The Cursed Towers (51 page)

So they had split their forces, the Duke of Killiegarrie taking eight thousand men along the main highway toward Arran, and Lachlan and his troops taking the high road to Aslinn. The MacSeinn and his two thousand men had been patrolling eastern Blessem for the past two years and had seen hard fighting trying to keep the Bright Soldiers from heading back up into Rionnagan. They had been ordered to head to Ardencaple as well, striking at the town from the north.

Iseult and Lachlan had only two thousand men with them, the others having been left behind in Dun Eidean or sent with the main body of the army. Still, the double column of men stretched back along the highway as far as the eye could see. When they made camp that night, the campfires along the road looked like a chain of rubies, glimmering red in the cool spring darkness. They reached Aslinn the next day and marched on into the woods, much to the surprise of the soldiers who had not been informed of their destination. The road was badly overgrown and they had to clear the way with axes. The NicAislin, Gilliane and Ghislaine's mother Ma-delon, had sent some of her men to guide them and they scouted ahead, tall, taciturn fellows dressed in rough furs and leather. They reached the little castle of Lochsithe within a week. It was built on a small stretch of water and had four round turrets with mossy pointed roofs. Three of its sides rose straight out of the water, the other being protected by a stout outer wall. The trees grew thickly down to the very shore of the loch, their branches hanging in the water. It was a quaint little building, nowhere near large enough to house all of the troops, who made camp in the forest. Only Iseult, Lachlan, the witches and the Yeomen of the Guard were able to rest within the castle's walls and even they were rather crowded. An old couple who had lived there all their lives maintained the castle. Meghan noticed the piercing brightness of the old woman's slanted green eyes and said knowingly to Jorge, "It would no' surprise me if she proved akin to Lilanthe o' the Forest. They used to say there were many born in Aslinn who had tree-changer blood."

They stayed there a week, for it had been arranged to attack Ardencaple a month after Beltane, when both the moons were dark. They had reached Castle Lochsithe more quickly than expected, thanks to the fair weather, and so had time to scry to Lilanthe, hunt for fresh provisions and enjoy the tranquility of the forest.

Their last evening at Castle Lochsithe, Iseult and Meghan sat out on the balcony that ran the length of the central building, enjoying the dusk falling over the loch and watching the tiny sliver of the blue moon rise.

"Tomorrow Gladrielle will be dark," Meghan said, "and it will be time to attack Ardencaple. Let us hope we find them unprepared, though I ken it is a vain hope."

Iseult said nothing, resting her head on her hand.

The old sorceress leaned forward and touched her shoulder. "Why have ye no' told Lachlan?" Iseult did not pretend to misunderstand her. "He would have tried to make me stay behind in Dim Eidean if he knew."

"Would that have been such a bad thing?" Meghan said. "Ye must have a care for the babes ye carry within."

"Babes?"

"Aye, twins again," Meghan replied.

Iseult's face was shadowed. "I have a misgiving in my heart about this campaign," she said. "I have to stay near Lachlan and protect him as best I may. I have had strange dreams ..."

"Jorge too has had uneasy dreams," Meghan said. "Tell me what ye've seen." Iseult shrugged. "When first I wake I can remember clearly but always the dreams slip away from me in the light o' day. Last night I dreamt I saw Lachlan walking away from me down a strange, flat, shadowy road and though I called to him he did not turn or look around."

"That is no' such a bad dream surely?" Meghan said. "Happen it means ye must just be separate for a while— which indeed I think would be a good idea, Iseult. Ye must have a care for the babes ye carry."

"It was no' so much what happened in the dream as the way I felt," Iseult said in a low voice. "Such despair . . ."

Suddenly the warm blue of the twilight was split apart by a great crack of lightning which irradiated the sky from horizon to horizon. The pattern of twigs and branches sprang out black against its white shock. When the lightning was gone they could see the black fretwork imprinted against the fizzle of their vision. So unexpected was the flash of light that they heard involuntary cries from the camp out in the woods and from inside the castle hall. Again the lightning came and they heard the distant rumble of thunder.

"Lightning from a clear sky," Meghan murmured. "Indeed, no good omen the night before a battle."

"But for us or for them?" Iseult asked, getting wearily to her feet.

"Who kens?" Meghan replied. She let Iseult help her to her feet and went back inside the keep. The Blue Guards had been sitting drinking at the long table, Dide entertaining them with his songs and juggling, Finlay and Lachlan playing a game of chess. With a sinking of her heart Meghan saw the old servant woman was mopping up wine which had been spilled across the table like a stain of blood. "Who spilled the wine?" she whispered.

"I did," Lachlan replied with a grin. "That crack o' lightning had me and the lads just about jumping out o'

our skins. Let us hope the men had the forethought to camp under a thorn tree and no' under an oak."

"Why?" Iseult said.

"Do ye no' ken that auld rhyme?" Lachlan said. "No, happen ye wouldna. It says:

" 'Beware o' the oak, it draws the stroke,

Avoid the ash, it courts the flash,

Creep under a thorn, it'll save ye from storm.'"

He saw Meghan still looking at the stain of wine and said, "Whatever is the matter, Meghan?"

"Ye who remember auld rhymes should know," she said harshly. " 'Tis a bad omen indeed to spill your wine thus."

"Drink up your cup but do no' spill wine, for if ye do, 'tis an ill sign," Duncan quoted.

"Och, ye and your omens!" Lachlan said. "Everything is an omen to ye! What about the bee sting in Lucescere? Nothing bad has happened to me yet, ye ken."

"No' yet," Meghan said but Lachlan only laughed at her and ordered the old servant woman to pour him a fresh cup.

The next morning the Blue Guards rose early and prepared themselves for battle, checking their weapons and armor, and washing themselves carefully. Meghan spoke Ea's blessing over the soldiers' heads and watched them mount up with a frown etched on her brow.

"I canna help being afraid," she said to Jorge, "even though I ken they must go. Ever since I saw that flash o' lightning yesterday, my heart has been uneasy. I shall no' stay here with ye and Tomas and the healers as planned. I shall ride out with Lachlan and Iseult and keep them under my eye."

"Is that wise, my dear?" Jorge said wearily. In the bright morning light he looked frailer than ever, his face heavily lined, his hand clutching his staff like a bird's claw. He had not slept well, his dreams troubled with strange visions he could not or would not decipher. "Ye are no warrior, and ye ken ye could be a distraction to the bairns—they will be worried for ye and trying to protect ye. Will ye no' stay here in the peace o' this wee castle and wait for news with the rest o' us?"

"Happen they will need my magic," Meghan replied. "I am too far away here. How can I call the beasts o' the field and forest to their aid if I'm stuck away here in the forest? Nay, I shall ride out with them." Despite Iseult and Lachlan's protests, she would not be swayed from her decision and at last one of the spare horses was led out for her. She clambered up quite nimbly for someone of her immense age, the little donbeag clinging to her long gray plait as usual.

The cavaliers trotted down the road, talking lightheart-edly. The sun fell dappled through the canopy of leaves and birds sang all around them. It was hard to remember they were riding to battle and not on a hunt for sport, particularly with Stormwing the gyrfalcon perched on Lachlan's wrist, a leather hood tied over his head.

By mid-afternoon the forest was thinning and there were signs of human society—a few felled trees, a great patch of blackened ground where charcoal burners had been flaming, a hunters' hut. The road ran through an avenue of tall trees, with a rocky cliff to one side.

Suddenly Iseult reined in her horse, sensing the brush of hostile minds. "Lachlan,
leannan!"
she cried. "I fear—" Behind her she heard Meghan calling a warning.

Lachlan wheeled his horse around, scowling, and called to his men. "Back, back! An ambush, by the Centaur!" With a quick tug he released the ties of the falcon's head and flung the bird into the air. Startled, his men pulled in their horses, a few drawing their swords from their scabbards. Duncan Ironfist cried, "Call the retreat!" and the startled herald raised his trumpet to his mouth and blew. On the narrow road all was confusion. Lachlan spurred his horse back, shouting to the men to retreat. Then the quiet forest sounds were torn apart by the zing of longbows being let loose. A blizzard of arrows fell upon the cavaliers, piercing leather armor, bone and flesh. Men screamed and fell from their horses. The birdsong was drowned by a cacophony of shrieks, shouts and terrified whinnies. Everywhere Iseult looked she could see wounded men and horses floundering. She drew her dagger and looked for the enemy but there were only the deadly rain of arrows, the dying men and horses, the great trees towering overhead. The falcon shrieked and she looked up, seeing archers hidden in the branches and along the top of the rocky crag. She yelled orders but no one listened. All were too busy dying. She pulled her
reil
from her belt and sent it whizzing into the trees. Screams and a falling body showed she had hit her target. It came back to her hand and she flung it again. An arrow caught her in the arm and she dragged it from her flesh with a curse. Ignoring the throbbing pain, she wheeled her horse around, looking for Lachlan. Her heart thudded painfully as she saw his black stallion lying on its side, legs thrashing, a dozen or more arrows studding its breast and side. "Lachlan!" she screamed. She saw Duncan Ironfist swinging up into the trees and threw her dagger straight through the heart of a Bright Soldier about to plunge a sword into his back. The Tirsoilleirean fell with a scream. Without taking the time to acknowledge her, Duncan clung to the tree trunk with one hand and laid about him with his sword. Three more Tirsoilleirean fell and he swung from the trees onto the rocks and began to fight a duel with three archers hidden there, his great claymore whistling with deadly grace. Iseult called back her dagger and used it to kill a Bright Soldier trying to drag her down from her horse. As she stabbed him, another of the enemy used his mace to smash her horse's skull. The mare dropped like a stone. Only quick reflexes saved Iseult from being trapped beneath her horse's weight. She somersaulted high over the head of her attacker, landed lightly on her feet and killed one soldier with the
reil
in her left hand and another with the dagger held in her right hand. She gave a small smile of satisfaction, lashed out with her foot and knocked down another Bright Soldier. Then, as three tried to rush her from the bushes, Iseult somersaulted high over their heads and into the trees. Looking everywhere for her husband, she unhitched her little crossbow from her back and wound it on with the hook on her belt. Though small, the crossbow was powerful and Iseult deadly accurate. She was able to kill or wound about fifteen Bright Soldiers in the branches about her before she ran out of arrows. She then flung down her bow and unsheathed her dagger again, somersaulting down to fight her way through the mayhem on the ground. Dead or dying Graycloaks were everywhere. Taken completely by surprise, many had not even had time to draw their swords or remove their shields. Crouching behind a dead horse, Iseult tried to locate her husband with her mind. To her relief, she felt him nearby and she ran in that direction, killing six or seven Bright Soldiers on the way. Lachlan was backed against the rocks, his bow discarded at his feet, his great claymore whistling all around him as he fought like a demon.

Stormwing fought with him, plummeting from the sky to strike with his clenched talons, then using his powerful hooked beak to tear at any unprotected flesh. As the Bright Soldiers were heavily armored, it was the force of his blow which was most effective and he soared away and plunged down again so swiftly that none of the archers were able to shoot him out of the sky.

Meghan was crouched beside him, her hair falling from its plait, the donbeag shrieking in rage from her shoulder. Piles of dead Tirsoilleirean lay on either side, but ten more were fighting to reach them and Lachlan was only just managing to keep them off. Intent on their prey, they did not notice Iseult running up behind them. She killed two before they heard her, and the distraction of her arrival was enough to allow Lachlan to slice through two more. For a few seconds there was hard fighting, then all were dead. Lachlan leaned on his sword, panting harshly, blood pouring from a cut to his brow and shoulder.

"Where is Duncan?" he cried. "And Iain? Are they well?" Iseult shrugged, trying to catch her breath.

"We've been betrayed," Lachlan raged. "Somehow they knew we were planning to ride down this road. We have a spy in our camp!"

Iseult nodded. "Without a doubt," she replied, then ducked so that an arrow which would have caught her in the throat flew overhead and embedded itself in the rock.

Another group of Bright Soldiers had swung down out of the trees and was advancing on them. Lachlan fought them off with a snarl. When all had fallen, he flew effortlessly and unexpectedly into the branches, the gyrfalcon leading the way. There were screams and then the thud of falling bodies. One almost fell on Iseult and Meghan, and the Banrigh helped the old sorceress to her feet.

"Meghan, are ye all right? Ye're no' hurt?"

The old sorceress nodded, her face grim. "We are hard pressed," she said.

"Can ye help us in any way? They are slaughtering us! We are so confined among all these trees, we canna see where they are or how many o' them there are."

"I have already called for help, but we are so close to the fields here, there will be no woolly bears or timber wolves nearby, only squirrels and donbeags. Calling fire would only hurt our men as much as theirs." The old sorceress suddenly turned and flung up her hand, catching an arrow in mid-air.