Firestar
Page 21
And really, she hadn’t regretted marrying David. It was just a pity, she sighed inwardly, that humans lived for such a short time. But yes, they’d all be watching through their crystal balls for it was in their interests to see who would inherit the talisman; the shining silver clasp that held so much power. Over the years, she had been careful to use its magic well and, indeed, had found it remarkably easy to keep the witches in check. Scotland had prospered. No harvests had been ruined by plague or pestilence, no floods had ravaged the countryside and fierce storms had been kept to a minimum, despite the desperate pleas of the Wind Witches and the furious arguments of the Snow Witches. She smiled as she thought of how they’d sulked at not having their own way.
Nevertheless, she was well aware that behind the anger in their eyes lay the knowledge that she was no longer immortal. Human life was short and yes, they could afford to wait — after all, time was on their side.
And now, it would seem, the time had come …
Well, she thought, she’d made her decision and hopefully it would prove to be the right one for, after much soul-searching, she’d decided to leave the talisman to her niece. Who else could she leave it to? Not to any of the witches, that was for sure, and certainly not to her father after the way he’d treated her. No, she thought, Clara was the only choice. She’d heard of her adventures from the MacArthur and knew her to be both brave and sensible. She wore a firestone, was involved in magic and she was sure that the MacArthur would advise her and do what he could to protect her. Still, she bit her lip, well aware of the consternation that her decision was going to cause.
Heaving a sigh, she turned her attention once more to the Earth Witches who, regaining their composure as well as their hats, now surged forward; their queen halting at the foot of the flight of steps. The Queen of the Earth Witches was decidedly prettier than the others. Her long, black hair curled gracefully and she had some sense of dress for there was no speck of sand or soil on her silken robes.
The old lady regarded her somewhat guiltily for Maritza was her cousin and as well as shielding her from her father’s wrath, had immediately admitted her into the ranks of the Earth Witches when she had arrived in Scotland with David. The thought had sometimes crossed her mind that had she not possessed the talisman, she might have been a shade less welcome but the fact remained that the Queen of the Earth Witches had stood by her in her time of need.
The problem, now, she sighed, was the talisman. She knew perfectly well that over the years Maritza had grown to expect it — and, from the look of her as she stepped forward to speak, was behaving as though it were already hers.
Always inclined to the dramatic, the Queen of the Earth Witches raised her arms so that her cloak fluttered in the wind. “The time has come, Lady Merial,” she said clearly, “for you to leave the human world. We will all grieve your passing.” She paused as there was a murmur of assent from the witches. “It is my hope, however,” she continued, rather less confidently, “that before you leave us, you will pass the magic talisman into my keeping for I, an Earth Witch, am your cousin and it is right that it should be mine!”
Her face was solemn as she spoke but her eyes gleamed with anticipation and at her words, a growling ripple of breathless excitement swept the ranks of the witches.
The talisman! It would soon be theirs!
The old lady’s eyes narrowed. The words were little more than she had expected. Now came the tough part and, conscious of the dismay her decision was going to cause, she took a rather deeper breath than normal. “As you say, Maritza, the time has come for me to leave this world but, I’m afraid I must disappoint you, my dear, for I do not plan to leave the talisman in your care.”
Maritza gasped audibly, totally taken aback. A terrible silence fell. It lasted for the best part of a minute and would have gone on for longer had the Queen of the Wind Witches and the Queen of the Snow Witches not swooped down to land beside Maritza, robes rustling and black eyes glistening with sudden hope.
The Queen of the Earth Witches ignored them. By this time, she was shaking with bewildered fury. “But … you must give me the talisman, Merial,” she hissed. “You know as well as I do that it is mine by right. Mine!”
There was a growl of agreement from the Earth Witches who piled forward in a surging crowd behind her.
“That’s not quite true, Maritza,” Wanda, Queen of the Wind Witches, pointed out with false sweetness. “There’s nothing to stop Lady Merial from giving the talisman to me if she deems you … unsuitable.”
The Queen of the Snow Witches, incredibly beautiful in the shredded chiffon of her ivory robes, stiffened at these words. “Or, of course, to me,” she interrupted quickly in her clear, cold voice; throwing a positively poisonous look at the Queen of the Wind Witches as she spoke.
Maritza’s face contorted with anger and, with visions of the talisman slipping from her grasp, totally lost the plot. “Unsuitable!” she screamed, almost incoherent with rage. “How can you say that? I am not unsuitable!! I am not!”
Lady Merial glanced shrewdly from one witch to the other. “The truth is,” she said, raising her hand commandingly, “that I can trust none of you to wield the power of the talisman with proper care. You, Samantha,” she looked at the Queen of the Snow Witches sternly, “would cover Scotland in twenty feet of snow, given half a chance, and delight in so doing. And you, Wanda,” she eyed the Queen of the Wind Witches sternly, “you, I know, would bring gales and storms to the land and take great pleasure in sinking ships at sea.” She smiled thinly as Wanda’s face turned black with fury as the truth of this assertion hit home.
She then turned to Maritza, her gaze thoughtful. “You are my cousin, Maritza, and I would not have you think me ungrateful. You have treated me as one of your own for many years now …”
“Then give me the talisman, Merial! You know I always expected it to be mine!”
Lady Merial smiled, her eyes softening. “Maritza, Maritza, I know to my despair, exactly what you are capable of. You would blight the land, wouldn’t you,” she said softly. “You’d hex the corn so that the harvests would fail and the cattle would sicken and die.”
“And the rivers,” Maritza added, forgetting herself completely, “don’t forget the rivers,” she crooned. “I could poison their waters and kill all … the … fish …”
There was a deadly silence as Wanda and Samantha, thin-lipped and furious, glared at the hapless Maritza, who, realizing what she had just said, clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Quite so,” Lady Merial said, raising her arms for calm as a dismayed tide of sound rippled through the assembled witches. “Now you know why I could never trust any of you with the talisman.”
There was an awful silence and she let it last before speaking again. “The talisman,” she continued, ignoring the glint of venom that now smouldered behind their sullen glances, “was gifted to me by my father, Lord Jezail. As you know, he cast me off when I married a human and I have neither seen nor heard from him since. Nor do I expect to. As Wanda says, the talisman is mine to give where I please and although I agree that Maritza has a claim to it, I cannot give it to her or, indeed, to any of you.”
“May we ask why, Lady Merial?” the Queen of the Wind Witches demanded.
“Witches are evil by nature,” the old lady said, “but as you know, I am not a true witch despite being Maritza’s cousin.”
“Through another unsuitable marriage!” snapped the Queen of the Snow Witches.
“Quite,” admitted Lady Merial, “but the fact remains that I am the daughter of a magician and it is the task of magicians to keep a balance between the nature of the earth and those who would destroy it.”
“If you mean us, why don’t you say so?” the Queen of the Wind Witches snapped, her silken grey robes rustling in the breeze.
“Read my words as you will,” Lady Merial shrugged, “but that’s why I’ve hidden the talisman.”
“We’ll find it,” Wanda replied confidently
. “Wherever you’ve hidden it; we’ll find it!”
“We’ll look everywhere,” snarled Maritza, backing her up. “Everywhere!”
Samantha stood straight and tall. “What’s hidden,” she observed icily, “can be found!”
There was a murmur of agreement as each witch secretly determined, there and then, to be the one who found the talisman.
“In the meantime,” Lady Merial said pointedly, “I have urgent business to attend to — and so, may I remind you, have you!”
They parted before her as she walked down the steps, curtseying deeply as she made her way through them to her car. Even as she reached it, however, they disappeared; fading away on a sighing whisper of wind. And as they disappeared, the livid banks of cloud above the house released the first few gentle flakes of snow; flakes that grew swiftly in number as the witches wove their spells.
The engine of the powerful car roared to life as the snow started to fall in earnest and, driven by a steadily rising wind, whipped quickly into a raging blizzard. Releasing the hand brake, the old lady leant forward slightly to take a last, long look at the old house before setting off amid the whirling snow. She knew exactly where they would hex her. There was a nasty curve in the road near the old quarry. It would be there.
Hidden among the trees at the side of the house, an old man, grey-haired and stooped with age, watched the car disappear and heard the noise of the engine change as it paused briefly at the imposing stone gates that marked the end of the driveway, before turning slowly onto the main road.
Shivering slightly in the freezing air, he waited until all was quiet before making his way through the snow to the front door, hexing it open as he approached; for he knew perfectly well that if he was going to find the talisman before the witches returned, he was going to have to be quick.
Copyright
Kelpies is an imprint of Floris Books
First published in 2009 by Floris Books
First published as an eBook in 2013 by Floris Books
© 2009 Anne Forbes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the prior permission of Floris Books, 15 Harrison Gardens, Edinburgh
www.florisbooks.co.uk
The publisher acknowledges subsidy from Creative Scotland towards the publication of this volume
British Library CIP Data available
ISBN: 978–178250–076–6