by Kate Forsyth
Olwynne woke with a jerk. She shivered and crept a little closer towards Owein, who bent his tattered wing over her.
‘Bad dreams again?’
She nodded her head.
Owein felt the movement in the darkness and said, with forced cheerfulness, ‘Never mind, it’s only a dream.’
‘It seems so real,’ Olwynne said, her voice trembling.
‘It’s only a dream.’ Owein did not sound convinced. He knew as well as she did that dreams were rarely without meaning, particularly for Olwynne, who had seemed to be developing a talent for dream-walking. She had dreamt of her father’s death before it happened; that at least was one dream proved prophetic. He dreaded thinking of the meaning of some of her other nightmares.
A silence fell between them.
‘The ship has stopped rolling,’ Olwynne said.
‘Aye. I’d say we’re wherever we’re meant to be.’
‘Where? Where?’ she cried.
Owein shrugged. ‘Nowhere good, I’d say.’
‘What do they mean to do to us?’
‘Nothing good, is my bet.’
She heard the bitter humour in his voice, and had to swallow down a rush of tears.
‘What do they want with us? Why did they take us?’
‘To kill us,’ he answered. ‘Why, I do no’ ken, but it is clear they hate us, our clan, our blood. Olwynne, ye must be brave. I do no’ ken if we can save ourselves or not, but we must try. If only I could get my hands free! But I canna. I’ve chafed my wrists raw trying, but that brute Jem has tied me too tight. Olwynne! We must take our chance, if it comes. Be ready. If I give the signal, run. Can ye do that?’
Olwynne thought of her legs, trembling with weakness and seeping with sores where the ropes had rubbed again and again. She nodded and tried to smile, even though Owein would have no chance of seeing her expression in the darkness. He knew her well, though. His hand patted her feebly, and he said, his voice hoarse, ‘Good girl.’
A few minutes later, the ship docked. They recognised the familiar sounds, having often travelled on their father’s ship, The Royal Stag. Then Jem came down to jerk them to their feet, and force them up on deck.
It was dusk. The air over the shimmering water was warm and smelt of strange spices. Olwynne looked about her; this was no land she recognised. Rising in high peaks all about, the island curved like an ammonite about the lagoon. The peaks were black against the curve of the twilight sky. To the west, where the sea broke in little waves over a reef, the first moon was rising. It was huge, red, misshapen. It made Olwynne shudder.
Owein and Olwynne were so weak and disorientated they could barely walk. Their eyes were so used to darkness, the light of the lanterns hurt and they shrank away, shielding their faces.
Lord Malvern stood on the bulwark, his eyebrows drawn down close to his nose. ‘Ye fool!’ he said to Jem. ‘I thought ye were taking care o’ them! Look at them. They’re filthy and sick. We need them to be strong and healthy when we sacrifice them, no’ with poisoned blood and fever. How could you be so stupid?’
‘They’ve been comfortable enough.’ Jem spat over the side.
‘If they are sick, I will sacrifice ye in their place,’ the lord answered icily. Jem went pale, and cast a quick glance at the royal twins, who were doing their best to hold each other up.
‘Dedrie!’ Lord Malvern called. Slowly the skeelie climbed up from below deck. She was pale and trembling, and by the way she hunched over her stomach it was clear she too had suffered from seasickness.
‘Aye, my laird,’ she answered in a weak voice.
‘Look at the sacrifices! Is this what ye call looking after them? The banprionnsa will no’ be pleased! She doesna want blood poisoned with pus and filth, she wants pure, clean, youthful blood, like we promised her. I want them washed, fed, tended, and given something to make them well again, and I want it done now! It is full moon tomorrow. Ye have until then to have the girl in particular strong enough to kill. Else it’ll be ye I bind to the altar stone! Do I make myself clear?’
‘Aye, my laird, o’ course, my laird,’ Dedrie gabbled in very real terror, and then Owein and Olwynne were hurried back downstairs to a cabin that was obviously Dedrie’s own, given the sour smell of vomit and the bottles and jars of potions and medicines on every available surface.
Hurling imprecations at Jem, the skeelie had jugs of hot water brought up from the galley and poured into a tin basin. Jem stood by, scowling, his dagger at the ready, while Dedrie carefully cut away the blood-stiff ropes and cleaned their sores, anointing them with some kind of ointment that stung badly, then bandaging them neatly. They were forced to drink bitter green nettle tea, to purify the blood, and a foul mixture in which Olwynne recognised the taste of burdock root, St John’s wort and borage.
More water was brought, and Owein and Olwynne did their best to clean themselves up, washing their faces and hands, their necks and armpits, their arms and legs. Olwynne would have loved to have washed her hair, which was matted and filthy, but there was not enough water and no shampoo or comb. She had long ago lost her pretty high-heeled sandals, and her feet were filthy and covered in nasty cuts and bruises. All she could do was sit wearily on the bunk and soak them in another basin of warm water, in which Dedrie poured some cloudy liquid that smelt awful. Owein was in slightly better shape, still having his boots, and having spent much of his youth out hunting, camping, fishing and riding, years that Olwynne had spent in the library with her nose in a book. Still, there was no need for Jem and his dagger. Neither of the twins could muster up the strength to do more than sip at the hot soup Dedrie brought them, and to lie down together to sleep, their matted red heads sharing the same pillow, Owein’s wing folded over them both.
‘Sleep tight, little babes,’ Jem cooed mockingly, going out the door. ‘Enjoy your last night together.’
As he shut the door they heard Dedrie saying crossly, ‘Now make sure ye do no’ drink too much o’ the water o’ life and fall asleep on watch again, Jem, for I’ll no’ be taking the blame! My laird wants us to get to the auld fort afore sunrise, so just make sure …’
The door nicked closed, and they heard the sound of a key in the lock. Olwynne sighed and turned her cheek into the sour-smelling pillow. She was asleep in moments.
Once again Olwynne’s sleep was disturbed by images of knives and mist and gravestones, blood dripping down her neck, and the sound of a woman laughing in utter glee. When she awoke, it was to find black misery crouching on her chest like a malicious imp, choking her.
She turned and gave her brother a little shake, too afraid to lie there in the darkness by herself. He came awake at once, tense and alert. ‘What’s wrong?’ he whispered.
‘What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Did ye no’ hear what the laird said? They mean to kill me tonight,’ she whispered back. ‘They mean to sacrifice me. Sacrifice! I canna believe it’s true!’
He nodded. ‘This is no’ just some plot to destroy the MacCuinn clan,’ he murmured. ‘There’s more going on. I wish I had paid more attention to … to Lewen … when he told us about the laird o’ Fettercairn. They are necromancers, I ken, trying to rise the spirits o’ the dead. Dai-dein …’ His voice broke, and tears began to run down Olwynne’s cheeks. Their grief over the death of their father was still raw and incredulous. There had been no time, no peace, for acceptance and healing.
Owein raised his hand and drew it across his nose. ‘Dai-dein killed the laird’s brother and his nephew, I ken, years ago,’ he went on, his voice low and hoarse, ‘and Laird Malvern seeks revenge for that, and seeks to raise them from the dead again. So I can understand why I was taken and Roden, but no’ ye. Who is this banprionnsa they seek to raise?’
‘Tonight,’ Olwynne whispered. ‘This very night! Owein, what are we to do?’
‘I canna believe the Yeomen are no’ hot on our trail,’ Owein said. ‘They will have guessed the laird’s plans, surely? They’ll be here in time.’
‘Bu
t what if they are no’?’ Olwynne’s voice was paralysed with terror. She could hardly force the words out.
Owein gripped her shoulder with his hand. ‘Bravely and wisely, Olwynne, remember that! Bravely and wisely.’
She was trembling violently, but at her brother’s words she did her best to calm herself.
‘We’ll try to escape,’ Owein said, shifting his weight in the narrow bunk, seeking to find a more comfortable position. One red-feathered wing was pinned behind him; the other was still folded over Olwynne, comforting her with its soft warmth. ‘They have cut our bonds, thank the Spinners! Let us pretend to extreme weakness and faintness; they will no’ suspect we mean to escape. If they try to bind us again, scream in pain.’
‘That I can do with true sincerity,’ Olwynne said grimly. Her wrists and ankles were throbbing hotly.
‘Let’s look for a weapon o’ some sorts. That skeelie must have a knife or a pair o’ scissors somewhere. Let us look now while we are alone.’
He got up and prowled quietly around the room, but Dedrie had taken all her belongings with her the night before, leaving the room bare.
Olwynne took advantage of him being gone to stretch out in the cramped little bunk. She was amazed they had been able to sleep at all, for both were tall and Owein was broad-shouldered and had his wings to add to his bulk as well.
The bunk was fitted in against the curved hull of the ship. Above were heavy beams, with a round porthole. Moonlight spilled in through the thick glass, filling the room with cold light. Lying back, Olwynne saw a small bottle silhouetted against the glass. She reached up her hand and took it down from the deep recess where the porthole was fitted. Obviously Dedrie had put the bottle there so it could be within easy reach when lying in the bunk. It had a glass stopper that was easily removed. Olwynne sniffed at the liquid inside, and felt a faint warming of hope. It was a tincture of poppy and valerian, to aid in sleep. A drop or two under the tongue was enough to relax and ease into sleep; the full bottle emptied into a strong-tasting drink like dancey or whisky would be enough to knock a man unconscious.
She had time only to whisper to Owein what she had found, before they heard someone at the door. As Owein slipped in beside her again, pretending to be still asleep, Olwynne hid the bottle under the blanket.
It was Dedrie, bringing them some hot porridge and more nettle tea, which they drank and ate obediently, by the light of a lantern. The night before, the skeelie had given Olwynne a clean chemise in which to sleep. Now she brought them some clean clothes – a rough brown dress and a pair of wooden clogs for Olwynne that obviously belonged to the skeelie, and some leather breeches for Owein. His shirt, which was especially made to fit around his wings, had been washed and dried, and Dedrie had brought him a big cloak to wrap over his wings, concealing them from view. There was a cloak for Olwynne too, with a hood. She surreptitiously slipped the bottle of sleeping draught into its pocket when the skeelie’s back was turned.
Both Owein and Olwynne were feigning much greater weakness than they felt. Dedrie was worried about them, and clucked around them, mixing up another of her foul-tasting medicines and insisting they drink it.
Olwynne pretended to have so little energy she could not even lift the cup to her lips, and Dedrie bent over her solicitously, saying ‘It’s skullcap and rue, my lady, to stop ye feeling dizzy. My laird must no’ see ye so sick and faint.’
Owein exchanged a quick glance with Olwynne, and crept a little closer, preparing himself to knock the skeelie unconscious while her back was turned. Just then Dedrie straightened and turned around, however, and Owein pretended to stagger and fall. Dedrie caught him and called to Jem, who at once came rushing in through the door, making the twins glad they had not attacked the skeelie after all.
‘Why could ye no’ have looked after them properly?’ Dedrie raged as they manoeuvred the slumping Owein back onto the bed. ‘Ye said ye had it all under control!’
‘Ye’re the skeelie,’ Jem sneered, ‘it’s your job to keep them healthy, no’ mine.’
‘I was sick as a cat,’ Dedrie retorted. ‘Ye said ye’d look after them.’
‘I did,’ Jem said. ‘I changed their filthy bucket, dinna I? And made sure they had food. What else was I meant to do?’
‘Keep them alive!’ Dedrie snapped back. ‘Come on, help me. We’ve got to get them up on deck. My laird wants to leave the ship well afore dawn, so we’re up at the auld fort afore anyone’s up and about.’
Auld fort? Olwynne thought and glanced at her brother.
‘No-one ever sleeps in this pirate-infested hole anyway, so what’s the point?’ Jem grumbled. ‘The streets will be filled with drunken sailors and filthy whores, all drinking and carousing till dawn.’
Pirate-infested hole? Olwynne felt as much as saw the sudden spark of comprehension that lit Owein’s eyes. The Pirate Isles! she thought. But why? What is here apart from pirates and cutthroats?
The Fair Isles had been under the control of pirates for so long that few called them that any more. Periodically, Lachlan had sent in his navy to wipe the nest of buccaneers out, but they simply took to ship the moment they saw sails on the horizon and escaped to the high seas, coming back again later to rebuild their inns and brothels, their jetties and warehouses. Lachlan had stationed a company of soldiers here for a long while, but they had gradually died of fever or treachery, or had been seduced into piracy themselves. So then he had sent out an incorruptible commander called Iron John, who had kept the islands fairly free of thievery and corruption for seven years, but after Iron John was poisoned by his own valet, there had been a gradual return to the bad old days.
The Pirate Isles were a constant thorn in the Rìgh’s side and every Lammas Congress the lairds and the merchants called for stronger measures, and Lachlan made promises he had done his best to keep.
The problem was that Eileanan was one of an archipelago of islands scattered across a seemingly boundless ocean. Many, many ships had set off to explore the distant seas, and most had never returned. The exceedingly wide swing of the tides, dragged by the pull of two moons, made sea travel treacherous indeed, and so most ships hugged the coast of Eileanan, doing their best to avoid the natural hazards of sandbank and sea-serpent, harlequin-hydra and whirlpool. Only the pirates had succeeded in exploring the outer islands, and an illegal trade flourished in the produce of those most distant islands, particularly in tobacco, cinnamon and rhinfrew, which would only grow in the Fair Isles, and in moonbane, that most addictive – and expensive – of drugs.
Limp and heavy-footed, Owein and Olwynne were pushed, dragged and wrestled up the ladder and onto the deck by Dedrie and Jem. It was still dark, though the two moons, both at the full, were sinking behind the island’s peaks to the east. The water glimmered an eerie blue in the moonlight, and the stars overhead were very large and bright.
Olwynne clung to the rail for support, staring at the pirate town. Even though it was very late, lights were still strung all along the shore, and she could hear faint sounds of music and drunken laughter.
Hundreds of other ships were moored along the jetty, or bobbed at anchor in the wide circle of the bay. Most of the buildings were rough wooden structures, but Olwynne could see a large square stone building high up on the cliff which must be the old fort. It was a grim-looking place, half in ruins, with arrow slits and battlements.
Jem dragged his hipflask out of his pocket and took a generous swig, grunting with satisfaction and wiping his mouth. A thought flashed between the twins. At once Owein straightened up and made a bid for freedom. With a cry of surprise, Jem shoved the stopper in his flask, dropped it, and raced after him. Dedrie turned and began to holler down the hatch, ‘Ballard, ahoy!’
Quick as a flash, Olwynne dropped on her knees, grabbed the hipflask and emptied the little vial she carried in her pocket into it. It only took a moment, though her hands were shaking so much she could barely put the stopper back in. By the time the bodyguard Ballard had bounded up the
stairs and helped Jem seize Owein and drag him back, Olwynne was where she had been, leaning weakly on the rail, and the hipflask lay where Jem had dropped it.
Owein was limp and senseless, much to Olwynne’s horror. She fell on her knees beside him, weeping, but to her relief he gave her a secret wink when the others were not looking. She saw Jem bend and pick up his flask, and take a deep mouthful, and then at Ballard’s jerked thumb, passed the flask to him so he too could drink. Olwynne dropped her eyes so they would not see the excitement and hope in hers.
Lord Malvern came hurrying along the deck, wrapped up well against the cool of the night, with Irving and Piers a few paces behind him. The lord’s raven flew ahead of them, coming down to perch on one of the yardarms.
‘What was all that commotion?’ the lord snapped. ‘Did I no’ order ye to keep it quiet?’
‘The prionnsa tried to escape,’ Dedrie explained, clutching her hands together in dismay. ‘Jem and Ballard caught him, though.’
‘Obviously the sacrifices are well recovered then,’ the lord said. ‘Hoist him up, Ballard. We’ll pretend he’s dead drunk. Now, remember, I want no attention drawn to us in the town, if at all possible. Let us get through quickly and quietly, and go on up to the fort. In the morning, these disreputable sailors I hired will unload their cargo and sail away, and no-one will ever ken we have been here.’
‘Aye, my laird,’ they replied in unison.
‘Keep the sacrifices quiet as we go through the town. I do no’ wish to have to pay a ransom to get them back again should they alert anyone to who they really are.’
Jem lifted his dagger and grinned.
‘Very well. Try no’ to kill them unless entirely necessary. I am looking forward to using MacCuinn blood to resurrect MacFerris blood. It will no’ be anywhere near as satisfying if I must use one o’ ye.’
His followers exchanged uneasy glances. ‘Aye, my laird,’ they said.
Lord Malvern led the way across the gangplank and onto the jetty. Dedrie followed along behind, then Jem grunted at Olwynne and gestured her forward. Trying to avoid his touch, Olwynne stumbled and almost fell, and Piers came and took her arm and assisted her. He did not speak, but she was glad to get away from Jem and his constant staring, and so allowed herself to accept his support. Ballard had Owein hoisted up over his shoulder, and Owein lay quiescent, waiting for another opportunity.
