‘One is always left in sacrifice to the White Gods. That is another reason why the Firemaker was so troubled by my finding. What if I was in
geas
to the White Gods? But the dream told her to take me and so she did.'

‘But why are twins forbidden?'

‘There can only be one Firemaker.'

‘So the … Firemaker … is one o' a set o' twins?'

‘My great-grandmother says twins are always born to the Firemakers, and they are always red-headed. They are usually a boy and a girl; I have only ever heard o' two female twins being born once before. But then, twins are no' thought a polite subject to discuss. They are considered bad luck among the prides.'

Seeing the hard planes of her face and the thin line of the scars, Meghan realised she would have to tread gently with this strange girl, who looked so like Isabeau but was not like her at all. ‘Please tell me your story,' she said. ‘I ken I am a stranger to ye and naught but an auld woman, but ye see, I have raised a lass who looks exactly like ye. I think your story will fill many holes in my understanding.'

Khan'derin looked her over and slowly nodded. ‘Indeed, it is a strange story. Ye must rest a little while I speak, for your cheeks are white, auld mother.' She sat down on the stone platform, crossed her legs, and turned her palms upwards in her lap. She took a few deep breaths, visibly calming and composing herself. When she spoke, it was not in her natural tone of voice, but in an oddly sing-song manner. ‘Many years ago, at the height o' the Dragon-Star, I was found on the slopes o' the Cursed Peaks by the Firemaker o' the Fire-Dragon Pride—' she began.

‘I'm sorry, but I am no' sure what all these terms mean,' Meghan interrupted. Khan'derin explained that the Dragon-Star was the comet that had been flaming in their skies in recent days, and that the Cursed Peaks were the mountains on whose back they were now sitting.

As Meghan nodded, Khan'derin said, ‘May I recommence?' Meghan smiled and Khan'derin began her story again. ‘Many years ago, at the height o' the Dragon-Star, I was found on the slopes o' the Cursed Peaks by the Firemaker, who had been sent a dream. In her dream she was told to come to the Cursed Peaks, and she saw there two roses, white and red as they are in the Cursed Valley, threaded through a magic talisman that was sometimes a triangle and sometimes a star. Waking the next morning she remembered the dream and so she set out alone to travel the high roads to the Cursed Valley. There she found me, half dead from exposure, and with me were my dragoneye jewel and my
sheyeta
. The Firemaker realised then that I was the babe o' her grandson, he who was long lost in the land o' sorcerers.'

‘How did she ken that?' Meghan asked, and saw anger cross Khan'derin's thin face. For a moment she would not answer then said reluctantly, ‘Because o' the red, o' course'.

Meghan was puzzled, but Khan'derin had already moved on. ‘And I had the dragoneye.' She pulled off her white leather glove to show the wood witch the ring she wore there. ‘The dragons had given my father, Khan'gharad the Dragon-Laird, the stones long ago, and he had taken them with him when he left the pride. Such stones are very rare in my land and highly prized, as they are known as a mark o' favour from the dragons.'

Meghan nodded to show her understanding. Khan'derin recomposed herself, and continued in the curious sing-song voice: ‘The Firemaker realised that I was the child o' her grandson, he who was long lost in the land o' sorcerers, and so she took me back with her to the pride and there I was nurtured and taught the way o' the People. This brought much consternation to the Pride o' the Fighting Cat, who had long expected the daughter o' Khan'fella to inherit—'

‘Who was she?'

Khan'derin paused for a long moment, eyes downcast, fingers clenched, then said, in a normal tone of voice, ‘She was my great-grandmother's sister, rescued from the Gods o' White by our enemy the Fighting Cats. She challenged for the godhead when the Firemaker, my great-grandmother's mother, died. My great-grandmother defeated her in tests o' power and the pretender died, showing the Gods o' White had accepted her as sacrifice. Her death should have ended the question, but she had had twin daughters, while my great-grandmother's daughter died in childbirth, and she had only a son, my father. One of Khan'fella's daughters was given to the Gods o' White, of course, but one still lives.'

‘So your aunt—the daughter o' the one who died—she claims the … inheritance, because she is descended from a straight line o' daughters?' Meghan asked.

Khan'derin flashed her a glance. ‘Aye.'

‘But ye are the direct descendant o' the existing Firemaker, and so ye think ye are the heir?'

‘Aye.'

‘And so the Firemaker is like our banrìgh?'

‘I do no' ken. The Firemaker leads and protects the prides, and settles disputes between them. She can bring fire when there is darkness, and she can command the birds and beasts o' the Spine. She can even speak with dragons and, as ye ken, sometimes fly them, as I do, and my father afore me. Her word is law, her decision final. The Auld Mothers and the Scarred Warriors may speak to her, but they may no' cross her or thwart her wish. That is why I am the heir, because the Firemaker wills it so.'

‘So she is a witch?' Meghan asked, and saw a strange look cross the girl's face.

‘I do no' ken much o' ye witches,' she responded. ‘I ken anyone who has power can be taught but that is no' the case with the Firemaker. The Firemaker's daughter will in time become the next Firemaker, and so will her daughter. If there is no daughter to carry on the line, then the eldest daughter o' a son, though that is considered very sad, and has happened only once. There has never been two o' the Red afore; at least, no' since the Red Sorcerers themselves.'

‘I think I see,' Meghan said thoughtfully. ‘So when your great-grandmother found ye, it meant there were two contenders for the throne.'

‘The discovery o' the child o' Khan'gharad brought much consternation to the Pride o' the Fighting Cat—'

‘Aye, I got that bit,' Meghan said impatiently. ‘Ye were saying they did no' believe ye were really Khan'gharad's daughter and thought your great-grandmother was trying to foist an imposter on the prides so the Fighting Cat one would no' inherit. What happened then?'

This time the look of reproach was closer to anger. ‘The Firemaker showed the prides the dragoneye ring, and as I grew I had to show I could summon fire, for that is something no-one but the Firemaker's get can do.' Meghan pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘On the eve o' my eighth birthday, when the Dragon-Star was again crossing our skies, another dream was given to the Firemaker, and though she shook with fear she obeyed the dream and brought me to the foot o' the ancient road between our land and that o' the dragons. I was instructed to climb the stairway, and so came into the land o' the dragons. At first a fear and a trembling possessed me, for the dragons spoke to me and told me I was to go to the Cursed Valley and live there in the Towers for one half o' every year, to tend the sleeping sorceress and to study in the libraries. I was very afraid, for it was well known that the Towers o' Roses and Thorns are evil, filled with ghosts and wailings. I was also sad because in the spring o' the Dragon-Star the People travel to the Skull o' the World for the Gathering, to barter and trade, and to organise weddings. There is much feasting and festivities, and I had heard much but never been, for the previous Gathering had been the year I was born. However, the Firemaker said I had a
geas
laid upon me, and that I must accept it, as is fitting. So for the past eight years I have spent the spring and summer months at the Towers of Roses and Thorns, studying and learning.'

‘And are there ghosts?'

‘Indeed, aye, and sometimes very terrible they are too.'

‘What sort o' ghosts?'

‘The ghosts o' rage and grief,' Khan'derin replied. ‘Come, auld mother, it is still a long way to the Towers and we must be there afore sunset.'

Meghan sat on the sled, as directed by her companion, who tied her on with long leather straps. Gitâ burrowed deep into Meghan's pocket and stayed there, complaining again about the cold. Khan'derin began to pull the sled, floundering through the thick snow until it began to move. She then jumped onto the front, moving the board down the slope with only the weight of her own body. The snowy horizon flew past, Meghan lost in surprise and admiration.

‘This is a long board and no' what I usually use,' Khan'derin explained. ‘We really only use these boards in the spring, when we begin moving down to the summer pastures. It is a good thing ye are only a wee bit, like my great-grandmother.'

‘Isabeau would have loved to have known she had a great-grandmother,' Meghan said as the dark mass of the forest sped towards them.

Soon they had to dismount and walk through the slushy snow, but they had descended the mountain in a matter of minutes rather than the day it would have taken them by foot. Khan'derin hid the sled under some bushes and led the way through the patchy snow at great speed. Looking back at Dragonclaw, Meghan was surprised to see that from this direction, she could see two sharp peaks, identical in size and shape. She realised that it must be the perspective which made the smaller peak—hidden behind the bulk of Dragonclaw from the south—appear the same size.

‘Legend says that the Red Sorcerers decided to settle in this valley because o' the twin peaks,' Khan'derin said over her shoulder. ‘That is another reason why ye call this land Tìrlethan, o' course.'

‘Are twins common among your people?'

Khan'derin hesitated. ‘No, they're very rare,' she answered at last. ‘It is only the Firemaker who bears twins.'

‘Among my people, the birth o' twin witches is considered the very best o' luck,' Meghan said. ‘It is so rare for those with true power to be born. Witches rarely marry and rarely have bairns. I believe use o' the One Power makes ye infertile, and certainly your sexual impulses are sublimated into other forces. So for me, the discovery o' another Isabeau is certainly wonderful news.'

‘I am no' another Is'a'beau,' Khan'derin said, pronouncing her twin's name with an odd intonation. ‘My life has been very different.'

‘That's true,' Meghan said, as the dark branches of the forest closed over their heads. ‘I would fain Test ye though, if ye do no' mind. I sense power in ye, though I canna tell its nature.'

‘We will soon be at the Towers,' the girl answered, striding ahead, her white-clad form ghostlike in the gloom under the overhanging branches.

The forest was an almost impenetrable barrier of tangled trees and riotous thorn bushes, with no clear path through at all. Meghan doubted she would have been able to find her way through without Khan'derin, despite her woodcraft. Khan'derin lead her under branches and through thickets, clearing a way with the dexterous use of her curved knife and sharp-edged axe.

‘This forest sprang up after the Towers were deserted. Once they looked directly over the loch to the Cursed Peaks, but now all ye can see from most o' the windows is the barrier o' thorns,' Khan'derin said. ‘If ye did no' ken the Towers were here, ye could pass right by without noticing a thing.'

Meghan noticed that many of the thorny branches were budding. ‘Are they roses?'

Khan'derin nodded. ‘Later on this whole forest will be a mass o' roses, white and red. When spring comes it is always bonny. It is hard then to remember this is the Cursed Valley.'

The thorny briars were now so thick that Khan'derin covered her face with a scarf and put her gloves back on. With only her blue eyes showing through a narrow slit between the fur of her cap and the scarf, she looked strangely sinister. Meghan followed her example, wrapping her grey plaid tighter about her and pulling it up over her head to try and protect her face from the vicious branches. It was futile; the thorns dug through the thick material of her clothes and seemed to wind around her ankles and wrists, as if preventing her from going any further.

‘The forest does no' recognise ye,' Khan'derin said, slashing at the entwining branches with her knife.

Meghan sent out her mind, calming and reassuring, and saw the long tendrils slither away. After that her passage was easier, and she concentrated on sending out encouraging thoughts.

When they finally arrived at the Towers, Meghan did not realise they were there. Khan'derin came to a halt and gestured with her hand. Meghan looked about but all she saw was a great mossy cliff, criss-crossed with thorny briars. Khan'derin laid her hand on the rock and, looking up, Meghan saw it towered above them, the forest pressed up close to its side. Suddenly she realised what seemed like weathering on the rock was in fact elaborate carvings of roses and thorns around a massive stone door. Khan'derin pulled a large, beautifully worked key out of an inner pocket, inserted it into what appeared a mere crevice in a rock wall, and turned it with a visible effort. There was a loud click, then Khan'derin put her shoulder to the door and pushed with all her weight, until at last the door began slowly to groan open.

Within was a great hall, as intricately decorated as the Hall of the Dragons had been. Dust lay thick on the floor, and cobwebs draped in spectacular forms from the towering ceiling. There were a few broken pieces of furniture, but otherwise the hall was empty, showing only echoing spaces between the carved pillars. It was very dark, and Meghan lit a witchlight at the end of her staff so she could see.

At one end of the hall was a spiral staircase, wide enough for seven people to walk abreast, and beautifully decorated with the now familiar device of roses and thorns. Khan'derin lead the way upwards, as silent as ever, and Meghan followed, eyes darting this way and that as she tried to take in as much as she could. The Tower was obviously round, the staircase spiralling up its centre. They passed two landings, which showed short corridors leading off in four directions. Each corridor had two doors on either side and ended at a tall window that once would have showed views to the north, south, east and west. She recognised the design, since the Tower where she had lived most of her life had been built to a similar design—the crossed circle, a symbol of great power.

On the third floor, Khan'derin left the staircase. Here, rather than the four short corridors identical in length and design that Meghan was used to, there were only three, with the one to the east a great hall set with high windows on either side. Looking out of the northern windows, Meghan realised with a start that the hall was built across the river, leading to another seemingly identical Tower. The water glimmered darkly beneath them, clogged with branches.

‘Look out the other side,' Khan'derin said, and Meghan complied. She saw that the river flowed north from a small loch, rather like the one in her secret valley home. Once the Towers would have been reflected in its waters, but the loch was now overshadowed by the forest, the sunset sky barely visible through the overarching branches.

‘Which Tower is this?' she asked, as they came to another spiral staircase and began climbing upwards.

‘I do no' really ken,' Khan'derin replied, frowning. ‘1 do no' think one is o' Roses and one o' Thorns. I think they are both, but I'm no' really sure.'

At last they reached the top floor, and Khan'derin opened a door on the eastern passage, standing back so Meghan could see inside. At first glance the room seemed full of strands of silver silk, shifting and glinting in the light from her staff. Closer examination showed a nest in the centre of the room, spun from the silken strands.

‘She sleeps,' Khan'derin said, and slipped into the room, gathering the strands in her hands and patting them in place against the soft sides of the nest. ‘Do no' worry, ye will no' wake her.'

Meghan gathered her courage and stepped into the room. She had to push her way through the great swathes of silk, but soon was able to see into the large nest. Ishbel was sleeping within. Her frail face and form were gently cocooned in the great lengths of what Meghan now recognised as her hair, grown to impossible lengths and as silver as a cobweb shining in the sun. Tears started to her eyes, and she felt Khan'derin take her hand and lead her out to the hall.

‘Come visit my quarters and I will make ye tea,' Isabeau's twin said in her cool voice, and led Meghan to another room like the one Ishbel had been sleeping in, furnished roughly with a bed, a chest and a chair. With a wave of her hand Khan'derin lit the candles, as thick as Meghan's forearm, and they each studied the other by its light.

‘The sleeping sorceress is someone close to ye?' Khan'derin asked at last. It was the first question she had asked.

‘She was like a daughter to me, many years ago,' Meghan said. ‘She was my apprentice. Until a few days ago I had no' seen her for sixteen years. I had thought her dead.'

This one is a solemn little owl
, Gitâ said, sitting up on his hind legs and observing the girl as he nibbled on a piece of bread.

Meghan ignored him, saying, ‘She is your mother, ye ken.'

‘Aye, I had thought as much. But why does she sleep? Eight seasons I have looked after her here, and only once has she woken.'

‘I do no' ken why she sleeps. Ishbel's magic was always strange and unknowable. I can only guess that her mind and body needed the healing spell o' sleep. It was terrible, y'ken, the Day o' Betrayal, the burning o' all we loved. It came so unexpectedly.'

‘Did ye no' have dreams to tell o' its coming?'

‘I do no' have the gift o' prophecy,' Meghan sighed. ‘I wish that I did, much might have been saved that is now lost. All the Towers were attacked, ye see, or at least the ones that were still standing after all this time.'

‘The Towers o' Roses and Thorns were no' attacked.'

‘No, but then we all thought they had disappeared long ago. And they are so deep in the mountains, so difficult to get to.'

‘Aye, Feld said it took him almost a year to get here.'

‘Feld?' Meghan exclaimed. ‘There is a sorcerer here called Feld?'

‘Indeed. It is he who taught me to speak your language, and to read, and to use the One Power.' Khan'derin waved her hand so the flame of the candle leapt higher, but Meghan was on her feet.

‘My auld friend Feld is here! Thank the Spinners! May I see him? Take me to him!'

They found the old sorcerer in the library on the sixth floor, a pair of glasses perched on the end of his beaky nose as he turned the pages of a book almost as large as himself. He looked up when Meghan came in, and began to laugh, a dusty-sounding chuckle that ended in dry coughs. ‘So, the rumours I heard are true! Ye did survive the Burning.'

‘Och, I'm a tough auld thing,' Meghan said. ‘I canna believe my eyes! What are ye doing here?'

It took many hours to tell the story, for Feld was noted for his ability to get sidetracked, particularly when boasting about the great library of the Towers of Roses and Thorns, but at last Meghan had the details from him. Feld had barely managed to escape the Day of Betrayal—a sudden impulse to visit the flea markets in search of old manuscripts had meant he was away from the Tower of Two Moons when the Red Guards struck, and had seen the smoke and heard the screams on his way back. Always wily, the warlock had slipped away, cursing the Banrìgh, and frantic about his apprentice Khan'gharad and his other friends and colleagues. By stint of clever disguise and the help of some witch-friends he had escaped into the Whitelock Mountains where he wandered a long time, racked with grief and horror at the burning of his precious library and the execution of so many witches. At last some semblance of reason returned to him, and he remembered the tales of his apprentice, who had appeared at the Tower of Two Moons on the back of a dragon, the first human since Aedan Whitelock to cross his leg over a dragon's back. Khan'gharad Dragon-Laird had told him the tale of how he had rescued the young dragon princess from a certain death and so earned the gratitude of the great queen-dragon. So Feld, who had devoted his life to dragon lore, had made the long and difficult journey through the mountains to Dragonclaw and there asked the dragons for sanctuary. He had lived at the Towers of Roses and Thorns for fifteen years, tending Ishbel as she slept and studying to his heart's content.

‘I do no' ken if they would have let me stay if they had no' thought I could look after Ishbel, who turned up here in the days following the Burning. The twins were born at the Hall o' Dragons, ye ken, and a strange birth it must have been, their mother out o' her mind with grief and horror and the only attendants dragons.'

‘So she must have flown straight there. What a journey that must have been, heavily laden with unborn twins as she was. I wonder she could stay in the air!'

‘I think it was only the spirit that kept her alive, for truly, once the twins were born, she fell asleep, and asleep she stayed for all those years.'

‘So Ishbel has been asleep these past sixteen years?'

‘She stirred a few years ago when the comet passed over and our young Khan'derin arrived but did no' wake until last week, when the Dragon-Star came again. I was with her, brushing her hair and washing her face as I always do, when suddenly she stirred and her eyes opened. Och, the surprise and joy! Fifteen years I have tended her, and all that time she slept as sweetly as ye could imagine.'

‘How … how was she when she woke?'

‘Och, it was terrible. I had forgotten, ye see, that those sixteen years she has been asleep were but a dream for her. All she remembered were the blood and the fire and the death, the terrible betrayal o' the Rìgh whom we had served so faithfully. And o' course, the death o' Khan'gharad. That was the last thing she remembered, how her lover died.'

Meghan felt a great tide of ancient grief pour over her, and though she tried to fight it, tears began to slide down her wrinkled cheeks. She rested her forehead in her hand and struggled to control herself, but her grief had been stifled too long and the dam had finally burst.