The Witches of Eileanan by Kate Forsyth Page A

She felt a strange burring in her mind, and shook it off irritably.
"Odd . . ." Jorge murmured.
"What can unlock a dream o' a thousand years?" It was Meghan's voice. Isabeau could not turn to look at her guardian because the old man still held her head firmly in his bony hands, but she heard her cross the clearing.
"Ah," the old man said, and leaned forward to kiss Isabeau on the forehead, between her eyes. At once Isabeau's head was filled with a thrumming and drumming like the sound of horses' hooves on hard ground. His knobbly fingers dug into the skin of her temples and she had to resist the impulse to pull her head away.
"It is true, ye do have power," the old warlock said at last, sitting back and resting his hands on his staff once more. "Ye are ignorant, though, ignorant and arrogant. How can ye be so ignorant after living all your life with Meghan o' the Beasts?"
"She was always a wilful bairn," Meghan said softly. "It is glad I am to see you, Jorge. I could only hope that ye would come. I was afraid . . ."
"I have been away a long time," Jorge said. "It must be seven years or more. There are omens in the sky, Meghan, I can feel them tugging me."
"Aye, the Red Wanderer is here again. I wish I knew what it meant for us. Ye have heard the tales o' witch-hunts and executions?"
"Aye, my child. It was very hard for me to come here— passage through the land is growing daily more difficult."
"Ye had no trouble finding the way?"
The old warlock chuckled. "Dragonclaw was easy enough to find with Jesyah to show me the way. Finding the entrance was a lot harder. Jesyah must have flown into hundreds o' cave mouths on that bloody mountainside. Thank ye for your mind-message yesterday. Are all the witches gathered?"
"Ye are only the second, Jorge. I have hopes, though. I've been expecting the lad for weeks now, and I sent out messages to all the witches I ken, and still I scry for more."
"Aye, but we are so few now and we are all afraid. I have made myself a wee snug home in the Sithiche Mountains so I did no' have to cross the land to get here, or come through the Pass, which is guarded."
"What news, Jorge?"
"Only bad, Meghan. The seas are full o' Fairgean— happen they smell the Rìgh's weakness. I have heard they have penetrated the Wulfram River as high as the third loch."
"That is fearful news indeed." Meghan got stiffly to her feet. "Come back to the house, Jorge, ye must be weary."
The old warlock got to his feet, the raven fluttering down to sit on his bony shoulder. Jorge stroked the black glossy feathers and said, "Will Gitâ mind a visitor?"
"He willna like it," Meghan laughed, "but he'll be hospitable." They began to walk back through the forest, Isabeau trailing close behind, consumed with curiosity.
"Meghan, I did a sighting afore I came. It was very odd. The vision kept changing, though I tried to hold it steady. I feel we are at a junction o' events. The Spinners are weaving new colors into the cloth and what this will mean for us only time can tell."
"What did ye see, Jorge?"
"I saw a babe being born that straddled the world with its feet—one foot upon the land, the other upon the oceans. It carried the Lodestar in its hand. I tried to see deeper into the vision, but it changed and I saw two faces that were the same, as if in a mirror, yet different. Everything I see in my dreams is in pairs, it seems—the double-fruited pomegranate, cherries, a coney with two kittens, two moons that reach out to each other, sometimes to kiss, sometimes to bite. There was one dream which brought me to tears and so woke me. I dreamt I was in Lucescere again. I ran into the auld throne-room, gladness in my heart, and saw there on the throne a winged man who had the Lodestar shining in his hand. Such a strange and bonny sight! And then the dream turned, and again I was running into the throne-room, and all I could hear was the wailing o' a clarsach. And there, on the throne, I saw a woman, with the Lodestar blazing in her fist.