The cursed towers 240
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The dragon yawned widely, curling her slender, sky-blue tongue.
Please, Asrohc! I canna let her die!
Why not? The dragon responded. It is she who sent the red-robed soldiers to our valley and harmed
my brother with her poisoned spears; it is she who made the killing of dragons a sport and
rewarded those that murdered my kith and kin. It will give me pleasure to watch her die.
Isabeau did not know what to say. She knew she could not allow Maya to die. She could not help
thinking of her as Morag, her friend of the seashore, who had taught her about sand-scorpions and
doom-eels and the flow of the tidis. Besides, Maya was Bronwen's mother and Isabeau could not be the
one to deprive the little girl of that, having been motherless herself. She looked about her consideringly.
They were in the long, flower-strewn meadow that stretched from the base of Dragonclaw down to the
valley where the Rhyllster began to carve its way through the hills. Isabeau's eyes brightened, for this was
familiar territory. She looked back at the dragon, and saw the dangerous glint of an eye through the
slitted eyelid. Dragons were not noted for their mercy. Despite the centuries of friendship between her
family and the great magical creatures, Isabeau dared not ask for assistance again. She bowed and said,
It gives me no pleasure to stand against your will, but I canna allow her to die. I was taught
always to heal and help, and swore I would never use my powers to harm another. I beg your
forbearance and hope that ye will forgive me.
Asrohc's tail swayed back and forth. Gracefully she rose and stretched, supple as a cat, and yawned
again, showing rows of very sharp, pointed teeth. My mother the queen says I must let thou do as
thou wishest, even though I abhor your weak human folly. She says the
Fairge queen has yet a role to play in this charade. So do as thou wilt, Isabeau NicFaghan, and
when thou wishest to fly the heavens again, call my name. I may come, if I am bored.
Isabeau bowed her head in acquiescence, though her spirits fell at Asrohc's cold tone. She watched as
the dragon launched off into the sky, the long sinuous body rapidly dwindling as she soared toward the
bent tip of Dragonclaw. Then Asrohc was gone, and the sky was empty again. Isabeau sighed and bent
over Maya.
After a moment she straightened and looked about her. From a copse of trees at the edge of the
meadow she called fallen boughs and green vines, and magically wove them together into a stretcher.
Lifting Maya carefully onto its length, she picked up a small wooden chest that lay a few paces away and
tucked it in beside her. Isabeau then cast out her mind until she located a herd of alpine goats clambering
down from the mountain heights to graze in the sweet meadows. She called them to her and begged their
help. Remembering her from the old days, when she had run barefoot with them over the rocks, they
agreed to pull the stretcher for her. Using vines as reins, she harnessed them up and they dragged the
injured woman through the fields.
The day was growing late when Isabeau at last reached the rocky ridge that hid Meghan's secret valley
from the outside world. The cliff-face was dotted with caves. Most were shallow apertures that led
nowhere, but a few penetrated deep into the rock. The goats helped her maneuver the stretcher up the
ridge, then bounded away in a wave of mottled gray, tossing their horned heads.
Isabeau dragged the stretcher inside the narrow mouth of the cave, then checked to make sure no one
was watching. Even though these mountains were wild and remote, the occasional hunter penetrated its
maze of ravines and gorges in search of snow lion or woolly bear, and she had been taught to take no
chances. The meadow below was quiet, though, and so she pushed on into the darkness.
