The Skull of the World (13 page)

"Whom did ye name me for?" Isabeau asked, smoothing back her mother's sweat-darkened hair and bringing a cup of restorative tea to her mouth.

Ishbel swallowed weakly then said, "Ye and Iseult were named for both my grandmothers. Isabeau Nic-Aislin was my father's mother and Iseult NicThanach was my mother's mother, so ye see ye are related to both the MacAislins and the MacThanachs, which may explain why ye feel such an affinity with the earth and the forest." She sank back on her pillows, looking down at the two heads nestled close beside her with a sort of amazement on her face. "They are such wee bits," she whispered. "I had forgotten . . ."

Isabeau smoothed back the downy hair of little Alasdair, who was sleeping. "Well, it is twenty-two years today since ye gave birth to Iseult and me. Odd that they should be born on our birthday."

"And what a difference," Ishbel said with a shudder that caused Alasdair to whimper in his sleep and Heloi'se to look up with smoky blue eyes. "Och, it was a nightmare, your birth. Dragons all around me, wi' the smell o' smoke and fire and the shadow o' their claws on my face ... I do no' want to even think o' it."

"Nay, go to sleep, Mam," Isabeau said gently. "That was a long time ago and ye are safe here and your wee babes are strong and well."

Ishbel nodded and smiled, tears leaking out from under her bruised looking lids. "Aye, thank Ea," she murmured. "And thank ye too, dearling. I'm glad ye were home in time."

Ishbel did not awake from her sleep for seven days and seven nights. Despite the wails of her hungry babies, she floated peacefully about the bedroom, her silver gilt hair weaving itself into a cocoon about her. Vigorous shaking, pinching, shouting in her ear, dashing cold water over her, and bringing the babies to scream lustfully beneath her did nothing to disturb her slumber.

There was no one at the towers who could act as the babies' wet nurse and so Isabeau had to feed the babies on watered down goats' milk reinforced with strengthening and nourishing herbs. She had great difficulty in getting the milk into the children, having to teach them to suckle from an adapted wine gourd. For two such tiny scraps of humanity, the twins had extremely strong lungs. No one in the castle got much sleep, except for the twins' own mother. Exhausted, stressed and worried, Isabeau was irresistibly reminded of the days when she was nursemaid to Bronwen MacCuinn, the Ensorcellor's daughter.

Thinking of Bronwen made Isabeau eager to leave the Towers of Roses and Thorns and return to the capital. She had been away so long she really had no idea how Iseult and Lachlan were doing in their endeavor to bring peace to Eileanan. Ishbel's stories of increased activity by the Fairgean had made her uneasy for she knew the sea faeries felt a great hatred for all humans and wished to destroy them utterly.

Isabeau had developed a peculiar friendship with Maya the Ensorcellor, who was the daughter of the King of the Fairgean and a human concubine. Even though Maya was the implacable enemy of everyone Isabeau loved most, the young apprentice witch had been unable to help feeling a strong connection with the former banrigh.

Since Lachlan had won the throne, he and Iseult had been engaged in bringing peace and order to Eileanan and rebuilding the towns and cities which had been destroyed by the long civil war. Isabeau knew, however, that Lachlan would soon have to raise arms against the Fairgean once again. And she knew more about the sea dwellers than any other human, thanks to her friendship with Maya and her care for the little Fairge banprionnsa. So she was determined to travel to Lucescere as soon as she was able, to help in the struggle.

Isabeau was terribly afraid, though, that her mother would not wake from her strange enchanted sleep. Ishbel had slept for sixteen years after she and Iseult had been born. If Ishbel slept on, Isabeau would have to stay and care for her baby brother and sister, giving up her dreams of studying at the Tower of Two Moons and becoming a sorceress. She could not leave the little babes to be brought up by old Dimpna, who was rather too fond of a wee dram for Isabeau's liking. Khan'gharad, the stern warrior, was helpless before the rage and hunger of his two tiny newborns. A look of absolute terror would cross his scarred face whenever Isabeau thrust one at him, and he would hold the babe awkwardly in his huge, hard hands, as if the child was made of eggshell and would break with the slightest pressure. So it was with a feeling of utmost relief and joy that Isabeau woke from an uneasy sleep seven days after the twins' birth to see her mother standing over the cradles, her blue eyes shining with tenderness, her pale cheeks touched with color.

Well rested after her week's repose, Ishbel was happy to try and suckle her hungry babes, who went to her breast like bees to honey. Within moments the red-faced screaming demons who had tormented Isabeau for seven days and seven nights were sleepy, contented little cherubs. Isabeau was able to crawl into her own neglected bed and sink fathoms deep into sleep.

When she woke it was midafternoon and all was quiet. She lay thankfully still, looking about her room with its tall mullioned windows and the stone fireplace carved with roses and thorns. When Isabeau had first come here it had been a cold, austere room with only a chest and a tall wooden candlestick to relieve the severity of the stone walls. Now it was hung with tapestries and decorated with beautiful artifacts which she had found while cleaning out the towers. The diamond-paned windows sparkled in the sunshine and the dragon carved over the fireplace seemed to dance in the reflections of light.

A smile curved Isabeau's mouth. Now her mother was awake, she was determined to set out for Lu-cescere as soon as she could, but the journey would take many months by foot. Isabeau really did not want to spare the time. She glanced up at the curved wings and raised claws of the dragon on the wall and her smile deepened. It might be time to call the dragon's name.

Isabeau had flown to Lucescere by dragonback twice before and there was no swifter or more spectacular way to go. The young dragon-princess Asrohc was not always amenable to allowing a human to cross their leg over her back, however. Isabeau had not seen her for some months and was not at all sure the great flying beast would wish to take her such a distance.

Isabeau leaped out of bed, washed her face and hands, and dressed in her shabby old breeches. Buba slept, crouched on the back of the ladder-backed chair, her ears sticking straight up, her eyes shut. Isabeau let the elf-owl be, digging around in her chest and pulling out a massive leather halter, so heavy she could hardly carry it. Hanging it over her shoulder, she went down the corridor, marveling anew at the new tapestries and chairs, the polished silver jugs and candlesticks, the gilded mirrors and ornaments that graced the walls. Ishbel and her team of refugee women had worked wonders in turning the long-abandoned towers into a home.

She popped her head around the nursery door, to see her mother and the babes sleeping and a chambermaid ensconced by the fire with a pile of mending. Feeling freedom heady in her veins, Isabeau bounded down the stairs. Grabbing some bannocks on her way through the kitchen, she ate hungrily as she ran down through the garden to the loch. Even though the sun was shining, Isabeau had pulled on her tarn o' shanter and had her plaid draped over her arm. It was bitterly cold on dragonback.

Isabeau stood on the shore of the loch and looked up toward the twin mountains the Khan'cohbans called the Cursed Peaks. She felt excitement and anticipation quickening her blood. There was no greater thrill than flying the dragon's back. Even flying in the shape of an owl was no comparison, for the dragon could soar above the clouds, so high the curvature of the planet could be seen. Besides, the dragon was the greatest of all creatures, the wisest and the most dangerous. Few people had the chance to even see them, for they lived in the most remote mountain heights, far away from human civilization.

To have the right to call the dragon by name and fly the skies on her back was a rare and precious privilege.

Caillec Asrohc Airi Telloch Cas.

She did not say the name aloud but thought it, each strange syllable throbbing through the chambers and tissues of her body. For a long moment afterward there was a sort of sickening echo that made her ears ring. Then Isabeau saw an immense winged creature rise from the heart of the Cursed Peaks, serrated wings spread wide. The dragon's gilded green body shone in the sunshine, dazzling Isabeau's eyes. She raised her hand to shade them, watching as the dragon soared down the snow-patched slopes and over the loch, her sweeping shadow blotting out the turquoise color of the water. All the birds stopped singing, and the insects stopped chirping. There was an impression of stillness, as if all the busy life of meadow and forest had crouched down in terror. Then the black shadow of wings fell upon Isabeau's face and she had to fight down the instinctive urge to run for her life.

Gracefully the dragon landed on the shore beside Isabeau, folding her wings along her burnished side. Rather dazedly Isabeau thought,
How big she has grown. How bright.

Greetings, little human. Is it not a beautiful day?

Aye, bonny,
Isabeau replied, approaching on rather shaky legs. The dragon towered over her, tall as a castle. Her scales were as smooth and shimmery as silk, her angular head with its crown of sharp spikes and narrow golden eyes seeming more menacing than ever. Her long crested tail, sinuous as a snake, writhed gently back and forth.

So thou wishest to fly, little human. Dost thou dare to trust the dragon?

Isabeau stopped her approach, feeling unaccountably apprehensive.

Dost thy Khan'cohban relatives not say one can never trust the dragon? Dost thou believe them?

Aye,
Isabeau said with a mental smile.
The Khan'-cohbans are wise indeed.

Yet still thou dreamest of soaring the skies. Art thou brave or art thou foolish ?

Both, probably,
Isabeau said and reached out a tentative finger to stroke the cream silk of the dragon's forearm. A vein raised the silken skin, pulsing. The dragon-princess reared back, her wings spreading and that long muscular tail thrashing. Isabeau scrambled backward, alarmed.

Do ye no' wish me to cross my leg over your back?

The dragon sat still, coiling her tail over her claws.
It is not that I do not wish to speak with thee or fly with thee,
she answered in a rather puzzled tone of voice. 7
feel very restless today. I wish to fly. I wish to fly very far and very fast. Thou mayst fly with me if thou so wishest.

I would like to, very much,
Isabeau replied, still hesitant to approach for the tip of the dragon's tail was twitching and she could see muscles bunching in the dragon's neck.

Then cross thy leg, for I grow impatient. Choose. Dost thou wish to fly or stay on the ground and merely long to fly?

I will fly,
Isabeau replied, coming forward with the leather harness. The dragon submitted to having the bridle fastened around her head and shoulders and crouched down so Isabeau could clamber up on to her back, settling herself between two of the great spikes that crowned her spine. Isabeau was hardly in place before Asrohc launched herself into the air, bugling loudly. Isabeau clung on, the sound of that cry chilling her to the very marrow. It was a cry of challenge, of triumph, of excitement, and Isabeau had never heard the young dragon-princess make such a call before.

They soared over the mountains, heading west. Isabeau saw the Spine of the World below her, that great range of peaks which cut Eileanan in half. Far, far below she saw the blue winding ribbon of the Lament of the Gods and marveled that they had traveled so far, so fast. The journey that had taken her so many weeks had been accomplished in minutes.

The dragon screamed again and folded her translucent wings. They plunged, the world below blurring into a swirl of blue and icy white. Isabeau clung to the leather straps, her long hair dragged from its plait and twisting behind her like the fiery tail of a meteor. As the snowy ground rushed up toward her, she shut her eyes and bit her lip, determined not to give the dragon the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Without warning the dragon suddenly twisted and soared, and a cry was forced from Isabeau's lips as her crouched body was flung clear of the dragon's. She gripped even tighter to the leather straps and grunted as she again thudded into place between the spikes of the dragon's crest.

"Ouch!" she cried.
Asrohc, do ye have to do that? Your spine is bloody hard.

The dragon laughed and writhed sinuously so that Isabeau was almost flung clear again.
Art thou afraid I shall let thee fall, human? It is a very long way down for one who has no wings.

That is why I wear all these straps,
Isabeau replied, clinging tighter nonetheless.
I do no' trust ye for a moment.

The dragon turned her head to regard Isabeau with one huge, golden eye, nearly as tall as Isabeau herself. I always thought you were wise for a human, Asrohc answered sardonically. She rolled, her wings folded along her side. Isabeau's hair hung straight down, the sky arching blue above the dragon's bright green body, then she was swung upright again, screaming despite herself.

Asrohc! What's wrong with ye today?

I feel . . . odd. Restless. I want . . .

Suddenly the dragon-princess bugled again and soared into the sky. Isabeau was blinded by tears as the bitterly cold air rushed past her face. She raised one gloved hand and rubbed her eyes, then tried to secure her hair into a knot at her nape. She saw a flash of bronze-gold from the corner of her eye and turned. Another dragon was chasing them. By the deeper cast of his skin, Isabeau knew he was male. With fingers suddenly rigid with fear, Isabeau clung to the harness. Asrohc bugled again and this time her call was answered. Another male, far bigger than the dragon-princess, was coming up from the south. He was flying with great, powerful beats of his sail-like wings. The two males saw each other and bellowed in rage. Asrohc mocked them, turning and rolling so her pale belly was exposed, then soaring up far into the sky.