by Anne Bishop
Help me find a way to protect the Light. Please, help me find a way.
Pulling the cuff bracelet off her wrist, she placed it in the shallow basin. Since it had been a gift from Brighid, she valued it more than any other possession. Giving it up seemed a sacrifice worthy of the help she sought.
Not that she really believed her prayers or a bracelet would make any difference.
Turning away from the basin before she changed her mind and took back the bracelet, she returned to the terrace that overlooked the gardens behind Lighthaven’s sprawling manor. For forty years she had lived in the manor and walked through these gardens. She had been born here on the White Isle, had spent the first years of her life in Atwater, the seaport village that acted as a portal to the rest of the world. The day after her tenth birthday, her father brought her to Lighthaven and left her with the Sisters of Light in the hopes that she would become one of them.
She had lived nowhere else since, had known no other place. She had rarely traveled beyond the boundaries of Lighthaven in all the years that had passed since that girl had stood at the visitors’ gate and felt her heart soar at the sound of women’s voices raised in a ritual song. She didn’t regret the innocence that came from the lack of worldly experience. She wasn’t completely ignorant of what lay beyond the shores of this island—the world brushed against the White Isle often enough—but those things had never touched her, leaving her heart a pure vessel for the Light.
Now she wondered if that ignorance would doom everyone and everything she cared about.
“If the gardens give you no peace,” said a voice behind her, “do they give you answers?”
Merrill turned to look at her closest friend. Shaela never spoke of her life before coming to Lighthaven, had never once revealed what had driven a girl on the cusp of womanhood to steal a rowboat and try to make her way across the strait that separated the White Isle from Elandar. She had never said what had caused the blindness in her left eye or the slight paralysis of the left side of her face or the lameness in one leg.
There were scars on Shaela’s body that the years had faded but couldn’t erase completely. And there were scars on her heart that would never fade.
Because of that, there was always a shadow of Dark inside Shaela, but that shadow made her value the Light even more than the Sisters who had never been touched by evil.
“I feel the chill of winter,” Merrill said, turning back to look at the garden. “I dread the cold days and long nights that are coming because I can’t stop wondering if we’ll ever see the spring.”
Shaela sighed, an exasperated sound. “You’ve been chewing on this for over a month. You’ve been over the old records again and again and found nothing.”
“I found the old stories. They support the warning we heard.”
“That the Destroyer of Light, the Well of All Evil, has returned? You’ve been wearing yourself out because a voice—a man’s voice—came to you in a dream.”
“A warning,” Merrill insisted. “And a riddle.” She wrapped her arms around herself, adding quietly, “And we aren’t the only ones who heard the warning.”
“Can Brighid be trusted?” Shaela asked just as quietly.
“She was a Sister. Is still a Sister, even though she hasn’t lived with us since—” Sorrow welled up in her, as sharp as it had been sixteen years ago when she’d helped Brighid pack a trunk and leave Lighthaven in response to a young boy’s desperate plea for help.
“Since her sister, Maureen, sick in mind and heart, walked into the sea,” Shaela said.
“Yes.”
Brighid had walked in the Light, a shining beacon. But Maureen had been a bit wild, even as a girl. Instead of settling down with her man once she’d become a wife and mother, she got stranger, more twisted—until something inside her finally broke so much that she chose the sea’s cradle over her own children, leaving Brighid with the task of raising two children who had in them some Dark blood that gave them unnatural abilities to make things happen.
“Heart’s hope lies within belladonna,” Merrill said. “That’s what the voice said.”
“Belladonna is a poison,” Shaela replied. “What hope can be found in something rooted in the Dark?”
“I don’t know, but I can think of only one way to find out.”
Shaela remained silent for a long time. Then she lightly touched Merrill’s shoulder. “Writing to Brighid was one thing. But if you go to Raven’s Hill, you’ll open old hurts and leave fresh wounds.”
“I know.” The thought of it made her ache. “But if this danger is real, there is no one else I trust enough to ask for this kind of help.”
“When are you leaving?”
“There’s a ship leaving Atwater tomorrow morning. The captain has agreed to take me to Raven’s Hill.”
“You haven’t the skills to deal with the outside world.”
“Two men from the village are coming with me as escorts. They’re worldly enough, I think.”
Shaela sighed. “I’d better take care of the packing for the both of us. It’s not a long journey by sea, but you still won’t consider half of what you’ll need.”
An odd blend of alarm and relief flooded through Merrill. “You don’t have to leave the White Isle.”
Shaela spoke slowly, as if picking each word with care. “It’s best if I make this journey with you. Yes, I think it’s best.”
Merrill stared at her friend. “You believe the warning, don’t you?”
Shaela hesitated. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t—until you said you were leaving. Then I imagined you traveling by sea, and a sense of foreboding came over me. The Light within you will be a beacon in the dark. If you leave, you must succeed—and you must return or everything will be lost. I can’t shake the feeling that something will stop you from returning unless I’m with you.”
“Something’s coming,” Merrill whispered.
“Yes.”
“Something that can destroy the White Isle.”
“Yes.”
She squared her shoulders. “Then let’s make this journey—and hope the answer to this riddle is what we need to save the Light.”
Chapter Six
Merrill watched the shoreline as the sailors worked to bring the ship within the shelter of Darling’s Cove. An odd name for such a practical-minded village of people, but it was said that the man who first settled there adored his beautiful wife. Fearful that water demons would become enamored with her and try to lure her too far into the water whenever she walked along the beach, he never called her by name when they were near the sea, only darling. Always darling.
But it was his darling who, it was said, had an unusual connection to the land and had created the secret place Merrill hoped would have what they needed.
“It’s not too late,” Shaela said, coming to stand beside Merrill. “We can still turn back, find another way to do this.”
“We can’t turn back,” Merrill replied. “And it is too late—was already too late before we set foot on the ship. We’re running out of time. I can feel it. If we don’t find what we seek here…”
What happens then? she wondered. Nothing? Everything? Are we set free by our failure, or are we doomed because we failed to find the answer that would have saved us? And how am I supposed to know the difference?
“I’ll be glad to get off the water,” Shaela said. “The further south we’ve come, the more uneasy I feel.”
“I know,” Merrill whispered. “I feel it too. Like something knows we’re out here.” Like there’s a stain of evil on the water. It’s not here, not yet, but it’s getting closer. Whenever I enter that still place where the Light within me dwells, all I have to do is think about the sea, and the Light is diminished. Surely that’s a warning.
“Getting into port this early in the morning, we’ll have the whole day,” Shaela said. “If the girl can provide us with what we need quickly enough, we can be sailing home with the evening tide.” She slanted a glance a
t Merrill. “Unless you want to stay overnight.”
“We won’t be welcomed as guests,” Merrill snapped, lashing out in response to the pain held in that truth.
“No,” Shaela said quietly, “we won’t. We’re going to hurt both of them by coming here.” She lifted Merrill’s left wrist. “Maybe you should have offered the bracelet as a gift instead of leaving it on a rock for a raven to snatch and take back to its nest.”
“It felt like the right thing to do,” Merrill said, as troubled now by the impulse to leave the bracelet as an offering to…something…as she had been at the time she’d done it. But it wouldn’t have been an appropriate gift since Brighid had given it to her in the first place. Had Shaela forgotten that? Or did she not realize what the return of a heart-friend’s gift meant, that it was a permanent severing of a friendship?
She turned away from Shaela, wishing the task was behind them instead of something yet to be faced.
The ship anchored within easy distance of the cove’s southern arm. The northern arm had wharves for merchant ships and fishing vessels; the southern arm grudgingly accommodated visitors. Piers jutted out from the land in such a way that rowed boats sent out from larger ships could discharge their passengers, but the stairs that connected the piers to the land above made use of what nature had provided, and the uneven lengths and heights of the steps were a punishment for anyone with a weak leg.
Shaela said nothing as they climbed the stairs, but it was clear her bad leg wouldn’t hold up to the strain if they had to scramble around a hillside with the girl.
Maybe I could suggest she remain behind with Brighid, Merrill thought, slipping an arm companionably through Shaela’s—an unspoken apology for being snappish earlier and unobtrusive support as they made their way to the stables where a horse and buggy could be rented for the day.
She hadn’t told the ship’s captain the reason for this visit to Raven’s Hill—or who she was visiting—but any man who sailed out of Atwater knew about Brighid—and why she no longer lived on the White Isle. So Merrill wasn’t surprised when the men who had accompanied them as far as the stable didn’t offer to go farther.
After paying the stable fee, Merrill climbed into the buggy, collected the reins, and made sure Shaela was comfortably settled before giving the horse the command to move forward. The cottage was no more than a mile outside the village proper, nestled at the bottom of the hill. It was in the center of a modest acreage that could have provided the family with a respectable living if there had been more than a girl and a woman to work the land.
She had visited twice before—once shortly after Brighid had settled into the cottage and again three years ago, when Brighid, on behalf of her niece, had requested that a Lady of Light come to Raven’s Hill to test the girl.
It had become clear in that brief meeting that becoming a Lady of Light and living on the White Isle was Caitlin Marie’s all-consuming dream and ambition. And it was just as painfully clear that something lived inside the girl that was at odds with that dream and ambition. Something that would not be welcome on the White Isle.
The girl was as tainted as her brother. Some things came through the bloodlines and never could be washed away.
Guardian of Light, cleanse my thoughts of such unkindness. The children cannot be blamed for their nature, and they have never used it for harm. But…I would not want one of their kind on the White Isle.
“We’re here,” Shaela said when the cottage came into sight.
As the horse’s pace brought them closer and closer to success or failure, Merrill thought about those first two visits. Then, the hill looming behind the cottage had struck her as menacing, as if an ill-spoken word was all that was needed to bring the hillside down on the people living in its shadow. Now that same hill struck her as protective, as if it guarded something precious.
Which impression was closer to the truth? Or had the strain of the journey turned her mind to fanciful imaginings?
When they reached the cottage, Shaela climbed down and attached a lead to the horse’s bridle, tying the other end to the hitching post. As Merrill secured the reins and set the brake, she caught the movement of a curtain falling back into place. A moment later, the cottage door opened, and Brighid, looking older and more careworn than Merrill had expected, stepped outside to greet them.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” Brighid asked with cold politeness.
You know why we’ve come. Merrill searched Brighid’s face but found no sign of welcome. And that sharpened her sadness over the necessity of coming here. They had been friends once, sisters in the joyous work of nurturing the Light. Now two children, especially the girl, stood between them.
“We need your help,” Merrill said. The girl suddenly appeared in the doorway, her blue eyes bright with hope when she caught sight of them. No, not a girl anymore. Eighteen now, wasn’t she? A woman come into her power. Whatever it might be.
Pretending she didn’t see the hope, she kept her eyes fixed on Brighid. “We need Caitlin’s help.”
“For what?” Brighid asked warily.
So. Brighid was going to hold a grudge, wasn’t going to bend even now.
“There are two plants we need for a…prayer…circle. They do not grow on the White Isle. We thought Caitlin, with her skills, could acquire them for us.”
Hope burned away in Caitlin’s eyes, replaced by bitterness. “So the Ladies of Light require the help of a sorceress.”
“That is not a word to be bandied about,” Shaela said sharply.
“Maybe not,” Caitlin replied just as sharply, “but I want to hear her say it. She’s so good at speaking the truth, let her speak it now.”
“I have a name,” Merrill said.
Brighid raised a hand, silencing Caitlin before the girl could reply. “What do you want?”
We have no time for a battle of wills. Can’t you feel it, Brighid? Evil is already drifting among us.
“Heart’s hope—and belladonna,” Merrill replied.
The small jerk of Brighid’s body gave Merrill hope, but Caitlin’s expression showed no sign of yielding.
“Those plants don’t grow around here,” Caitlin said, as if that ended all possibility.
“But there is a place nearby where unusual plants grow,” Merrill insisted. “I could accompany you and help—”
“You aren’t welcome there.”
“Caitlin Marie!” Brighid turned on her niece. “I understand your disappointments and why a wounded heart makes for a bitter tongue, but that is no reason to forget your manners.”
“So they should get whatever they want from me just for the asking?”
Girl and aunt stared at each other, and Merrill had the uneasy feeling they were no longer talking about plants.
Then Brighid sighed and rested a hand against Caitlin’s cheek. “No,” she said. “You should get the Ladies what they need because I’m asking. And because this is more important than any one person.”
Caitlin hesitated, then bobbed her head once in agreement. “For you, then.” She disappeared into the cottage. A few moments later, they all heard the back door slam.
“We came at a difficult time,” Merrill said soothingly, wondering if she and Shaela were going to stand outside for however long it took Caitlin to retrieve the plants, or if Brighid would stand by her own words and remember her manners.
“Manure has its uses, Merrill, but it never smells sweet,” Brighid replied tartly. “Don’t spread it here.”
So much for stepping around the point of contention that had bruised their friendship. Not broken it, though. She wouldn’t believe it was truly broken. Someday Brighid would be free to come back to the White Isle…and Lighthaven. “The girl doesn’t belong on the White Isle. I stand by the decision I made three years ago. She isn’t one of us, Brighid. She never will be.”
Brighid leaned against the door frame. “A young man from the village called last week. Asked Caitlin to go walking in the moonli
ght—the first who has ever done that since she’s considered ‘strange.’ He made her an offer.”
“Oh.” Merrill smiled. A wounded heart and an offer? Yes, that could explain the sharpness of Caitlin’s temper. “Well, young women are often afflicted with nerves and quarrel with their lover before the wed—”
“He made her the kind of offer no woman with pride or heart would accept.”
“Ah.” Merrill’s face heated with embarrassment, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Shaela turn away, head down, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.
“Your presence here today is salt on a fresh wound,” Brighid said, her voice sad and quiet. “You come asking for favors from one you turned away and offer nothing in return.”
“There’s nothing I can offer. And you know why we’ve come.”
“Yes, I know why. As I said when I answered your letter, I, too, heard the voice in a dream. The words are a riddle, and I have found no answer.” Brighid hesitated. “But I think the answer is more than an answer for whoever discovers the meaning of the riddle.”
Shaela looked up, alert. “What do you think it is meant to be?”
“A door.”
Reaching the spot on the hillside that she had decided years ago was the end of the path, despite the path continuing on up and over the hill, Caitlin closed her eyes and sent out that silent call: I’m here.
When she opened her eyes, the path ended at the walled garden that branded her a sorceress and was her only comfort and friend—the walled garden that didn’t exist for anyone except her.
Slipping through the rusty gate that never closed properly, she hugged the two pots she’d brought with her and slowly examined the beds. She didn’t know what belladonna looked like, but she was certain she’d know the feel of it.
And there it was, tucked in the corner of the garden that never managed to grow anything well. Beside it was a heart’s hope plant she knew hadn’t been there a few days ago.
