The Heart of Stars

by Kate Forsyth

  ‘Ye want revenge?’ Nina asked, frowning.

  ‘He waited twenty-odd years for his revenge, and said it was a dish best eaten cold. Well, this is one dish I plan to eat hot!’

  Owein and Rhiannon spent another miserable night, huddled together in their freezing-cold cell. Even with Rhiannon’s cloak and blanket wrapped about them both, and Owein’s great wings folded over them, they could not keep out the cold. Their jug of water froze solid, and icicles hung from the bars. As the early-morning sun struck through the icicles, it turned them into daggers of blinding brightness.

  ‘I suppose this is one way to get to ken ye better,’ Owein said to her with an ironic smile. ‘Since ye’re in love with my best friend and all.’

  ‘And him with me,’ Rhiannon retorted fiercely.

  ‘Aye, and him with ye,’ Owein replied placatingly, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them.

  ‘Well, and are ye no’ in love with my best friend too?’ Rhiannon demanded.

  Owein looked at her in surprise.

  ‘Fèlice,’ Rhiannon said.

  ‘She’s your best friend?’

  ‘The bestest and truest friend a girl could have,’ Rhiannon replied, remembering how Fèlice had kept coming to visit her in prison when no-one else would, and how she had been there at Rhiannon’s hanging, screaming ‘Spare her!’ at the top of her voice.

  There was a long pause, and then Owein said softly, not looking at Rhiannon, ‘She is a sweetheart, isn’t she?’

  Rhiannon nodded, and wriggled her fingers in her gloves and her toes in her boots, wishing she could conjure fire like Fèlice could. Owein had tried, and had managed a small blaze for several hours, but once all the straw had been consumed and there was nothing left to burn, he had had to let it lapse. Keeping a fire burning without fuel took immense power, he explained despondently, and Owein had never been much of a witch.

  ‘So do ye love her or no’?’ Rhiannon said, when Owein said nothing more.

  ‘Why? Do ye think she loves me?’ he demanded.

  ‘I asked first.’

  Owein grunted with amusement. ‘I dinna ken,’ he answered after a moment. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Ye either do or ye dinna,’ Rhiannon said scathingly. ‘Love is no’ a maybe thing. It’s an all or nothing thing. It’s an everything thing.’

  Owein nodded. ‘Ye’re right,’ he said, very low, not laughing at Rhiannon’s awkwardness with words. ‘I guess I’m just …’

  ‘Afeared?’

  He jerked his shoulders. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘And Fèlice such a little thing, and ye so big and strong,’ she teased. ‘She’s very scary, I ken!’

  He scowled, and then laughed. ‘Oh, well, love is scary,’ he said. ‘It’s one o’ those big, scary things, isn’t it?’

  ‘Like death,’ Rhiannon said.

  Owein was immediately sobered. ‘Aye, like death,’ he echoed.

  There was a short silence. ‘Ye’re no’ very tactful, are ye?’ he burst out.

  ‘What’s tactful?’

  Again he gave that little snort of amusement. ‘I guess it’s hard to be tactful if ye don’t even ken what it is.’

  ‘So what is it?’

  ‘No’ saying things that may upset other people,’ he said.

  ‘Oh,’ Rhiannon said.

  ‘Aye, “oh”,’ he mimicked.

  She shrugged. ‘Well, how am I meant to ken? It makes no sense, half the things people get upset about.’

  ‘Well, do ye no’ think I might get upset to be reminded about death and dying?’ he said. ‘After all, I may well die tomorrow.’

  ‘So may we all,’ Rhiannon replied.

  ‘True. But it’s me whose sister was murdered by these madmen only a few days ago, and me they plan to disembowel on the battlements tomorrow!’

  Rhiannon winced and put her hands over her ears. ‘No need to shout. I’m right here,’ she said. ‘And I ken how ye must feel about tomorrow. I’ve had the hangman’s noose about my neck, remember? I ken what it is like to be staring the dark walkers right in the face. But I canna see how it makes it better to no’ talk about it. We both may die tomorrow, if we do no’ die o’ the cold first! Are we no’ better thinking about it, and talking about it, and saying aught that should be said first?’

  There was a long silence. Owein’s breath came with difficulty. Then he nodded once, a sharp jerk of the head. ‘Ye’re right,’ he said. ‘Wisely and bravely, that’s the way to do it.’

  ‘Aye,’ she said a little uncertainly.

  He flashed a smile at her. ‘It’s our family motto. Sapienter et Audacter. I said it to Olwynne afore … afore …’

  ‘I wish I had a family motto,’ Rhiannon said rather wistfully. ‘I guess I’ll never find out now who my father was, or where I really belong.’

  ‘I wouldna be surprised if ye were related to the MacAhern clan somehow,’ Owein said. ‘They are the thigearns, ye ken, the ones to first tame a flying horse. It is a rare Talent indeed, the ability to charm horses, particularly ones with wings. Their motto is Nunquam obliviscar, which means “I shall never forget”.’

  ‘I shall never forget,’ Rhiannon repeated, and smiled. ‘It’s a good motto.’

  Owein nodded. ‘Aye. I’ll never forget Olwynne, and how she died. And I’ll never forget how ye came and tried to save us. I have no’ really had a chance to say thank ye, but I’d like to. Ye were very brave.’

  ‘But I failed,’ Rhiannon said. ‘I wish I had no’.’

  ‘Me too,’ Owein replied, and they fell silent.

  ‘If … if it all goes horribly wrong in the morning, and they do … ye ken …’

  ‘Aye?’ Rhiannon turned so she could see his face.

  ‘Will ye tell Fèlice … will ye tell her I …’

  ‘Ye what?’

  ‘Will ye tell her I love her?’ Owein said, colour sweeping up his fair skin.

  Rhiannon nodded. ‘For sure.’ She gave a quick smile. ‘I shall never forget.’

  Again there was that long brooding silence. Rhiannon touched Owein with her elbow. ‘He’ll come, ye ken. He’ll be here on time, and he willna fail.’

  ‘Who? Lewen?’

  Rhiannon nodded.

  ‘I wish I had your faith.’

  ‘He’ll be here, and we had best be ready for him,’ she said. ‘Because he’ll need our help.’

  ‘Right,’ Owein said. ‘I’ll keep my eyes peeled.’

  Rhiannon stared at him in utter shock and bemusement, and then suddenly began to laugh. She laughed so hard she almost choked. After a second or two, Owein began to laugh too.

  ‘Ye’ll keep your eyes peeled,’ Rhiannon cried. ‘Eyes peeled! What a stupid language ye all speak. Eyes peeled!’

  They laughed and laughed and laughed, and when at last they could laugh no more, they sat smiling in the dimness of the dawn. Laughter, Rhiannon realised, drove the dark walkers back into their cracks and holes like nothing else ever could.

  I shall never forget, she thought to herself.

  The sunlight had crept across to warm their toes when the bluebird came swooping in through the bars, twittering Danger! danger!

  Then the door of the cell crashed open. Jem stood there, scowling, his unshaven face more repellent than ever.

  ‘Time to see how much your mama loves ye!’ he sneered.

  Owein and Rhiannon were already standing, and at the gesture of Jem’s dagger, they went out together, shoulder to shoulder, both wondering if they dared try to wrest his dagger away from him.

  Ballard was waiting outside, though, with four huge, bearded pirates. One had a rough blue tattoo of an anchor on one forearm, and the words ‘hate’ and ‘kill’ tattooed on his knuckles. Another had lost an eye, which had been sewn clumsily shut, and the third had bright ginger hair and was missing half an ear. The last was the biggest, towering over them all, and he wore huge golden hoops in his ears and had a pet rat perched on his shoulder.

  ‘Is this the prionnsa?’ Ginger
demanded. ‘Dinna look like much.’

  ‘Best no’ try to fly away, bird-boy, or we’ll cut your pretty wings off,’ One-Eye said. He was missing most of his teeth, and the few he had left were black and crooked.

  ‘Your mama’s promised us a ship,’ Anchor said. ‘She thinks she can save your hide, but we ken better, don’t we, laddies?’ He roared with laughter, and Rhiannon and Owein flinched back from the smell of his breath, as much as from the implication of what he said.

  ‘At least it’s stopped snowing,’ Rat said eagerly. ‘That’s good, in’t?’

  Squinting their eyes against the bright sunshine, Owein and Rhiannon made their way across the snow-heaped courtyard and down through a maze of dilapidated halls and stairways until they were prodded out onto the gatehouse’s battlements. Lord Malvern was waiting for them there, leaning on his cane, the raven on his shoulder. Margrit was pacing up and down, dressed in a heavy velvet mantle edged with fur, while Dedrie stood nearby, clutching her basket. Irving and Piers waited beside her, next to a large mound of luggage.

  The six small islands of the Pirate Isles curved round before them, making an irregular circle about the lagoon, which glittered blue in the sunshine. The water was so clear they could easily see the black hulks of the wrecked pirates’ fleet littering the seabed. There were a little over a dozen ships still floating, all flying the green and gold flag of the MacCuinn clan. One had been moored at the remains of the jetty, and soldiers were busy carrying boxes and barrels on board. All the MacCuinn flags were being removed and hastily replaced with red pirate flags.

  Margrit was frowning. ‘Did I no’ tell ye that stupid witch would do everything we told her to? Look, sunshine! The snow’s all melting! The storm’s blown off. We’ll be out o’ here and on our way to Fettercairn afore we ken it.’

  ‘As soon as she has her son back, she’ll attack our ship and sink us,’ Lord Malvern said dourly.

  Margrit laughed. ‘Ye do no’ ken I’d really be so stupid as to just hand him over, do ye? No, no, the MacCuinn lad comes with us, and my little black-haired witch too.’ She smiled radiantly at Rhiannon. ‘How lovely to finally meet ye, in the flesh, as it were.’

  At the sound of her voice, Rhiannon felt a deep cold take hold of her, despite the warm sunshine. She had felt a deep, instinctive fear of Margrit from the moment she had first seen her ghost intrude upon the circle of necromancers at the Tower of Ravens so many months earlier. Margrit had haunted her sleep ever since, mocking her, threatening her. Rhiannon would make the perfect sacrifice, she had said, being so like Margrit as a young woman – beautiful, dark-haired, with strong magical powers and a ruthless heart. Rhiannon had utterly rejected this. I am nothing like you! she had shouted again and again into the darkness, but Margrit’s ghost had only laughed. Now, seeing how Rhiannon shivered and grew pale, Margrit laughed again.

  She likes people to fear her, Rhiannon thought.

  ‘But how are we to manage that?’ Lord Malvern said. ‘They are waiting for us to hand him over.’

  ‘He will be our shield,’ Margrit said, and beckoned him over. Owein did not move, and one of the pirates pushed him forward roughly. Margrit took hold of his arm, bringing her dagger up to press against his throat.

  ‘Mmmm, very nice,’ she said, running her hand up and down his arm muscles. ‘I wish I had kent ye were in our dungeon. What a very pretty young man you are. And with your mother’s red hair. I’ve always had a soft spot for red hair. They say it’s a sign o’ a passionate nature. Are ye passionate, my fine young cock?’

  Owein gritted his teeth and said nothing. She stroked his cheek then slipped her hand down his chest until it was hovering just above his belt buckle. As Owein went fiery red, she sighed and said regretfully, ‘No doubt they are watching us through a spyglass. We do no’ want to rouse your dear mama into a rage, do we, by seducing her dear boy in front o’ her. Plenty o’ time for that once we are on board our ship. Come, my pretty one, ye lead the way. That way they’ll have to shoot through ye to get to me, and somehow I do no’ think Iseult would like that.’

  They went down the stairs and into the gatehouse. Two of the pirates hauled on the ropes that brought up the portcullis, and then the gate was cautiously opened. The yard beyond was empty. Guarded on one side by the tall walls of the fort, and with a sharp drop to the side and front, the only access to the yard was by the road, which fell away steeply to one side.

  Ballard scouted forward to check all was clear. At his wave, they all came out into the wide open area before the gatehouse, everyone looking about them suspiciously. There was no sign of any ambush.

  Rhiannon looked over the edge of the wall and down to the pirates’ town. The ship with the pirate flag was docked well away from all the other ships, and the royal army was gathered together at the far end of the wharf. Rhiannon could see the Dowager Banrìgh, her red head like a beacon in the sunshine, with Nina and Iven Yellowbeard and Roden at the very back of the crowd, the little boy standing still and quiet for once, holding Lulu’s hand. She could see Captain Dillon standing by the Dowager Banrìgh, tension in every line of his body; and Finn the Cat, wrapped in a big cloak despite the warmth, and Jay the Fiddler. Then, to her joy and surprise, Rhiannon recognised the thin, stooped figure of Landon standing next to two big, brown-haired boys in royal livery who could only be Cameron and Rafferty. There was another boy standing with them. Rhiannon stared and frowned, and stared some more, then suddenly grinned. Fèlice! In boys’ clothes and all her hair cropped off. She should have guessed Fèlice would refuse to stay quietly at home and wait.

  Jem pushed her forward, and Rhiannon went reluctantly. The sight of her friends had given her new hope. She took a deep breath, enjoying the freshness of the air after the foul smell of the cell, and moved her shoulder experimentally. It hurt, but not nearly as much as it had three days ago. Rhiannon thought she could fight, if she had to.

  They were all moving in a tightly clustered group, Owein held right at the front, Margrit and Lord Malvern close behind him, with Dedrie treading on their heels in her fright. There were about a dozen pirates in all, with cutlasses or daggers in their hands, and they came behind, looking about them suspiciously.

  Suddenly a winged horse soared up from behind the shelter of the wall. It was the colour of old oak, with mane and tail like black rain, and poised on its back was Lewen. He rode with no saddle or rein, like a true thigearn, keeping his balance only with the grip of his knees. In his hands he held a longbow with an arrow nocked.

  The first arrow whistled past Owein’s ear and buried itself in Margrit’s eye. The second split the first down the centre, driving deep into the sorceress’s brain. Without uttering a single cry or moan, Margrit fell back. Owein at once spread his wings and soared away. A great yell of joy rose from the crowd on the jetty.

  One after another Lewen’s arrows found their mark, quicker than thought. Jem fell next, and Rhiannon bent and seized his dagger, scrambling away from the pirates, who all dropped like stones about her, except for the largest of them all who squeaked with fear and flung up his hands in surrender, his rat burrowing under his wild hair in terror.

  Irving’s father had died by flinging himself in front of Lord Malvern and taking an arrow meant for him. Irving the Second had no such instinct. He grabbed the lord about the neck and dragged him in front of him, using him as a shield. Lewen did not hesitate. He shot an arrow with such force it drove straight through Lord Malvern’s right shoulder and pierced Irving in the heart. The seneschal cried out in surprise and horror, and staggered back, causing Lord Malvern to fall upon him, driving the arrow deeper into his breast.

  Impaled upon his seneschal, Lord Malvern clutched the feathered end of the arrow protruding from his shoulder and stared up at Lewen in utter horror. ‘No!’ he cried.

  Lewen had no time to waste on him. Ballard was taking careful aim with his own bow and arrow. Lewen wheeled his horse about, just as Rhiannon’s dagger found its mark in the big bodyguard’s bod
y. Ballard stiffened in shock, and his arrow flew awry. As Lewen soared away safely, Ballard looked down at the dagger, cupped both hands about it, and then toppled forward, driving it deep into his own body.

  Rhiannon managed a gasping breath, and looked about her frantically. Apart from the big pirate, who was cowering with his hands over his head, there was no-one left standing but Dedrie, who had managed to drag Lord Malvern off Irving’s body and was staunching his wound with her kerchief. Together they began to stagger back into the fort.

  The lord’s raven had soared up into the sky after Lewen and was now attacking him savagely, beating about his head, pecking at his face, screeching in rage. Lewen had both his hands up over his head and was twisting about in his effort to avoid the bird. Any moment now he would slip and fall, hurtling hundreds of feet to his death.

  Rhiannon took two great strides forward, seized the bow that had fallen from Ballard’s hand and grabbed some arrows from the quiver still attached to his back. She raised the bow high and took careful aim. If, by ill chance, she should miss the raven, it would be her lover she would be killing.

  Rhiannon’s arrow flew true. High up into the air it soared, and pierced the raven straight through the breast. It fell in a welter of black feathers, and thudded into the ground just in front of Lord Malvern.

  ‘No!’ he screamed. He dropped stiffly to his knees, picking up the raven and cradling it to his breast, sobbing. ‘Donal, Donal,’ he cried, and pressed his cheek into the black, lifeless feathers.

  ‘My laird, my laird, run!’ Dedrie screeched. Then, seeing the shadow of the winged horse growing bigger with every second as Lewen dropped towards them, she left him and scuttled towards the door of the fort.

  ‘No, ye don’t!’ Rhiannon cried, and tackled her with a flying leap.