The cursed towers 230
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and conjure thee, O circle o' magic, ring o' power, symbol o' perfection and constant renewal. Keep us
safe from harm, keep us safe from evil, guard us against treachery, keep us safe in your eyes, Ea o' the
moons."
He did the same along the crisscrossing lines of the star. "I consecrate and conjure thee, O star o' spirit,
pentacle o' power, symbol o' fire and darkness, o' light in the depths o' space. Fill us with your dark fire,
your fiery darkness, make o' us your vessels, fill us with light."
The army marching past watched solemnly as the witches prepared themselves to work their magic. They
washed themselves in the river and performed calming and centering exercises, breathing deeply and
slowly, focusing their minds. Meghan would have liked them to have undressed completely, but here on
the edge of the battlefield they were vulnerable enough already and so they simply stripped off their plaids
and jerkins and rolled up their sleeves.
Iseult joined the little group by the river and washed herself and unbound her red-gold curls. When she
was ready she stepped within the gap in the circle and sat at one of the six points of the star.
Gwilym closed the circle behind her and they all held hands and closed their eyes. The sun beat down on
their heads but they ignored it, chanting softly: "In the name o' Ea, our mother and our father, thee who is
Spinner and Weaver and Cutter o' the Thread; thee who sows the seed, nurtures the crop, and reaps the
harvest; by the virtue o' the four elements, wind, stone, flame and rain; by virtue o' clear skies and storm,
rainbows and hailstones, flowers and falling leaves, flames and ashes; in the name o' Ea, we call upon the
winds o' the world, in the name o' Ea we call upon the waters . . ."
Then at a counterpoint to the other witches' voices, Gwilym began to chant:
"Come hither, spirits o' the west, bringing rain,
Come hither, spirits o' the east, bringing wind,
Come hither, spirits o' the west, bringing rain,
Come hither, spirits o' the east, bringing wind."
On and on they chanted and felt the first stirring of a breeze against the hairs on their arms. Their spirits
lifted and the force of their chanting increased. Iseult gripped Meghan's and Gwilym's hands tightly,
focusing every ounce of her strength of will and desire upon the words. A bitter wind lifted their unbound
hair, blowing it about wildly. Icy wetness touched their cheeks. Their chanting slowed and then stopped.
The witches opened their eyes to see snow whirling all about them.
Dillon hurried down the road, bent over from the waist so his body would be hidden behind the
hedgerow. His freckled face was set in an expression of determination and his hand gripped the hilt of his
sword tightly.
The squire had been ordered to stay behind with the healers and the unconscious body of Lachlan in the
little grove by the river, but Dillon had waited only long enough for the Graycloaks to march out of sight
