by P. C. Cast
The winged Shaman’s voice was hypnotic—a perfect mixture of music and magic.
There is a time for life
and a time for death.
Your Summerland is warm, pleasing, beautiful
with all ills gone and youth renewed.
Joyous it is, to walk with the Goddess in Her fields of clover.
So let us rejoice, for Niam rests in Epona’s bosom
safe, happy, replete.
She danced ever closer to the pyre. Raising her hands over her head her dark wings began to unfurl, spreading around her like a living veil.
O spirit of fire
grant release from pain.
With Your purifying flame
heal those who remain in this realm
and speed and cleanse the soul of this one
who is loved
into the beautiful realm of our Goddess.
I call upon Thee—
Alight!
From Ciara’s palms silver sparks rained, setting the pyre to flame with a glorious white light that caused Brighid to shield her eyes from its brilliance. Gasps of awe sounded from the watching crowd as the fire burned high and bright. As it consumed Niam’s body Brighid felt the healing heat that radiated from the pyre. It lifted the chill from that sad place within her soul that had been so dark and cold since the raven had shrieked at her in her mother’s dying voice.
She looked at Cu. He pulled his eyes from the blaze and met hers.
“We’ve honored death. Are you ready to take the next step with me and honor life?” she asked the warrior.
“I’ve had enough of death, my beautiful Huntress.” He pitched his voice so that the words were for her ears alone. “I am more than ready to honor life.”
Her tense expression softened just a little. “Thank you, Cuchulainn.” She looked from him to his mother, but as was usual with Epona’s Beloved, few words were needed for her to understand.
“You want it to be here and now,” Etain said.
“We do.” Brighid nodded.
“Then let us make it so.” Etain stepped forward, replacing Ciara before the blazing fire. The instant the Beloved of Epona raised one slender hand the crowd became absolutely silent.
“Today death has been purified by flame and prayer. Now we will celebrate the full circle of life through the purity of the sacred handfast ritual. Cuchulainn and Brighid, please come forward.”
The crowd stirred with a surprised rustle as the warrior and Huntress joined Etain.
Etain smiled. She spoke directly to the two of them, but she projected her voice so that it carried across the castle grounds.
“You begin a long journey today. In some ways it is a journey familiar and ancient—the joining of two who love and pledge themselves together. And in some ways you begin the quest for something totally new and unique—a love that is built more on spirit than body, and depends upon courage as well as the cooperation of the Otherworld for its consummation.” Her smile grew and warmed. “You already know that you have Epona’s blessing. Know that you have mine, too.”
She nodded to her son and the warrior turned to face Brighid. He held his hands out to her, and without hesitation she pressed her palms against his. Their eyes met and held.
“I, Cuchulainn MacCallan, do take you, Brighid Dhianna, in handfast this day. I agree to protect you from fire even if the sun should fall, from water even if the sea should rage and from earth even if it should shake in tumult. And I will honor your name as if it were my own.” His deep voice was strong and true.
“I, Brighid Dhianna, do take you, Cuchulainn MacCallan, in handfast this day,” Brighid began, wondering at the fact that her voice sounded so calm when everything inside her was shaking. “I agree that no fire or flame shall part us, no lake or seas shall drown us and no earthly mountains shall separate us. And I will honor your name as if it were my own.”
“So has it been spoken,” Cuchulainn said.
“So shall it be done,” Brighid said the words that completed the ritual.
Cuchulainn pulled gently on her hands so that she took a step closer to him. Before their lips met he murmured, “Now we’re truly in it together, my beautiful Huntress.”
The youthful cheer that sounded as they kissed caused them to start and break apart. All of the New Fomorian children were shouting and clapping and jumping around with much rustling of wings and waving of arms.
“Children…” Brighid sighed and shook her head, though she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “They can never be still.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Cu said, sliding his hand in hers again. “May the Goddess bless them.”
37
CLAN MACCALLAN WAS definitely not as enthusiastic in their reaction to the handfast as the children. They weren’t rude. They didn’t withdraw from the new couple—congratulations were duly given. The right sounds and motions were made, but Brighid noticed that few Clan members would actually meet her eyes. She was the only female MacCallan centaur, but several males had joined the Clan. None of them spoke to her, although she noticed that Cuchulainn approached each of them, and they did offer congratulations to the warrior—albeit with little warmth.
So it begins. Get used to it. It will be far worse with the herd.
She shuddered, not wanting to think that far ahead. The night to come was daunting enough.
Brighid drifted away from the small group that had been gathered around Cu, his sister, their parents and Lochlan. It was easy enough to slip away. Not many of the humans were talking to her anyway. Moving with heavy steps she made her way to stand before her sister’s still smoldering pyre.
Goddess, what have I gotten myself into?
“You’re very quiet,” Cuchulainn said.
She glanced guiltily at him, not sure what to say—or what not to say.
“Tell me,” Cu said. “We’ve always been honest with each other.” His smile was quick and endearing. “Even when we didn’t particularly like each other.”
“The only reason I didn’t like you was because you were so damn arrogant,” Brighid told him.
“Me?” Cuchulainn pointed in mock innocence to his chest. “I think you have me confused with my sister.”
Brighid snorted, but she did smile at him.
The warrior—who was now her husband—took her hand. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.
“I’m wondering what I’ve gotten myself into,” she said bluntly.
Cuchulainn laughed. “I know exactly what you mean.”
She frowned at him. “Are you sorry we did it?”
His laughter instantly sobered. “No, Brighid. I am not sorry.”
She sighed and looked down at their joined hands. “The Clan doesn’t approve.”
“I think the Clan is more surprised than disapproving. We’re doing something that’s never been done before. The only centaur and human who have ever mated are the High Shaman and Epona’s Beloved. It will take people—and centaurs—time to get used to us.”
“If they ever do.”
“Would it bother you so much if some people never approved of us?”
“Yes. More than I thought it would,” she said. “I’ve come to think of MacCallan Castle as my home, and I find that it bothers me a great deal to think of being rejected yet again.”
“They’re just surprised, maybe even shocked. I think eventually they’ll get used to us. You’ll see.”
“That’s part of the problem,” she said. “I won’t have time to see.”
“We must leave that soon?”
Brighid drew a deep breath. “Today.”
Cuchulainn opened his mouth, and then closed it. She saw his jaw tighten, but instead of arguing with her, he nodded.
“I have to—we have to,” she corrected at his sharp look. “I don’t know how much you know of the quest for the High Shaman’s Chalice…” She paused. He looked uncomfortable. He ran his fingers through his hair, and blew out a short, irritated breath.
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��I know nothing about it. All my life I’ve focused on mastering things I can see…feel…best with the strength of my body or my sword. It is a frustrating irony for me that now all of my hard-won mastery seems to be of no use to me whatsoever.”
“Except for tapping into the spirits of animals, I, too, have avoided the Otherworld. As with the soul-retrieval, I know little more than you of dealings with the spirit realm. The Otherworld has always meant my mother to me—and I have spent my life avoiding her dominance, so I avoided it, too. I do know something of the High Shaman’s Quest, though, because she intended for me to drink of the Chalice. She educated me, probably thinking she could tempt me with the lure of power. She failed. I would never have touched the Chalice on my mother’s terms.”
“You’ll drink of the Chalice, Brighid. But it will be on your own terms,” Cuchulainn said.
Brighid’s gaze drifted back to her sister’s funeral pyre. “I’m going to use what my mother told me, and then do what I did with your soul-retrieval—try to think of it as a hunt.”
“We’ll track the Chalice?”
“We’ll try,” she said. “But we can’t begin from here. A High Shaman’s Quest is three parts spirit, one part body. We must travel away from the castle where we can be physically separated from this world and the problems of those who populate it, men, centaurs and Fomorians, new and otherwise. Once we’re more isolated, entering the Otherworld will be—” her lips twisted into what she knew was a parody of a smile as she stared at the pile of burned pine timbers “—well, I won’t say it’ll be easier, but at least if we separate ourselves from all of this the Otherworld should be more available to us.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Cu said. “And you want to begin today?”
“I don’t want to!” she cried, and then took a tighter hold on her emotions. “I don’t want to,” she repeated more calmly. “But I can think of nothing else to do except ride the tide of events to their conclusion, and it feels to me that the tide is swelling with an oncoming flood. All of the time my mother was wounded and dying my brother will have been questing for the Chalice, probably with at least some measure of aid and guidance from her. He has many days on us, and the help of a High Shaman. We have catching up to do.”
“We also have Epona’s blessing. I cannot believe he does,” Cu said.
“Because we have the Goddess’s blessing does not mean that I will be granted her Chalice before Bregon, or even that I will be granted it at all.”
“We have catching up to do,” Cuchulainn agreed grimly. “We’ll leave today.”
“Cuchulainn,” she said as he began to turn away, stopping him. “If there was some other way, you know I would take it. This place…this Clan…it has been more of a home to me than I have known for most of my life.”
“This will always be home to us. Elphame will make sure of it.”
“But we won’t be able to live here, not if I become Dhianna High Shaman. We’ll have to stay with the herd, at least until things are settled. And even afterward. A High Shaman does not leave her herd for long.”
“I knew that when I handfasted with you, Brighid,” Cuchulainn said.
“And you were willing to leave your home for me?”
“I don’t think of it as leaving my home for you. I think of it as making a second home with you.” He smiled and raised her hand to his lips. “And we will return to MacCallan Castle, even if it’s just to let our children play with their cousins.”
Brighid felt a nervous thrill at his words. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
He grinned. “That I am, but I’m more sure of you, my beautiful Huntress.”
In his eyes she saw the truth of his words. She could depend upon his trust and belief and honesty. Before she could stop and think herself out of it, she kissed him quickly on the lips, and was rewarded with his brilliant smile.
“Don’t be so cocky. I’m going to make you tell El that we’re leaving,” Brighid said, trying to cover how breathless his touch made her feel.
Cuchulainn’s smile didn’t waver. “Excellent idea. And while I’m doing that, you’ll be telling Liam the same thing.” He kissed her hand again and then strode over to his sister.
Brighid looked across the castle grounds. Liam stood beside the Stonemaster Danann, talking in animated little bursts to the patient old centaur.
“Damn…” she breathed. Squaring her shoulders, she made her way to the boy. She’d just get it over with. Quickly. No point in putting it off.
“…And then I saw the bright red splotchy that was all angry and I knew it was the boar and Brighid told me that I was right that it really was a boar because it smelled like mud and anger and then she—” The boy broke off his breathless recital when he caught sight of his Huntress. “Brighid! Brighid! I was just telling Danann about the boar and how its tracks smelled and he said I did a really good job and then I was saying that—”
Brighid’s raised hand ended his chatter, thank the Goddess.
“Excuse me, Danann, but I need to speak privately with my apprentice,” she said.
The old centaur smiled indulgently at the boy. “I bow to your Mistress, child.” Then he turned his smile to Brighid. “And I have yet to congratulate you, Huntress. Cuchulainn is a mighty warrior and a good man. My wish for you is that the two of you have many years of happiness together.”
“Th-thank you!” Brighid stuttered, taken completely off guard by the old Stonemaster’s kindness.
He bowed respectfully to her and left her alone with the boy.
“I’m so glad you handfasted with Cuchulainn!” Liam chirruped. “He’s very strong and honorable and I think he might be almost as good with a bow as you are.”
Brighid quirked an eyebrow at the child. “Almost as good with a bow as I am?”
Liam grinned impishly. “Well, almost. But no one’s as good as you are, Mistress!”
He was, quite simply, adorable. By the Goddess, she didn’t want to leave the boy! She wanted to hurt him even less.
“One day,” she said, “you will be as good as I am, Liam.”
The boy’s face lit with happiness. “Do you really think so?”
“I do,” she said solemnly. “But first there is much you have to learn, and many difficulties you must endure.”
“I’ll work hard. I promise.”
“I know you will, Liam. I’m already proud of the Huntress you will become.” As the boy wriggled and beamed under her praise she realized that they weren’t just empty words. The boy had a gift. No, he obviously wasn’t a centaur, but if he wanted to title himself a Huntress, what harm was there in it? He could learn the ways of the hunt. She would be proud to claim such a brave, loyal child as her own.
But she wasn’t here to praise him. She was here to tell him she was leaving.
“Liam, you know that my sister died bringing news to me.”
His jumping about stilled at her serious tone and he nodded. “Yes, I know that.”
“The news she brought was not good. My mother is dead.”
“Oh! I’m sorry, Brighid,” the boy said, blinking his eyes quickly.
Oh, Goddess! Please, no crying, she thought and went hastily on. “My mother’s death has caused many problems with my herd. I am the eldest daughter, and my mother was our High Shaman. Do you know what that means?”
He screwed up his forehead in thought. “You’re supposed to be High Shaman next?”
“Yes.”
“But you can’t be! You’re a Huntress!”
“I know. I never wanted to be High Shaman. That’s why I left my herd. I’ve never wanted to be anything except a Huntress.” She smiled gently at him. “Just like you. But sometimes we don’t always get exactly what we want.”
Liam started to shake his head from side to side, and Brighid bent to cup his small shoulders with her hands.
“I have to go to the Centaur Plains and put things to order. I have to take my mother’s place or terrible things will happen.�
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“Then I’ll go with you!”
She squeezed his shoulders, feeling his body trembling beneath her hands. “You cannot.”
“But I don’t want to be away from you,” he whispered, trying desperately not to cry.
Brighid felt her chest grow hot and heavy. She wasn’t a mother; she didn’t know what to say to the boy to make his hurt better. Her own mother had never comforted her. How was she supposed to know how to deal with this? Maybe it would be best if she was short with him, or angry with him. Then he might not be so sad without her.
No. That sounded like something Mairearad Dhianna would do to a child—use anger instead of facing the pain of love. Brighid would not be her mother. She would not repeat her mistakes.
She touched the side of the child’s face gently. “I don’t want to be away from you, either, Liam. And I’ll make you a promise right now. When I set order to the Dhianna Herd I will send for you. You will always have a home with me.”
One small tear spilled over and ran down his cheek. “But what do I do until then?”
“If your Mistress will allow, we would be honored to have you join us at Epona’s Temple,” Etain said.
Brighid glanced up as Etain and Midhir approached. The Goddess Incarnate crouched down beside the boy and wiped a soft hand across his cheek, drying the tear.
“We have a Huntress there, too,” Etain said.
“But maybe she won’t think that I can be a Huntress. She might think I’m just a boy with wings,” Liam said, biting his lip as he tried to keep from crying.
“You are apprenticed to the MacCallan Huntress.” Midhir’s deep voice boomed from above the boy. “If anyone questions your right to follow the path of the Huntress, they will have to question me.”
Liam stared up at the massive centaur, his wide-eyed expression clearly saying that he didn’t think anyone would ever dare to question Midhir. Then his gaze turned back to Brighid.
“I’ll do what my Mistress wants me to do,” he said, and his voice shook only a little.
“I think going to Epona’s Temple is an excellent idea,” Brighid said. “Moira, the Lead Huntress of Partholon is there.” She glanced quickly at Midhir, who nodded encouragement. “I’m sure she will help you study your tracking until I call for you.” Then Brighid ruffled the boy’s hair. “And remember, Epona’s Temple borders the Centaur Plains.”