Crunch, crunch, crunch. Her hands were white-knuckled from gripping the handhold on the side of the boat. Her face stung from salt spray and wind.
Oh, no. A familiar sensation began in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed convulsively. Then her mouth flooded with saliva, and with her last few working brain cells she realized she needed to hang over the edge of the boat now, because she was going to vomit.
More salt spray hit her face-she was closer to the water. She started to cry, her body suddenly racked by sobs. She'd never felt so lost in her whole life.
Then her mother was there, scooping her long hair back, her hand on Moira's neck. When Moira's stomach finally seemed not only empty but inside out, Morgan pulled Moira back up. She'd taken a bandanna out of her back pocket, and she wiped Moira's stinging face. Moira was sobbing now, knowing she had to stop right away, knowing she looked like a baby, knowing her mother had been only too right about wanting her to stay.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm sorry."
"Shhh, shhh," said her mother. "It's hard. That's why I didn't want you to come."
"I'm sorry," Moira repeated, shivering again.
Morgan studied her for a second, then closed her eyes. She spread out the fingers of her right hand and placed them over Moira's face, touching her temple, her forehead, a vein in her neck. Then she started to murmur words in Gaelic, a few of which Moira recognized from class, but most unknown. Within moments Moira breathed a sigh of relief. Her pounding head, racking nausea, fatigue, and fear were easing.
Within a minute Moira tentatively let out her breath. Oh, Goddess, she could breathe without pain. She took in slow, deep breaths, feeling pain and tension leave her with every exhale. She opened her eyes just as her mum opened hers.
"Thanks," Moira said, feeling a new sense of awe. Her mum had healed her before, but now Moira truly understood where the ability came from-a source of power deeper than she'd ever imagined. "That's so much better."
"We need you in good shape," Morgan said, and hugged her.
It was right then, at that moment, that Moira realized that her mother's powers as a healer were probably exactly equal to her power to destroy. It was almost blinding, this huge example of how everything in life was both black and white, good and bad, healing and destructive. Mum always called it the thorn on the rose, and Moira marveled at how complete everything felt, how reassuring it was, in some way, that the wheel always turned unbroken.
Morgan took her hands away and shook off any magickal energy that was left over. There were pale violet circles under her eyes; she looked sad and weary and oddly expectant, as though she were waiting for bad news.
Within Moira's next breath, the whole world went gray.
Blinking wildly, Moira could still see her mother, less than three feet away, and could still see Sky, three feet in back of her. Everything else was gone. "What is this?" she cried as Sky slowed the engine to a crawl.
"Fog," Sky called back. She cut the engine and swung the tiller all the way to one side and fastened it there; now they would go in slow, tight circles for a while. She stood and came to the midsection of the boat, where Morgan and Moira were. The three of them peered uselessly out, but it was as if they were surrounded by a thick, gray wool blanket.
"Well, I can't see a bloody thing," Sky remarked. "Goddess only knows if we're about to beach up on some rocks-I thought we were still pretty far away, but who knows? We're in the middle of bloody nowhere. Goddess, Iona's much more than a pain in the arse."
"So we need to get rid of the fog," Moira said, trying to think.
"Well, yes," said her mum, running her hand through her hair and getting stuck almost immediately in a tangle. "It's just that we have no way of knowing how much is there, how wide it is, where to move it to."
Fog. Fog was made of water vapor. "Can we make all the tiny water drops in the fog sort of stick together, be attracted to each other?" Moira asked. "Then they would turn into rain and fall. Rain would be miserable, but you can see through it."
Her mother looked at her, blinked, then looked over at Sky. A slow smile split Sky's usually solemn, thin face, and she nodded.
Moira felt a spark of pride-maybe she could hold her own with these two strong witches. She was Morgan's daughter after all, and she had to remember that.
Moira, Morgan, and Sky held hands and concentrated. Sky worked the main part of the spell. They concentrated on feeling each infinitely small atom of moisture floating in air, boundless numbers of them. One tiny particle joined another and was joined by a third. Slowly a chain reaction started where each water molecule joined with others and still others. They became heavy, too heavy to float in the air, and began to drift downward, pulling others down with them as they went. Within minutes a frigid rain pelted down, soaking them instantly. The small canvas roof didn't cover where Sky sat by the tiller and offered little in the way of protection for the other two. Rain slanted at them sideways, stinging their faces, drenching their salt-sticky hair.
It was miserable. But they could see.
Sky cranked up the engine and took hold of the tiller. They were through the two islands of North Ulst and Lewis, headed out to open sea. The rain followed them. The waves were still spine-jolting. Time ceased to register as they made their way across the leaden sea. It seemed as if they would be crossing this water forever. They passed a smaller island on the left. Ahead of it, slightly east, was another, even smaller island.
"We should be able to spot another one soon," Sky said, raising her voice over the waves.
The whole world lit up with the biggest bolt of lightning Moira had ever seen. Her hair stood on end with the electricity, and every detail of the horizon was blotted out. Boom! It was followed immediately by an enormous, rolling peal of thunder that shook Moira right through her body into her bones.
"We must be getting close," Sky said, grim determination on her face. Her eyes were dark, like obsidian, her skin pale and leached of color. Her wet clothes stuck to her tall, graceful figure, and she gripped the tiller hard with both hands.
Morgan turned to Moira. "Don't touch anything metal," she instructed, then lifted her arms to the sky. "Morgan! Don't!" Sky shouted. Startled, Morgan turned to look at her.
"Save your strength," said Sky. "Don't waste it here. I can see the island ahead. We'll need you more later."
Morgan nodded and sat down. Sometimes Moira thought she could see the island, but mostly she could see nothing but rain, highlighted by huge, spiky lightning bolts. The booms of thunder rolled through them incessantly, one merging with another.
The wind picked up. Waves doubled in size and crashed against the boat like wrecking balls, jarring Moira, making her teeth rattle, almost pulling her hands from where they clenched the torn seat cover. When she looked in one direction, she saw a wall of sullen gray water. When she turned her head to look over the other side of the boat, she saw another wall of water. The sea itself seemed to have come alive, awakened by the uneven chortlings of their motor, angry at their presence. It seemed to well up around them, eager to drag them to the bottom of the sea.
No sinking, Moira told the universe. We are not going to sink. This is not the ferry. We are in control. We are protected.
"I see it!" Morgan shouted, pointing off to the right. They had almost passed it-if they'd kept going, they'd have headed out into open sea.
Sky tried to turn the tiller but strained-it was stuck. Morgan joined her, and the two women pulled the long wooden bar with all their strength. The boat creaked ominously-it didn't want to turn-and Moira refused to think about their fate if the tiller should break and they had no way to steer, Iona isn't going to win this, she thought fiercely. She will not win. Just as she was about to go help, the tiller finally budged, working against the waves, the wind, the rain.