The cursed towers 278
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Isabeau bit back bitter, angry words and said merely, "I ken."
Mist swirled all around the resting army, making the stark trees look as if they were swaying forward,
reaching out with skeletal hands. When the marsh-faeries drifted out of the haze, the sentries all gave
strangled shrieks before composing themselves enough to call the alarm. Most of the soldiers leapt to
their feet, hands on their weapons, but a grim-faced Iain gestured them back and went forward to meet
the Mesmerdean alone.
There were hundreds of them, their inhuman faces strangely beautiful. Their multitonal humming filled the
air, thousands of many-veined wings whirring, thousands of claws rubbing against their hard abdomens.
Iain looked very small and very alone, standing before them. There were long, long minutes of silence and
then the humming changed. It deepened, softened, harmonized, sounding much like the satisfied purr of a
cream-fed cat. The Mesmerdean's wings lowered and folded back, and they dropped their claws.
Gwilym's grim face lightened a little. "The Mesmerdean have accepted Meghan's offer and have pledged
us their support! Who would have believed it was possible? They must want ye very much indeed,
Keybearer."
Iseult's expression only became more somber, and she put her hand on Meghan's shoulder. The little
donbeag Gita clung to the old witch's collar, his whole body quivering in distress. Meghan nodded her
white head a few times and twitched her grim old mouth, soothing Gita with a hand that trembled.
Duncan gave swift orders to pack up the camp and advance, and all round the clearing the rigid stance of
the soldiers relaxed. Swiftly they rolled up their blankets and shouldered their packs, while the ranks of
Mesmer-dean slowly and deliberately stripped off their fluttering, gray draperies and flung them into the
bog. Without their covering they looked more alien than ever, with a long, hard, segmented body that
curved forward, ending in a sharp point. They had six legs, the highest also the longest and most
maneuverable, the others curling back into their body. Their stiff wings were in constant motion and they
darted about in unexpected directions, causing many of the soldiers to jump, startled and alarmed.
With the bogfaeries scouting ahead and the Mesmer-dean flying all about, they were able to press on into
the swamp at a much faster pace. Many times the Thistle's men tried to ambush them but, despite the fog
which rose up thick and stifling all around them, the Graycloaks were forewarned and able to beat them
off. As the day passed, most of the army's casualties were due to mud-sprites, who reached their bony
hands out of the bog and dragged unwary soldiers in, drowning them before their frantic comrades could
rescue them. A few were bitten by poisonous snakes, dying quickly but painfully, despite the attempts of
their companions to suck out the poison.
Most of the Graycloaks learnt to carry their ropes tied at their belts, not coiled in their packs, for the
ground was treacherous and many of the soldiers slipped into bogs or quicksand and had to be dragged
free before they were sucked under.
Now that they had the Mesmerdean as allies, Duncan and Iseult had decided to abandon any attempts at
stealth and so were making their way toward one of the few roads that wound through the marshes. The
Thistle needed a solid highway for the wagons that carried Ar-ran's exports out to the world and brought
in the many luxuries the banprionnsa required. The Banrigh had not attempted to use the highway
previously, knowing it was heavily guarded, choosing instead to trust to Iain and Gwilym's knowledge of
the secret ways through the swamps.
They camped that night uncomfortably and uneasily but managed to survive with only a few casualties,
