She stood by the Kin Stone, watching a bloodred sun sink into the dark turmoil of the western sea. The air was damp with fine salt spray. Over the final rise of the Whaleback’s tilting surface, cliffs fell sharply, and unseen waves smashed their base far below. Only a fool or a madman would walk too close. Even the sheep knew to keep away. Engus stood by her side, eyes fixed on that far horizon: the end of the world, maybe. The dog sniffed about, scenting rabbits.
The sun was almost gone, so soon, too soon. At this time of year, all longed for spring; it was hard to keep the heart light, the spirit hopeful, when night laid its blanket so heavily over the land. In the brief time of daylight, all must be done, hunting, fishing, tending stock, mending storm-damaged houses, the movement of sentries, the strengthening of what small defenses they had.
The last glow of the setting sun fell on the carven stone, illuminating the three warriors who strode with dignity and purpose across its face, guardians, keepers, defenders of the islands. The Kin Stone had stood here long; it was the marker and center of the realm of the Folk. Yet, on the islands it was young. The stone circles, the hidden chambers, the ancient mounds, the unseen folk who dwelt, mysterious and subtle, within the folds of earth, beneath the shining water, these were memory and magic, heartbeat and history. These had been a part of the Light Isles since a time so distant, a man’s mind could hardly encompass it. They would endure, whatever came. For the Folk, the future seemed much less certain.
“It is unthinkable,” Engus said to his niece, “that a man such as Somerled could rule here. Unendurable. And yet, I can see how it could come to pass. That would be the end of our people, Nessa. This is a cruel race of men, heartless and ignorant. I made a grave error in letting them stay. I judged them all by Ulf’s measure. It seems to me now that he was a rare breed among them. If this is the end, it rests on my shoulders. I had not thought to see such a dark day come to us; I had not thought to bear such a burden.”
“Uncle?”
“Yes, Nessa?”
“About Ulf: his death, the manner of it, and your investigations. It is clear none of our own men was involved. Have you a theory to explain what happened that day? Who do you think did it? It was that death which turned things around. But for that, perhaps your treaty would have held, and the two peoples lived side by side, as Ulf planned.”
“Theory?” Engus said, glancing at her. “Oh yes, I have a theory all right, not that it matters, since this fine new chieftain seems to have his people eating out of his hand. Even if there were evidence to support it, I doubt that it would make a jot of difference. This is a subtle opponent, Nessa, as clever as he is evil.”
“I’m right, then,” she said quietly. “You think Somerled himself was responsible.”
“Perhaps he did not perform the deed. But I believe he arranged it. He was missing that night and half the next day. He turned up unhurt, speaking of voices in the darkness, and mysterious lights. The men who were with him told much the same tale. Brude was led astray by these manifestations all night, until sleep claimed him at last. He awoke far away from our campsite, when the sun was already high in the sky. As for Drest, the voices led him high up the crag, where he was set upon by, he thinks, the Hidden Tribe. It was dark; he could not discern if they were men or something other than men. He was lucky to escape with a broken leg. The question is, where was Somerled during that time? He claims he, too, wandered lost. But he had men there in the valley and back at the anchorage. My guards could not watch them all. Somerled’s own henchmen could have come to help him. That cruel murder was not a task for one man alone. His hand was on it, Nessa.”
“But why? His own brother, that is against all natural laws. And Ulf was a good man. Surely Somerled would not have done such an ill deed in order to take his brother’s place here as chieftain. How could any man live with the guilt of that?”
“This is not a man like other men,” Engus said heavily. “This is a man driven by some kind of darkness. And I think it is not as chieftain he sees himself, but as king. That is why a treaty, now, is out of the question. One does not make agreements with such as he is. And yet, to do so may be our only hope of survival. Brother Tadhg knows more of this man. Tadhg spoke long to Ulf, on Holy Island; he was privy to the secrets of Ulf’s heart. But he will not tell of these things, a holy brother cannot. That is regrettable; such knowledge could help us.”
The sun was quite gone now. They must head back to the settlement before all was ink-dark.
“There are other ways,” Nessa said slowly. “Other paths to follow, which may lead to answers. I could do it for you, with Rona to help. I would not relish such a task, but these are desperate times, Uncle.”
“I don’t want you going back to the women’s place.” Engus’s voice was stern. “You saw the fellow, you heard his outrageous suggestion. You saw those oafs in their barbarous cloaks. The only place we can keep you safe is here on the Whaleback, Nessa, and even that may not be safe enough. If it were not the dark season, I would send you away. There are folk in the northern isles would shelter you until this is over. You are too precious to be put at risk. Could not you perform this ritual here, summon the voice you need? We should fetch Rona at any rate; she is in danger if she remains in the place of ritual alone. The secrets of the spirit will mean nothing to Somerled’s thugs.”
They began to walk down toward the settlement, where torches flared in the chill wind outside the hall.
“Uncle?”
“What is it, Nessa?”
“This ritual…I cannot tell you what it is, but it must be done there, in the women’s place. The voice I must summon is a very old one, a dark one; there is only one chamber where I might hear her, and that is not on the Whaleback. I must return there if you want your answers. I am safe. I travel under the protection of the ancestors.”
The king walked on in silence for a little.
“Only between tides, then, and you must take Kinart and another man with you, so they can watch both sides of the women’s place. I am uneasy, Nessa. I saw the look in that man’s eye. If he cannot have you by fair means, he will not hesitate to use foul.”
“It can’t be done by daylight, Uncle. I must be there overnight. Kinart can take me there and come back for me. I don’t want him to keep vigil in the dark.”
“I don’t like this. I should have seen this coming. I should have sent you away before winter.”
“I will go tomorrow and come back the next day. Uncle, I must ask you a question.”
Engus sighed and stopped walking. It seemed to Nessa her uncle’s broad shoulders were stooped, as if the weight of cares he bore were making him old before his time.
“You need not ask,” he said gravely. “I understand what is troubling you. Nessa, how can the Folk survive without a king? How can they cling to hope after so many losses, unless the royal line has an heir?”
Nessa found it difficult to speak. “How can they go on without a priestess of the mysteries?” she said tightly. “Without a wise woman, the Folk cannot hear the voice of the ancestors. Without that guidance, we would indeed lose our way.”
“A cruel choice,” Engus said. “But Rona still lives. And there are girls here who could learn. You could teach, and still bear a child for us. You are the last one, my dear.”
“Then why not marry me off to Somerled and have done with it?” Nessa could not restrain the bitter words. “That way at least a remnant of our people survives. Never mind my ten years of dedication and study, the calling of my heart and spirit. You heard his plan. My child would still be the next king of the Light Isles. Somerled’s child.”
Engus put his arm around her shoulders, a rare gesture, for he was not a man given to the open expression of affection.
“Impossible,” he said quietly. “Unthinkable. And the decision must be yours in the end. In that, I do recognize what you are and what you have accomplished. I know that whatever hangs in the balance, you will never ally yourself with that man. A princess ma
y wed outside the Folk, it has been done before. Men of Dalriada have fathered our kings, men of Northumbria and chieftains of the Caitt. The father of a future king is chosen not just for the alliances he carries with him, but for his courage, his good judgment, his soundness of spirit. That is how we keep our line strong. I had hoped for time to find a mate for you, one acceptable both to the Folk and to yourself. But I would never wed you to a man such as Somerled. As for the need to tend to the mysteries, I respect that; but I ask you to ponder what I have said. You are a wise woman, and you will choose wisely in this as in all other things, Nessa. I understand how hard it is; duty calls you both ways, and this troubles you deeply. I, too, have had sleepless nights. Let us hope your ritual sheds light on these matters for us, for we have sore need of it. Now come, we must go indoors and see if your mother is improved after her rest. I have hopes the spring may bring my sister back to herself.”
“I will find Kinart,” Nessa said. “Two days, one night, Uncle. And I’ll try to bring Rona back with me, but I don’t think she’ll come.”
“She always was a stubborn old woman,” said Engus.
Of course, by now he will be long gone, thought Nessa as she went southward on the path through the dunes under heavy skies. The dog kept steady pace, ears alert, feet padding silently on the sandy track. The moon has run her course nearly twice since I left him, and winter moves on apace. He will have fled away. Perhaps he has gone back to Somerled. Back to his dearest friend.
“I hope they come,” growled Kinart to his companion, Ferach. “I hope they come when we are on guard. I will split their bodies like pigs on a spit. I will crush their thick skulls like lumps of clay. I will account for every one, if they dare set foot near the sacred place.”
Perhaps he is quite well again, and in that man’s hall preparing for battle. Maybe even now he sharpens the war axe, makes bright the long sword. Perhaps he lifts that shield he spoke of, and ponders the marks he made there, a long record of heedless killings. I hope that Rona is safe. A warrior whose ears are open to Thor’s call does not see an old woman’s frailty. I trusted him; perhaps I was foolish. Did he learn where the difference lies: that, in taking a life, one must understand what life is worth? Did he ever understand what a precious gift it is?
“You speak no more than my own thoughts, Kinart. My dagger cries out to taste their flesh. Let them come on, we’ll give them a dose of their own treatment, a little surprise.”
Perhaps he died alone, out on the hills…perhaps the tide carries his body even now, dark weed, bright hair drifting on the swell…but this is foolish. It is not for him that I return to the women’s place. It is for the Calling. And the Calling will take all my strength. Into the darkness, into the hidden places, that is a journey to test the most dauntless spirit. I must think of that. I will not think of him.
“It is hard to wait until spring,” Kinart said as they neared the place where the two men must halt and let Nessa go on alone. “Father holds us back when our bellies hunger for vengeance. If I were in charge, I would make an army of my own. I would take the fight to Somerled’s door. While we hold back, while we wait, he strengthens his force, he tightens his grip. We should act now. I tell you, the first sight I catch of one of those butchers, there’ll be no stopping me.”
“Kinart, you must leave me now,” Nessa said. “There’s no need to wait; the day moves on swiftly and the time of darkness is long and cold. You should go home while tide and light allow it, and come back for me tomorrow.”
Kinart’s mouth was grim; he showed no sign of moving. “Not this time. I’ll keep watch on the shore; Ferach will stay up here on the eastern side by the dike. And when you come out, bring Rona with you. That’s what the king wants.”
Nessa sighed. For all he was a year older than herself, sometimes this manly young warrior still showed he was a boy. She shivered as a wave of cold, a shadow of something not quite seen, passed over her. “I know what the king wants, Kinart, I don’t need you to tell me. If you must stay, stay then, but keep your distance. Do not be alarmed if there are voices and lights from the women’s place. I am here to conduct a deep ritual tonight; I may awaken forces thus far unknown to us. Rona will help and guide me. I will not come forth until low tide tomorrow afternoon, and for the whole of that time we must not be disturbed. This is an ancient rite. If it is to be attempted, it’s important that you heed my instructions.”
Kinart nodded, his features somber. “If it helps us win our war and drive these barbarians from our shores, a night standing out in the cold is a small price to pay,” he said.
“What about the Hidden Tribe?” Ferach sounded less confident.
“Tonight you stand guard over the islands’ oldest mysteries,” Nessa told him with a little smile. “I doubt if the Hidden Tribe will bother you. They are fond of tricks, but they are an ancient people, and their blood flows to the rhythm of the islands, as ours does. That makes them akin to us in such times of trial. Do not fear them. If you see strange lights, or hear songs or cries, look away and think of morning. I hope you are wearing your moon charms.”
Both young men nodded, hands moving instinctively to the leather strips that held these amulets around their necks. Every child on the islands was given a tiny bag of soft leather holding round white pebbles, three or five or seven in number. Moon charms provided infallible protection against the more mischievous local spirits. Even Nessa, priestess as she was, wore such a talisman.
“Then you will surely be safe. Goodbye, now. I’ll see you at low tide tomorrow. Do not call me. I will come out when it’s time.”
The last thing she expected to see as she came down the bank into the women’s place was a girl. The girl was young, perhaps fourteen, with a pleasant, nervous face and wispy fair hair. She wore a long, coarse cape with a little hood, and sturdy boots. She was one of them: one of Somerled’s people. The girl stood helplessly before the cottage as Rona berated her in words she could not understand.
“There’s no point coming in here if you can’t make yourself understood. This is a sacred place, a forbidden place. Your kind are not welcome here. Now be off with you!”
“I only want—my lady wants—I cannot go back unless—” The girl’s voice shook nervously; she twisted her hands together.
“What is this nonsense, don’t you know I can’t make sense of a word you’re saying? Get out of here before I put a hex on you and turn you into a beetle!” Rona’s mouth curved in a ferocious grimace, revealing her gapped and darkened teeth. The girl flinched, but held her ground.
Nessa gave a small, polite cough. “I’ll deal with this, Rona,” she said quietly, coming across to set her bag by the cottage doorway and give the old woman a kiss on the cheek. The dog had slipped away to the tower in the earth, perhaps searching for his mate. There was no sign of Eyvind. It looked as if she’d been right.
“She won’t go when she’s bidden,” Rona grumbled. “Wants something, but can’t tell me what. Must want it badly. It’s a long way to come, and she’s where she shouldn’t be.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Nessa said. “Why don’t you go inside and get warm?”
“You’re welcome to her,” Rona muttered. “Waifs and strays, more trouble than they’re worth, if you ask me. You’ll be wanting a cup of tea, I expect, after that walk. This wind’s enough to freeze the marrow in your bones.” She disappeared inside the cottage.
Nessa turned to the girl, speaking in the tongue of Eyvind’s people. “You have come into a forbidden place,” she said. “Perhaps you didn’t know that. Your people are not welcome on our land. Why have you come here? What do you want?”
“I heard—my lady heard—that there was a wise woman here,” the girl managed, her voice breathless with anxiety. “I only wanted—they say she can cast spells, make potions—I only wanted—”
“You need some help? A faithless lover, a cruel master? We do not provide such easy solutions here; we do not deal in quick remedies and instant cures.”
“Is she making a spell?” the girl whispered, eyes fearful.
“Quite possibly,” Nessa said. “Now listen to me. I too am a wise woman, and I have little time for this. Tell me plainly what you want. This is a women’s place, and you are a woman, though you are not of our kind. I will help you if I can.”
“She wants—I want—what you said, a faithless lover, something like that. A philter, a remedy, to make him turn back. That is what she asked me to say…” If this was supposed to be an attempt to disguise the nature of the request, it had failed miserably. This girl had no more subtlety than a chicken.
“This lover. Your sweetheart? Your husband?”
“Yes—no—I mean—”
Nessa regarded her a moment in silence. Whoever had set this on her had been less than fair to her. “I’m afraid I cannot help,” she said. “You see, if it were for yourself, I might be able to give you something to use, though I would warn against such charms. They are effective, certainly, yet in the long run they do more harm than good. But it’s clear to me what you want is not for yourself, but for another: your mistress, I assume. And unless I can see her and speak to her direct, I cannot provide what she needs. I’m sorry. You must go home empty-handed.”
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