Alys Clare - Land of the Silver Dragon

I knew just exactly how it liked to be held: I swear I did. It was as if I had performed the action many, many times.

I stared down into its dark depths and noticed a sudden flash of green. Then, almost instantaneously, the moon’s rays caught a different area of the perfectly smooth surface, and a dazzling gold light shone out at me.

I had barely finished admiring its wonderful beauty when, as if it had been waiting, its power burst out and hit me square in the chest.

Edild helped me to sit, then, my knees still trembling, to stand. My backside was sore; I had not let go of the stone, and as a consequence I had gone straight down, not breaking my fall with my hands.

‘It’s safe,’ I said quickly to Edild. ‘I held it firmly.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘It looks after itself,’ she murmured.

I felt a stab of alarm. To take my mind off it, I examined the shining stone again. I sensed its power, just there beneath its black, gleaming surface, but it was veiled. For now.

Presently I looked up at Edild. ‘Why me?’

Edild understood. ‘Because Granny said so. You were the one. You were the natural inheritor, she said.’

‘But why was I? Why not you? Or one of my siblings? And how did she know?’

‘She understood what the stone was,’ Edild replied. ‘Also, she guessed — no, she knew — what you would become. You weren’t ready then, when she died, so she told me to hide it and give it to you when the time came.’

‘And that time is now? Really and truly?’ It was a thrilling thought.

Edild smiled grimly. ‘I would have said not, but events have overtaken us.’ She studied me, frowning. ‘You are ready, Lassair.’ She muttered something else which sounded like, ‘You’ll have to be.’

My mind was galloping, busy with how and why . How did Granny come to have the stone? She must have known Thorfinn’s little healer, whoever she was, but why had the woman given the precious thing to Granny?

Edild reached down a hand and helped me up. ‘How did the stone …?’ I began, but she shook her head.

‘I know what you’re going to ask,’ she said, ‘but it’s no use, because I do not know.’ She sighed. ‘My task was simply to conceal it and give it to you when the time came. That I have done.’

She spun round, away from me, and I could not see her face. I did not need to, for I had heard the hurt in her voice. My Granny Cordeilla — Edild’s own mother — had entrusted her with an important task, yes. But she had not seen fit to explain everything to her daughter; to reveal to her the full story.

Which, of course, meant that I wasn’t going to know it either.

Frustration seethed in me. As if the stone picked up my mood (surely not!) I felt a sudden heat in it. In my mind I heard Thorfinn’s deep voice: If a man believes himself up to the challenge, the stone will bring him face to face with himself .

Was that what had just happened? Had the stone picked up my hot irritation and flashed it back at me?

It was a frightening thought.

Edild was walking away, back towards the water and, beyond it, the further shore. We would have to make that cold crossing once more. With a sigh, I wrapped the shining stone in its sacking and went after her.

We were on our way back to the village. We had not gone far when I saw someone standing quite still, waiting for us.

Straight away I saw, with huge relief, that the figure was not big or burly enough to be Skuli. My heartbeat slowed down.

Then I realized who it was.

Edild, perhaps with the eyes of love, had recognized him before I did, and was already running up to him, catching hold of his hands, muttering that he should not be out here in the cold when he had lately been so sorely injured. Gently but firmly he took her anxious hands away, and I heard him say, ‘Do not worry, sweet. I will take no harm.’

‘Come home!’ Edild urged. Her face was taut with worry.

But Hrype shook his head. ‘Not yet, Edild.’ He glanced at me, then back at Edild. ‘Go on back,’ he said to her gently. ‘Build up the fire, prepare a restorative. We will not be long.’

‘You propose to stay out here? But …’

He put his hands on her shoulders, turned her so that she faced the village and gave her a small push. ‘Go, Edild,’ he repeated. ‘I must speak to Lassair.’

She resisted for a long moment. Then she seemed to slump. Shaking her head, she began to walk away, her pace quickening so that soon she was almost running.

I stared after her. I felt very, very sorry for her.

But then, with renewed alarm, I heard again what Hrype had just said. What could he have to say to me, and why could Edild not stay to hear it?

Hrype and I stood out there on the marsh in the moonlight, and, hardly daring to breathe, I waited for him to speak.

‘There was a secret, in the keeping of a dying woman,’ he said, right in my ear. Without my noticing, he had silently come to stand right beside me. ‘The secret had two distinct elements, which were passed to two different people, neither permitted to know the element entrusted to the other. I did not know until this night where Edild had hidden the stone, and, even now, I am only guessing.’ He paused, and I saw that his eyes were fixed on the sacking-wrapped object in my hands. ‘The other part of the secret — the reason for the stone’s destiny — was placed solely in my care.’

‘So that you — you could pass it on to me ?’ It was so unlikely, so preposterous, that I felt embarrassed even suggesting it.

But Hrype was nodding. ‘Exactly so. The time for secrecy is over, for the safety of many is at stake.’ He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, and then, of all unlikely things, said, ‘Where, Lassair, do you think you and your aunt get your healing gift?’

‘I … I have no idea.’ It was obvious that I’d inherited it from Edild, but as to where she had acquired it, I’d never thought to ask. I suppose, if I had done, I’d merely have assumed she’d discovered it was something she could just do, rather like me and my ability to dowse.

‘It is handed down from your grandmother,’ Hrype said.

My mother’s mother. Then I hadn’t been far off the mark when I had believed that Ama — my grandmother’s sister — had been the little healer who had tended Thorfinn. ‘I never knew her,’ I whispered. ‘She died before I was born.’

Hrype let out a sound of exasperation. ‘What’s happened to your wits, Lassair?’ he demanded crossly. ‘You’ve just been presented with an object of power that was hidden in your paternal grandmother’s grave, yet here you are talking about your mother ’s mother.’

Granny Cordeilla ? ‘But Granny Cordeilla was a bard!’ I said, stupefied.

‘Yes, she was,’ he said, a little less testily now. ‘But she was a healer first, and a very fine one, by all accounts, with strong little hands and an instinct for seeking out and dissolving the dark thoughts that can trouble a man deeply, yet which give little outward sign.’

‘I never knew her heal anybody!’ I protested, still unable to believe what I was hearing.

‘No, I’m sure you didn’t.’ I had the impression that, not without effort, he had mastered his annoyance at my slowness. ‘When Cordeilla saw the talent emerge in Edild, you see, she stepped back. She gave way to her beloved daughter, letting Edild develop at her own pace and in her own way. Cordeilla didn’t want to overshadow her. She guided her, but let her discover her skills and her talent for herself.’

Granny Cordeilla had been a healer. Slowly I shook my head in amazement. And — oh, dear Lord! — she’d had the stone, which meant she was Thorfinn ’s healer. She was the punchy little woman who had saved his life and taken on the guardianship of his magic shining stone when it proved too much for him.