by Andrew Symon
“If you don’t let us come along, we’ll tell Aunt Dorcas,” said Rana simply.
Seeing that he had been out-manoeuvred, Ossian motioned to the girls to follow. Although his pace was fast for them, they knew that complaining was not an option. A good fifteen minutes later Ossian stopped and turned round.
“We’re goin’ to see someone,” he stated simply. “And you’ve to swear not to tell Dad. He’ll go spare if he finds out, so you’ll all be in trouble too. Got that?” The others indicated assent.
“Jack,” continued Ossian, “d’you remember the Oakshee mentionin’ Tamlina? Well, I’ve found out where she is today.”
“What were the Oakshee like?” asked Rana, wide-eyed. “Dad says they can be dangerous.”
“Never heed them now,” said Ossian irritably. “I’ve sent a grig ahead to let her know we’re comin’. We don’t want a repeat o’ last time.”
“Who is Tamlina?” asked Jack. “I’m sure I’ve heard the name before somewhere.”
“She’s the Enchantress,” explained Ossian. “And today she’s comin’ to collect plants near here. A Ghillie-Doo told me last night.”
“A what?” said Petros.
“Ghillie-Doo. They’re tree guardians, they hear all sorts o’ things. One o’ them told me last night that Tamlina’s goin’ to be near here today.”
“D’you talk to trees a lot, then?” laughed Rana.
Ossian’s eyes narrowed.
“Just because you’ve no’ met different Shian in your cosseted wee life doesn’t mean they’re no’ important. This one knows a lot more than you, for a start.”
Rana blushed, and averted her gaze.
“Which plants is she collecting?” asked Lizzie, breaking the awkward silence.
“There’s hawthorn here, but she does all sorts – could be almost anythin’.”
Reaching a small clearing, Ossian stopped. “We’ll wait here. The grig’ll find us.”
“A grig’s like a pixie, right?” said Lizzie. “Mum told me. They’re friendly.”
“It’s not ‘pixie’, it’s ‘pisgie’,” snorted Rana. “Only humans call them pixies.”
Ossian withdrew a small pot of heather honey from his pocket. “We’ll have to pay her; they like this.”
They all sat down in the clearing and waited. Small insects buzzed in the sunlight, and Jack started to feel sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He swiped irritably at the midges.
“Have you met Tamlina?” he asked Ossian. “What’s she like?”
“I’ve seen her once. She doesn’t go out o’ her way to meet people, but if we’re lucky she’ll maybe tell us somethin’.”
After what seemed like an eternity, Jack heard a faint whirring sound. There weren’t any grigs in Rangie, and he wasn’t quite sure what to expect.
A tiny winged creature flew towards them, no bigger than Jack’s hand. It flew straight to Ossian, and hovered in front of him, performing a bee-like dance. Ossian nodded.
“She’s nearby. She knew we were comin’, but at least she doesn’t think we’re tryin’ to sneak up on her. Nobody’s to speak unless she asks a direct question, and be careful about lookin’ her in the eye.”
They made their way cautiously across the clearing and carried on along a barely discernible path. Little sunlight filtered down this far. They had walked only a couple of minutes when a young sapling fell across their path.
“That’s far enough!” commanded a voice.
Jack looked, but couldn’t see who was speaking. His heart started to beat more quickly, and the sweat now ran down his back.
“Yer grig telt me ye were comin’, Ossian, son o’ Hart. Ye dinna usually venture intae the woods this far. Whit brings ye here?”
Ossian looked vainly to see where the voice was coming from. As had happened when the Oakshee had tried to grab his ankles, Ossian didn’t – or couldn’t – speak. On impulse, Jack stepped forward, his blue eye flashing in the gloomy light.
“I am Jack Shian from Rangie,” he announced. “The Oakshee told us you might know what has happened to my father, Phineas of Rangie.”
He paused, unsure if he was facing in quite the right direction. Gradually, an old woman appeared in front of him. She wore a black full-length cloak, but her head was uncovered. Her eyes were set deep in her worn, creased face, and her hair was matted and dirty, its true colour unknowable. Jack guessed that she was old, but he had no idea how old.
“Ye’re a bold creature tae walk this far intae the woods,” she said, staring at Jack.
Excitement and nervousness competed within Jack. Was that a compliment or a warning?
“Aye, I’ve heard o’ yer father,” continued Tamlina, in her powerful voice. “Tamlina sees all. Whit dae ye want o’ me?”
“Is he alive? Where is he?” The questions exploded out. Unsure what to expect, Jack hadn’t prepared a speech. “I just want to know where he is.”
Tamlina stared intently, as if appraising Jack’s worth. Then she nodded.
“Come along, and bring the lassies wi’ ye. The ithers can bide here.” Her voice was authoritative. She turned and started to walk away.
“Where …” Jack began, but a ferocious look from the old woman halted him. Her eyes seemed to bore right through him. Unable to hold her gaze, he looked down. Tamlina snorted, turned and swept away. Jack glanced back, and drawing on his reserves of courage motioned to Rana and Lizzie to follow.
Tamlina stopped abruptly beneath an old oak, and turned round. A black pot bubbled away over a small fire, a sharp, acrid smell rising from it. Lizzie, glancing back nervously, saw that Petros and Ossian were just in sight.
Tamlina picked up a long wooden spoon and stirred the contents of the pot, muttering to herself. Jack, Rana and Lizzie shuffled awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
“Sit doon, sit doon,” barked Tamlina, apparently aware of their unease. “I’m jist makkin’ some broth. Mebbe ye’d like tae try some?”
Rana and Lizzie exchanged anxious glances. Their unease increased as Tamlina dropped three large mushrooms into the pot. The broth sizzled briefly, and steam rose up, partially obscuring Tamlina’s face.
“We’d love to,” announced Jack, glaring pointedly at his cousins. Rana and Lizzie looked nervous, but said nothing. Tamlina clicked her fingers, and four leather goblets appeared in front of her. Pouring a small measure of broth into each, she handed them round. Jack blew gently into his goblet and waited.
“Ye’re wantin’ to find oot whit becam’ o’ young Phineas o’ Rangie?”
Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. He glanced at his cousins, who sat transfixed; neither had touched the broth given to them. Tamlina, gazing above their heads, seemed unaware of their presence. Abstractedly, she took a deep draught of the broth, slurping the fluid around in her mouth. Slowly, a look of intense concentration came upon her face, as if she gazed far back through the years. She began to speak, but her voice was quite different. The firm, commanding intonation had gone, replaced by a low mumble – it was almost as if she was a different woman. Jack, Rana and Lizzie all sat forward to try and catch her words.
“Tamlina has seen many sorrows. Only the Grey has seen more than she. Foolish Shian and devils from Adam’s race all seek the Stone … Thoughtless of the Trinity, all pursue its power … Young Phineas of Rangie and Konan the Brashat, trying to trick each other as they passed through Keldy … Neither saw the danger … If sphere and silver they would gain, the Seat of Power they would attain …”
Her voice trailed off, her gaze still vacant.
Jack nudged Rana, and showed her that he was tipping out the contents of his goblet. Catching on, Rana followed suit, and indicated to Lizzie to do the same. Jack saw with some alarm that the dried leaves onto which the broth had been poured sizzled briefly. Hurriedly each picked up some loose earth and covered the evidence.
They needn’t have hurried; it was fully two minutes before Tamlina emerged from her trance. She blinked slow
ly and cleared her throat, looking curiously at the three in front of her. For a moment she appeared not to recognise them. As realisation dawned, her manner and voice returned to what for her passed as normal.
“Tamlina sees that ye all ha’e learnt much this day. Did I speak o’ the Raglan Stone?”
The youngsters all shook their heads.
“Be shrewd with yer wisdom, young anes, for wi’ knowledge comes responsibility.” Her voice was strong and confident.
“You said they were trying to trick each other,” said Rana. “But what happened?”
“Foolish girl!” boomed the old woman, standing up quickly. “Dinna presume tae question Tamlina, she wha’s seen a thoosan’ tales unfold. Now, begone!”
And in a flash, she disappeared, together with all traces of the pot and the fire.
Rana looked stunned. Jack quickly got to his feet and grabbed her arm and Lizzie’s. “Let’s get back to the others.”
As they walked hurriedly back the short distance to Petros and Ossian, Lizzie said, “D’you think she remembers what she said? It was like she was in a trance.”
“What were those mushrooms she put in the broth?” Rana pulled a yeuch face. “I’m glad we didn’t drink any of that.”
“It must’ve been a potion,” said Jack. “She was in a trance. When she came to, she didn’t even know who we were.”
“Did you see the ring on her finger?” asked Lizzie. “It was round with a strange pattern.”
“I saw that,” said Rana. “I couldn’t make out what the pattern was. Did you see it, Jack?”
“Why couldn’t I come with you?” asked Petros moodily as they approached.
“Were you going to argue with her?” demanded Jack. The nervousness he had felt earlier on had given way to relief now that they were away from the Enchantress.
As they walked back through the woods, Jack, Rana and Lizzie recounted the story of the broth, and what Tamlina had said.
“You didn’t drink any o’ it, did you?” said Ossian. “There’s strange things growin’ in here. I reckon she uses some o’ them to get into a trance. But she’s hundreds o’ years old, she can deal with stuff like that; it might kill you.”
“Is she really that old?” enquired Lizzie.
“She’s been around for centuries,” said Ossian. “She knows everythin’ that happens around here. I don’t know what she meant by Uncle Phineas and the Brashat tryin’ to trick each other, though. And ‘sphere and silver’, and ‘the Seat of Power’, I’ve no idea what that is.”
“The Icelandic elves told a story about a globe the other night,” said Jack. “Could that be the sphere?”
“Who knows?” said Petros. “It could be a football for all we know. And what’s the Seat of Power?”
“That used to mean a king’s throne,” stated Rana, “or the most powerful people in the land. How would you gain that?”
They had reached the edge of the woods. As they neared Ossian’s house they saw his mother standing by the front door.
“And where have you been?” she demanded.
“The waterfall …” began Ossian, but his mother held up her hand.
“You needn’t try any of those tales with me, Ossian. Domovoy’s been down that way all afternoon, and he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of any of you.”
“I asked if we could go and find some Oakshee,” said Jack. “We don’t have them in Rangie. I wanted to know what they’re like.”
Aunt Dorcas looked hard at Jack, trying to judge whether this bore any resemblance to the truth. Sensing that further enquiries would be unproductive, she said, “Come away in. You’ll need to get your things together.”
As Ossian made to follow the others, his mother put her arm across the doorway, blocking his route. Ossian was taller than his mother now, and much stronger. She looked at him, her eyes seeking some point of contact. Ossian stared back. Aware that this particular battle was lost, she lowered her arm, and watched sadly as her son passed into the house.
Once they had collected their belongings, Ossian led the others outside. They strode purposefully towards the wooden gate that led to the low road entrance. Doonya and Hart, in earnest discussion, emerged more slowly.
Looking over his shoulder, Ossian said, “It’s all right, Dad. I’ll take them back. I know the way.”
“Dad!” called Rana. “Can you bring Nuxie? I left him in the bedroom.”
Doonya waved a hand to show that he had heard.
As the youngsters reached the gate, Ossian stopped and turned round.
“D’you fancy goin’ to a party?” he said. “You’ve hours yet, it’s no’ even suppertime.”
Jack looked quizzically at him. “What kind of party?”
“The fun kind,” replied Ossian testily. “Who’s up for it?”
“I am,” said Petros. “Work’s a doddle, I can handle it. Where are we going?”
“It’s all right,” said Ossian, seeing Rana and Lizzie look doubtful. “It’s no’ far from the castle. You can go back whenever you want.”
“OK …” said Rana slowly. “But Mum’s expecting us, and Dad’s just behind, so he’ll know if we’ve gone somewhere else.”
The five stepped up to the mound, and Ossian put his cloak around the others.
“Wind-flock Cos-Howe,” he said.
A loud low whisper reverberated, and Jack felt himself starting to spin.
11
Cos-Howe
The spinning stopped, and Jack’s nausea quickly settled. Ossian’s cloak was still around the others, but Jack could see that they were in a dark chamber, lit only by two burning torches.
“Told you I’d get you here all right,” announced Ossian with evident satisfaction. “Let’s get inside.”
“Wait a minute,” said Rana. “Lizzie’s feeling sick again.”
“Come on,” said Petros encouragingly. “We’ll find you somewhere to sit down.”
He led Lizzie as they all made their way towards a great wooden door at the end of the gloomy chamber. It was very different from the Shian square, with its shafts of light coming down from the crystals.
“Where exactly are we?” Jack asked.
“Cos-Howe,” said Ossian. “For years this was only really a cave where local Shian met sometimes. But the Stone’s opened it up again, so they’re havin’ a party. I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want you tellin’ my parents.”
“Why?” challenged Rana. “What’s wrong with them knowing we’ve gone to a party?”
“Let’s just say they don’t exactly approve o’ some o’ my friends,” replied Ossian cagily. “Anyway, we’re no’ that far from the castle if you really want to go back.”
“We’re in Edinburgh again?” asked Rana. “It took longer to get up to Keldy.”
“You’re just gettin’ used to it,” answered Ossian. “Come on, the party’s started.”
The noise coming through the great wooden door confirmed that a party was indeed underway. A young man of about seventeen appeared.
“So, you’ve turned up, have you?”
“These are my cousins from Rangie. This is Petros and Jack, and Petros’s sisters. Lizzie doesn’t feel well.”
The young man opened the door fully and motioned them in. “I hope you brought something.”
On cue, Ossian produced a bottle from within his cloak.
“My mother’s. It’s good stuff.”
Rana looked suspiciously at Ossian. “Did you steal that from home?”
“Mum makes it to be drunk, so what’s the problem?”
“What is it?” asked Jack.
“Heather wine,” replied Ossian. “It’s quite bitter, but you get used to it. Let’s find a table.”
He led the way into the main room, a full twenty yards long, where the party was in full swing. Burning torches on the wall provided the only illumination. Tables had been pushed along each side, with others scattered around the centre. Single chairs, some upright, others on their side
, were strewn haphazardly about. Groups of young men and women were talking, singing or playing games of chance. A strange musical blend of melodies and refrains could be heard from flutes, fiddles, guitars, and mandolins; none seemed to be playing the same tune.
“I’ll go and say hi to a few people,” explained Ossian, finding a spare table. “Wait here. I wouldn’t talk to too many folk just yet. They’ve got to find out who you are.”
Jack reckoned that the forty or fifty young men and women were between about fifteen and twenty, the men outnumbering the women. The flickering light of the torches gave a slightly eerie glow to the place. The noise was loud, but not overwhelming.
My first proper party, thought Jack. Cool.
From the end of the room came the smell of roasted food. Jack’s stomach rumbled. Lunch seemed a long time ago.
“Where did Ossian say this place was?” asked Rana.
“Cos-Howe,” replied her brother. “I think it’s only a couple of miles from the castle, but I don’t know the way.”
“So we’re stuck here?” asked Lizzie, feeling a little better.
Ossian reappeared, carrying a tray of drinks and food.
“I’ve told people you’re here, and it’s no problem,” he announced, setting the tray down on the table. “There you go, some juniper juice for you.” Turning to a young man at the next table, he continued, “Hi, Toozy. Any chance o’ gettin’ in on the cards?”
Jack didn’t recognise the card game being played by the group of four young men next to them.
“Sure, pull up a chair.”
Gratefully, Ossian pushed his chair along to the next table.
“Are you just going to leave us, then?” demanded Rana.
“It’s OK, you can mingle now. I told you, people know who you are.”
“But we don’t know who they are,” said Rana indignantly. “And they’re all much older than us.”
“Come on,” said Petros to Jack. “We’ll see if we can join another card game. You get the tray. You two had better come with us,” he added to his sisters.
Rana and Lizzie got up from their chairs with no hint of enthusiasm, and followed the boys as they wandered along the line of tables. Seeing one group of card players that did not appear too raucous, Petros approached.
