Then she knew another friend was there. She sensed Tam before she saw him but a scurrying on the ground caught her eye and she saw that he was in the form of a rat. Seeing that something was tied around his body, she felt a stab of anxiety. He has the stones – and he’s so close to Svelrik. However, she wondered whether or not Svelrik could differentiate between his discernment of her using magic and his sense of a magical being’s presence. His attention was not drawn to Tam, although Meraud’s appeared to be, instead he was busy whispering something to the dark-haired man behind him, the one Kaetha had seen in Neul Carraig. The man’s face became grim as another guard handed him a bow and an arrow.
I hope he’s a good shot, she thought. Best that it’s quick.
He hesitated, the bow gripped in his hand. At the same moment, she felt a scratching at the stake, tiny vibrations going up through her hands. Singed but smooth fur met her fingers, followed by the sting of claws and the cold of metal and stone. Hoping all eyes would be on the archer, she grasped the copper bands holding the stones and Tam slipped away. She knew now that the others had a plan. But what was it? What must she do?
Tam? But his mind was guarded against hers as always. Donnan? She’d lost sight of him and couldn’t find his thoughts through the clamour of the minds of the crowd but Mairi was looking at her intently. She seemed so like her mother from this distance, in that cloak of woven grey, blue and green. Mairi? In desperating, she reached out with her Air magic, though she expected Mairi’s mind to block it as usual. However Mairi’s thoughts came rang through her mind, loud and distinct as firesong. Only then did she realise that the wall blocking Mairi’s mind from hers had been her own. A wall she had freed herself from when she was in that prison cell.
As Air magic curled through her mind, she was shocked by the sound of a man’s booming voice from Mairi’s memory. Damn you! You cursed her. Mairi’s only beloved sister. Her only family. She’s dead because of you! You deserve to hang and you will go to hell where you belong! She sensed an echo of a young Mairi’s fear, the vulnerability of a small child which lingered within her along with this memory of a witch’s hanging. The memory faded. Use your magic, Kaetha. Mairi’s thoughts were imploring, desperate. Do what Donnan said you could. Hide yourself from sight, then take yourself away from here! This thought was repeated over and over, Mairi locking eyes with Kaetha all the while. Kaetha nodded. Then Mairi put her hand to the hem of her cloak where it covered her hair. Now.
Kaetha understood and she was ready. As Svelrik shouted at the archer who finally nocked an arrow to the bowstring, Kaetha smiled at her would-be assassin and, clutching the stones, sank into the air. A gasp rose from the crowd. With Earth, she made the ropes fray and unravel. She pushed the fire away as she descended the pyre, followed by a tumble of charred wood. She knew her bare feet were raw and blistered from the heat but, in the rush of her escape, she hardly felt any pain.
Invisible, she wove through the crowd of shocked onlookers who were jostling about, trying to find where she had gone. The king was yelling commands, trying to be heard over the fearful exclamations of the crowd.
“There she is! There’s the witch!”
It was Donnan’s voice. He was holding her mother’s cloak in a bundle under his arm and pointing. She knew he was pointing at Mairi as she galloped downhill riding Smoke but, for a moment, she thought she was looking at herself. Mairi wore a red kirtle over a white smock just like hers, the back of it striped with dark, brownish red, as if she had been whipped too. Her hair streamed in the wind as she rode, hair that was now dark red, like her own. She gaped in shock, though she knew now was not the time to puzzle over it.
“After her!” called Svelrik to his men. “After her!” He ordered the man with the bow to shoot her but the arrow fell short of its mark, Mairi having already put much distance between herself and the citadel defences.
Quick Mairi. Quick! she thought, wondering where her stepmother would go. Surely Mairi had a plan for her own safety? As worried as she was for her, she knew that she had to focus on her own escape now and that of her father. In the furore, the guards restraining Aedan had let go of him. They were pushing back at those who tried to break through the crowd to see the mysterious empty pyre. Now was her chance. She dashed over to him, grabbed his arm, dragging him away, pushing out her Air magic – feeling air whipping around her, reaching across to him – and he disappeared, cloaked in her protection.
Come with me.
More armed men on horseback charged through the gatehouse. As they raced down the hill, the crowd herded after them, watching, blocking the way to the hillside path. There was no way she and her father could get through that way.
Damn! She turned to face the citadel again. The gatehouse was still open, the lowered drawbridge beckoning.
Not this way, thought Aedan as Kaetha led him over the moat.
I’m sorry, Pa, but it’s the only way. Trust me.
She paused beneath the portcullis, its spikes
