Brighid’s Quest

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

At least the child was being quiet. Except for the occasional spray of pebbles that his pretend magic hooves dislodged, the Huntress had to admit that Liam was moving silently along the narrow path above her. There was no giggling, no flapping of wings, no constant barrage of questions. Maybe keeping the young busy was the key to controlling them. Brighid glanced up in time to see the tip of one wing disappear ahead of her as the sides of the pass veered sharply to the right and Liam followed the goat trail along the turn.

No, she should know better. She wasn’t in control of the boy. He was off in his own pretend world where he was a magic centaur Huntress. It was just dumb luck that part of his pretense included temporary silence. Had she been like that when she was young? Filled with fantasies and imagination while she chattered incessantly and hopped about? The Huntress sighed. She didn’t ever remember being that young-it seemed like she’d been born old, weighed down by the responsibilities of tradition and her mother’s expectations.

The breeze swirled around her, feeling suddenly several degrees cooler. Brighid shivered and looked up at the sinking sun. How long had she and Liam been hunting? The sheer sides of the pass were almost completely made of gray stone in this section of the tunnel-like trail. No wonder it looked darker here. At least the red brightened the shadowy gloom. The gray seemed to suck in the waning light of the sun as if the walls themselves wanted to steal the spirit of the day.

The Huntress shivered again and felt the soft hair at the back of her neck lift. Her eyes skimmed up the gray rock walls. Where had that boy gone? She couldn’t see anything past the sharp turn. Damn it! He shouldn’t be that far ahead of her. She stopped and listened to the wind. Was that the echo of a goat’s bleat? She thought it might be and concentrated harder…

The screech from above had her pulling an arrow from the quiver slung across her back and notching her bow so quickly that had anyone been watching all they would have seen was the silver-blond blur of Brighid’s practiced movement. She aimed the bow at the sound and the breath caught in her throat.

Circling above her was a silver hawk with gold-tipped wings. As if waiting for her full attention, it soared down on the air currents, folding its wings and diving directly at Brighid. The Huntress felt like a statue, frozen with the arrow notched in place, unable to do anything but stare at the beautiful bird as it rode the air. The bird’s golden eye captured Brighid’s gaze, and within its avian depths the centaur saw the reflection of her own soul.

Brighid Felt their connection. Freedom…power…courage…a seeker of justice…a warrior…might used for right. The words blasted through the centaur’s consciousness in a clear, unfamiliar voice. I belong to you and you to me. It is past time you acknowledge our bond, Sister. The hawk screeched again as it skimmed above Brighid’s body, so close that the wind under its wings caused Brighid’s hair to move in response.

And like a bothersome black fly from the lowlands, something bit Brighid hard, squarely in the middle of her equine back.

A gift. Something that has too long been hidden…much like our bond and the power that is your heritage.

Utterly off balance, Brighid spun around and stared after the golden bird, her equine skin still twitching from the sharp bite. Had the damned bird clawed her?

Look down.

Brighid’s gaze fell and she saw the stone. Its rich blue-green color stood out against the drab slate path, an oasis of color in a desert of gray. The centaur picked it up, intrigued by its brilliant coloring and the smooth, warm feel of it against her skin. It reminded her of something…

Above her, the circling bird screeched again, and Brighid’s head snapped up.

He needs you.

“He?” Brighid called into the air.

The voice in her head was suddenly a shout. Liam!

Liam? Brighid kicked into a controlled gallop, placing the turquoise stone within her inner vest pocket. As she hurried forward she could feel its hard round shape press sharply against the softness of her breast.

The walls and the rising wind muffled the sound of her hooves as she slid around the abrupt turn, her eyes moving restlessly from the treacherous ground in front of her to the sheer sides of the rock walls. There was no sign of the winged boy.

“Liam!” she yelled. The boy’s name bounced eerily off the walls and came back to her like a half-forgotten memory.

By the Goddess! She had a bad Feeling about this! She should never have allowed the child to be separated from the rest of the group. She and Cuchulainn had agreed on the importance of staying together. Who knew how many hidden dangers the rugged mountains held? Then there was the hawk and the voice that warned her Liam needed her. What, by the Goddess’s silver breastplate, was that all about?

And where was the boy? How far ahead of her had he gotten? She’d had no idea he could move so fast. She vaulted over a heap of rock and rubble, stumbled, and then caught her balance. Gritting her teeth and silently cursing the Goddess-forsaken roughness of the trail, she increased her speed.

Once again the pass veered sharply to the right. She skidded around the curve, almost losing her balance as her hooves slipped on the slick rock floor. Here the pass was broader, opening to a width of several centaurs. Gray boulders dotted the ground haphazardly so that Brighid had to slow down to wind her way between them.

She Felt it. Someone was watching her. Instinctively she raised her bow along with her eyes, and was washed with relief. Above and ahead of her the unmistakable shape of Liam’s little head and the tips of his wings jutted just over the edge of the chasm. When he saw the Huntress looking his way, the boy waved gaily at her. Brighid sighed and lowered her bow. He was too far away to hear her, so she lifted her arm and signaled for him to come to her.

What had been the damned bird’s problem? Liam was fine. Or had the voice come from the hawk at all? She glanced warily down the dreary pass. Who knew what malevolence lurked within these mountains? Ciara had sensed something that made her wary. Perhaps the restless spirits of her people were prowling around. It seemed likely they would enjoy causing trouble. The turquoise stone pressed against her breast. Was she imagining its warmth?

She pushed the confusion from her mind. Later. When the children were safely deposited at MacCallan Castle, then she would have time to think about the oddness of this day, and the glimpses into the spirit realm she had been gifted with all too often during this journey.

Gifted…

The Huntress’s skin twitched as if another stone had fallen from the sky. Realization made her suck in a breath. Ciara had told her to be careful what she asked of the spirit realm… The blue-green stone pressed warmly against her breast, sending a flush of knowledge through her body.

It was a soul-catcher, gifted to her through her spirit guide. The thought made her feel light-headed.

Later! She repeated the word sternly to herself. The Huntress shook herself and glanced up at the gray wall, trying to see Liam as he moved in and out of the deepening shadows. For now she should just forget about the wild goats and return Liam to the rest of the group. It was getting late; they would be worried about her and the boy’s absence had more than likely been discovered. Brighid grimaced, imagining the scene with Cuchulainn when she returned with Liam chirping about being her apprentice and helping her hunt.

She squinted up at movement along the ledge. Liam was suddenly visible, his winged shape silhouetted clearly against the deep blue-gray of the sky as he scrambled toward her.

Brighid opened her mouth to call a reminder to him to be careful, even though it was obvious that the child was as comfortable scaling the heights as were the damned elusive goats. But she did not have a chance to speak the words.

The day exploded in violence.

She heard the familiar twang of an arrow being loosed. Instinctively she launched herself forward.

“Liam! Get down!”

The boy stood frozen, wings spread as he balanced on the edge. He was a panicked statue. An easy target. The black arrow tore through his right wing.

“No!” Brighid shouted, but the word was drowned out by the child’s scream of pain. The boy crumpled. The wounded wing lay brokenly over the edge of the chasm, along with most of Liam’s upper body. Oh, Goddess! He’s going to fall! The Huntress’s hooves bit into the gray shale shooting sparks as she cut through the maze of boulders, feeling more than seeing the way because she couldn’t take her eyes from Liam. Fervently and silently she prayed to Epona that there would be no more arrows-that the boy wouldn’t tumble to his death.

“Hold on! I’m coming! Don’t move!” she called to him.

A hawk’s shriek sounded from atop the opposite wall of the pass. Brighid wrenched her gaze from Liam to see the hawk diving like a golden arrow at a dark-clothed warrior. The man dropped his bow and used both arms to cover his head, trying to dodge the bird’s talons.

“He’s just a child, you fool!” Brighid screamed. She saw the warrior’s head turn in her direction and his body jerk in obvious surprise, but she had no more time for him-she’d have to trust the hawk to keep him from firing another arrow. Liam needed her.

She slid to a stop beneath the boy.

“It’s going to be fine,” she called up to him as she frantically searched the rock wall for the narrow goat path. Liam’s sobs echoed around her. There! Half an equine length up the wall was a roughly hewn trail. She bit off a curse as she approached it. The damned thing was two hand lengths wide! The centaur followed it up with her eyes. Yes, it got wider-by maybe another hand width. She’d never be able to climb the trail. Despite all of her strength and agility, it was physically impossible. She needed a human’s body to scale the wall.

Brighid looked at the boy and her stomach rolled. He had managed to drag himself away from the edge, but his wounded wing still hung limply down the side of the rock wall, smearing scarlet stains against the gray stone.

Call the warrior. The voice was inside her head again. Use your connection and call for him.

Brighid didn’t need to look up. She heard the angry cries of the bowman and the predatory shrieks of the hawk. She knew the voice came from the bird-her spirit ally.

“Brighid!” Her name was a sob.

“I’m here, Liam.” The Huntress pressed her palms against the side of the pass, staring up at the wounded boy. “You’re going to be fine. Just be brave a little while longer. You can be brave for me, can’t you?”

Liam started to nod his head, but broke off with a moan. “It hurts,” he said, biting his lip to keep from sobbing.

“I know, brave one, I know. I’m going to get help, though.”

“Don’t leave me!”

“I won’t,” she assured him. “I don’t have to.”

Liam’s eyes met the centaur’s steady gaze. “Magic?”

“Magic,” she said. Oh, Goddess she hoped so. She closed her eyes and did the only thing she could-Brighid followed her gut instinct. He’d come to her in her dreams…dreams were only another part of consciousness…always there, just more elusive when one was awake…

She thought of her friend, the happy warrior with the ready laugh and the ability to draw people as bees to wildflowers.

Damn it, Cuchulainn! I need your help! Come to me!

Was it her imagination, or did she hear the whisper of Cuchulainn’s laughter?

Ciara jogged alongside Cuchulainn’s gelding. With her dark wings spread she used the gliding Fomorian gait to easily keep pace with the big horse. “Liam is not with the animals, and none of the adults have seen him since the last rest break,” she said. “He seems to have vanished.”

Cuchulainn grunted in annoyance and frowned down the stretch of pass that yawned ahead of them. “I have an idea where the boy might have gone.”

Ciara’s relief was obvious. “I didn’t even think about that! Yes, he must have followed the Huntress.”

“I wouldn’t sound too pleased. Brighid is very unpleasant when she’s angry.” She’s even prickly when she’s not, Cuchulainn added to himself. “The boy is bound to learn a lesson in what it’s really like to be apprenticed to a surly old Huntress.”

“Old?” Ciara laughed. “Brighid is young and attractive.”

Cu grunted. “She’s old inside-old and prickly.”

It was in the middle of Ciara’s laughing response that he Felt it. He jerked his gelding to a rough halt. A sense of joy, of youthful unbound happiness flashed through him, making him gasp with surprise.

“Cuchulainn, what…”

The warrior heard no more of what the winged woman said. With the heady happiness came something else, something Cuchulainn hadn’t experienced in many phases of the moon. The knowledge of what was happening settled within his mind like a nightmare as the vision slammed into him. Against suddenly blind eyes he saw Brighid. Her hands were pressed against the side of the pass and blood streamed down the stone walls all around her. Damn it, Cuchulainn! I need your help! Come to me! The words rang in his head.

“Brighid!” he cried. The vision disappeared. With it the fleeting sense of happiness evaporated and the world around him returned in a rush.

Ciara was grasping his arm and peering up into his face.

“What did you see? What’s wrong with Brighid?”

“She’s calling me.” He shook loose from her. “Tell the adults to keep the children close and to be wary.”

“Don’t worry about us. Go to her.”

Instead of answering, Cuchulainn dug his heals into the gelding’s sides and gave the horse his head.