Cate Tiernan - Night's Child

Fog. Fog was made of water vapor. "Can we make all the tiny water drops in the fog sort of stick together, be attracted to each other?" Moira asked. "Then they would turn into rain and fall. Rain would be miserable, but you can see through it."

Her mother looked at her, blinked, then looked over at Sky. A slow smile split Sky's usually solemn, thin face, and she nodded.

Moira felt a spark of pride-maybe she could hold her own with these two strong witches. She was Morgan's daughter after all, and she had to remember that.

Moira, Morgan, and Sky held hands and concentrated. Sky worked the main part of the spell. They concentrated on feeling each infinitely small atom of moisture floating in air, boundless numbers of them. One tiny particle joined another and was joined by a third. Slowly a chain reaction started where each water molecule joined with others and still others. They became heavy, too heavy to float in the air, and began to drift downward, pulling others down with them as they went. Within minutes a frigid rain pelted down, soaking them instantly. The small canvas roof didn't cover where Sky sat by the tiller and offered little in the way of protection for the other two. Rain slanted at them sideways, stinging their faces, drenching their salt-sticky hair.

It was miserable. But they could see.

Sky cranked up the engine and took hold of the tiller. They were through the two islands of North Ulst and Lewis, headed out to open sea. The rain followed them. The waves were still spine-jolting. Time ceased to register as they made their way across the leaden sea. It seemed as if they would be crossing this water forever. They passed a smaller island on the left. Ahead of it, slightly east, was another, even smaller island.

"We should be able to spot another one soon," Sky said, raising her voice over the waves.

The whole world lit up with the biggest bolt of lightning Moira had ever seen. Her hair stood on end with the electricity, and every detail of the horizon was blotted out. Boom! It was followed immediately by an enormous, rolling peal of thunder that shook Moira right through her body into her bones.

"We must be getting close," Sky said, grim determination on her face. Her eyes were dark, like obsidian, her skin pale and leached of color. Her wet clothes stuck to her tall, graceful figure, and she gripped the tiller hard with both hands.

Morgan turned to Moira. "Don't touch anything metal," she instructed, then lifted her arms to the sky. "Morgan! Don't!" Sky shouted. Startled, Morgan turned to look at her.

"Save your strength," said Sky. "Don't waste it here. I can see the island ahead. We'll need you more later."

Morgan nodded and sat down. Sometimes Moira thought she could see the island, but mostly she could see nothing but rain, highlighted by huge, spiky lightning bolts. The booms of thunder rolled through them incessantly, one merging with another.

The wind picked up. Waves doubled in size and crashed against the boat like wrecking balls, jarring Moira, making her teeth rattle, almost pulling her hands from where they clenched the torn seat cover. When she looked in one direction, she saw a wall of sullen gray water. When she turned her head to look over the other side of the boat, she saw another wall of water. The sea itself seemed to have come alive, awakened by the uneven chortlings of their motor, angry at their presence. It seemed to well up around them, eager to drag them to the bottom of the sea.

No sinking, Moira told the universe. We are not going to sink. This is not the ferry. We are in control. We are protected.

"I see it!" Morgan shouted, pointing off to the right. They had almost passed it-if they'd kept going, they'd have headed out into open sea.

Sky tried to turn the tiller but strained-it was stuck. Morgan joined her, and the two women pulled the long wooden bar with all their strength. The boat creaked ominously-it didn't want to turn-and Moira refused to think about their fate if the tiller should break and they had no way to steer, Iona isn't going to win this, she thought fiercely. She will not win. Just as she was about to go help, the tiller finally budged, working against the waves, the wind, the rain.

The island itself looked like a row of giant, black, moss- grown teeth, sticking up out of the water like some huge, decayed jaw. Lightning flashed every other second, and the thunder was so constant it was impossible to tell where one clap ended and another began. Every jagged streak of lightning highlighted this rocky wasteland, and the closer they got, the more uninhabitable the island seemed.

What if this has all been a wild-goose chase? What if Iona was lying? What if we came all this way for nothing? What if Hunter's really been dead for years?

Moira felt a blanket of despair settle over her and knew it was futile to battle it She looked at her mother and Sky and saw the same gray feeling of helplessness cover their feces like a shade.

Her mother frowned and rubbed a hand over her wet forehead. Then light dawned in her eyes. "It's a spell!"

Why was Mum bothering? It was pointless to struggle, to hope, Moira thought with weak despair. They were all going to die.

Morgan drew runes in the air: Eolh, for protection, Thorn, for overcoming adversity, Tyr, victory in battle, Ur, strength, and Peorth, hidden things revealed.

Slowly Moira realized what was happening. Her head began to clear, and she stood up and joined Morgan. Together they repeated them. At the tiller Sky joined them, and as the three drew Peorth in the air, there was a tremendous bolt of lightning, and suddenly the island was upon them, rearing up like a dragon from the sea, so close they were about to be dashed on the rocks. The sea, the despair, and even the distance had been an illusion. Frantically Sky grabbed the tiller. Moira sat next to her and pulled also. Morgan scanned the shore magickally and then with one hand shielding her eyes from the rain.

There was no place to land a boat. The shore was rocky and jagged, sharp, broken boulders protecting the island at every turn. They kept on, and finally, just as Moira was afraid that she had no strength left in her arms, her mother spotted a tiny inlet, just a small stretch of sand barely big enough for their boat. Sky and Moira steered the boat into it, wincing as they bashed against rocks with an unholy scraping sound. They beached, the V-shaped hull of their fishing boat completely unsuited to being pulled up onshore. Morgan jumped off the boat, looking wobbly on land, and managed to secure a rope to a twisted and deformed tree that grew out of a crack in one rock.

Then Moira jumped down into the sand. Sky leaped down after her, and they looked at the boat, tilting dangerously sideways on the beach. The propeller was halfway out of the water, long, slimy strands of seaweed twisted around it. It was amazing that it had worked at all.

As far as they could see, there were only rain-slicked black rocks, sodden sand, stunted and gnarled trees, and storm. There was no sign of any human existence. Moira kept blinking against the onslaught of rain, trying to peer into the distance. She cast out her senses. There was nothing.

Her mother reached out and took her wet hand. Sky took her other hand. The three of them walked forward, their feet leaving squishy footprints in the slippery sand. Moira tried casting her senses again and felt a dull ache in her head, but nothing else. The sand weighed her feet down. Her chest felt odd, tight, and the pain in her ribs was sliding slowly back. The idea that they had to get back in that boat and somehow get off the island filled her with a gray, hopeless fog-and this, she was sure, was no spell.

They walked literally across the island, a distance of maybe half a kilometer. It tapered to an arrowhead shape, rounded at the tip, maybe sixty meters across. The wall of rock ended, too, cutting off the beach at its other side. Moira searched the land, looking for anything that would indicate that any other human had been here. There was nothing. Only a dead feeling, a numbing of her senses, a dulling of her emotions. This place was spelled, created to be a mindless prison. Hunter's not here, Moira thought frantically. This had all been a trap; Iona had lured them here to capture them. She had to get out of here- she had to get her mum and Sky out of here.