The Witches of Eileanan by Kate Forsyth Page B

At first I am glad, and I see she has the white lock, all the way to her feet as only a true NicCuinn can have. But, Meghan, here is the worst o' it. I come closer, and she is Fairge! No doubt about it, I see her scales shining, and her fins and tail, and her mouth is no mouth o' a woman!"
"That is a strange sighting indeed," Meghan said slowly.
"Indeed, by my beard and the beard o' the Centaur. There is something else ... I ken it means something important but yet I canna tell what. Every night I dream o' Magnysson and Gladrielle. I see them in my dreams, rising and setting, and I see one being consumed by the other. . . Magnysson takes Gladrielle in his arms, as the auld tales always told, but he swallows her, Meghan! He eats her! I think this can only mean war is coming, war as we have no' seen for many centuries."
"When Magnysson shall at last hold Gladrielle in his arms, all will be healed or broken, saved or surrendered," Meghan murmured.
"What is that?" the blind seer asked, leaning closer. "What did ye say?"
"Just an auld rhyme I remember from my childhood. I have no' thought o' it for many years . . . Aye, this year is the year for us, I ken it. I wish the Stargazers were still alive. I would give much to ken if my readings o' the skies be correct."
"First let us Test this young witch and see if all that promise o' power is to be fulfilled," Jorge said. "What is your Talent, lassie?"
"I do no' ken," Isabeau said, confused. This was a secret source of sorrow to her, although Meghan reassured her by saying witches were often quite old before they found their special vocation.
Jorge now did the same. "Och well, never mind. I was over forty when I found I had the gift o' seeing into the future, and I had to lose my everyday sight first." He then turned to Meghan and said, "We need the right spot, ye ken, one near water, earth, air and fire."
"I have been making ready," Meghan said. "Tonight is Candlemas, the end o' winter and the beginning o' the season o' flowers. We'll begin the Ordeal at sunset, and perform the Candlemas rites at dawn. Let us hope the circle will be complete."

The Test of Power

Isabeau crouched beneath a thorny bush, trying to warm herself by rubbing her bare arms and shoulders with her hands. It was just before dawn on the first day of spring, and bitterly cold. She was tired, having not slept all night, and hungry, not having eaten. As Meghan had directed, she had tried to empty herself, tried to become part of the dark, silent night, the great trees soaring into starry distances, the mingled light of the two moons shining on the snowy peaks. But all she had felt was cold and afraid.
Soon the mountaintops could be seen silhouetted against a pale green sky. Isabeau scrambled to her feet and began to lope down the hillside, her arms crossed over her naked chest. Gradually she began to warm up, and she ran faster, for she was stiff after the long Ordeal, and she thought she might need every advantage in the upcoming Test. Somehow she knew it was important that she do her best this morning, that it would help define her future. Isabeau had no intention of living her life quietly among the trees and the mountains, gathering herbs and making medicines to sell each year at the village festivals. Isabeau wanted adventure.
Through the trees she could see the loch, shining faintly in the dawn light. The loch filled most of the bottom of the valley, trickling over the eastern rim to pour in thin ribbons to the plains far below. By the waterfall, a small fire had been lit and Isabeau headed that way.
As she ran, she repeated to herself the rhyme she had been taught as a child.

"If Candlemas be fair and bright,
Winter will have another flight.
If Candlemas be shower and rain,
Winter is gone and shall no' come again."

Unless it rains afore nightfall, it looks as though winter shall have another flight, Isabeau thought, and remembered how many birthdays had dawned fine, only to have her birthday picnic ruined