Midnight Falcon Read Free Page A

all those years ago, before Connavar had fought the bear. Before she had danced with Banouin on Feast Night. Before she lost her witch's powers. Before she had secretly regained them.
    Vorna stood and walked to the first stream, stopping to enjoy the beauty of the pale purple foxgloves growing along the banks. Her thoughts were mellow, almost to the point of melancholy, and it seemed to her that the ghosts of the past were standing close. The mighty Ruathain, the earth maiden Eriatha, the crippled Riamfada, and the tormented Arian.
    'I hope you are now at rest, child,' whispered Vorna. Thinking of Arian brought thoughts of her son, Bane. Such a terrible name to give a child. It meant 'curse' in the old tongue. Arian, in her selfishness and her grief, had wanted all the Rigante to know of her suffering.
    Yet despite the burden of his name the boy had developed well – save for his word-blindness. The king had decreed that all Rigante children should learn to read and write. For some reason that Vorna could not understand Bane, despite his intelligence and the quickness of his wit, could not grasp the skill. The druid, Brother Solstice, who taught the children of Three Streams, sent Bane to her home, to study with Banouin, who had mastered the lessons with ease. But even with the tireless help of Banouin the young Bane struggled.
    Bane had other skills, however, and some of them brought great delight to Vorna. She smiled as she remembered the badger cub.
    Looking round to make sure she was alone she knelt and drew a circle in the air, then whispered three Words of Power – ancient words in a language no longer spoken by men. A silver circle glowed into life among the foxgloves. Vorna gently blew a breath into it. The air within the circle rippled like a heat haze and an image formed there. Vorna gazed once more at the nine-year-old boy and the blind badger cub. Kneeling among the flowers Vorna watched the silent scene unfold, her mind drifting back to that early summer night eight years before.
    The sun had been down for around an hour when she heard the rap at the door. Climbing from her bed Vorna had wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and walked out into the night. Bane was standing in the moonlight, a very young badger nestling against his leg. As she opened the door she saw the badger's shoulders bunch, its black and silver head swaying from side to side.
    'What are you doing with that beast?' asked Vorna, keeping her voice low.
    'I was in the woods,' said the child. 'I saw it. It moved past me, then bumped into a tree. Then it stumbled over a rabbit hole. There's something wrong with its eyes, Vorna.'
    'How did you get it back here?'
    'It took a long time,' said the boy. 'Watch!' He moved away from the cub, then knelt and made clicking noises with his tongue and teeth. The cub swayed from side to side, then moved towards the sound. As he reached Bane the boy stroked its brow. 'It was like this. I got him to follow me, but he kept wandering away. It took hours to get him here. Can you heal him?'
    'There is no herb for blindness, Bane,' she said.
    'But can you heal him?'
    'What makes you think that I can?' she had asked, warily.
    'I can keep secrets,' he countered. 'And you can trust me.'
    She looked into the child's odd eyes and smiled. 'I think that I can,' she said. Then she had knelt by the badger and gently placed her hands on its head, allowing her spirit to flow into the beast's bloodstream, and on through its body. The badger cub fell into a deep sleep. It was badly malnourished, and infested with fleas and worms. But the worst of the problems lay in the brain. A cancerous growth was pressing against its skull, causing the blindness. Opening her eyes she turned to the boy. 'There is a shoulder of cold ham in the larder. Put it in a bowl and fetch it here. And try not to wake Banouin!'
    Bane ran off and returned with the meat. Placing one hand on the ham, the other on the badger's head she closed her eyes once