Robert Carter - The Giants’ Dance

He pulled his cloak tighter about him and was about to speak when he felt a presence lurking nearby. As he turned, a wild-haired figure broke from cover. Then a blood-freezing scream split the silence. The figure dashed towards them, and came to within a pace of Gwydion’s back. An arm jerked upward, and Will saw a blade flash against the sky.

‘Gwydion!’ he cried.

But the wizard did not move.

Will was aware only of soft words being uttered as he dived low at the figure and carried it to the ground, pinning it. Will’s strength slowly forced the blade from the fist that had wielded it. He was hit, then hit again, in the face, but the blows lacked power and he held his grip long enough to apply an immobilizing spell, which put the attacker’s limbs in struggle against one another.

‘Take care not to hurt her, Will. She cannot help herself.’

He shook the pain from his head and staggered to his feet. The furiously writhing body repulsed him. Strangled gasps came from the assailant as he picked up the blade.

‘Who is she?’ He wiped his mouth where one of the woman’s blows had drawn a little blood. ‘It’s lucky you heard her coming. I had no idea.’

‘I did not hear her so much as feel the approach of her magic.’

‘That’s a trick I wish you’d teach me.’

Gwydion grunted. ‘It was never easy to kill an Ogdoad wizard. And quite hard to take one by surprise.’

Will shook his head again and brushed back his braids. Then he turned the blade over in his fingers. It was broad and double-edged and had a heavy, black handle. ‘This knife is an evil weapon,’ he said, passing the blade to Gwydion.

The wizard would not take it. ‘It is not evil.’

‘No?’

‘Nor is it a weapon. Or even a knife. Did I teach you to think that way?’

‘It looks like a dagger to me,’ he muttered. ‘And it would’ve made a mess of you.’

‘Look again. It is made of obsidian, the same black glass which the Sightless Ones use in the windows of their chapter houses. It is a sacred object, one used in ritual and not to be lightly profaned with blood.’

‘Well, the blood it was intended to spill was yours.’

‘It has more in common with this.’ Gwydion drew the blade of star-iron from the sheath that always hung on a cord about his neck. He held it up. ‘An “iscian”, called by some “athame”, though strictly speaking athamen may be used only by women. It is not a dagger but a compass used to scribe the circle that becomes the border between two worlds. It is the season of Iucer, and tonight this Sister has travelled here by magic. I do not know why she has chosen to meddle far above her knowledge, but look what it has done to her.’

Will turned to where the woman still kicked and struggled as arm fought arm and leg fought leg.

‘Release her, now. But be mindful of the powers that flow here.’

Will rebuckled his belt over his shirt and straightened his pouch. He felt his heart hammering as he danced out the counterspell. At length the woman’s body collapsed into the grass, as if her bones had been turned to blood. Though slender, she was of middle age, with long hair, silvered in streaks now. Twenty years ago it would have been dark and she would have been a handsome woman.

‘Speak to me now!’ Gwydion commanded, and made a sign above her head.

The Sister shrieked and writhed, but then her voice became one of malice.

‘Slaughter great,

Slaughter small!

All slaughter now,

No Slaughter at all!’

‘Peace!’ Gwydion said, and made a second sign over her.

Instantly she fell quiet, and seemed to sleep comfortably.

‘Who is she?’ Will asked.

‘She comes from one of the hamlets near…that.’ Gwydion gestured towards the last glimmerings of lilac fire in the west. ‘She invoked a spell of great magic to bring herself here. She should not have done that, nor would she have unless her life had been threatened. By rights she should not even have known how to use such magic, but curiosity is a powerful urge in some of the Sisters of the Wise. This time it has saved her life, though we shall soon see if it was worth the saving.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The spell was ill-wrought. It has touched her mind with madness. That is, I hope, the only reason she tried to fall upon me as she did.’

Will examined the blade critically. ‘I didn’t know it was the practice of Sisters to go abroad with their athamen upon them.’

‘Ordinarily, they do not. Take care to keep that one from her, Will. I recognize it for what it is, and I believe that unless you keep it away from her she will try to kill herself with it when she wakes.’

Gwydion slowly unwound the strands of magic that had afflicted the woman. Will marvelled at the wizard’s calm composure as he laid her down inside the circle and danced the harm from her. He laid charms upon her head, made signs above her body with his staff, and finally he drew a glistening adder from her mouth. He laid it down to vanish into the night.

Afterwards Will found himself drawn to watch the simmering lights. The corner of his lip tingled, and a lump had started to come up where the witch’s flailing fist had marked him.

‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.

‘Do?’ Gwydion stirred. ‘Perhaps you should decide what’s best.’

‘You’re the wizard.’

‘But it was you who summoned me. ’

‘Yes, well I thought you ought to know about… that. It seemed to me to be Maskull’s doing.’

‘You are right. It is.’

Will was about to ask the wizard how he could be so sure, but then he remembered how seldom Gwydion was wholly open with the truth, and how closely he shepherded his wisdom. Of course a wizard needed to, for he was a guardian and therefore must be adept at manipulation. It was the entire purpose of the Ogdoad to steer fate in order to keep the world going along on the true path, and so many times during the long history of the Realm members of the wizardly council had intervened at crucial moments. Gwydion knew about cause and effect and the motivation of folk, and he had lived for such a time that long consequences were plain to his eyes. Will understood very well that there were some things Gwydion could afford to divulge and others that he must certainly not, but it did not hurt any the less to think that certain of the wizard’s secrets probably concerned his own origins.

He felt discomfort run through him while the Wise Woman twitched and muttered in dream at their backs and all three waited for the dawn to come. At last, the east grew grey with filtered light.

‘She’ll be worried,’ he said, meaning Willow. ‘I’ll bet she hasn’t slept a wink.’

Gwydion stared at him for a moment and then broke off the look. ‘Why not wait until the sun is truly up?’ he said. ‘You will find it easier to decide by the full light of day. The spell that cloaks the Vale is of necessity a powerful one. It is unlikely that even you would succeed in finding your way home in this half light.’

‘Decide? About what?’

‘About what you should do.’

Will sighed. He had heard Gwydion speak this way before, and he wondered where it was leading.

In the grey of that cold hour before sunrise the dew was penetrating. Thin mists rolled in the valleys that clefted the Tops, and as the stars went out one by one, he went over to the elder tree. He would not approach it too closely for fear that it might swallow him up again. Instead, he kicked his toes at the edge of the hole from which the battlestone had been taken. It was like the gap from which a rotten tooth had been pulled, but the pain and the stench had almost been washed from the ground.