The Awakening (22 page)

The song poured from her heart and her soul, bearing all the hurt, all the confusion that she felt. Dimly she heard the High Priestess stop her own song, but nothing could stop the storm of passion
that had been building in her for so long. Feelings she could barely contain rang through her voice as she sang, calling to the Sea as she had done only once before, on that terrible night when Niall had been taken by a Raider’s axe.

With a detached, dispassionate eye, she watched as the Sea changed from the gently rolling, kindly blue friend to a harsh, grey malevolent beast, preparing to strike with fury. Above her, heavy black clouds formed from nowhere, a wind sprang up from the breeze, whipping the sails into a frenzy. With cries of terror, the crew tried to lash down the hatches and prepare the ship for the storm that had come at her bidding.

Still detached, Hwenfayre watched as she sang. She watched the frantic efforts of the crew. She watched Declan as he strove to drag the High Priestess away from her precarious position in the prow of the plunging ship. She watched the waves surge and heave about her. She watched the clouds heap and swirl. But, most of all, she watched the blind terror grow in the eyes of the High Priestess.

Their eyes met as Morag allowed herself to be hustled away. Her voice had a hysterical edge to it as she cried out, ‘Stop this now! You don’t know what you are doing!’

But Hwenfayre knew exactly what she was doing as she turned back to face the raging waters. Without changing the passion in her voice, she formed an image of Wyn in her mind and sent the storm to hunt him down. Within moments, the violent squall passed and the Sea calmed. The storm had not ended; it had merely moved on, seeking a new target.
If Wyn still lived, he would remember her when this storm fell on him.

She was not sure what she had expected to happen as a result of her experiment, but she was unprepared for the utter normality that followed. The rest of the day passed as if she had not summoned a squall out of a perfectly calm sea. No one mentioned the storm, the song or the High Priestess. Hylin taught the Novices a song that Priestesses sang at wedding ceremonies, Alyce instructed them about cloud formations and Declan was too busy to speak to her.

It was as if nothing had happened.

By the end of the day, Hwenfayre was beginning to wonder if Declan had been right when he had told her that the Sea had simply done something strange that had caught them by surprise. But the look on the High Priestess’s face kept coming back to her. There had been more in her fear than concern about a simple unexpected squall.

That night as she lay in her bed she felt the pain of guilt. Her mind would not let her rest as she tossed and turned. Images of Wyn, of Niall, of her mother danced in front of her, taunting her and deriding her for her impulsive act of violence. She knew, even as she did it, that such a storm was dangerous, and sending it after someone was an act she would regret. To add to her confusion, she had only Morag’s word that Wyn was dead, and that he was not what he seemed. What if Morag were lying? What if everything she said was a lie? Hwenfayre remembered Wyn again. She drove herself through every memory she had of the man who had taken her away from the place of her birth. Nothing in what
she remembered could make her believe that he was a brutal assassin. Yet he had left her.

But what if that, too, was a lie? What if her memory were wrong?

It was very late when a cold sweat overtook her. What if these were not the people she thought they were? Who were these people she had joined? Did she really know anything about them? Their legends were different from what she had been told, their ways were not what she had been expecting, and they did not recognise her, as Wyn had said they must.

She must know the truth, must discover who was lying. Only then could she truly know who she was and if her destiny lay here or elsewhere.

So she started to tell the stories Wyn had told her. She spoke, not caring whether any listened; it was for herself that she did this. As she spoke, retelling the great stories she had heard but once, yet which felt as much a part of her as her eyes, a decision stole into her mind. She would join this people whether they wanted her or not. Hwenfayre would become one with the Children of the Raft, ever mindful of how she came here, always seeking the truth.

And the days passed into weeks as they sailed upon the endless Sea. Each day she attended to her tasks dutifully; watching, listening and learning all she could about the strange people she had joined. At night, as she lay on her bed, she told the stories to the silent Novices who shared her cabin. As she worked at her menial tasks, she told the stories. During her lessons, she asked questions about the stories. And every day she greeted the dawn with song.

It was a cold, overcast day, the wind whipping the grey Sea into short, steep waves, when Hwenfayre learned the truth. She greeted the morning as usual, singing into the wind. She still keenly missed the gentle sounds of the harp, but she persevered and was beginning to love the song for itself. As usual the High Priestess had sung the same song, and as usual, she had ignored Hwenfayre. Even Declan had been less friendly of late as if her continuing defiance of Morag were troubling him.

After singing, Hwenfayre went below for another breakfast during which she told the tale of how the Children of Danan first left the land behind for the strange delights of life on the Sea. Then it was time for lessons with Hylin.

‘Good morning, Novices,’ the old teacher greeted her charges. ‘Today we are going to learn one of the great songs of our past. It is a song of power and mystery. It is not one we trifle with, nor is it a song to be underestimated. We sing it only at times of great need and peril for it is a song of the Ancient Ways.’

Hwenfayre looked up from her practice harp sharply but Hylin was steadfastly looking away from her. She looked around the room to find the other Novices were also showing interest. Erin, in particular, was staring at Hylin with rapt attention, absently fingering her harp.

Hylin continued, ‘This is a song that is not usually taught so early in a Novice’s training, but I have been hearing a lot of talk about the old ways recently and I have become a little nostalgic.’ She chanced a glance at Hwenfayre. Their eyes met and a flicker of
understanding passed between them. ‘Let us begin,’ the old teacher went on briskly, taking up her own harp.

Within seconds Hwenfayre recognised the song. It was the one she had sung on the ship to summon the storm. Hylin stopped playing after a few bars. She looked up, placing her hands on the strings to still their sound.

‘This song is one of the first that the Children learned when we took to the Sea. It is used to call a storm that can be sent after an enemy, but it is rarely used because it is so dangerous.’ She paused and looked straight at Hwenfayre. Their eyes met again, but this time Hylin held her gaze for so long that the other Novices turned to see. Hwenfayre suddenly found herself the centre of attention. ‘It can only be used by one who has true power,’ Hylin continued without shifting her gaze. ‘And then only by a Priestess who has a harp made of driftwood. Only one person can ever summon a storm without such a harp.’

‘Hylin!’ the High Priestess’s voice cut across the room. She was standing in the doorway, her eyes flashing with anger.

Hylin stood slowly and put her harp down carefully. ‘Yes, High Priestess?’ she said, raising her eyebrows. ‘Is there a problem?’

Morag stood still, breathing heavily as she sought to keep her anger under control. ‘Could I see you outside please, Hylin?’

‘Of course.’ As she walked to the door, Hylin turned back to the silent Novices. ‘Continue practising the song from yesterday, Novices. I shan’t be long.’

But Hylin did not come back.

The Novices sat in silence, not quite sure how to respond. After a few moments they started to talk quietly among themselves. The main topic of discussion was Hwenfayre. For a while she sat alone, not saying anything, hardly hearing the hum of conversation around her. It was only when Erin addressed her directly that she snapped out of her reverie.

‘Hwenfayre,’ she said. ‘What did she mean by that?’

‘By what?’ asked Hwenfayre.

‘What she said about only one person. Who did she mean?’

‘Danan,’ put in Maeve. ‘She meant Danan, didn’t she, Hwenfayre?’

Hwenfayre nodded. ‘Yes, she did. Only Danan can raise such a storm.’

‘But Danan is dead, isn’t she?’ asked Maire, another Novice.

‘Yes, the original one is,’ said Hagan. ‘But she comes back to us every few generations, doesn’t she, Hwenfayre? That’s what you’ve been telling us with all those stories, isn’t it?’

‘What stories?’ asked Novice Nicole.

But before anyone could answer, Alyce came in. ‘Novices,’ she said, ‘I am going to be continuing your training for a while.’

‘Where’s Hylin?’ asked Erin.

‘Hylin is…’ she paused, thinking of the right words, ‘presently indisposed.’

‘When will she be back?’ asked Hagan.

Alyce fixed the girl with a steely stare. ‘Let us continue with your lesson, shall we?’ And the lesson
continued, but there was a sullenness to the Novices that irritated the normally even-tempered Alyce.

The weather that had threatened in the morning became a storm later that afternoon. All the Novices were safely below decks, while above them the sailors strove to keep the ship from damage upon the heaving sea. Hwenfayre sat beside the porthole in her room, watching the waves as they surged beneath her, sending the ship plunging violently one moment then climbing precipitously the next. She was lost in her own thoughts; thoughts of Wyn, of Niall, of Morag and of Hylin’s strange choice that morning.
Why that song? And why today?

And what of this storm? Is it entirely natural?

Unable to rest, even while watching the sea, Hwenfayre stood and made her way to the door.

‘Where are you going?’ asked Erin.

Hwenfayre shrugged. ‘Up on deck,’ she said. ‘I can’t rest down here. I need some air.’

‘But it’s dangerous,’ said Maeve.

Again Hwenfayre shrugged. She felt beyond caring. If the Sea wanted to take her, so be it.

On deck the storm defied comprehension. The wind shrieked like a rabid animal, tearing at the shrouds, ripping the sails to tatters. All around them the waters heaved and plunged, tossing the ship like a cork. Men screamed and bellowed as they battled with the madly plunging vessel. Hwenfayre clung to the railing, feeling the wind tear at her clothes and hair. The waves crashed over the ship, soaking her to the skin and leaving her shivering and shaking. She gasped with shock as the icy cold of the Sea bit deeply.

A high-pitched cry of horror cut through the
insanity of the wind. Hwenfayre turned to see Hylin sliding across the deck as the ship started to descend into a deep trough. She watched in disbelief as the aged Teacher of Novices tried in vain to find a handhold, her hands scrabbling desperately on the deck planking. With a despairing cry, Hylin slid past the stanchions, then out over the side.

Hwenfayre screamed as Hylin fell out of sight. Her cry attracted the attention of Declan who was fighting with a shroud. He looked up and followed her staring gaze to where Hylin hung, grasping the railing with one hand. She dangled helplessly above the furious Sea while Declan worked his way to her, forcing himself against waves and wind that seemed to be actively opposing him.

As he came close enough to reach out and help her, a wave crashed across him, throwing him to the deck. With a wail, Hylin’s grip failed and she disappeared into the Sea. Disbelieving, Hwenfayre stared at where Hylin had been, as if by watching she might somehow bring her back. But Hylin was gone; the Sea had taken her.

Declan rose up against the surging Sea and looked back towards the mainmast. There the High Priestess stood, wrapped against the elements in a magnificent blaewhal fur cloak. She nodded to Declan, a small smile hovering about her lips. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, a pleased look on his face, and then turned to go back to his work. As he did, he caught sight of Hwenfayre watching him. The expression on his face changed to one of sadness. It changed so quickly and so completely that Hwenfayre was unsure whether it had even happened.

Hwenfayre turned to regard the High Priestess. Unlike Declan, Morag made no attempt to hide her pleasure at Hylin’s death. When their eyes met, Morag smiled and nodded at Hwenfayre. Her smile seemed pleasant, but her eyes were hard. The message was clear, the threat made and understood. Hwenfayre knew she was on notice for her life.

Perhaps it was that sense, perhaps it was the knowledge that she had been betrayed again. Or perhaps it was the violence of the storm making her reckless. Whatever it was, she threw back her hair and walked towards the High Priestess.

Morag watched as she made her way across the heaving deck. Waves crashed around and over her, the wind tore at her clothes and hair, but her stride was steady. She was not consciously aware of what she was going to do; even years later she was unable to say why she moved on Morag at that time. But she fixed her eyes on the High Priestess, ignoring the insane storm all around her and the deck heaving beneath her feet.

As she walked, the words of a song started to form in her mind: a song of great power, a song of great anger, a song she had never sung. But before she could utter a word, a powerful arm seized her, pinning her arms to her sides. A knife was pressed against her throat.

‘I tried to warn you, Novice,’ hissed Declan into her ear. ‘But no, you were too smart for that. I told you there were many types of power.’

‘What are you saying?’ cried Hwenfayre.

‘I have been ordered to kill you but I am going to give you a chance. If you are what you seem to be, I
am saving your life. If not, we are all fools and I am the captain of fools.’

He picked her up and carried her towards the same place where Hylin had vanished into the raging Sea. Realising what he intended, Hwenfayre screamed and started to pound her fists against his body. The sailor seemed not to notice her struggles as he inexorably took her to the edge. When he reached the side of the ship he stopped.