by Sarah Rayne
The Grail Castle must have hidden and harboured many secrets in its time, but Maelduin thought there could never have been so strange a secret kept here as the sidh’s music, stolen all those years ago by Coelacanth, searched for by Coelacanth’s son — yes of course! thought Maelduin, remembering, as Theodora was remembering, how sometimes at dusk the music had sung quietly to itself, and how the Fisher Prince at those times had rampaged through the Castle, tearing down hangings and ripping aside panelling. He heard it and he felt it and he feared it. But he never managed to find it, thought Maelduin. It hid from him throughout all those years. But it will not hide from me now.
For I am the Crown Prince of Tiarna and it will answer my summons …
The old imperiousness was still with him, and as he stood at the Castle’s centre, he felt the ruffle of cool beauty brush his mind.
Yes, it is here and it is safe!
There was a moment when it was all about him, swooping joyously everywhere, assaulting his senses and drenching him in its soft, seductive bewitchment. He could feel it breaking out of the Veil cast over the Castle by the Prince, just as the Prince’s servants had broken out. He could feel it thrusting upwards out of the smothering evil, its beauty unquenched, its power no longer trammelled.
Theodora, standing at Maelduin’s side, her senses spinning with delight at the music’s allure, looked about her, and knew, quite suddenly, where the music was …
Because I brought it out of the Dark Realm when I broke through the Moher Gateway with Andrew and the Uisce. And then, with painful understanding: it was the sidh’s music that Rumour gave to me! she thought. Rumour knew … And for a brief space, Rumour was with her, the amused mockery that had been Rumour’s stock-in-trade, the faint disdain that had characterised her, but also the warmth and the generosity that had run like a rich river beneath.
Rumour had saved the music for the sidh.
Theodora turned to Maelduin, her face glowing, and said, ‘I know where the music is.’
*
They stood together on the Castle steps, the Uisce waiting obediently for them, their few possessions packed, and there was nothing more to be said to the two who would remain, except, ‘Farewell.’
Can I say it? thought Theo, staring at Andrew. Can I do it? Can I truly ride away with Maelduin, and bid farewell to this strange, thin-faced monk with haunted eyes and a sweet, sudden smile?
And who has within him the living seeds of an old, old legend, and who slaughtered Coelacanth and Coelacanth’s terrible son?
The Samildanach who would come into Ireland when Ireland least expected it, and who would come modestly and quietly, but who would cut a swathe of light through the Dark Lands …
And then, quite suddenly, it did not matter about making correct speeches, or about pretending to be brave, or struggling not to cry, or even about saying they would remember one another. It did not matter, because it would not be farewell. They would be together again in the future — not once, but many times. And so it was simply, ‘Until the next time we are together.’ Wasn’t there a phrase for it, something in ancient Gael, or Qretani or Cruithin?
And then Andrew, the golden strength of the Samildanach shining in his eyes, said, the unfamiliar lilt in his voice again, ‘Beannacht leatgo bhfeicfidh me aris thu.’ And smiled.
Theo said softly, ‘Until we meet again.’
‘Yes.’ He held out his arms and Theo went into them.
‘When you come back, Princess, I shall be here.’
That said it all, thought Theo. Goodbye until we meet again. And when you come back, I shall be here …
Yes, he would be here in this dark old Castle, which might not be dark any more, because Andrew would fill it with gentle, scholarly learning, and with his strange, rather beautiful prayers and rituals, and with the soft rhythmic singing of his Order. He would work with Quintus — a quiet, pale, shadow of a man now — and they would both mingle with the people of Moher, the shy, courageous farmers and hillside people who had so bravely stormed the Castle and helped to slay Chaos and the Fisher Prince. And in time, perhaps others of their beliefs would join them. Moher with its stark, awe-inspiring beauty could once more become a place of pilgrimage, as it had been in Ireland’s Golden Age.
It would happen. And I can leave him knowing it will happen, thought Theodora, and as Maelduin helped her to mount the Uisce, despite the pain of leaving Andrew, there was a sudden spiral of excitement, because all Ireland was stretching out before them, and the light was shining from the Uisce, and Theodora felt the joy well up all over again. Because we are going home, we are going home, and although I do not know what may have happened during the dark years of my enslavement, I am returning to the Porphyry Palace of the Amaranths.
As they rode out of the Grail Castle, she could see the faint light irradiating from Maelduin, so that it was as if he was sprinkling cool, elvish light across the countryside. She thought: I should never forget that he is not in the least Humanish, and I shall never forget that he is from the strange sea world of the sidh …
Because, although he walks with ordinary Humanish tread, and although he wears the plain garb of a Humanish traveller, in reality he is a creature that once had a silken, iridescent shape that darted like a will o’ the wisp through the Wolfwood and hunted the Humanish for sport. And once he was so shiningly beautiful that it would have been certain madness and sure death to look on him …
And the cool sidh could never mingle with the Dawn Flame of the Amaranths.
At her side, Maelduin, watching her covertly, understanding her feelings, thought: within her eyes is the thin bright flame of the ancient Amaranth power, and at her beck are the spells and the enchantments, and all the inherited learning and force of Ireland’s Royal Sorcerers; the magical, mystical enchantments from the far-away days when Tara was created by the sorcerer-architects who poured magic into the land as easily as if they were pouring water from one jug to another. And she is the hereditary ruler of her House … A smile curved his lips, and the light that shone in his slanting eyes was not entirely cool any longer.
She will brook no interference; she will have her own ideas and she will have her own ways, and she will be strong and she will depend on no one.
But I believe that, between us, we could rule both worlds, he thought. Between us, we could do it …
Could I do it? he thought suddenly. Could I really abandon Tiarna and my people? Embrace the world of the Humanish, not just for a time, but for ever?
It had never been done. But that did not mean it could not be done.
The grin touched his lips again. Because if I can do it, he thought, if I can but restore my people and return to them the stolen music, if I can find a way to wear the Humanish Enchantment for ever, then together Theodora and I could blend two magical peoples and make Ireland far stronger and far greater than ever in her history …
The grin deepened, and together they rode into the sunlight, the Crown Prince of the ancient underwater empire of Tiarna, shining with the gentle sea magic of his people; and, at his side, the Amaranth sorceress, the exiled heiress, the captive Princess, returning to Ireland’s Royal House.
Both of them going home.
Epilogue
The legendary Tapestry Enchantment, later called the Unfinished Spell, and later still called, quite inaccurately, Amaranthian Nights, was not added to until several years after the sorceress Rumour’s death.
They had all been so busy, said the Amaranths firmly, emerging blinking into the world again. When you had been under the Draoicht Suan for so many years, never mind how planned it might have been, there was a great deal to be done when you came out of it. There were stray enemies still to be dealt with, and there was the re-Sealing of all the Gateways. Neit and Manannan mac Lir had taught them a useful spell or two for that, they said, and might, perhaps, be pardoned for allowing a note of pride to creep into their voices when they referred to this camaraderie with a brace of gods. And then, of course, the
re had to be a proper ceremony for Theodora to take her Solemn Vows. All these things took time and energy. They also took money, although Cerball did not say this, or at least not more than once a week.
And so the Tapestry Enchantment lay, for many years, not entirely forgotten, but ignored, until the Amaranth, Theodora, studying the Cadence with delight, rediscovered it and ordered it to be spun for the occasion of her wedding, and the entertainment of the wedding guests.
And so the Silver Looms of Theodora’s great-grandfather, Nechtan, were powered, so that Theodora might add her own story to her cousin’s marvellous, mystical spell.
The Enchantment had lost nothing in the keeping, for Rumour, the most extravagant, certainly the most brilliant of all the brilliant Amaranths, had spun it thoroughly and well, and it had been protected by the silver-tipped pages of the Cadence. It had not lost any of its power to charm; when it was unrolled by Theodora in the banqueting hall of the Porphyry Palace before the assembled guests, it was as dazzlingly beautiful and as enthralling as it had been on the long-ago night that Rumour had summoned it for the Lord of Chaos’s dark banquet.
Theodora came to stand at the Enchantment’s pouring centre, and in front of them all, spun effortlessly and immaculately her own chapter to add to her aunt’s magical Tapestry.
It was a chapter that told of how she and the sidh Prince had ridden into the heart of the slumbering Porphyry Palace, and how they had had to break through the thickthorn hedges and the wild briars that had grown up around it. It told of how they had walked together, hand in hand through the silent Palace, Maelduin sprinkling the cool, elvish light of his people, Theodora chanting the awakening spell that would dissolve the gossamer cords of the Draoicht Suan.
It told of Theodora’s own sojourn inside the Dark Realm and, later, the strange, Veiled years in the legendary Grail Castle …
It told of the intricate, intensely powerful enchantment finally spun by the sidh: the pure, beautiful Cloak of Humanish that Maelduin had donned and that had enabled him to live in the Humanish world as easily and as naturally as he also lived in Tiarna, under the Elven King’s strong, but occasionally tolerant rule.
But best of all, it told, in whirling blue and green, in silver-threaded, light-filled beauty, of how Theodora had travelled to Tiarna, the first Amaranth ever to be permitted entry. And of how she and the Prince had gone to the Silver Cavern, the precious beautiful music of the sidh held between them, and had laid it before the Elven King.
And for a moment, for a spell-binding, breath-taking moment, within the great silver and gold and crimson pageantry of the Tapestry, the entire chiaroscuro vision unfolded.
The soaringly beautiful Silver Cavern, with the immense glacier rocks, and the smudges of blue and green, and the occasional glimpse of huge, iridescent wings …
And then the change: the colours seeping gradually, imperceptibly into the pale rock walls as the sidh were drawn back, the threads of turquoise veining the pale air, the silver and ivory and pearl becoming bathed in pure jewel colours …
And then, on the edges of hearing, on the outermost rim of perception, the tiniest stir of sound, the merest thread of something moving, something ruffling the still surface … Music, fragile and brittle and achingly sweet, creeping into the Cavern, lying on the air in soft, cobweb strands.
And then the final and scaldingly beautiful awakening of the sidh; the joyful sound of wings, hundreds of them beating on the air, until the Silver Cavern was a whirling kaleidoscopic maelstrom: blues and greens and purples and turquoises and indigos; the cool sea-colours of the ancient magical sidh; Maelduin’s people, the strange creatures who hunted the Humanish for sport and stole away their senses, but who were also bound by fierce ties to Ireland’s Royal Houses, and would never fail to answer a summons for help …
And Theodora at the centre of it, Maelduin at her side, in the midst of the shining, joyful whirlpool; while, on the great Silver Throne of the nimfeach, at last, after the years of his own dark bondage, the Elven King opened his eyes and looked straight at them.
And if, in the end, Maelduin never became quite entirely Humanish, there were very few people in Ireland who would have wanted him to. And if Theodora never quite lost the habit of laughing during solemn ceremonies, there were very few people who would have wanted her to be any different either.
As Rumour had once said, ‘If you cannot be remembered with a smile, then it is better not to be remembered at all.’
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sarah Rayne is the daughter of an Irish actor. She began writing in her teens, and after a convent education, which included writing plays for the Lower Third to perform, embarked on a variety of jobs. She is also the author of a number of acclaimed psychological thrillers and contemporary horror books, as well as a haunted house series.
www.sarahrayne.co.uk
Table of Contents
Wolfking
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EPILOGUE
The Lost Prince
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
Rebel Angel
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Sorceress
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Epilogue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR