The Tower of Ravens (21 page)

The laughter died out of his face as he saw the winged mare come stepping delicately through the mist-wreathed trees. The two long, scrolled horns springing from the mare’s brow shone an unearthly blue, like the sky at dusk, and her wings were slightly unfurled, showing the subtle gradation of colour from black to iridescent blue. Rhiannon sat straight-backed and grave-faced on her back, wrapped in her long blue cloak, her black hair falling down her back, her quiver of arrows slung over one shoulder. Her longbow was strapped to the crown-embroidered saddlebags that hung over the mare’s withers, while she wore her dagger strapped to her belt. She looked like the queen she had been named for.

There was a long astonished silence.

“O my heart moves in my breast, forever after I am denied all rest,” Landon whispered.

Rhiannon scowled.

A little mutter ran round the apprentices and their horses stirred restively beneath them.

“Athigearn,” Felice whispered. “Och, I’ve always wanted—”

“A thigearn!” Edithe cried. “But—”

“Och, she’s so bonny,” Maisie said. “I’ve never seen a winged horse afore. Oh, I wish she’d fly. I’d love to see her fly!”

It was the longest speech any of them had heard the shy village girl say.

The boys were filled with exclamations of surprise too. “How did she catch it?” Rafferty wanted to know. “How does she control it without even a bridle, let alone whip or spurs?” He glanced sideways at Edithe, who as always had her long whip in her hand, and a sharp silver spur on her boot. Edithe looked displeased and tightened her rein, causing her mare to sidle sideways.

“I never heard o‘ a girl being a thigearn afore,” Cameron said gruffly. “Are they allowed?”

“Why no‘, if she can ride it?” Nina said pleasantly. “What a bonny creature, Rhiannon! I’ve heard o’ the black winged horses o‘ Ravenshaw afore, o’ course, but never thought to see one. Ye look like ye’ve ridden out of an auld tale, the two o‘ ye. Have ye ridden her long?”

“No‘ long,” Rhiannon answered, her face glowing.

“I thought ye had to ride for a year and a day without putting foot to ground afore ye could call yourself a thigearn,” Cameron said, his tone very near a jeer.

“Nay, all ye need do is tame a flying horse,” Niall said. “It’s just that it takes most men that long to break its will. Rhiannon did no‘ need to.” He smiled up at her. She smiled back.

“Well, we’ll surely make a sensation in every village we ride through,” Edithe said in a voice of long suffering. “We really are like a travelling circus now.”

“Aye, and isn’t it a shame that all ken we ride on the Coven’s business? Think o‘ the money we could make!” Iven said shamelessly, and winked at Nina. “Come on, let’s get this circus rolling!”

Barbreck-by-the-Bridge

As they rode down the long elm-lined avenue, the sun struck down through the pale green blossoms flowering profusely on every bare twig and branch. The mist was drawn up like smoke, revealing lush lawns and copses of silver-barked birches. Away to the left were the orchards with their clouds of sweet-smelling blossoms in white and pink, while to the right lay the lake, lined with willow trees and flowering rushes.

Lewen was filled with a bittersweet sadness as he gazed about him, knowing it may be a year or more before he returned to Kingarth again. He turned to have one last look at the little stone house with its steep roof and gables, and saw his parents and sister waving madly. He waved back, then resolutely turned his face away, looking to the road ahead.

Suddenly a tiny shape came hurtling down out of the sky like a maddened hornet. Kalea caught Rhiannon’s blue tam-o‘-shanter and hurled it away, then seized hold of Rhiannon’s hair in two tiny, determined hands and yanked with all her strength. Rhiannon yelped in pain and swatted at the little faery, sending her head over heels. Kalea crashed into an elm branch and hung there, whimpering. Rhiannon lifted both hands to her hair, her face white with fury. Blackthorn danced uneasily.

A babble of surprised voices rose.

“What is it?” Rafferty demanded. “Did ye see how fast it came?”

“I thought we were being shot at,” Cameron exclaimed, dropping his hand from his sword.

“What on earth!” Iven cried, pulling up his grey carthorse. “Och, it’s the wee nisse!”

“Kalea!” Lewen said reprovingly. “What in Eà‘s name do ye think ye are doing?”

“Look at the wee thing, is she no‘ adorable?” Felice cried.

Kalea showed her fangs.

“Ooh, how horrid!” Edithe cried and dragged her horse’s head around so the brown mare wheeled sideways, almost trampling Maisie’s fat pony.

Nina laughed and brought the blue tam-o‘-shanter floating up from where it lay on the grass. “Happen she’s jealous,” she said, letting the tam-o’-shanter drop into Rhiannon’s lap. Rhiannon seized it and put it on again, scowling ferociously.

“Kalea, ye must no‘ do things like that,” Lewen said helplessly. He held out his hand and the bright-winged faery came zooming down to cling to his finger, gibbering in distress. “I’m sorry, did I no’ say farewell to ye? Do no‘ cry. I’ll be back soon enough.”

High-pitched screeches shrilled from the tiny throat. Lewen winced, but stroked the nisse’s tangled mane of hair and smoothed down her indignant wings. “I ken, I ken. Never mind. Ye kent I had to go.”

More screeches, and the nisse turned and shook a minuscule fist at Rhiannon. Lewen looked a little embarrassed, but did his best to soothe the enraged faery, while Rhiannon merely stared at her coldly, her mouth set hard.

Suddenly the faery swung away from Lewen’s finger and hurtled towards Rhiannon again. As quickly as a striking snake, Rhiannon reached out and snatched her from the air. The speed and precision of her reflexes was extraordinary, making them all gasp. Imprisoned in Rhiannon’s fist, Kalea shrieked in terror. No matter how she squirmed or wriggled, or how ferociously she sank her fangs into Rhiannon’s hand, the satyricorn girl did not let go. Slowly, deliberately, holding Kalea close before her face, she began to squeeze her fingers closed. Kalea whimpered in pain.

“Rhiannon, let her go!” Lewen shouted.

She ignored him.

“Rhiannon, I mean it!” He kicked Argent forward and the stallion wheeled in close beside the nervous winged mare so Lewen could reach out and grasp Rhiannon’s wrist. Holding her immobile, he used his other hand to prise open her fingers.

For a moment their strength and wills battled. Then Rhiannon gasped and relaxed her hold. Kalea shot out of her hand and went flying to Lewen, nestling behind his ear, peering out to gibber at Rhiannon mockingly.

Lewen let go of her wrist.

Rhiannon looked down at the angry red marks on her still-bruised wrist. “Ye strong,” she said in approval. “Ye near broke my hand.”

“Ye should no‘ have hurt Kalea,” Lewen said, still furious.

“She hurt me.”

“She should no‘ have done that either.”

Rhiannon shrugged, cradling her abused wrist in her other hand. “No‘ my fault.”

“No, happen so,” Lewen said, his anger cooling. “But she’s only a wee nisse, ye should no‘ have sought to kill her.”

“Tell her no‘ to hurt me again or me hurt her,” Rhiannon said indifferently and bent to stroke Blackthorn’s damp neck, soothing the unsettled mare.

“Very well,” Lewen said coolly, and plucked the nisse from behind his ear. “Go home, Kalea,” he said sternly. “And let this be a lesson to ye!”

She made a derisive gibbering sound, then leant forward and kissed his nose. While Lewen was still recovering from his surprise and embarrassment, Kalea flew up into the air, made an extremely rude gesture towards Rhiannon, then shot off at high speed, her dragonfly wings whirring.

For a moment Rhiannon and Lewen were frozen in mutual surprise and consternation. Then both broke into laughter.

“Nisses!” Lewen said, then said awkwardly, “I’m sorry. She has absolutely no manners.”

“Me no manners either,” Rhiannon said cheerfully.

She looked round at the circle of faces. Edithe and Maisie both looked shocked, Felice, Iven and Nina were struggling to suppress amusement, and Roden and Rafferty were both laughing out loud. Landon had pulled out a grubby little notebook and was scribbling notes with a distastefully chewed quill, his ink bottle balanced most precariously on his saddle pommel, and Cameron was regarding Rhiannon with something very nearly approaching respect.

“What we wait for?” Rhiannon demanded. “Ride on!”

Felice laughed. “This journey is going to be fun,” she cried exuberantly. “What will ye do next, Rhiannon?”

Without waiting for an answer, she dug her heel into her mare’s side and moved off again down the road, Rafferty breaking into a trot to follow her.

“I can hardly wait to find out,” Iven said dryly and flicked his reins at the gelding’s broad back. The caravans both moved off again, the apprentice-witches falling into formation behind them.

Lewen and Rhiannon followed suit, riding side by side at the very end of the cavalcade.

“I’m sorry if I hurt ye,” Lewen said remorsefully. “I forgot how sore your wrists still are.”

Rhiannon gave her usual shrug, glancing at him under her lashes. “Hurt worse afore,” she said dismissively and smiled at him, knowing full well she had just made him feel a whole lot worse.

The long avenue ended at a pair of massive iron gates, bounded on each side by tall thick hedges bristling with thorns. Beyond Kingarth was nothing but forest and mountains, filled with wild creatures and faeries of all kinds, many of them dangerous. The brambly hedge ran the whole perimeter of the farm, and was patrolled regularly by Ursa the Bear to make sure there were no gaps or holes through which even a polecat or hoar-weasel could squeeze its lithe shape. The gates themselves were guarded by the son of Niall’s old gillie, who lived in a cottage just inside the gates with his wife and two young children.

Jock MacGhillie came out to unlock the gates for the cavalcade, saluting Iven smartly and wishing them good speed. They rode out smartly, so Jock could make sure all was secure behind them, and found themselves on a narrow dirt road that wound down through dense forest along the eastern bank of the Find-horn River. The river ran fast and white along its rocky course, tumbling down in foaming cataracts wherever the hill dropped away. Looking back up the river, Rhiannon remembered how she had used to sit on the ridge by the black lake, wondering where the river went and wishing she could follow it. The thought pleased her. She smiled and pressed her heels into Blackthorn’s side so the mare lengthened her stride, cantering ahead of the others. Lewen’s big grey stallion followed her at once, his heavy hooves sending up plumes of dust.