Isak pulled off the silk mask and slipped from his horse, dropping lightly to the ground.
The gentry shot him a grin, flashing long canines, and bowed low, though keeping his eyes on Isak all the while. Isak found himself bow-ing too, almost as low, which produced another predatory smile. Then it spoke in a barking chatter, firing sounds out through the night that were echoed out by the unseen gentry still among the trees. Without waiting for a response, the figure turned and darted away. All around, Isak heard sudden movement and glimpsed shapes flashing through the slivers of moonlight between the trees. He guessed at least fifty gentry had gathered.
The witch arched an eyebrow. From her expression, Isak was sure she'd never seen the gentry act like that. They say that they will escort you to the Ivy Rings, where soldiers wait. They call you a friend of the Land. That the soldiers still live is a gesture of respect for you.
His surprise at a voice appearing in his head must have shown as the corners of her mouth curled into a smile. How? I am a witch. Your heart is not the only one with abilities.
You know of her?
I have heard her in the night. A song of fears; for you and for the Land.
She feels your pain as her own.
M.y injuries'!
The pain of your future, and of your soul. There is a storm on the horizon, one you feel in your blood, but it is wild and uncontrollable. So much is drawn to your light that you will make your own future only if you can control that storm. Consider your choices well, for they will impact on the whole Land as much as her. What is your part in this?
I care nothing for the plans of Gods or the pride of men. I am a witch of Llehden, bound to the Land and bound to protect its balance. Those who need help will find it in me; those who need haven will find it here. That is the bond I gave for the powers I bear. Go now. Events are waiting upon you. When my help is needed, it will be given. When it's needed?
You are not here to see me; now is not the time for that. All I know is that a time will come when;you will need a light in dark places. Then, young dragon, you will need my help.
And you'll give it so freely? It doesn't sound like;you even know what you're committing to. Isak tried hard not to sound insulting in his
head.
No one can see the future exactly. Those who see furthest and with the greatest clarity are prophets, and that is the source of their madness. I can feel an echo of the future, no more. Until that time when you need a light in dark places, I do not need to understand more.
And what am I supposed to do until then? Even in his head he sounded petulant; he tried to control the anger he always felt when things were beyond his control. Now was not the time to lose his temper, particularly not with someone who might save his life in some way.
Control the storm, find a way to channel its power and chain it. I can feel the Land inside you, entwined with magic, and struggling to find its own balance. The price of my power is to use it when others have need of it; it may be that the price of your power will be the need of the entire Land.
But-
No more. You have ^our future to meet now.
My future?
The witch turned and walked softly away until she was swallowed up by the silver-tinged darkness. When at last she replied, it was soft and distant, but he could feel a fond humour in the words. Our future always lies ahead of us, but sometimes it stops and turns around to look us in the face. All things have their time. Remember that, young dragon.
'So what happened back there?' Vesna asked quietly.
Isak rode on unheeding, his eyes vague, his cloak hood hiding his face from Arian's light, pondering the strange meeting. The ranger Jeil trotted ahead, following the gentry who were now leading the way. Megenn, unguided by Isak, trailed after the others at his own pace.
Isak could see nothing but the image of the witch. It was hard not to trust her, but Isak was beginning to doubt altruism in anyone. Was she another player, entering the game? If so, to what end? She had no kingdom to protect, no border to expand – did she have a greater goal than that?
The witch did not offer to guide them herself; Silvernight itself was a time for human festivities, when witches and the spirits of the night kept quiet. The Finntrail would leave even the weariest of travellers alone, the Coldhand folk would ignore an open barn door, and witches by tradition stayed at home. She had gone outside her house only to speak to the gentry, and nothing but an urgent plea for help would draw her beyond the boundary wall before dawn.
Mihn had muttered something under his breath, part of a nursery rhyme maybe, but when Tila had asked, he said it was just the ending of an old poem. She pushed Mihn until he agreed to repeat it.
Reluctantly, in a subdued voice, he recited, 'And even the snakes and the gentry shiver, when the Llehden witch comes riding by.'
Tila shivered. She understood his reluctance now.
'Isak, what happened?' Vesna touched his Lord on the arm, startling Isak from his thoughts. 'With the witch, why were you just staring at each other?' Vesna looked smaller in the bright moonlight, but perhaps he was just overshadowed by the glow of Siulents.
'We were talking,' Isak admitted, and then added, surprisingly, 'I'm sorry. There's so much I've not told you, all of you.'
Carel looked resigned and unsurprised, but Tila was furious that there was yet more she didn't know. Even Mihn stared darkly at his Lord, his silent criticism the hardest to bear.
'I know how you all feel,' Isak started, 'but it can't be tonight. Tomorrow, or when this week is finished and the Land returns to normal.'
'With the Menin invading the west, normal won't be for many years,' muttered Carel.
'I meant when Arian goes away,' Isak clarified. 'This light hurts my eyes – this light hurts much in me. Then I'll explain what I can to you.'
'About the scar too?'
'About the scar,' confirmed Isak. 'And the dreams, and anything else you want.'
Major Ortof-Greyl had been riding ahead with Jeil, but the murmur of voices behind stirred his paranoia. He looked back nervously, even more embarrassed when Tila shot him a dazzling smile. Isak sneered at the man, who was everything he despised: pious, privileged, educated – he'd probably been closeted away from the Land and taught by priests. And all those honed combat skills and a fine scholarly mind: everything blurred before the smile of a pretty, young girl.
Ortof-Greyl awkwardly returned her smile. The beads of sweat on his brow shone in the moonlight.
As Isak watched the major turn back to the road, he saw that the tree line was receding, giving way to pastureland. Rustling grasses shimmered and rippled slowly. The track dipped down, following the contours of the earth, towards a stream. The major's horse instinctively turned to the water, but was pulled back on to the right path, up the slope and to a copse of tall oaks on the peak of a small hill.