by P. C. Cast
“I am not Rhiannon.” I heard Carolan’s satisfied grunt, but I didn’t look at him. My eyes remained locked with my husband’s. “My name is Shannon Parker. This is hard to explain. It’s hard for me to understand, and I’m the person it’s happened to. I come from a different world—a world where many of the people are the same, or as similar as a mirror image or a shadow would be, but the world itself is very different.” I paused, wishing ClanFintan would say something. He stayed silent but nodded like he wanted me to continue. “Somehow Rhiannon found out about my world and she figured out how to trade places with me. It all centered around a pot that had an image of her on the front of it. From the second I saw the pot, everything changed.” I searched for words. “I had no idea what was happening. It seemed like a terrible accident. Actually, I thought I was dead at first.” My eyes pleaded with him to understand. “Remember the day of our marriage? I could hardly speak because I had lost my voice?”
He nodded again.
“It was from the…I don’t know what to call it…the trading of worlds.”
Alanna stepped forward and stood by my side. “She is not Rhiannon, and we are the better for it.”
“How can something that is based upon a lie be better?” ClanFintan’s voice sounded flat and expressionless.
“But it was not her lie! It was mine.” Alanna hurried on when I tried to shush her. “She never wanted to pretend, but she did it because I told her the people needed her.” She looked at me, causing my eyes to break ClanFintan’s cold gaze.
“I wanted you to tell ClanFintan, but I was afraid. At first I was afraid for myself, for what might happen if I was blamed for Rhiannon’s disappearance. Then, after I grew to know you, I was afraid the people would turn upon you if they thought you an impostor.” She looked pointedly at ClanFintan and continued, “Then I worried that those who were close to you would hurt you if your identity was discovered. But I have since realized that our Goddess must be working in this exchange, and that we all have been the better for it.” She took my hand in hers as she spoke directly to the centaur. “If you are angry at being deceived, turn that anger upon me. And, Shaman, before you do, look closely at the gift you have been given. What would your future hold if you truly were handfasted with Rhiannon?”
Carolan’s distinctive laugh surprised me. He put his arms around his new wife and hugged her. Then he, too, faced the centaur.
“His life? Rhiannon’s vindictive nature has touched all of our lives. I will always be grateful that she has banished herself.” He smiled at me, and briefly lifted my hand to his lips. “Welcome, my Lady, Beloved of Epona. May our world bestow upon you the blessings you have so richly brought to us.”
I returned his smile before looking nervously back at ClanFintan.
When he began speaking, his voice was contemplative but still emotionless.
“I knew you were different. Your manner of speech was odd, but at first I told myself that I had never really known you, and perhaps you were simply unique because you were Epona’s Chosen.” He looked at Carolan. “But you are right. I realized she lacked Rhiannon’s malicious nature some time ago.”
Carolan nodded in agreement. ClanFintan’s gaze captured mine once more.
“I said nothing because I hoped that you would trust me enough to confide in me.” His voice had finally regained its emotion, and I was upset to hear the sadness that filled his words.
“I do trust you! It’s just that there didn’t seem to be a right time. And then, well, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to chance losing your love.” My voice had become a whisper.
Yes, damnit. I loved him. It was all so romantic I wanted to puke.
But, spend a night with a shape-shifter who is, well, hung like a horse, and see what happens to you.
Besides all that—he’s one of the good guys, like John Wayne and James Bond. And I’ve always been a sucker for the good guys.
So, I stood there trying to blink away the tears that were threatening to spill from my eyes. ClanFintan sighed heavily and closed the space between us before I could start bawling. He touched my face and cupped my chin in the warmth of his hand.
“My love is something you will never lose.” He bent and kissed me softly, then smiled at my undoubtedly goofy expression. “My patience, perhaps, but never my love.”
I wanted to throw my arms around him and bury my face in his heat, but I could feel Alanna’s and Carolan’s eyes boring joyfully into our romantic interlude.
So I tugged him down to me and reciprocated with a quick kiss and a whispered “I adore you” against his mouth.
About that time my stomach growled loud enough for the whole friggin world to hear, which caused ClanFintan to laugh as he propelled me back to the table. First he reclined, and then he pulled me down so that I could perch in front of him on the side closest to the food. It’s a good thing the chaises were obviously made for at least two (I didn’t want to spend much time contemplating the uses Rhiannon had probably found for them). ClanFintan wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me snugly back against him.
“Have a seat, guys,” I said contentedly.
This time Carolan didn’t hesitate. Instead, he guided Alanna to the chaise and sat next to her. I noticed that he kept one hand always touching her, as if he was afraid she would disappear.
“I’ll bet you really haven’t eaten, have you?” I asked Carolan through a bite of some kind of yummy sweet roll.
He grimaced. “Actually, I missed the blessing this morning because I was helping to birth twins into the world. You are correct—I have not broken my fast.”
“Eat! There’s always plenty.” I glanced over my shoulder at ClanFintan and teased, “It’s like they make enough to feed a horse!”
Carolan almost choked on his porridge, and Alanna, who was, by now, more used to my humor, had to pound him heartily on the back.
ClanFintan didn’t say anything, but while our guests were busy he bit me on the shoulder.
“Yikes!” I gave a little scream. But when the two of them looked questioningly at me, ClanFintan had his deadpan face on again.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I already knew he was a biter.
“Just exactly what should we call you?” Carolan chewed thoughtfully while he studied me.
“Yes.” ClanFintan tilted his head so he could study my face. “You said in your world you were called…” He hesitated, thinking “Shannon Parker.” He made the name sound beautiful and exotic. I wished momentarily that we could throw caution to the clichéd wind, and he could call me by my real name, always.
Then I woke up. Figuratively speaking.
“Shannon is my name, but I don’t think it would be very smart for you guys to start calling me something different. Unless…” I thought I might as well ask. “Do you think we should tell the people who I really am?”
“No!” Alanna, Carolan and ClanFintan all spoke at once.
There was a momentary silence (I guess while they contemplated the horror of letting the general populace know I was me), and then Carolan cleared his throat. We looked expectantly at him.
“Um, I cannot see any good that could come of informing the people. Especially at this volatile time.” He paused and looked searchingly at Alanna. “And it is clear she is Epona’s Chosen?”
“Yes, she is the Beloved of Epona,” Alanna agreed, nodding her head vigorously.
Carolan looked relieved. “Then there is no point in upsetting the structure of the temple, and accordingly the people, by informing them of this—” he searched for words “—fortuitous change.”
ClanFintan and Alanna mumbled a series of agreements.
“Well, okay,” I said, “but Rhiannon did a lot of things I don’t agree with.”
“Good!” ClanFintan’s exclamation made us laugh.
I kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Rhea, the people love you.” She smiled in the direction of my centaur. “And your warriors fear you, which
is why they do not speak freely about Rhiannon’s habits.” Her gaze shifted back to me. “Be yourself. That will correct Rhiannon’s errors.”
That sounded good to me.
“But what do we call you?” ClanFintan asked.
“I like what Alanna calls me. Rhea. It’s not Rhiannon—it’s something that’s distinctly me—but it’s not so different that it would cause a big problem.”
They nodded assent, and we all chewed happily for a while.
“Too bad everything’s not as easily solved as that,” I succinctly said.
They mumbled yes to that, too.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t let it rest at that. I mean, if I was going to live in this world we were going to have to get rid of those vampire-things.
“Okay, Carolan…” My voice forced his attention reluctantly from his new wife. “Tell us what you know about the Fomorians.”
“They are evil incarnate.”
“No kidding?” I mean, hello, we knew that already.
He barely blinked at my interruption, and proceeded in his history-teacher lecture mode.
“They were a species that came from the far east.”
I felt ClanFintan’s startled reaction, which made me remember that the map that zapped me had shown all the land to the east of the river as centaur lands.
“Yes, before centaurs dwelt in the grassy plains.” Carolan acknowledged my husband’s chagrin, then continued, “The legends are obscure. At first there was very little contact between the people of Partholon and the Fomorians. But there seems to have been a long drought, followed by a great fire on the grasslands where the Fomorians dwelt. The fire could not be contained. The Fomorians were in peril of being incinerated, and they came to our ancestors for help. They needed to cross over the Geal River, which they said would be impossible without aid from Partholon.”
“Huh?” I gave him a confused look.
“According to legend, Fomorians must stay connected to the soil of the earth. It is to them their life’s blood, so they cannot cross running water.”
“Wait a second—they have wings. If they have to stay connected to the earth, how can they fly?”
“Excellent point.” He smiled. “There is never any reference to them actually flying. They were described as—” he cleared his throat and squinted his eyes, searching for the exact words “—gliding demons. Not flying demons. I assume their wings function like a flying squirrel’s wings. Not real, birdlike pinions, just an apparatus that helps to manipulate the wind.”
I remembered their horrible, ground-eating strides and had to agree with him.
Carolan continued, “The people of Partholon met and decided it would be an abomination to allow them to die in the flames, or to die of famine after the fire burned itself out. So an enormous bridge was constructed over the Geal River, one that was fashioned of timbers layered with soil, then more timbers and more soil. Actually, the remains of that bridge can be found not far from here.” We just stared at him until he took a gulp of wine and spoke again. “The Fomorians crossed over and our two races attempted to live in peace together.”
“I have only heard that the Fomorians were stories made up to frighten small children.” ClanFintan interrupted Carolan’s lecture. “Why is it not known that the people of Partholon aided them to come here?”
“There were very few written records of the Fomorians. Only scribes would know that the stories even exist, and most of the records are so ancient they are difficult to decipher, so few scribes bother to study the crumbling tomes.”
ClanFintan’s look told me scribes must be celibate—or girls (or nerds) or something.
As if reading my mind, Carolan chuckled. “Unless someone with scribe training happens to be a historian with too much free time and curiosity.”
Alanna squeezed his hand and they smiled sweetly at each other.
He continued, “So, you see, the only legends that survived as oral tales for the bards to tell were those that originated after the war.”
All three of us looked surprised. It was a relief not to be the only clueless one this time.
“Yes, the oral legends only tell about what happened after the Fomorians crossed the Geal River.”
I thought about how things worked in my old world and decided that it all made sense. I mean, please, there were numerous politicians who would have thought life would be much easier if most of the people couldn’t read or write (or hire lawyers and get on 60 Minutes).
“So what do the oral legends tell us?” I piped in.
“The Fomorians were weakened, and their numbers were few, but their true nature was soon known. It is written that they were a race of demons, generally monstrous and hideous, who dabbled in dark powers.” He held up his hand and counted off items on his fingers. “They liked to drink the blood of humans. They were physically discomforted if they walked about in the sunlight. They could not cross running water. They thought themselves beyond all laws of nature and Epona.” He grimaced.
I thought they sounded a lot like Fidel Castro, but that comparison would take a seriously long time to explain, so I kept quiet.
“Legends say a war ensued. The Fomorians were small in number. They were defeated, forced through the pass in the Trier Mountains, and banished to the far north. Then Guardian Castle was erected to stand as sentinel of the pass. It has blocked the pass for generations.”
“Not anymore,” I said.
“The northland should have destroyed them,” Carolan replied. “It is too cold and desolate there. The sun shines brightly, but it gives off no heat. They should have disappeared into the bad dreams of children.”
“Well, they’re back.” I said it with the Poltergeist inference. It was pretty safe to assume they hadn’t seen the movie—but they understood the implication.
“How can they be killed?” ClanFintan’s voice cut the air between us.
“Unfortunately, they are remarkably resilient. Cut off their heads. Burn them. That will kill them.” He looked apologetically at the centaur. “Legend says they are difficult to kill.”
“Did the legends say anything about them mating with humans?” I thought I should inquire.
“No!” Carolan looked shocked. “There were not many of them, but they had females of their own kind.”
“Well, they still have females,” I said, remembering the winged things that had grabbed the fetus out of that poor woman’s womb. “But it doesn’t look like they’re making babies with them. They’re making babies with human girls and letting the, uh, fetal things rip out of the mothers’ wombs.”
Carolan paled.
“That is what is happening to the women.” ClanFintan’s statement was like a death knell.
“Then they are multiplying,” Carolan said quietly.
That sounded bad.
“Yes,” ClanFintan answered. “Before Ian died he reported that there were many of them.”
“You have to stop them.” Alanna’s voice was verging on shrill.
Carolan put his arm around her in a gesture that was so familiar to me that, for an instant, I could almost believe I was back in my condo, and Gene and Suz had stopped in for brunch. It was an eerie feeling, this blending of two worlds, and it made me disconcertingly dizzy. I had to avert my eyes…and my gaze was caught by the rear end of my husband—who was most definitely half horse. Which gave me a very decisive reality check. This world didn’t play by the same rules I was used to. No cars. No planes. No TV (thank God) where violence was relegated to the realm of what happened only to other people.
For a moment I was overwhelmed by the reality of the situation. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and I had been thrust into a position of authority at a time when these people really needed someone who knew what the hell she was doing. I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead, a sure sign I was getting a tension headache.
And my husband’s strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me securely back against his warmth. I felt the tension begin
to drain from me as I remembered that I was not alone. I opened my eyes and smiled up at him.
“They were defeated once before,” he said with finality. “They will be defeated again.”
“And this time Partholon is allied with the mighty centaur warriors,” Carolan reminded us.
ClanFintan bowed his head in acknowledgment of Carolan’s compliment and gave me a rakish leer. “Aye, there are few things a centaur and a human together cannot accomplish.”
Alanna giggled and I think I blushed. But I got his point. We needed to work together to get rid of the Fomorians. I could either sit here and worry, letting other people (and half animals) think for me, or I could act. I have always been a firm believer in facing problems. Experience teaches that there are very few bad things that will simply go away if they’re ignored (a concept teenagers have a difficult time grasping). Quite frankly, I’d rather do something and be wrong than sit around and grow moss (which really couldn’t be very attractive anyway).
“So they just attacked Laragon Castle,” I said. “If I remember from my one look at the map of Partholon, the only things close to Laragon Castle are a big lake, and—” I cut myself off as I remembered what was on the other side of the lake.
“The Temple of the Muse!” Alanna’s voice held the horror I was feeling.
“Ohmygod, aren’t they just a bunch of women?” I asked Alanna.
Carolan answered me. “Yes. There are nine Incarnate Goddesses. Each is a mistress of her particular craft.” His tone was sober and he sounded worried as he explained, “Each of them also has many attendants and neophytes. The Temple of the Muse is where the most beautiful and talented young women of Partholon are schooled in the arts of dance, poetry, music, the sciences, etcetera. Women who successfully complete their training are respected for their intelligence and education, as well as their grace and beauty.” Then he added, “Rhiannon was trained by the Muses.”
“But don’t they have guards like I have here?” This was looking really bad.
“No. Epona is a goddess of warriors. It is only logical that guards should surround Her Chosen. The Muses are not warriors; they are teachers of art and beauty and science. They have no need of guards.”