Dragonclaw (20 page)

‘What is a suitable mate?'

Khan'derin sighed. ‘A man, strong and wise, with blue eyes like those o' all the Firemaker's get and hair with red in it … that is what the Firemaker seeks.' Meghan nodded thoughtfully. Khan'derin continued, ‘Children o' the White and Children o' the Red should no' mate, there is always tragedy if they do. That is how the Towers o' Roses and Thorns came to be deserted in the first place, and the valley cursed … So the Firemaker crosses the mountains when it is time, and the People stay behind, waiting in fear for her to return safely. Auld Mother says the only man o' our people to cross the mountains in generations was my father.'

‘And now ye follow in your father's footsteps, and indeed, that may no' be a bad thing.'

‘So where do we go?'

‘I think I would fain return to my home first,' Meghan said. She told Khan'derin how the Red Guards had attacked her home in the tree, and how anxious she was to return to see who and what had survived.

‘Are ye no' concerned the soldiers will still be there?' Khan'derin asked.

‘The animals will tell me,' she answered.

Meghan spent the rest of the day with Feld, telling him some of her plans and asking his advice. The old sorcerer knew very little, however. He had lived all these years in the Towers of Roses and Thorns quite happily absorbed in his books and the care of the sleeping sorceress whom he loved like a daughter. He had thought it impossible that any of his former friends and colleagues could have escaped the Day of Betrayal, and had not tried to track any of them down.

Meghan also spent some hours sitting with Ishbel, holding her hand and wondering at the nest of hair that cocooned her. Ishbel's magic had always been strange. She had never mastered many of the simple acts of magic that is all most witches manage. She had never been able to light a candle or move an object or read its past. It was as if all of her magic was concentrated in that one Talent, the Talent of Flying, such a rare ability that the Towers had always been rather in awe of her. Perhaps that is why she and Khan'gharad had fallen in love, for he had flown the dragon's back and that too was a strange marvel and frightening to most witches.

Meghan decided it was time to go and brought Ishbel's hand to her mouth to kiss. ‘I am sorry,' she whispered. ‘Sleep safely, my dear.' Then, on impulse, she bent and kissed Ishbel on the forehead, between her eyes. The silver-haired witch stirred, and her eyelashes fluttered and opened. Ishbel looked about her with a wondering gaze and raised herself a little in the shining nest of hair.

‘Meghan …' Her vivid blue eyes filled with tears.

‘Ishbel, ye have woken!'

‘I felt your presence here,' she whispered. ‘I do no' want ye. Please go.'

‘I'm sorry, Ishbel …'

‘I ken ye did no' mean to kill my love, my darling, but ye did, ye did!' Ishbel began to wail, tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘Och, he is dead, my Khan'gharad is dead!'

‘Ishbel, the dragons say he still lives! Strange as it seems, they say he is no' dead. We could try and find him for ye, Ishbel, we could try.'

‘He's dead, he's dead,' the silver-haired witch wept, and sank back into the nest of hair, burying her face in her hands.

‘But the queen-dragon said—'

‘Ye think I would no' ken if my love was alive? I ken he is gone from me, for I search and search, I call for him, and there is no answer. Go away, Meghan, I do no' want to remember, I want to sleep …' As she spoke, Ishbel's eyes began to close but Meghan shook her awake, rough in her urgency.

‘Ishbel, we need ye! We are rising against the Usurper, we need your help! Now is no' the time to sleep. Things are afoot.'

Ishbel gazed at her with wide blue eyes and said softly, ‘Ye have my daughters, is that no' enough?'

Meghan said frantically, ‘I ken Isabeau was your babe, Ishbel, she had your eyes. I did everything I could for her, I brought her up as if she was my own …'

‘I ken, Meghan,' Ishbel said, ‘and I thank ye for it. I heard your voice in my dreams, calling for help and so I came to ye, to judge her Tests as is fitting. But it was too much, too much. To see her all grown, when last I saw her she was still slimy with my birth fluids. To ken sixteen years have passed … that my love has been dead for sixteen years and still I live on … I canna bear it!'

‘Ishbel, please!'

‘Do no' think I hate ye for what ye did, but I canna bear to see your face. Too well I remember that day. It is seared into my memory. I canna bear to remember, I canna bear …' Slowly her words slurred and her eyes closed, tears still trickling from beneath their lids, her breath whimpering.

Meghan shook her fiercely again. ‘Ishbel, Ishbel, what about the Key? What happened to the Key?'

‘I do no' ken,' she whispered, not opening her eyes.

‘What did ye do with the Key? Do ye have it still?'

‘No …'

‘What happened to it? Ishbel, ye must try and remember!'

‘I do no' ken …' Her voice slurred into silence, and none of Meghan's pleas and admonishments and shakings could wake her, though her sleep grew more and more disturbed until at last Meghan desisted, sobs bitter in her throat. She was entangled now in the constantly floating hair as if in a giant spider's web and she was hard put not to fight it off with frantic fists. She stood still, fingers clenched by her side. Gitâ crept from her pocket, soothing and petting her, pushing his silken head beneath her chin. After a moment, she encircled him with her hand, and he buried his cold nose against her palm.

‘So be it,' she said. ‘We keep on searching, and hope Isabeau is safe.' Then she carefully disentangled herself and went back to her room.

After gathering her things together, Meghan left to say a subdued farewell to Feld, who looked as grave as she felt. ‘Feld, I may need ye in the end, when we raise our hands against Maya the Ensorcellor. Will ye help?'

‘I am but an auld man, very tired—' Feld began.

Meghan interrupted him. ‘I am far aulder than ye, Feld. I remember when ye came to the Tower as an eager novice, still wet behind the ears. And I too am tired, so tired I sometimes wonder how I manage to keep this auld body creaking along. But this is no' the time to be worrying about such things! Our country is being ground to dust beneath the heel o' an evil sorceress, and for sixteen years we have nursed our wounds and wished for the grand auld days to return. Well, they canna return but we can start again. Eileanan needs ye, Feld. We need your wisdom and learning, we need your magical strength. Can I call upon ye when I need ye?'

After a moment the old warlock nodded, and his wrinkled face was ashamed. ‘Aye, Keybearer, ye can,' he replied.

With Gitâ riding on her shoulder, Meghan made her way through the ruined corridors of the Towers. Cobwebs hung in splendid, dusty festoons from pillar to pillar, broken masonry littered the floor, and the old witch had to clutch her skirts tight around her boots to prevent them from snagging on the rubbish of centuries. Her spirits were very low, and Gitâ crooned to her softly, holding onto her ear with one black-tipped paw.

Suddenly there was a loud screech and a huge white shape took flight over her head. Meghan jumped and put her hand to her heart.

‘No need to be afraid.' Khan'derin's voice came out of the gloom. ‘It is merely a blizzard owl. They say the Red Sorceress had one as her familiar, and after she threw herself to her death from the heights, only her owl dared stay in the Towers.'

‘Is that what happened? Is that why this is called the Cursed Valley?'

Khan'derin came out into the dim light, dressed all in white fur, with a crossbow and quiver of arrows slung over one shoulder and a small satchel over the other. ‘The Red Sorceress slayed her twin brother and all who tried to stay her hand. Only when the corridors o' the Towers o' Roses and Thorns were red with blood did she kill herself. Everyone else fled, and for centuries no-one would come near, for the halls were filled with the ghosts o' the slain. That is why I dreaded the dragons' command, and tried to stay with the Prides when I had been told to come here. That is why no-one else ever comes near.'

Looking around at the ravaged carvings, the dismal curtains of cobwebs, the broken archways and dark, gaping doorways, Meghan could understand why. She shivered and pulled her woolly plaid closer about her, and was glad when they finally came out of the ruined hall into the grey gloom of the thorn trees. At least the air outside was fresh, and the spurs of the trees were budding with the promise of spring.

Khan'derin looked at her, and her cold, expressionless face seemed to stir with sympathy. ‘In summer, when I am bid to stay here, I spend as much time as I can outside. It is an uncanny place. I still find it so, even after eight years.'

Meghan smiled at her in commiseration for the frightened eight year old she had been, but Khan'derin's face did not kindle in response, and Meghan's smile withered away. She hardly knew what to say to Khan'derin. Although her features were identical to Isabeau's, she could not have been more different. Meghan had not once seen her smile or laugh, she never spoke unless addressed, and she had all sorts of strange mannerisms. In silence they pushed their way through the entwining branches, Khan'derin clearing a path with her axe and knife.

At last they slogged up the snowy incline to where the dragon princess was practising aerial manoeuvres, her green-gold body shining against the blue sky. As Meghan watched, she executed a perfect triple loop and, obviously pleased with herself, gave a triumphant bugle then swooped down above their heads, as Khan'derin concealed her sled in its hiding place.

Meghan smiled at the dragon princess, who gambolled playfully about, making it difficult for Khan'derin to strap on the harness. At last, though, they were mounted and ready, Gitâ huddled down in Meghan's pocket, trembling at the smell of dragon but comforted by Meghan's promise that they would soon be home.

Asrohc flew towards the secret valley. The journey which had taken Meghan seven days was accomplished in less than an hour, the dragon princess landing lightly on the wide rock by the waterfall. Meghan slid off the dragon with her hand clapped over her nose and mouth in a futile attempt to shut out the foul stench of corrupting flesh. All around her were the bodies of Red Guards, flyblown after a week in the sun, plus the corpses of animals who had died in the fighting or in the fires with which the Red Guards had tried to destroy the valley.

Asrohc looked round her with a certain dragonish pleasure, and began to paw at the body of the great stag who had once lorded over this valley.

Meghan held up her hand.
Please leave them be
, she said.
I will bury them, as is our custom
.

Khan'derin looked surprised at her words but was otherwise unaffected by the carnage around her. Meghan could not help comparing her to Isabeau, who would have been sobbing at the sight. A crested falcon flew down to her wrist immediately and told her much of what the Red Guards had done in their frustration and anger. Many of the valley's animal inhabitants were dead, most shot down for sport. The entire litter of elven cats was dead, their mother's tiny body studded with arrows, the bodies of her kittens scattered around her. The thick undergrowth had been scorched away, the great trees now merely blackened trunks.

Once the dragon had flown away with a farewell bugle, what animals had survived came running out, their fur or feathers burnt away in patches, most holding up a damaged paw or injured leg for Meghan to examine. She spent a few minutes petting them and crooning in their languages before making her way around the loch, her face grim, her mouth folded tightly. The way was now much easier without the flowering bushes that once had trailed their branches in the water, but by the time she reached the tree-house, the hem of her skirt was black with ashes. At the foot of the great tree lay Seychella, her face covered by a red cloak to keep the birds of prey away.

‘At least they had some decency,' Meghan said, and lifted the cloak. Seychella's neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, but there was a smile on her decaying face. ‘They say to die in the Mesmerd's arms is to die in bliss,' Meghan said, and dropped the cloak back.

She looked around at the ruin of her valley one more time, then lay her gnarled hand on the massive bole of the tree that was her home. ‘She is damaged,' Meghan said softly, ‘but she still lives.'

Gitâ was sitting on Meghan's shoulder, his bright eyes filled with distress at the death of his animal friends and the burning of the forest. Meghan stroked his fur and said idly,
Are ye glad now ye braved the dragons with me?
He laid his cold black-tipped paw against her neck and chittered loudly.
Will ye go into the house for me, Gitâ, and make sure these cursed Guards have no' left any nasty surprises for me? Be careful, though
.

Reluctantly Gitâ bounded down Meghan's body and crept into the entrance to the secret passage, which had once been concealed by a great thorny bush but now could easily be seen as a narrow crack in the rock. He did not come out for almost ten minutes but neither Meghan nor Khan'derin showed any signs of impatience. At last he came bounding out, chittering anxiously, and Meghan bent and picked him up, stroking his silky brown fur.
Thank ye
. ‘Come, Khan'derin, Gitâ says it is safe.'

Inside bodies littered the kitchen, which stank of putrefying flesh. Khan'derin tied her white scarf over her mouth but again showed little distaste or discomfort. Most of the Guards seemed to have died in an attempt to breach the trapdoor through into the upper floors. They had easily broken the wooden bolt but had not thought to check whether an enchantment also guarded the door. The blast had killed nine of the Red Guards, and must have injured more for Meghan found several fingers, hands and unidentified globs of flesh that did not seem to belong to the bodies. There was also a small pile of dust and ashes that smelt strangely of the marshes, a not altogether unpleasant smell but completely out of place in the dry, cold air of the mountains.