Seawater was pooling around the rocks as the tide drew in. She walked through the ankle deep water and clambered onto the rock, dropping the twigs of lightning oak at her feet. In the moonlight, she saw worry flicker across Donnan’s face.
“Look,” he said. Kaetha turned. Wind blew hard against her face as she looked up at the moon, the same wind which was blowing away the storm. Shimmering in the sky were dancing trails of green and golden red which twisted, vanished and soared, ebbing and flickering. “Some say they’re spirits of the dead,” continued Donnan. “First the storm, then this. I can’t help but think they’re warnings. Perhaps you shouldn’t do this.”
Kaetha stared, transfixed by the lights. “Not warnings,” she said, “signs. I needed the storm for the lightning oak and now we see the great lights. Edonians would call them the Merry Dancers. I don’t believe they’re spirits of the dead but there is magic in them, of that I’m sure. They pass from the invisible world into the visible. What if they’re a sign that the Baukan will do the same?”
“Have you thought that there might be a reason that creature is trapped there? What if it’s dangerous?”
“And what if it’s been suffering there from another’s cruelty? You know as well as I do that there’s more cruelty in the world than justice. I don’t believe this creature deserved whatever happened to it. It deserves freedom, as we all do.”
“You’re not going to change your mind.” It wasn’t a question.
“Be lookout for me?”
“Be careful, Kit,” he said, fading into the shadow of the rocks.
She scattered the oak around the Baukan rock. The power of the lightning would be deeply buried in the wood and she knew it would be hard to draw it out. Ordinary fire wouldn’t release the lightning from it but perhaps her conjured Fire magic could.
Looking at the water surrounding her, she thought back to a tale Gwyn had told her long ago about an ancient Edonian ritual, the lighting of the Need-Fire. When a village had suffered greatly from disease, the healer commanded all fires to be extinguished, then he had taken a boat out to a small, uninhabited island. There he lit a fire which, being born surrounded by water, was a new, pure flame which had the power to cleanse the land of its diseases if it was carried to every hearth. So the story went – whether it was true or not. But the story spoke of the power of the sea and thrilled her with an idea which she desperately hoped would work.
Opening the iron box, she retrieved the elf-shot, her cloak covering her hand, and placed it at the foot of the Baukan rock, against the ring of oak shards. She did not plan to draw the Fire from her own strength this time; she didn’t think she had enough. She closed her eyes, stretching one arm towards the sea, one towards the rock, listening to the breathing of the water in its rising and falling of waves, filling her mind with thoughts of its power – pure, raw, destructive and life-giving. Sea release your strength, she thought. Sea release your strength.
Water crashed, hitting her with cold spray. She tasted salt. The sea stormed around her, its energy thrumming through the air around her. Her fingers which pointed towards the sea prickled, growing hotter. Her arm shook as ribbons of heat threaded through her, down her other arm which now trembled too.
With a rush, the water sank back into calmness and Kaetha dropped to her knees, laughing in amazement. The rock was surrounded by white flames. They flickered, stretching high, singing with power. With her Air magic, she sent her thoughts to flame and elf-shot, with her Fire magic, she willed the Baukan to be free. Fire with the power of the storm, release the living from the lifeless rock. In the sight of the sky’s Merry Dancers, let the Fiadhain pass from its prison to freedom. White light danced across the glassy surface of the elf-shot. In you is the power of the Fiadhain. Work with the fire. Destroy the prison; free the one who is trapped.
The rock beneath her quaked and she was glad that she was already kneeling, otherwise she might have fallen. Rumbling mounted like the unfurling of thunder and a crack rent the air, echoing against the rocky cliffs. In the split second before the flames went out, Kaetha saw the black split running up through the rock from the tip of the elf-shot, jagged as a bolt of lightning.
Then the air was still and all was quiet, but for the pieces of rock which crumbled away. Kaetha didn’t see the figure emerge but she felt the shifting of air as it loomed before her and the prickling which traced the back of her neck.
She blinked, gradually adjusting to the darkness. The figure was like that of a man. He bent down to pick something up.
“Don’t!” said Kaetha. “It’s elf-shot. It’ll kill you if you touch it.”
He straightened up again. “It would seem not.”
SIXTEEN
Unanswered Questions
A rapid crunching of pebbles announced Donnan’s return.
“Kit! Are you alright?”
Streaks and blotches were still imprinted in her vision but Kaetha could now see how the moonlight glanced over the rugged contours of the stranger’s face, glinted in his dark, deep set eyes, hinted at a tousle of thick, dark hair. She took a step back when she noticed the scars. They cut across his face, disfiguring a cheek, a brow, the edge of an eye, a lip.
Donnan’s hand found her arm as he clambered up to stand beside her.
“Don’t be afraid,” came the stranger’s gravelly voice. “I won’t hurt you.”
“You’re a Baukan, aren’t you?” She was struck by how much more human his voice sounded than the other Fiadhain she had heard.
“I am.”
“How did you end up being trapped here?” Donnan didn’t hide the notes of fear or suspicion in his voice.
“Those with power,” the Baukan stared out to sea, “will always seek to punish those who oppose them.”
“You were cursed?” suggested Kaetha. “By another or your kind?” The Baukan said nothing so she focussed her mind, using Air magic to reach for his name and sense his thoughts as a breeze feels the shape of the land over which it blows. But all she felt was resistance, unyielding as a shield.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
Silence.
“I’m Kaetha and this is Donnan.”
“You can call me Tam, if you like. Tam Wildshore.”
She squinted at him. “Is that your name?”
“Shh—” Kaetha felt the tension in Donnan’s arm as he gripped her more tightly. “Someone’s out there,” he whispered.
There was a blur of movement in the distance. “Let’s go,” she said. “If we go this way, they might not see us.” She jumped from the rocks into the water which had risen so that it reached her knees and she trudged up the beach, wishing their splashing through the water was not so loud.
“Go swift as the deer of the forest,” said Tam when they reached the steep cliff path. “Thank you, Kaetha. Donnan.”
“Tam?”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know,” she said. She couldn’t see him and neither did she hear his footsteps. “Come on. We can’t waste time.”
“I can’t see anyone,” said Donnan when they reached the top.
“Shh.”
They stole across the exposed clifftop and ran through the streets of the town without looking back. “Are you alright, Donnan?” she asked when they got to the house.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
She smiled and squeezed his arm. “We did it.”
“You did.”
The tapping of footsteps down the ladder from the mezzanine woke her up. By the bluish light coming through the shutters, it had to be early in the morning.
“Your business with Dermid won’t take all day, will it?” said Mairi.
Kaetha sat up on her pallet bed and looked around for Kintail. He’d taken to sleeping beside her but he was nowhere to be seen. Her father and Mairi were standing by the front door. His hands on her waist, hers resting on his shoulders.
“I’ll return as soon as I can,” said Aedan.
�
�You’d better.”
While Aedan gave Mairi a lingering kiss, Kaetha investigated all the corners and nooks where Kintail might be but to no avail. When Aedan left, Mairi, bright eyed and somewhat pink in the cheeks, came over to the hearth and pulled up a stool to sit by Kaetha.
“I didn’t hear you come in last night,” said Mairi.
“Donnan and I were out walking.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Just around.” Kaetha wondered if Kintail was off hunting. Mairi’s dog, Bairn, had probably eaten the food she’d given him yesterday.
“I’m very proud of you for what you did at the Morays by the way, Kaetha.”
She stared at the floor.
“And your Pa’s proud too of course.”
She acknowledged Mairi’s words with a nod, then slipped into the pantry to change her clothes. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. They were proud of what she’d done. She’d been needed, appreciated and they were proud of her. She thought of telling Mairi about her magic and that it was only because of it that she had known Jean needed help. It might enlighten Mairi, helping her to change her mind about magic and accept those who used it.
Kaetha returned and sat herself beside the hearth.
Mairi coughed. “While it’s just the two of us here—”
“Where is Donnan anyway?”
“Fishing I assume.” Mairi ladled Kaetha some porridge.
“Thank you.”
“While it’s just the two of us here,” Mairi repeated, “I wanted to ask you how you— feel— about Donnan.”
“What do you mean?” At Mairi’s knowing look, her gaze dropped to the floor.
“It’s just that you’re both, what, sixteen? Perhaps you don’t understand the sorts of things that go through a sixteen year old boy’s head.”
Kaetha frowned. “You don’t understand. We’re friends.”
“Please. There’s no need to be offended. I just thought I’d suggest, particularly as the two of you sleep under the same roof, that you think about how your closeness might be interpreted if you’re not careful.”
Kaetha set down the bowl of porridge, untouched, and pulled on her boots.
“Don’t you want breakfast?”
“Not particularly,” she said, hoping that Mairi couldn’t hear the sounds her stomach was making.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know,” she snatched up her cloak, “to offer my services to a brothel maybe.”
“There’s no need to be crude or to use that tone with me.”
“What ‘tone’ would you expect me to use when you’ve just painted my friendship with Donnan as something to be ashamed of?”
“That wasn’t my intent.”
“No? Then why are you interfering? It’s my life and I’ll be friends with whomever I want.”
“I didn’t mean for you not to be friends, I only wanted to recommend caution and for you to be a little more aware—”
“Aware?” Kaetha laughed derisively. “And how aware are you, Mairi? Do you think Pa hides nothing from you?” She turned away from Mairi’s confused expression.
“What are you talking about?” There was pain in Mairi’s voice.
Kaetha bit her lip. “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything,” she said as she fastened her cloak.
“I know . . . I know you don’t like me, Kaetha.” There was a quaver in Mairi’s voice. “But I’ve done nothing to hurt you. I wish I knew where your animosity comes from.”
“You don’t understand,” Kaetha muttered under her breath as she left the house, closing the door with a sharp thud. She leant against the door, straining to stop herself from crying. She didn’t even know what exactly had upset her. She didn’t understand either.
Her nails dug into her palms. What’s wrong with me? Pulling up her hood, she covered her face as tears ran down it. Then, with a deep breath, she pushed her emotions down as best she could and strode towards the smokehouse. She had to know if her father was telling Mairi the truth about his whereabouts and, even if he was, she decided to confront him about his secret meetings with that woman.
The smokehouse was empty and Dermid’s boat was visible out to sea. A glimpse of red hair caught her eye. Aedan was walking eastwards along Cannasay. She could easily catch up with him and it would be a good opportunity for them to talk alone. But was there something suspicious about the wary look he cast over his shoulder? She decided to follow him instead.
Keeping a fair distance between them, she walked along the beach, almost losing him as she waited for him to cross the river on the rope ferry before she could do the same. However, she spotted him on the winding path ahead and guessed he was heading for Blinhope Bay.
The bay was framed by tall, jagged rocks like crumbling pillars and it had very little beach, being mainly rocks which gave way to deep water. As she clambered from rock to rock, she saw a small boat moored to a boulder. Sitting inside it was a shabbily dressed man with a weather-beaten face and a straggly growth of a beard. Certainly not the stranger she’d expected her father to be meeting. She knew the waters to be treacherous, hidden with rocks that could cut through a hull of thick oak. The sailor must have either been familiar with the area or else extremely lucky.
She hid behind a rock, her fingertips white as she gripped it, watching her father clamber down to the water’s edge. He handed the man a package wrapped in cloth. The glint of gold also caught her eye. The stranger pocketed the coins Aedan gave him and shook his hand.
“Thank Heaven for the oath-keepers,” said the stranger.
Aedan spoke in hushed tones.
She remembered her father’s words to the strange woman. I’ll send it. Was this what he was talking about? Sending a package to a sailor? And who were these oath-keepers? She thought of Hetty from Ciadrath and her talk of Aedan helping her brother when he was in trouble for smuggling. What if that was what he was involved with now?
She slunk back into a gap between rocks as her father passed by. Then his footsteps stopped. Had he heard her? Guilt gripped her like icy fingers. She shouldn’t be here. She was wrong to assume that he’d been having an affair. She held her breath, relieved when he finally walked on.
SEVENTEEN
Closing Net
Ingredients were strewn over the table, including practically every item from the larder. Kaetha had decided to make the effort to cook for once. She couldn’t apologise to her father for what she’d assumed about him but she thought that doing something helpful would go some way to easing her guilt.
Donnan returned from fishing and slumped onto a stool beside her. “It’s strange.”
“What is?” she asked.
“Going back to normal life after last night.” He waved an arm through the air. “Fire and magic and the elf-man.”
“Baukan. He’s a Baukan.”
Donnan shrugged. “Don’t they have powers, those kinds of – creatures? He’ll be indebted to you, won’t he? Maybe he’ll be your servant or something.”
“I’m not sure if it works like that,” she said. “Besides, we might not even see him again.” Kaetha swore, dropping her knife and sucking on her finger where she’d nicked it. “Damned fish.”
“Not the fish’s fault. You’re cutting it wrong.”
She glared at him. “You do it then.”
He laughed and filleted the fish for her. They worked together quietly. “Don’t let it trouble you. That person I thought I saw last night, they might not have seen us. And no one’s come asking questions today so I think we got away with it.”
“I wasn’t thinking about that,” she said. “Mairi and I argued this morning.”
“What about?”
The door opened then and Mairi came in with a basket of clothes she’d collected for mending. She sat by the fire with them, chewing her lip as she took out her needle and thread, barely looking at Kaetha, her hands working away, quick
and nimble as a spider spinning a web.
“Well, this is nice,” said Donnan. Kaetha rolled her eyes at him and he shrugged.
“He really has been gone a long time,” said Mairi. “I had no idea he would be at the smokehouse all day.”
“I was out there a couple of times today,” said Donnan, “and I didn’t see him. Didn’t he say he was riding out to Kaernock or somewhere on business?”
Mairi looked up from her sewing, deep lines between her eyebrows. “But Lossie and Arrow are both in the stable.” She caught Kaetha’s eye. “Where else might he be?” Her face was pale as she gazed out of the window, her needle idle in her hand. Her anxiety was contagious, particularly when Kaetha thought about the secretive business at Blinhope.
“I’ll find him,” said Kaetha. “He probably got into conversation with someone at Donalt Brewer’s and is unaware it’s nearly supper time.” She spoke lightly, as if this wouldn’t be an unusual thing to happen, but she heard how unconvincing her voice sounded.
“I think you should stay home now, lass,” said Mairi. “Before you know it, it’ll be starting to get dark.”
“That won’t be for a long while and I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“But—” began Donnan.
“Trust me,” she said, leaving before any more objections could be made. She kept up a swift pace all the way to the monastery, fear gnawing at her that whatever it was he’d been doing at Blinhope Bay, it was part of something dangerous. Reaching the monastery kitchens, she snuck through the back door and came out the other side, winding her way to the cloisters. She jumped over the low wall and dashed across the grass, rather than having to walk all the way around.
“Stop lassie!” called one of the monks. “You’re meant to walk around—”
“Shh.” Other monks rebuked him for shouting.
She bumped into Brother Gillespie when he emerged from the library, making him drop his scrolls which rolled around them.
“Heavens, child, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“I need to see Nannie.”
He blinked a few times, then nodded and led her through the maze of buildings to the guestrooms. He stopped by the heavy oak door. “I must leave you here. Hers is the ground floor chamber on the left, right at the end.”
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