Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

W ater dripped down the walls, oozing to a floor that was thick with slime. Screams echoed through the dark tunnels, fading into silence. Something scuttled in the gloom, claws scraping on the wet stone. This was the between-worlds, the place of waiting, the place where the flotsam and jetsam of the universe gathered.

The Fiosaiche strode through the unlit tunnels. Her silver cloak swept about her, and the floating strands of her auburn hair were like flames licking the shadows. The creatures she passed cringed, moaning and wailing and hiding their eyes. She paid them no heed and rejected her urge to pity. For those who dwelt in this place deserved to be here, and their fate would be decided. Eventually.

The tunnel narrowed and the roof dropped lower. The sorceress clicked her tongue and stooped, ignoring the blank-faced souls huddled in niches along the way. They cowered, sensing that here was something to fear more than the darkness, here was a being powerful enough to change history and stop time. But if it crossed their minds that she might help them escape their own fates, then one glance of her terrible gaze convinced them she had not come for them.

The soul sought by the Fiosaiche was up ahead.

The tunnel widened and broadened and suddenly opened out into an enormous cavern. Inky black water lapped a silver shore and stretched endlessly into the half-darkness. As she stared across the underworld sea, something roared, its snakelike body writhing and twisting and making the ebony water boil, before it sank back into the depths.

Sea serpents, loch monsters, water-horses. Once they had been feared and revered, now they were treated as myth and legend. Mankind no longer wished to believe such creatures existed, but they did, and this was their true lair. Centuries ago doors had led from this world to the mortal world, and although now they were closed, they could still be opened. If you knew how.

The Fiosaiche strode on along the silver beach toward the woman seated on a rock, one of many littering the sand. Behind her, out in the dark sea, the monsters continued to roar and splash. As if they sensed the presence of one stronger than themselves.

Ishbel Macleod looked up.

Her golden hair was matted, her green eyes narrowed and vicious, her once-fine clothing ragged. She looked like a prisoner who had been locked in a castle dungeon for too many years to remember, but it hadn't dimmed the fire inside her. If anything, the hatred burned stronger than ever.

There was no remorse in Ishbel for what she had done.

The Fiosaiche stopped and for a time stared at her while Ishbel attempted to meet her eyes without flinching, and then she smiled. Ishbel cried out like an animal and ducked her head, letting her hair fall over her face. Out in the ebony sea the monsters called again, closer now, drawn by the scent of fresh meat.

Ishbel shuddered. "They are hungry," she said in a voice ravaged by suffering. "Every night they come out seeking food. Every night they tear me to pieces and feed on me. But they do not kill me, they canna kill me. I become whole again, and then the next night they come again, and so it goes. Pain and torment, over and over. This is your doing, witch."

"No, this is your doing, Ishbel."

Ishbel gave a little smile through her tangled hair. "The only way I can bear it is knowing Maclean suffers, too."

"You are so predictable," the Fiosaiche said.

Ishbel screeched, spitting, and sprang from her rock to land at the Fiosaiche 's feet. "Free me, free me, and I will show you what I can do!"

The sorceress waited until she was quiet again. "I admit that when I came here the possibility of you being free was on my mind, Ishbel."

Ishbel stiffened, as if she could hardly believe her ears, staring up blank-faced. "You really mean to set me free after all these centuries of torment?" A cunning expression slipped over Ishbel's face. "I will try and be good," she said in a little voice.

"You misunderstand me," the Fiosaiche said sternly. "I came to see if you were still here. There have been whispers that you have made your own way to freedom, impossible as that seems. You have been seen in the mortal world."

"Who told you that, witch?"

"I have my spies."

A sea monster roared close by, sending a spray of black water onto the sand. Ishbel glanced toward it anxiously, but when she turned again to the sorceress her expression was carefully empty of anything but hatred.

"Well, as you can see I am still here, still waiting for you to come and release me, Fiosaiche. What must I do to redeem myself?"

"Show genuine remorse, Ishbel," and the sorceress's voice was almost tender as she held out her hand. "I will know when I touch you if you are honest with me, and if you are not . . ."

"You ask too much," Ishbel said thickly, drawing away from the hand, eyeing it uneasily. "Take me to your masters, the Lords of the Universe. Let me talk to them. I think you are exceeding your power, witch. I think it is you who needs to be questioned, not me."

"The Lords would not waste their time on something as insignificant as you. Poor Ishbel. Do you really want to stay here and suffer? Don't you want to move on to the world of the dead, where you can sleep at last?"

Ishbel shook her head stubbornly, and once more her eyes flicked sideways to the black sea and its inhabitants.

"Why can't you let your hatred go?"

Ishbel pushed herself to her feet, staggering, and then she straightened and stood proud despite her ravaged looks. "I want to be set free, aye, but only so that I can find Maclean and feast on his soul. I thought he was in the labyrinths, but I canna find him. I have searched for many years now and he is not here. What have you done with him, witch? Taken him to one of your secret hiding places, where you keep your favorites? Do the Lords know about that?"

"Be silent!"

But Ishbel was past caution. "I want to see Maclean here in my place, damned to be food for the loch monsters forever. I want to tear out his soul and destroy any chance he has to find peace in death. That is what I want, witch. Can ye give me that?"

The Fiosaiche fixed her with that terrible stare. "You have made your choice, Ishbel."

She turned and began to walk back along the silver sand.

There was a roar from the ebony sea, and then something monstrous heaved itself onto the beach.

"And Ishbel," the Fiosaiche called over her shoulder, "you're right, Maclean is not in the labyrinths. He is gone. I have given him the chance to become a mortal man again. He is beyond your reach."

Ishbel screamed with pure rage, but the sound was cut off abruptly. There was a splash as the water creature returned to its home, taking its prey with it.