Dragonclaw by Kate Forsyth Read Free Book Online Page B

cold. Seychella floated on her back, staring up Dragonclaw, her hair floating out behind her like a mass of weeds. ‘Meghan really has found herself a magic valley, has she no’?’
    Isabeau was not quite sure what the witch meant, but she nodded. ‘It is bonny.’
    The witch looked over at her, and idly turned and swam a few strokes. ‘And ye were born here, were ye no’?’
    â€˜I think so,’ Isabeau replied uncertainly. ‘I ken I was found here. I was only a few weeks auld, so I suppose I must have been born here.’
    â€˜Some shepherd’s babe, I ken. There be no-one else crazy enough to spend much time on these slopes, bonny though they be.’
    Isabeau said nothing. She supposed it was true that her parents must have been shepherds or herders, yet she preferred her own highly coloured imaginings. Her red hair was so unusual, and the mystery of her birth so intriguing, Isabeau had woven several complicated tales to explain her abandonment. Her favourite was that she was heiress to a great estate, abandoned by a wicked uncle who wished to inherit in her stead. It explained everything quite satisfactorily, and completely discounted the possibility that her parents may not have wanted her.
    â€˜Can ye show me some more o’ your magic?’ she asked. ‘Something really amazing.’
    Seychella lay back dreamily, moving her hands lightly in the chilly water. She said nothing, but Isabeau felt the temperature drop as the witch drew upon the One Power. At first the placid surface of the loch began to quiver, the reflection of the mountains breaking apart and dissolving. Cats’ paws of wind rippled towards them and the branches of trees began to sway. Faster and faster the wind rose, until clouds were scudding madly overhead and the branches thrashed wildly. Petals swirled from the flowered bushes, scattering in the wind like snowflakes. It became colder and colder, and Isabeau shivered and sank lower in the water. Suddenly a giant thunderclap sounded, and lightning flashed down, splitting one of the ancient giants in the forest so it fell with a roar, dragging other trees down and making the ground shake. Isabeau was overawed. She had never seen such a powerful display of magic. All the tricks and games she played with the One Power were nothing in comparison to this. Even Meghan’s occasional demonstrations were insignificant compared to those of Seychella.
    â€˜Teach me,’ Isabeau begged. ‘How do ye do that?’
    â€˜Playing with the weather is dangerous,’ Seychella said wearily. ‘No’ for lassies.’
    Indignation filled Isabeau. ‘I’m no’ a bairn any more!’
    â€˜Ye need to understand how the weather works,’ Seychella said. ‘Bringing a storm is particularly hard—ye have to reach deep into the winds o’ the world and change their shape and direction. Making lightning be the hardest o’ all, particularly for a woman, for it involves the Power o’ Fire as well, and fire is more a male force. I find it quite exhausting. Can ye listen to the wind?’
    Isabeau swam closer. ‘I dinna ken … I’m no’ sure …’
    â€˜Do ye ken when it’s going to snow?’ Seychella asked.
    Isabeau nodded. Sixteen years in the Sithiche Mountains was enough to teach anyone the weather’s signs. She could tell when rain or snow were coming, or when the wind was rising.
    â€˜Good. That’s the start. Once ye can listen to the wind it’s only a few wee steps from there. Ye must exert your will on the wind. Tell it when to come and when to go. Ride it in your mind. Ye’ll begin to see how it flows.’
    Isabeau was beside herself with excitement. Meghan never told her things like this. She only ever said ‘listen’ and ‘watch’ as if those words held all the mysteries of magic.
    â€˜Ye may no’ be able to do it, though,’