"A magician's trick," Megrin said. "Simple, not bad for a beginner."
The ragged man reeled back as if struck
"It's Old Meg-o-the-woods." A woman in the crowd broke a sudden silence.
"That was no trick, crone. I am Grisan here. The spellcaster."
"Grisan, eh," Megan cackled. "And what's your name, son?"
Riggon's face seemed to swell with anger. He raised his skull rattle and shook it vigorously. A hush went around the crowd yet again.
Megrin stepped towards him, completely unfazed.
"You better put that away before you do yourself a mischief. Can't have beginners playing about with earthy magic. Oh, and what's that smell? You never heard of washing?"
"Beginner? Me, a beginner? Who are you to call me a beginner, old woman? I am Riggon the spellcaster. I could turn you into a toad. Or worse.
Megrin cackled again, this time with laughter. Somebody in the crowd giggled nervously.
"You would turn me into a toad? I could do better than that. I could make you smell like a man and not reek like a pig in a sty. But it might be hard work. I've smelt dungheaps more fragrant."
This time the laughter was more natural. It rippled through the gathering.
Kerry stepped forward, sword drawn. Jack and Corriwen were right beside him and ready to act.
Riggon held up the heartstone on its chain. "I'll use this," he cried. "It has power!"
He spun on his heel to face the villagers. It took a second for him to realise their eyes were fixed behind him. He turned back and his eyes opened so wide they could have popped out.
Around Megrin's feet, grass, twigs and leaves were spinning off the ground. A sudden wind moaned, whipping her tattered shawl and cowl.
Megrin began to straighten from her stooped posture. Jack felt Corriwen's hand grip his arm.
Riggon raised the heartstone and shook his charm-stick again.
But Megrin kept, uncoiling until, amazingly, she towered over the ragged shaman.
Her hood fell back and even Kerry gasped in amazement when he saw her hair that had been straggly and grey, become long and straight and gleaming silver down her back. Her tattered shawl flapped in the wind, shedding scraps of material until it was torn away. Now Megrin stood before them in a long cloak that could have been made of summer gossamer with a fur hood of pure white.
The old gnarled stick in her hand had become a slender carved staff, as tall as Megrin herself, richly polished.
The transformation took everybody by surprise, not least the ragged man whose feet seemed welded to the ground, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.
She turned to Jack who was flanked by Kerry and Corriwen. Then she winked at them.
Megrin fixed Riggon with emerald eyes. She didn't move, but in an instant he was squealing like a piglet.
And the fingers of his hand began to smoke and melt.
His hand jerked up. The heartstone went flying into the air.
Two pure white shapes came plummeting down. All Jack heard was a whirr of feathers as a pair of goshawks, white as snow, snatched the heartstone's chain from the air, banked their wings and soared towards him. Their talons opened and the heartstone was softly draped on his neck.
He felt whole again.
"Neat. Absolutely neat, man," Kerry said, to nobody in particular. Corriwen still held Jack's wrist.
Megrin stood tall and silent, silver hair catching the sunlight. Riggon got to his feet, his right hand hooked into a claw.
"Witch woman!" He backed away from her, but still shook the skulls in her direction. She still said nothing for a moment, then pointed a long finger at him.
She swept her gaze along the crowd of villagers. "Some of you know me. The old ones. Your mothers knew me. I am Megrin Wildwillow of Foresthaven.
"And I am the Geasan, who has watched over you since before your father's father's father was a child. The Geasan always keep watch."
She put both hands on her hips and shook her head, like an exasperated mother scolding children.
"You should have come to me before, rather than listen to the prattle of this prancing pile of rags."
She tossed her hair contemptuously: "This will keep the shades at bay a while."
Her right hand came up and pointed directly at the Shaman yet again.
"Root and grow. Root and branch."
Riggon stopped dead as if his feet had suddenly stuck to the earth. He looked down at them and as he did, a small boy in the crowd pointed at him.
"His hat Ma. See his hat!"
Every eye followed. Riggon stood paralysed. For a moment, the hat of twisted rowan fronds seemed to have turned into a circlet of writhing snakes but then it became clear that the woven twigs were sending out new shoots. In an instant, they had covered Riggon's face, except for his gaping eyes, then grew down in thin tendrils, over his shoulders, wrapping around and along his arms, and snaking round the stick and its skulls.
As all eyes watched, his toes elongated like burrowing worms and drilled themselves between the blades of grass and pebbles, forcing the surface to heave and clump as they rooted themselves ever deeper.
His outstretched arms, encased now in leaves, were flung out on either side, expanding as they reached for the edges of rowan barrier that had encircled the village.
As soon as the green leaves touched the first upright, new buds swelled up its entire length, burst and let bright springtime leaves unfurl and the magic continued along the crosspiece, down the other post. The slender barrier of branches took root and burst into life yard by yard until it completely surrounded the whole village.
Megrin finally lowered her hand. "There, that should do it," she said. Kerry couldn't help himself. He just started clapping his hands together in wild applause, watched by the terrified villagers who stood, mouths agape.
Megrin took two spaces towards the assembly. They all shrank back in alarm.
"Oh, behave yourselves!" Megrin said impatiently. "Now you've got real protection. A living wall, which the shades won't cross. And you won't need any amateur skull-shaking to keep you safe."
She paused, began to turn away, then faced them again. "You did my young friends a great disservice. Think on that when travellers seek refuge and safety. Welcome them and succour them in days to come…
"…unless you want me to wither your rowan hedge."
"Oh no, please!" A woman's thin voice cried.
The crowd all looked at Boru, expecting some action from their head-man.
He coughed and shuffled forward. "Yes….my lady. We will turn none away."
"See that you don't. And if you are tempted to be inhospitable to the traveller, remember your spellcaster. Think on that."
And with that she turned her head and walked away, summoning Jack, Corriwen and Kerry with a brief nod of her head.
"Now come on, young friends. We have a meeting to attend and a long way to travel."