Brighid’s Quest

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Her chamber had been aired and made ready for her. It had been built as an addition to the warrior’s barracks, an extension of the long, narrow room that currently housed the New Fomorians. Elphame had ordered a thick wall constructed between the traditional barracks and the Huntress’s quarters, and she had even insisted the spacious room have a private entrance. Brighid didn’t need all the fuss, but her Chieftain had shrugged off Brighid’s protestations and created a chamber befitting the MacCallan Huntress. It was private and well appointed. And, Brighid noted with pleasure, in the days she had been gone someone had hung a tapestry depicting the Centaur Plains, flush with spring wildflowers and dotted with dark bison, along one of the walls.

“May the Goddess bless her,” Brighid whispered, knowing that it was Elphame who had covered Brighid’s walls with scenes from her childhood. Elphame understood her well.

One of the housekeepers had been considerate enough to start a cheery fire in the hearth, as well as light the sets of tall candelabrum that stood like iron sentinels around the room. The long, narrow chamber was sparsely furnished with a large dresser, a sturdily built table-constructed to centaur proportions-and an enormous down-filled mattress, which rested directly on the marble floor.

Brighid drew in a long breath, loving the familiar scent of the MacCallan candles, which were made by crushing oily leaves of local lavender into the wax. Then she smiled. May the Goddess bless Wynne and her bevy of cooks! On the table sat a basket filled with cold meats, cheeses, bread, dried fruit and-best of all-a skin of-she uncapped it and took a long, deep pull-excellent red wine from Etain’s own vineyards.

Brighid popped a piece of cheese in her mouth. They knew her habits. They understood that she enjoyed a snack during the night and that sometimes she rose even before the cooks. They wanted to make sure she had provisions. They cared.

She hadn’t lived here for more than three full cycles of the moon, yet every scent, every face, every touch, spoke to her of safety and acceptance. I think I’ve finally found my place.

It was a unique, wondrous experience to have a castle filled with people who worried after her and cared about her comfort. What would her mother think if she could see this? Brighid shook her head. Her mother wouldn’t ever see this, even if she were to stand in this very room. Mairearad Dhianna could see only shadows, never the light that cast them. She would find fault with Clan MacCallan and belittle their affection for Brighid.

Why was she thinking about her mother? That part of her life was over.

It was because she was so damned tired. The trip had been exhausting. She just needed to sleep. She’d be herself in the morning. Tomorrow she’d be sure the New Fomorians were settled-there was talk of building a village for them on the plateau south of the castle. Perhaps she would take Liam there.

She sighed, methodically blowing out the scented candles, until the only light came from the flickering hearth fire. What was she going to do about Liam? She’d proclaimed him her apprentice. She’d have to begin training him. Tracking, she thought with satisfaction, set him at scouting out different tracks-identifying…following…naming…categorizing. Tracking took most apprentice Huntresses years to master. She’d just keep him busy.

If she got lucky, he’d lose interest.

Ignoring the hard lump of the turquoise stone in her breast pocket, the Huntress shrugged out of her vest, and poured fresh water from the pitcher to the bowl that waited atop the dresser. Using the thick linen towel she found hanging from a hook shaped like a dagger, she freshened herself, and then she sighed deeply as she settled on her bed. Tonight she would sleep soundly. Tomorrow she would consider all the ramifications of the turquoise stone and the soul retrieval and the damned golden hawk she had conveniently been too busy to mention except to Cuchulainn. Tomorrow would be soon enough…

She wasn’t aware of dreaming. She was just content, drifting on a cloud of serenity. There were no children in her dream…no dead friends…and definitely no damned men, soul shattered or otherwise.

The sound of her door slamming shut and the feel of a rough hand shaking her awake dissipated her contentment like smoke in the wind.

“Brighid! Wake up!”

The Huntress opened one eye. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, but the man held a taper in his hand. She opened her other eye.

“Cuchulainn?” Her voice was rough with sleep.

“There, I knew you’d be awake,” he said, and set about lighting the candles that she’d all too recently blown out.

She sat up and brushed long, silver hair from her face. “Is it morning?”

Finished with lighting the candles, he crouched in front of the hearth, feeding the fire logs and coaxing it into life. He glanced over his shoulder at her. His eyes slid down to her naked breasts before snapping back to her face.

“No. It is not morning. Get dressed.” He turned his back to her and resumed poking at the fire.

Brighid’s cheeks warmed as she rose from her bed and retrieved her vest. But even as she put it on her mind raced. What was wrong with her? Centaurs often went naked. There was no shame in baring her breasts. And even fully clothed in the traditional beaded leather vest, her breasts were often at least partially visible. Why was she blushing like a youth? He had burst into her chamber, waking her and causing her to feel…naked. It was ridiculous.

“Cuchulainn, what is this about?” she snapped. “I’m tired. And I didn’t give you permission to come in here and-” she gestured at the lighted candles and the hearth “-wake everything up.”

He stood and faced her. His tangled hair was wild around his head like the mane of a great beast. He brought his hands together, interlocking his fingers in a grip that was so tight it whitened his knuckles, and then lifted them to his brow and closed his eyes, as if he meant to beseech her with a prayer.

“Cu?” She was worried now. The man before her looked haggard and broken.

“Help me,” he said, keeping his eyes closed. “I can’t do this anymore. Can’t live like this for one more day.”

“Of course I’ll help you. We’ve already talked about this.”

“No more talk.” He opened his eyes. “Now or not at all.”

Brighid felt a little flutter of panic. “Cu, be rational. Now is not the time.”

“It has to be.” He unlocked his hands with a violent cutting motion. “I can’t be here and not be myself.”

“You know it won’t change your pain, Cu. It won’t make it go away.”

“I know that!” He raked his fingers through his hair and paced back and forth in front of the hearth. “I’ll have to learn to live without her, but I can’t do that unless I’m whole, and I can’t stand being here-home-back where I met her and loved her and then lost her. I’m breathing, so I’m living, but not really. I-I can’t explain it any better. You just have to believe that I’m ready. Either you help me tonight, or in the morning I will ride away.”

“Running won’t solve this.”

“I know that, too!” He rubbed his forehead, and then he lifted his eyes to hers. “Help me, Brighid. Please.”

“I don’t know if I can do it!” she cried.

He almost smiled. “Is that all that’s bothering you? You’re worried that you can’t get to the part of me that’s missing?”

“What do you mean, is that all that’s bothering me? Of course that’s bothering me! Cuchulainn, I am not a Shaman,” she said clearly and distinctly, as if he was a thickheaded child.

“But it-” He broke off at her frown. “I mean him, or me, or whatever you want to call that missing part.”

“He,” Brighid said.

“He has already come to you. He will again.”

“You seem sure.”

Then he did smile. “I am sure, Huntress. We like you-he and I. You’re prickly and too tightly wrapped for your own good, but we still like you. He’ll come to you. Just call.”

Brighid ignored the skittery way his words made her gut feel. Of course Cuchulainn liked her. They were friends-comrades-members of the same clan.

“Either help me, or go with me right now to explain to my sister and mother that I will be leaving again first thing in the morning.”

She frowned at him. “That sounds vaguely like a threat.”

“It’s not vague and it’s not a threat. It’s clearly blackmail.”

Brighid met his turquoise eyes again, all kidding gone from her voice. “I’m scared, Cu.”

“Of what?”

“Of failing…and of succeeding.”

Surprising her, he nodded slowly. “It’s the spirit realm. You don’t want to go there. I understand that, and I’m sorry that I have to ask you to do this for me. If there was another way…”

“No,” she said quickly, “It’s not the going that bothers me. I’m afraid of what I might discover there.” She ended the sentence on a whisper.

Cuchulainn’s face paled, but he didn’t look away from her gaze. “You know what you’ll discover. It’s just me, Brighid. Shattered or not-bodiless or not-it’s still just me.”

“This is changing me, Cu,” she said. “I can Feel it.”

“I know…I…” His jaw tightened. “Forgive me for asking this of you.”

She stared into his eyes and felt suddenly ashamed of herself. Cuchulainn was pleading for his life. She needed to push aside her childish fears and get this job done. She carried the blood of a powerful Shaman in her veins, as she had for her entire life. The only difference now was that she was going to tap into that heredity and use it to her advantage.

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m being foolish. Let’s get this done.” She glanced around the room. “Build up the hearth fire, but I think you should blow out these candles.”

Cuchulainn quickly moved from candle to candle, then he returned to the hearth and added more wood to the fire, prodding and coaxing until the flames danced and crackled. Then he stood, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“What’s next?”

Brighid had the urge to yell at him. His guess was as good as hers-she didn’t have any idea what to do next. But the look in his eyes stopped her. He was counting on her. She didn’t know why, but she was destined to help him. She sighed.

“We have to lie down,” she said, retreating back to her soft pallet. The centaur folded her legs and reclined, in almost the same position she had been in when he burst into her room. She glanced up at him. He was still standing in front of the hearth. “Cu, you don’t have to travel to the Otherworld, but you have to be relaxed and ready to accept the return of your soul. My guess is that’s easier to do lying down.”

“Where?”

She rolled her eyes and pointed to the empty place beside her. “I’m going to retrieve a piece of your soul. You can’t be afraid to lie next to me.”

“I’m not afraid. I’m just…” He raked his fingers through his wild hair. “By the Goddess, I’m nervous. I don’t know what to do!”

“Try lying down.”

He nodded, grunted, and strode to the other side of the Huntress’s pallet. He lay back, crossing and then uncrossing his arms.

“I don’t know what to do with my hands,” he said without looking at her.

“I don’t care what you do with them as long as you hold them still.”

“Sorry,” he said.

She turned her head so she could look over at him. “This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to relax and take myself to the same place I go to when I’m preparing for a hunt. Then I’m going to go deeper into…well, into wherever the trail takes me.”

His brows shot up.

“The only way I can do this is to compare it to a hunt,” she said in exasperation.

He started to hold his hands up, like he was fending off an assault, but then he stopped and held them tight to his sides.

“However you want to do it is fine with me,” he said carefully.

“Oh, stop it!” she snapped.

“Stop what?”

She raised herself up on her elbow and jerked her chin at his stiff arms and motionless body. “You’re acting like you’ve never been in bed with a female before.”

This time only one eyebrow went up and his lip twitched like he was trying to hide a smile. “Is that how you’d like to relax me?”

She frowned at him. “Of course not.” She wouldn’t think about how having him there, so close beside her made her stomach tighten. She wouldn’t think about it, and she certainly wouldn’t mention it. She reclined back on the mound of bedding. “But you sound more like yourself now.”

“You’re a wily one, Huntress.”

“Just close your eyes and concentrate on being open. Remember, I can’t force your soul back. He has to want to come, and you have to accept him.”

“I’m ready.”

By the Goddess, she wished she was.