It was a long flight back to the Cursed Valley, and even with the strength of a golden eagle’s wings, Isabeau was worn out by the time she at last glided down towards the towers. She had no desire to run naked through the halls so she came down to land on the sill of an open window on one of the top floors. She transformed back into her own shape and almost fell from the window, so deep was the exhaustion which swept over her. She managed to scramble through, bruising her knees as she dropped to the floor. Wrapping her soft woollen plaid about her, Isabeau was relieved to find it was still fastened by the brooch Lachlan had given her, the stylised dancing dragon with the golden jewelled eye. It was one of Isabeau’s most precious possessions, along with the plaid itself which had been woven for her by the Keybearer Meghan herself. White crossed with soft bands of red and blue, it was the MacFaghan tartan and the mark of Isabeau’s royal heritage. Although she was sorry to have lost her favourite breeches and tam o’ shanter, she would have been distressed indeed by the loss of plaid and badge.
‘I can see I’m going to have to work out some solution to this problem o’ losing my clothes all the time!’ she said to herself as she thrust her two rings back onto her fingers. She then hurried through the corridors to her own room, managing to avoid being seen by any of the servants.
Isabeau had studied a great deal of dragon lore during her time at the Towers of Roses and Thorns. For her first three years there she had had Feld of the Dragons as her teacher and mentor, and after he had died, she had continued her studies alone. Feld had catalogued all the books and scrolls in the library with references to the dragons and Isabeau had systematically read her way through them. She knew that Asrohc would soon lay an egg which she would guard jealously for the next three years as the little dragon embryo within grew and developed. According to the textbooks, a newly laid dragon egg was quite small but over the three years slowly swelled until it was large as a sleeping horse. It would take a hundred years for the young dragon to reach its full size and maturity. Asrohc herself was only a century old and the youngest by far of all the dragons. If she could keep her egg safe, and if the newly hatched dragonet proved to be female, the slow dying-out of the dragons might be halted.
Isabeau could only be happy at the thought, even though Asrohc’s coming of age presented her with what seemed like an insurmountable problem. There was no possibility of the dragon-princess flying Isabeau down to Lucescere now. She would be busy building a nest before the egg was laid, and busier still keeping it warm and safe from ogres, goblins, frost giants and the other vicious scavengers of the mountains. Her mate would hunt for her and take turns to rotate the egg and keep it warm. Dragons mated for life, Isabeau knew, and only if their mate died could they be persuaded to take another.
Although Asrohc was not the only dragon to live in Dragonclaw, she was the only one to allow humans to fly her back. Asrohc had been saved by Khan’gharad when he was only a boy himself, and she felt some friendship towards his family as a result. Isabeau could no more ask Asrohc’s haughty brothers to fly her down to Lucescere than their ancient and powerful mother, the queen-dragon herself.
All that evening Isabeau worried about how she was to get to Lucescere. She could transform into an eagle again and fly down, but that would mean arriving at the royal court naked and without any possessions. She wanted to take her plaid and brooch, her rings, her owl’s talon, her quartz crystal, her witch’s knife, her belt of tools and weapons, her satchel of herbs and medicines, not to mention a few essential items of clothes. Far too much to be carried in the talons of an eagle, no matter how large and powerful.
She could set off on foot, as she had done when she had first left the safety of Meghan’s secret valley on the night of her sixteenth birthday. That had been a long and dangerous journey, though, and Isabeau had no real desire to repeat it.
So, that night at dinner, Isabeau leant over to her father and said softly, ‘Do ye remember when we first came to the Cursed Valley?’
They were sitting together at the high table in the grand dining room, with Khan’gharad’s newly appointed squire serving them. The gentlemen and ladies of the household sat at the lower table, served by either their own personal servants or by the footmen who, having only recently been promoted, were still rather clumsy. There was a loud buzz of conversation which effectively screened Isabeau’s voice.
Her father shook his head. ‘No’ really,’ he answered softly. ‘My years as a horse seem like a nightmare now, vague and horrible. I remember they had hobbled me and ye came and cut the hobbles.’
‘Ye brought me and Bronwen here by the Auld Way,’ she said.
‘Aye, that’s right.’ Khan’gharad’s voice was reserved.
‘How did ye ken how? Are the Auld Ways no’ the Celestines’ roads? Meghan has been friends with the Celestines for centuries and they have never shown her the secret o’ the hidden roads.’
‘Happen she never asked them.’
‘Nay, she would’ve. Meghan always wants to ken everything about everything.’
‘Happen they did no’ want to reveal their secrets to one o’ humankind.’
‘But ye are half human.’
‘I am also half Khan’cohban.’
‘So do the Khan’cohbans ken the secret o’ the Auld Ways?’
‘Why all these questions? Are ye offering me a question in return?’
‘If ye wish to ask me questions, ask me,’ Isabeau replied impatiently. ‘We are no’ on the Spine o’ the World now.’
‘Rudeness is rudeness anywhere.’
Isabeau sighed. ‘I’m sorry if ye think I have been rude but indeed I have a reason for my questions.’
‘And what is that reason?’
‘Now the babes are born and Mam is on the mend, I wish to be returning to Lucescere. Ye ken I can be o’ help to them there, and besides, I want to study at the Tower o’ Two Moons. I’m way behind the rest o’ my peers now, and if I want to take my Tests and join the Coven, then I need to be working hard and catching up.’
‘But Ishbel tells me this ability to take on the form o’ different animals is a powerful Talent indeed, that ye are already a sorceress o’ uncommon ability. Why do ye need to study and take Tests?’
‘If I want to reach my full potential I need to be in complete control. I do no’ really understand what it is I do or how. Besides, there are many, many Skills I do no’ have. I’ve had only a wee bit o’ instruction in the powers o’ air and water and earth, though my fire Skills are quite good thanks to Latifa. A witch needs to learn as much as she can about all the elements if she is to gain the High Magic. Normally an apprentice spends eight years doing naught but studying afore she is thought to have enough understanding o’ the One Power to even be admitted to the Coven as a witch. Then there are many years more specialising in one element or another afore ye can win your sorceress rings. Ye must ken all this, Dai-dein, ye went to the Tower o’ Two Moons to learn what ye could. I remember Meghan saying ye came to learn from the witches once ye had mastered all that the Khan’cohbans could teach ye.’ He nodded. Isabeau went on, ‘Ye ken it is no’ that I do no’ want to be with ye and Mam, but ye have the babes now and ye are both busy restoring the castle and setting up trade opportunities. I need to find my own place in the world.’
He nodded again.
Isabeau sighed inside. Her father had all the more irritating Khan’cohban traits. She wished he was not so reserved and taciturn. She subdued her impatience and said very deliberately, ‘I have answered your question in fullness and truth, now will ye answer mine?’
His eyes widened a little and he leant back in his chair, goblet in one hand. She watched him thinking back over their conversation. Then amusement flickered on his hard face and he inclined his horned head.
‘I asked ye how it was that ye knew the secret o’ the Auld Ways but ye were reluctant to answer me,’ Isabeau said with the appropriate Khan’cohban gestures. ‘I respect your reticence and ask ye instead if ye will tell
me how I may travel that way.’
‘It is no’ my secret to reveal,’ he answered. ‘The Auld Ways are dangerous indeed and no’ to be travelled lightly.’
Isabeau remembered their journey along the magical road and gave a little shudder. She knew her father spoke the truth. She was anxious to reach Lucescere though and knew no faster way. She sipped her wine to give her time to think, then said, ‘When I told ye the story o’ my naming-quest, ye offered me a story o’ my choice in return. Ye ken that the secret o’ one’s name is the most carefully guarded tale o’ any Khan’cohban yet I told ye mine willingly. I have now asked ye the question o’ my choice. Do ye refuse to answer?’
He stared at her, anger in his eyes. His mouth was set grimly. ‘Ye ken I canna do that,’ he answered in a hard voice. ‘It would be dishonourable indeed and though I may have left the Spine of the World afore ye were born, I am still a Khan’cohban and a Scarred Warrior.’
‘Well then,’ Isabeau replied.
He stared at her for a long time then bowed his head. ‘The secret o’ the Celestines’ road is no’ one easily told,’ he said harshly. ‘I shall have to show ye. I warn ye again about the dangers o’ the Auld Ways. It is easy to wander astray. Once ye ken the way o’ it, ye must promise me no’ to use it lightly. Ye could end up in places ye could never have imagined.’
Isabeau nodded, her blue eyes brilliant with excitement. He rose abruptly, saying, ‘We must be at the ring o’ stones by dawn so ye shall have to wake early.’
‘I am no’ sure I’ll be ready to leave so quickly, I—’
‘Do no’ be a fool,’ he snapped. ‘Do ye think ye can learn to travel the Auld Ways in a single morning or that ye can go on any auld day? Nay, if ye are to travel to Lucescere ye would be best waiting till the night of the spring equinox, when the Celestines shall sing the sun to life and the running o’ the summerbourne cleanses the lines o’ power. Even so, ye shall have to run fast.’
Isabeau nodded again, though the light in her eyes had quenched. Many in the room were looking at them, startled by the harshness of Khan’gharad’s tones. He bent his horned head and said softly, ‘The Auld Ways are one of the Celestines’ most magical mysteries. Since I am forced to reveal it to ye, ye must promise me to never betray my confidence and tell it to anyone else, no matter what. Do ye promise?’
‘Aye, by the stars, the moons and Eà’s green blood, I promise,’ Isabeau replied and he nodded curtly, satisfied.
Isabeau stood within the Celestines’ circle of stones, the elf-owl perched on her shoulder. The shadows of the great crags stretched long over the grass, her own shadow dwarfed between them. A cool wind riffled the curls that had escaped from her plait and blew the edges of her plaid about.
It was the night of the spring equinox, when the tides of the seasons turned and the elemental energies ran strong. It was a time of great power, when witches celebrated the coming of summer and at dawn, the Celestines sang the sun to life.
The sun slipped down until only a thin fiery crescent showed above the dark peaks. A single red ray lit the tall stones on the hill with glowing colour. Isabeau stepped forward and laid her hand on one of the symbols carved deep into the south-facing crags. A fierce shock ran up her arm and she had to fight to keep her hand pressed against the symbol.
A glinting curtain of silver-green fire materialised from nowhere. Isabeau took a deep breath and stepped through, the elf-owl taking flight from her shoulder. The curtain brushed her skin with an icy shock that caused Isabeau to cry out in pain. Then she was running down a long glimmering tunnel that stretched as far as her eyes could see. All around her the silvery walls and floor undulated with raw energy, like sheet lightning irradiating a stormy sky.
She could see the outside world through the glinting walls, but with every difficult stride the scene lurched. It was as if each step covered many leagues at once. One moment she saw the dark shapes of trees looming over her, the next a cliff face was leaping at her. Then she was inside the mountain, stalactites stabbing towards her. Then she was beyond and a waterfall was pouring past, the starlit foam white in the darkness. Then a dark forest, the groping, writhing branches all hung with grey moss, growing close about a high bare hill crowned with a circle of blazing pillars.
An eldritch shriek echoed through the tunnel and Buba hooted fearfully. Isabeau’s heart jerked sickeningly. She well remembered the ghosts that had chased her along this pathway when she had last travelled it. From the corner of her eye she saw a menacing shadow swooping at her heels. Isabeau did not look back, sprinting as fast as she could down the road. There was a rush of icy wind upon the back of her neck, an unearthly wailing that almost caused her step to falter.
She must not let her concentration lapse. Any misstep and she could find herself travelling to another world or another time. Khan’gharad had impressed the dangers of the Celestines’ road upon her forcibly.
In the past two months he had done his best to explain to her the nature of the faery roads, what the Celestines called the Old Ways. The more Isabeau learnt, the more afraid she had become and the more eager to learn their secrets.
The Celestines had built their rings of stones in places of power, places charged with energy. Called the Heart of Stars, these centres of energy each radiated seven invisible lines of power that connected with each other across the entire planet, like an immense yet delicate spiderweb of knots and rays. These lines of power followed the swing of the sun, the moons, the stars and the planets across the land, converging into spirals of primary energy where the magnetic forces of the earth and the universe knotted together into sources of immense power. Each Heart of Stars acted as a focal point for this energy, like a magnifying glass concentrating sunshine into a ray of light that could burn a hole in paper.
Isabeau had heard of lines of power before but she had never realised that the Celestines could travel along these lines as if they were a road. The journey along the faery path was not one to be taken lightly, however. Apart from the strain it placed on the traveller’s body and mind, the lines of power existed in a warp of space and time. Khan’gharad said it had been known for people from another time or another world altogether to step through the standing stones and find themselves stranded in Eileanan, unable to make their way back to their own existence.
Such sudden and peculiar arrivals were rare though. The primary danger to travelling the faery roads was that they attracted emanations of psychic power, some of them very spiteful. Few ghosts could muster enough strength to physically harm a living being, but those of particular malevolence could sometimes overwhelm you with their negative energy, swamping you with darkness, depression and madness. Isabeau knew she was particularly vulnerable to such forces, having had to fight periods of melancholy ever since her torture six years earlier. So she did not look back. She forced her body forward against the roiling billows of energy surging around her legs, her heartbeat pounding like a drum in her ears.
She could not run all night. Soon she stumbled in exhaustion and slowed to a walk, hardly able to breathe, her lungs on fire. On she plodded, forest blurring past her. Twice more ghosts came at her, mere shreds of mist and shadows with wailing faces and outstretched hands. Each time she somehow found the strength to outrun them, though all her joints were screaming.
Suddenly someone was there beside her. She tried to run but a soft humming sound reassured her. It was a Celestine. All three of his eyes were open, the one in the centre of his forehead as black and fathomless as a well, the two below as translucent as crystal. New energy spread through her with the touch of his hand on her arm. Side by side they walked, and Isabeau found her stride lengthening once more, the muscles in her thighs and calves forgetting the many miles she had run.
Dark, twisted shapes with malevolent faces writhed out of the walls and floor but the Celestine sang them away. Then another Celestine joined them, then another, stepping through the walls seemingly from nowhere. Isabeau began to understand how it was that
one could stray from the road when there was no indication in the walls that a junction of paths was near.
Soon there was a procession of white-clad Celestines walking the road, Isabeau in their midst, the owl floating ahead like a snowflake blown in the wind.
Isabeau heard a soft crooning rise almost imperceptibly out of the rush and billow of sound that continually shook the tunnel of green fire. The crooning grew and grew till Isabeau heard cadences in it, a melody of such depth and timbre that all the hairs on her arms rose. The Celestines all round her were humming deep in their throats, yet the sound was much greater than could be produced by these few. It rang all down the road, sparks of silver fire racing through the iridescent walls, igniting and exploding into fireworks of unimaginable beauty. Brighter and brighter the tunnel grew, until all was blazing with silver light. Isabeau could feel the song thrumming through every vein and artery, shuddering up her legs and down her spine, her skin tingling with it. It was like a storm wind, green with lightning, that flowed over her and into her, purifying her blood and filling her with a joy so keen it was akin to grief.
Through the silver-shot walls she could see the crowded streets of Lucescere, then the trees and lawns of the palace gardens, then the dark fretwork of the labyrinth. Her step quickened in anticipation. Ahead was the Pool of Two Moons, surrounded by a blazing ring of pillars and arches. A fountain rose in the centre of the pool, the water shining as if a light was hidden within. One by one the Celestines stepped through the archway, then Isabeau stepped through too, the owl fluttering down to rest on her shoulder.
It was dawn. The sky was the colour of pewter, the dark spears of the cypress trees stabbing upwards. The relief from the tingling pain in her joints and fingertips caused Isabeau to stagger, then fall to her knees. She looked up, dizzy and sick. Lachlan stood over her, naked as the day he was born, his wings spread wide, singing. He stared at her in astonishment but did not falter, his voice ringing out pure and strong. He was holding hands with two Celestines, a great ring of faeries standing around the pool, humming the sun to life. The faeries who had travelled with Isabeau along the Old Way joined the circle, their deep crooning like the thrum of an organ. Isabeau sat back on her heels and watched them, so tired she thought she would faint, so happy she thought she would cry.