The Cursed Towers

by Kate Forsyth

  Into the hush rose a low, melodic humming which thrilled all through Lilanthe’s veins. She leant forward, listening intently, and by her side Niall clasped his big hands on his knees, his head bent. The hymn to the sun reverberated through the clearing, and slowly the darkness dissolved till the leaves crowning the tree were all gilded with sunshine. Broad and glossy, the leaves were coloured purple and green with a silvery underside so that when the wind blew, they flashed like the bright scales of fish crowded together at the shore. Clustered within the leaves were hundreds of creamy buds as large as Lilanthe’s head. As the sun spilled down upon them, they burst open, showering the air with perfume. An excited murmur arose.

  The Celestines dropped their hands and stood with their heads bowed before the tree. Lilanthe breathed in the rich, spicy incense, feeling her whole being respond. Although she should have been exhausted after the night of dancing, she felt more alive and vibrant than ever before. Thousands of bright-winged nisses flew up into the branches, gathering the flowers and throwing them down so they covered the ground like a counterpane of snow.

  The antlered faery dropped to his knees before the tree, spreading his arms wide. Another slow humming arose, though this time it had the melancholy tempo of a funeral dirge. Cloudshadow stepped forward and thrust her hand into the smooth trunk of the tree until it was submerged to the wrist. When she withdrew her hand, she held a long, wavy dagger made of wood, the hilt carved and set with mother-of-pearl. Lilanthe tensed, feeling such profound grief and remorse in the Celestine that tears again started involuntarily to her eyes.

  ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I thought the Celestines were a peaceful people.’

  ‘Wha’ is wrong?’ Niall whispered, but the tree-shifter did not answer, staring at the scene below her with painful intensity.

  Cloudshadow brought the dagger to her mouth and kissed it, then she bent and seized the prostrate Celestine by his antlers, pulling back his head so she could slice his throat with the dagger. Blood poured from the gash onto the creamy petals of the flowers scattered before him, and there was a collective gasp from the crowd. Lilanthe sobbed out loud.

  The antlered faery fell forward, his body slack. The blood from his terrible wound soaked into the earth and the Celestines all wept, their soft crooning changing to a discordant wail. Cloudshadow wept also, falling to her knees by the dead faery’s side and trying to lift his body into her arms, her pale robe stained with blood.

  An old Celestine, his face seamed with wrinkles, came and tried to raise her. She resisted for a moment, then allowed him to help her stand. The tears on her face shone with a silvery trace. The other Celestines clustered around her, embracing her and trying to console her. She composed herself and stood upright, raising her reddened hands to the dawn sky. They tore the bloodied robe from her shoulders until she was naked. Lilanthe saw with a little shock that the Celestine had three pairs of breasts. They were all swollen with milk above her distended stomach, and Lilanthe realised Cloudshadow was gravid with child.

  The other Celestines used her robe to wrap the dead faery in, the oldest removing the mask with reverent fingers and placing it over Cloudshadow’s weeping eyes. The victim was revealed as a young Celestine, his face smooth except for the corrugations of skin around his third eye. They heaped his breast with the blood-wet flowers and, chanting and humming, carried him away. Cloudshadow followed, her horned head downcast.

  Lilanthe roused herself from her trance. Elala was perched on her knee and Lilanthe asked, with her eyes still hot with tears, Why did she kill him? I thought the Celestine abhorred all violence! Who was he?

  He was the Treeblood, Elala answered, her tattered wings drooping. The Celestines must always slay slaughter a lover beloved for the blooming of the Summer Tree.

  But I thought they hated violence o’ any kind, Lilanthe protested.

  The nisse nodded, her triangular face sad. Sorrow suffer for the slaying of the Treeblood, truly they sorrow suffer.

  Who was he? Why did she have to do it? Lilanthe gazed after the drooping figure of the young Celestine as she followed the funeral procession out of the circle of stones.

  Her lover beloved, her life-mate.

  Ye mean that was her husband? The father o’ the baby?

  Always the lover beloved must slay slaughter the Treeblood, the nisse said and hunched her tattered wings around her.

  What about your wing? Lilanthe asked. Do the flowers o’ the Summer Tree no’ heal? Why did ye no’ gather some o’ the flowers?

  The Stargazers shall repair restore my wing, Elala answered. The flowers belong to them, for it is their lifeblood bloodlife that was spilled to bless the tree.

  As the sun reached its apex in the sky, the forest faeries again assembled at the circle of stones. Again the long procession of Celestines gathered at the foot of the massive old tree. This time Cloudshadow led the procession, robed again in white silk, a child in her arms. There was a look of exhausted peace on her face, and her hair was bound back with the fragrant, white flowers of the Summer Tree. To the accompaniment of low, sonorous humming, she held the child aloft. The baby’s three eyes were wide open and wondering, and the crowd all round erupted into talk and laughter.

  See my daughter, Cloudshadow said in Lilanthe’s mind. One day she too may have to murder her beloved so the Summer Tree shall continue to grow and blossom. Such is the heavy task laid upon us, and indeed my heart is burdened with sorrow.

  Lilanthe’s heart swelled in sympathy, and she saw Niall the Bear was choking back tears. She took his hand and he gripped it tightly.

  Come, bring me Elala, Cloudshadow said. Now I have eaten of the Summer Tree’s flowers, my powers are stronger than ever. This is the reward for the price I have paid.

  Lilanthe carried the quivering little nisse through the crowd and across the lawn to where the Celestines were grouped. She saw many other faeries were following her, all with wounds or injuries they wished the Celestines to heal. Among them were cursehags and satyricorns, and Lilanthe was amazed that the gentle Celestines would extend their magic even to these malicious faenes.

  All are welcome in the garden of the Celestine if they come with no thought of hatred in their hearts, Cloudshadow explained. What they do once they leave our garden is a matter for their own character and conscience.

  When the Celestine laid her hands upon the little nisse’s forehead, the tattered remnants of her wing wove back together until it was again whole, as brittle and diaphanous as a dragonfly’s wing. Elala gave a piercing shriek and shot up into the air. High above their heads she soared and somersaulted, and all the other nisses darted up to join her, till the clearing resounded with their commotion.

  It took some time to heal all the creatures of the forest, for squirrels, deer, woolly bears and wolves were among the many to crowd down into the clearing. Cloudshadow was not the only Celestine to heal by the laying on of hands, and she explained that all those who ate of the flowers were given restorative powers, as well as the gift of prophecy and clear-sight.

  All Celestines carry the sap of the Summer Tree in their veins, for once swallowed it soaks deep into the very stuff of our bodies. Each generation that inherits the powers is less potent, however, and it is only those Celestines that have eaten of the flower itself who have the greatest powers, Cloudshadow said.

  Lilanthe wondered at her ability to read her thoughts and the Celestine smiled wearily at her across the crowd. I have only this hour eaten of the Summer Tree and its juice runs riot in my veins. I can hear the thoughts of all that are here and the thoughts of those that are far away. My ears are clamouring with the noise, and my heart thunders in my body.

  By the time all were healed, Cloudshadow was looking dangerously pale, dark marks like bruises under her eyes. She came to Lilanthe and held out one of the huge white flowers of the Summer Tree. A rich, spicy perfume rose from its golden heart and its silken petals were still stained with smears of blood. This is a charge for you to carry and guard
. You must protect and preserve it as you would your own life. When it is time, you will know what to do with the Summer Tree flower.

  Lilanthe shook her head involuntarily, thinking at once of Isabeau’s braid of hair. The Celestine pressed it into her hands. You will guard it well, I have no doubts or dread. You must trust yourself Can you trust others if you do not have trust in your heart for yourself?

  The tree-shifter brought the flower to her nose and breathed deeply of its gorgeous perfume. The tears which had sprung to her eyes dried and the thickness in her throat dissolved. Thank you, I will guard it well.

  The child, which had been laid in its bed of bloodied silk for all to greet and examine, was now wailing with hunger and tiredness. Cloudshadow lay on the flowering bank and let the child feed, saying wearily to Lilanthe, Now is the time for you to speak, if you wish to win the faeries to peace. The Summer Tree makes all at harmony, and we have exerted much effort and energy to bring so many to be here for you. Alone among the people of the forest do we the Stargazers trust you of the Coven, and we have made many sacrifices, in ljfeblood and love, to help you today. Speak well, child of the sap and the blood, and the world will make a turn to the sun.

  Panic washed over Lilanthe. She found the great mass of creatures, both animal and faery, had turned to her and were waiting, and she wondered what the Celestines had said to them. Somehow she found the courage to rise and face them. Niall rose too and stood at her shoulder, smiling warmly at her and nodding at the crowd. Many growled or hissed at the sight of him, and that gave Lilanthe the impetus to begin.

  She did not know where the words came from but they flowed as freely as water. All that she had seen and learnt since her meeting with Isabeau the previous year was woven through her own sense of alienation and her intense desire to belong. Often she was mocked or shouted down, but always she found the words to woo them.

  ‘No’ all humans are evil,’ she insisted, ‘just as no’ all faeries are. Evil grows within the individual heart, regardless o’ kin or kind. They say all cursehags are evil, yet there are many here today and we all ken the evil-hearted are no’ welcome in the garden o’ the Celestines. Would the Stargazers have welcomed Niall the Bear if they did no’ ken he was a good man, with a kindly heart and gentle spirit? Indeed there are many bad men, as there are bad bears and bad tree-changers. Indeed humans have done much harm and have hurt many. Should evil beget evil, though? If we should let blind hatred flower in our hearts, then indeed Maya the Ensorcellor will have done her work, and the whole land will be steeped in blood and bad-wishing.’

  She reminded them of the golden days when Aedan Whitelock had ruled, and men and faeries had abided by the Pact of Peace, letting each live freely and without interference. ‘Lachlan the Winged is the direct descendant o’ Aedan Whitelock and he has pledged to draw up another Pact o’ Peace and return Eileanan to the days when faeries were welcomed in the courts o’ the land, and their wisdom listened to and respected.’

  She told them how the dragons had pledged their support to Meghan of the Beasts, and how the armies of Lachlan the Winged were hunting down the evil Seekers of the Awl and making them pay for their evil deeds. Many in the audience had heard tales of the winged boy and how he had sung the summerbourne with the Celestines so that it ran stronger and more purely than it had in years. The forest rustled at her words, and faeries of all types turned to each other and whispered.

  ‘Will ye no’ give your support to the young rìgh?’ she asked. ‘Like ye and me, he has been hunted and reviled, called uile-bheist and monster. He has wed one o’ the Khan’cohbans and given birth to a wee laddie wi’ wings like a bird. He received a tree-shifter and a cluricaun into his court, and paid us his respects, and bade us teach his people what we could about the faeries o’ the forest. He has promised that those o’ faery blood can again live without fear and sworn that any who lift their hand against us will be punished severely. But he needs our help if he is to enforce his rule—Eileanan is torn by civil war, and if Lachlan the Winged fails, so do all chances o’ ever again living in peace.’

  After she had finished speaking, there was much argument and Lilanthe was disappointed to see there were many who thought she must have been misled or cozened by the human witches. But both Corissa and Carrick stood up and confirmed what she had said, describing their rescue from the Tower of the Mists. They too were only half-faeries, though, and many would not heed what they said. Another corrigan called Sann then described how she had met Meghan of the Beasts and the new rìgh in the Veiled Forest, and promised they were sincere in their intentions. Sann’s words were listened to with respect, for she had been stoned and driven from her home by humans and had as much right to hate them as anyone there. Elala added her shrill cries to the chorus, and then the ancient Celestine they called the Stargazer came forward, so old and frail he seemed a mere bundle of bones and wrinkled skin.

  He began to hum, deep in his throat, and the Celestines grouped behind him added their soft crooning. Where every other speaker had been interrupted and argued with, the Celestines were listened to with great respect. Tears gathered in Lilanthe’s eyes and flowed down her cheeks as the Celestines spoke of their years of loss and exile, their struggle to keep their ancient culture alive, to tend the forest and its creatures as they had always done, and to stop their race from disappearing altogether. Many in the audience were as moved as she was. When the Celestines sang of forgiveness and friendship, Lilanthe saw many in the gathering were embracing or clasping hands, their cries and growls and murmurs almost drowning out the Celestines’ thrumming melody.

  When the Stargazer’s song had murmured into silence, the Celestines withdrew into the secret heart of the garden, to grieve in privacy. The faeries and animals all gradually dispersed, many talking and arguing still. Lilanthe felt anxiety grip her, for she had hoped for a strong declaration of support from the crowd.

  Niall laid his big, rough hand on her shoulder and said gently, ‘Ye must give them time to think, my lady. Ye spoke so wisely, I have no’ a single doubt that they shall follow ye. Come and eat and rest, for it was a long night and an even longer day.’

  The next morning, however, when Lilanthe and Niall the Bear made ready to leave the serene beauty of the sun-gilded garden, they were bitterly disappointed to find the garden empty. They had hoped some at least would pledge their help and support. They walked down the avenue of moss-oaks with heavy hearts, unable to even smile at the antics of the cluricaun Brun, who danced and cartwheeled all around them, his tail waving joyously. Even Elala the nisse did not come to say farewell, and Lilanthe trudged along unhappily, miserable that she had failed again.

  Then suddenly, beyond the borders of the garden, the bright-winged nisse came flashing through the trees, shrieking loudly, hundreds of her kin darting and soaring behind her. She seized Niall’s hair and tugged it sharply, then hung off his nose, gibbering away in her shrill language. Lilanthe’s face lit up. ‘She says the forest tread tramps!’

  They could hear a rustling and soughing like a storm through pine-branches, then they saw a great army of faeries marching towards them. Through the forest of tree-changers prowled slinky shadow-hounds and sharp-horned satyricorns, while a screech of gravenings circled overhead, their harsh shrieks echoing. Leathery-skinned corrigans grasped clubs of stone, hobgoblins scampering behind, while the horse-eel pranced at their head, swollen to his largest size. It was an army the like of which had never been seen before in Eileanan.

  A huge grin split Niall’s bearded face and he bowed to Lilanthe and said, ‘Indeed ye have worked miracles, my lady! Will His Highness no’ be pleased to see the magic ye have wrought?’

  They seek revenge on those men who have hurt and hunted them, Cloudshadow explained, stepping out of the shadow of a moss-oak, her child in her arms. They will march with you against the Seekers of the Awl who hide out near the fringe of the forest and seek to raise a false banrìgh. They will help you make the forest free again, hunting dow
n all those soldiers who shelter in her shade and driving them far away. When it is time, they will come and make a pact of peace with your rìgh and will watch to make sure he is true to his promises.

  ‘I thank ye,’ Niall the Bear said, drawing his claymore and holding it high. ‘And I swear by the blood o’ my own body that Lachlan the Winged shall be true!’

  Lachlan and his retinue were at dinner when one of the soldiers who had travelled with Finlay Fear-Naught was admitted to the great hall of Dùn Eidean’s castle. He was dusty and sweat-stained, his hair dishevelled, his leather armour rent and torn. He strode up the side of the great hall and bowed before the thrones.

  ‘Your Highness, sorry I am indeed to be disturbing ye at your meal, but I have news. The forest has marched!’

  ‘Have a seat! Cameron, pour the man some whiskey. What do ye mean, the forest has marched? Have ye lost your wits?’

  ‘No indeed, Your Highness. I saw it with my own eyes. The forest marched on Glenmorven, where we had laid siege to Renshaw the Ruthless and his Red Guards. I have never seen such a sight! They made a sound like the ocean, or like thunder. I have heard tales o’ walking trees, Your Highness, but never did I think I would see it happen!’

  ‘Lilanthe has roused the tree-changers,’ Meghan said softly. ‘What wonderful news indeed!’

  ‘We would have tried to fight them if we had no’ seen Niall the Bear riding at their head, carrying the MacCuinn stag. Seeing him and the tree-faery, Laird Finlay ordered us to lay down our arms and so we did, though I am no’ ashamed to admit my legs were trembling wi’ fear. Then we were surrounded on all sides with the trees, as if in the midst o’ a great forest. Running all through the trees were wolves and bears and strange creatures with horns and claws and gnashing teeth and hair like snakes and tiny winged creatures that stung like bees …’