01 The Witches of Eileanan by Kate Forsyth

Author:Kate Forsyth
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Fantasy Fiction, Contemporary, Fiction, Science Fiction, General, Witches, Science fiction, Australian, Epic, Occult & Supernatural
ISBN: 9780451456892
Publisher: ROC
Published: 1998-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

Isabeau hummed as she sat on her heels in the garden. The air was very sweet and warm, bees buzzed around her, and the garden was thick with butterflies. After six days of storm and rain, the sight of clear blue skies and the feel of the sun warm on her face was a tonic for her spirits, which had been strangely depressed of late.

Manissia had sent her out into the garden with a basket and some scissors to cut flowers and herbs. Today they were going to start making the many teas and infusions that the skeelie used to heal the villagers nearby, and which she sold at the market. Isabeau had always been fascinated by the distilling of aromatic leaves, woods, and roots, and she was looking forward to seeing how Manissia's methods differed from Meghan's.

For a moment a strange unease stole over her, and then she shrugged the thought aside and concentrated on the rich smell of the earth, the spicy scent of rosemary and thyme, the sensuous pleasure of the sun on the back of her neck. Manissia was going to let her look at some of her strange books this afternoon, books with pages yellowing with age and filled with diagrams of the stars and planets, the two moons, and the sun. Meghan had never been interested in the sky, only in the earth, its animals, its plants ... Again a frisson of anxiety crossed her, and for a moment she frowned and shivered, despite the sun, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing at the goosebumps which had sprung up on her skin. Almost immediately the unease was gone, and she continued thinking happily about the skeelie's books.

Isabeau's basket was full, and her back beginning to ache when a sudden neigh made her stand and look around. The cottage was built in the shelter of a small copse of trees, with a stream that ran through the garden. Behind the house, a steep hill ran up to the great waves of purplish moors that undulated as far as the eye could see. A red horse was galloping along the crest of the hill, mane flashing bright in the sun. As she watched, the horse neighed again and tossed its head, rearing and striking the ground with its hooves. The horse was calling to her. Even at that distance she could recognize the sound.

"Isabeau!" the horse called. "Isabeau!"

Isabeau stood still in confusion. The horse neighed again and suddenly she recognized the sound. Lasair! How could she have forgotten Lasair? As she watched, the horse turned and ran back again, pawing the ground and neighing. There was a shrill sound to the neigh, almost panic. Isabeau dropped the basket and ran round the side of the house. At the bottom of the long garden was a hedge set with a gate.

She called Lasair to her, but though the horse neighed and tossed his head and ran back and forth frantically, he did not come any closer.

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