Machaendranathar's smile was as much sympathetic as understanding. 'Wisdom is like that,' he said. 'It cannot be retained without great effort, a build-up of knowledge and experience that takes years to obtain. One must meditate and add layer upon thin layer, learn about oneself through inward contemplation, as well as finding knowledge by observing people and events.'
'It is hard to maintain such concentration,' Bradan said. 'Our old Druids spent many years amassing knowledge before they could be priests and alas, they did not write their knowledge done. Much of it, most of it, is gone now. We only have fragments of what they knew. As I said, I glimpsed it once, and the power was too much.'
'You are young,' Machaendranathar said. 'It takes a lifetime to gain wisdom, as your Druids knew. Their loss is the world's loss.'
Other men appeared, to sit in a circle beside Bradan and Machaendranathar. Bradan did not know them; nor did he not recognise where he was. The newcomers had the same intense eyes as Machaendranathar, where profound wisdom merged with worldly compassion.
'Carry on.' The circle of men spoke in unison, although not one of them opened his mouth.
'Are you the Siddhars?' Bradan knew he had no need to ask the question. They answered without speaking, probing him for his knowledge and sharing such of theirs as could benefit him.
'In Alba, we have Celtic Christian priests,' Bradan said. 'They meditate to become closer to God. We can find them on desolate islands… barren, bleak, wave-lashed places where no man or woman could live without intense spirituality and a disregard for bodily comforts.'
Bradan knew that the Siddhars understood. The Celtic priests and the Siddhars were engaged on a similar spiritual journey, each embarking on a search for truth and enlightenment in the way their particular culture and religion guided them.
'The truth is within you.' The words eased into his mind. 'Only you can find the mental peace you seek and the enlightenment you crave. You wander physically while your mind is restless, jumping from experience to experience and event to event. You will find what you seek, Bradan the Wanderer, but what you seek may not be what you think you seek.'
There was a light around the Siddhars, soft yet bright, an aura of peace and acceptance that Bradan had met only once before, that day at Callanish.
'What do I seek?' Bradan asked.
'You seek that which you need most.' The answer was cryptic, as all these answers seemed to be.
'Where will I find it?'
'Where it already is.' The answer was frustrating.
'When will I find it?'
'When you are ready to accept it.'
'How can I help Melcorka?' That was a question Bradan knew he should have asked first.
'By following your guide.'
'Who is my guide?' Bradan asked, as the black-and-white mass appeared before him, although not quite as shapeless as before.
'You know the answer.'
The peace remained as Machaendranathar knelt beside Melcorka.
Bradan looked around. They were still on the slopes of the holy mountain, with the sun beating on them and a circle of white cloud shifting around the forests. Machaendranathar's voice sounded again. 'Now I can see to this unfortunate young lady.'
'Can you cure her?' Bradan's repressed anxiety surfaced with a rush. 'Can you remove the curse?'
'Allow me to speak to Melcorka,' Machaendranathar said. 'She and I have much to discuss.' He placed his hand on Melcorka's forehead, chanting softly.
'You have a troubled mind, Melcorka.'
Melcorka looked up at him with that simple smile that cut Bradan so deeply.
Bradan stepped closer. 'She was cursed.'
'I remember,' Machaendranathar said. He signalled to the seven other Siddhars who gathered around. 'A witch or a demon cursed this young woman, yet she still had sufficient goodness and strength to climb up and rescue me.'
The Siddhars spoke without words, their wisdom encircling Machaendranathar and Melcorka. Although he knew his words were not needed, Bradan broke in. For weeks, he had tried to control his anxiety about Melcorka. Now that the immediate danger was past, he allowed his fear to surface. He felt himself tremble as he spoke.
'Melcorka is like that. She will risk her life a hundred times to help people who need her. If you ever had the opportunity to see her when she is well…'
'I would like that opportunity,' Machaendranathar said. 'Sadly, I may never get it, and nor might anybody else.'
'Why is that?' Bradan asked.
'You know that we have a Siddhar missing, so the world is out of balance,' Machaendranathar said.
'Chaturi informed me of that.' Bradan put a hand on Melcorka.
'Unless all nine Siddhars are together on this sacred mountain,' Machaendranathar continued, 'the world will continue out of balance, allowing the demons to enter. Already one rakshasa, the creature you knew as Dhraji, has entered this world. There may be others.' The Siddhar sighed. 'You know what Dhraji is like, with her taste for blood and death.'
'I know what she is like,' Bradan said.
'There are hundreds, maybe thousands more, waiting for the imbalance to increase. Unless all nine Siddhars are back on the mountain, praying and meditating, the balance will never return, and the rakshasas will infest and invade this world. There will be endless wars and suffering. Blood and pain will rule supreme.'
'How can we get all nine of you back together?' Bradan saw the shimmering black-and-white mass slide toward him. He knew it was carrying a message. He knew it was striving to tell him something. He wished he knew what it was. He watched as the mist slid around Melcorka and merged with her.
'We have one Siddhar missing,' Machaendranathar said. 'Matsyendranath, the Lord of the Fishes.'
'Matsyendranath is not missing,' Melcorka said, with a smile. 'He's on an island.'
Bradan sat up with
