Brighid’s Quest

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“So what are you going to do about him?” Elphame asked, sniffling happily and wiping her eyes.

“I don’t really know. I suppose I’ll just have to stay open to the possibility of…” She trailed off, feeling awkward and uncomfortable and extraordinarily out of her element.

“You’re going to stay open to the possibility of having a relationship with my brother.”

“Yes.”

“Well, he’ll be glad to hear it.”

Brighid gasped. “I’m not going to tell him!”

“But-”

“And neither are you. Please.”

“Fine. I’ll stay out of it.”

“Can we change the subject now?”

“If you insist,” Elphame said.

“I insist.”

“Just know that I’m here if you need to talk to me. As your friend, or as your Chieftain, or as Cuchulainn’s sister if he doesn’t behave himself.”

“Changing the subject?” Brighid reminded her.

“I just wanted you to know.”

“Thank you, now I know.” Brighid smiled fondly at her friend. “And I still want to change the subject.”

“I suppose you actually want to know what we’re planning for the New Fomorian village.”

“Absolutely.”

“Would you like to return to the blueprints so that I can show you what Cu and I drafted this morning?” Elphame’s eyes glittered at the possibility of taking the Huntress back to her brother.

“Why don’t you show me from here,” Brighid said dryly.

Elphame huffed an exaggerated sigh, but began pointing and explaining that she and Cuchulainn had decided to-once again-break tradition. Because of the lack of a typical family structure, they would build one large barracks-like building to house the majority of the children. The structure would be situated not far from the southern wall of the castle. Radiating from it would be a few small cottages, where the adults, as well as the older children, could have privacy. The rest of the plateau would be tilled and planted with a variety of crops, which the New Fomorians could tend and use for trade as well as tithe to MacCallan Castle.

“My hope is that eventually what happened between you and Liam will happen with more of the children and the clan,” Elphame continued.

“You hope that the children will almost pester the clan to death?”

Elphame laughed. “You know better than that. That boy belongs to you. I’m hoping many of the children find a place in the hearts and homes of my people. But I want to be careful not to force them. It has to happen naturally, and that could take some time.”

“Exactly like your brother and me,” Brighid muttered.

El smiled. “Not exactly, but I get your meaning.” She hesitated, and her smile faded. “You’ve been busy, so I’m sure you haven’t noticed, but we’re missing several members of Clan MacCallan.”

“How?”

“The first group left the same day you did. I didn’t like it, but it didn’t surprise me. I released them from their oaths, and said that if any more of the clan would like to join them to step forward.” Elphame shook her head sadly. “It still grieves me to think of it, but I do understand them. What we are proposing, to accept the return of a people who carry the blood of Partholon’s sworn enemies, is a radical thing.”

“They also carry the blood of Partholonian women-innocent women who lost their homes and their lives, and whose children deserve to be given a chance,” Brighid said.

“Not everyone believes that. Some people believe that anything with wings is a demon, despite what lives within his heart.”

Brighid snorted. “I’m glad those people are gone. We’re well rid of them. You are The MacCallan. They should have trusted that you would never put them in jeopardy.”

“I’m also mated to a man who carries the mark of his demon father’s blood.”

“And who proved his loyalty to you!” Brighid said furiously, even as she remembered her own instinctive mistrust of Lochlan. But she hadn’t let her doubts cause her to desert her Chieftain. Those who left had been wrong. They should have stayed close to Elphame and kept watch to be sure she wasn’t in danger.

“He proved his loyalty, and he still does-both to me and to Clan MacCallan, but that might not be enough to overcome more than a century of hatred.” Elphame met Brighid’s eyes. “You know that prejudice isn’t logical, which is why it is so hard to overcome.” She sighed. “And more left than just that first small group.”

“How many more?”

“The next morning a dozen more men and three women left.”

“Fifteen more people? Just like that?” Brighid snapped her fingers, incredulous.

“They said that now the time was at hand, they, too, could not stomach the acceptance of the New Fomorians,” Elphame’s voice had gone flat.

“But you’d given them their opportunity to leave. They’d chosen to stay. They were sworn to you.”

“They are now forsworn,” Elphame said the word as if it had a bitter taste.

Brighid stared at her Chieftain, thoroughly shocked, as her friend’s expression changed. Elphame’s face hardened. Her eyes became shadowed, and Brighid Felt the echo of a presence that was dark and sticky with evil intent.

“El!” she cried, taking her friend’s arm. Goddess! Her skin was cold.

Elphame clenched her jaw, closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath. Her lips moved in a nearly silent prayer, and Brighid could see the shimmering of Epona’s power shiver in the air around them. Her friend’s hair lifted, swirling in an almost invisible wind of energy that, with an audible crackle, settled into Elphame’s skin. Brighid’s hand tingled from where it had been Goddess-touched.

“El?” Brighid said, this time more tentatively.

The Chieftain gasped and opened her eyes. When she looked at her friend the shadows within her had, once again, retreated.

“It stirs,” she explained before Brighid could decide whether or not to ask. “Especially when something has made me angry, or when I feel despair. The madness is always within me, lurking silently…waiting. It is only love and truth, along with Epona’s mighty touch, that keep it at bay.”

“Faith and fidelity,” Brighid whispered the motto of Clan MacCallan.

“Faith and fidelity,” Elphame echoed her.

Brighid wanted to ask her more, and she was trying to formulate the right words when they both were distracted as a rider pounded onto the plateau. Though the area was seething with sound and activity, there was something about the man that drew their attention. He slid to a halt in front of Cuchulainn. Brighid could hear his shouts, but couldn’t make out his words.

“Stay with me,” Elphame said, not waiting for her brother’s raised arm to signal that she was needed. Her powerful equine legs were so quick, that in a sprint Brighid was hard-pressed to match her Chieftain’s speed. As the two of them raced up to Cuchulainn, he had already mounted the rider’s horse, and had his head pointed back in the direction of the castle.

“A centaur has just arrived from the Plains. She has an urgent message for Brighid.”

As one, Elphame, Brighid, Lochlan and Cuchulainn rushed to the castle.

“She waits in the Main Courtyard,” the sentry called as they reached the castle’s open gate.

Stomach tightening with tension, Brighid slowed. The centaur stood with her back to them, as if she was consumed with looking at the fountain of the MacCallan ancestor. Brighid was surprised that she could hear the centaur’s labored breathing, and her surprise expanded into astonishment when she realized the centaur’s coat was lathered with flecks of white foam and her body was trembling. It was unheard of for a centaur to show such obvious signs of fatigue. She must have raced nonstop for days to put her in such a state. Then she turned and Brighid gasped.

“Niam!” She hurried to her sister, who stumbled forward and almost fell into her arms. “What has happened?”

“Thank Epona that you’re here,” she said between heaving breaths. “It’s Mother. She’s dead.”

The shock of her sister’s words imploded in Brighid’s mind and she felt her head shaking back and forth, back and forth, as if she had no ability to control it.

“Help me get her to the Great Hall.” Elphame’s voice cut through the white noise of disbelief that ran in Brighid’s head.

Suddenly Niam was no longer in her arms, but being half led and half carried by several of the men of Clan MacCallan, along with their Chieftain and her mate, into the Great Hall. Brighid could only stand there, staring after them, completely unable to move.

A strong, warm hand slid under her elbow and Cuchulainn’s presence registered. “Remember to breathe,” he told her.

She sucked in air like a drowning woman, blinked, and was finally able to focus on the turquoise of his eyes.

“Stay with me,” she said.

“I’m not going anywhere except in there with you,” he told her.

Still holding her arm, he moved forward with her. She stumbled, but he helped her catch her balance and through his touch she could Feel the warmth of his golden light flowing into and around her, surrounding her with a warrior’s strength.

They entered the Great Hall together and moved quickly to the long, low centaur bench Niam had collapsed upon. Wynne ran out of the kitchen, carrying a heavy skin, which she passed to Elphame. The Chieftain uncorked it and held it to Niam’s lips when the centaur’s quaking hands couldn’t support it.

“Drink slowly. Water first, then we’ll get you some wine and something to eat.” Elphame spoke in quiet, soothing tones to Niam. While the centaur drank Elphame turned to one of the wide-eyed clansmen. “Get my mother,” she ordered. And then to another, “Get towels and blankets. Lots of them.”

Brighid felt a stab of panic as she knelt beside her sister. Steam was rising from the equine part of Niam’s foam-flecked body, which quivered and twitched spasmodically. Niam’s human torso was slick and flushed an unnatural scarlet. Her blond hair was darkened with sweat and plastered against her delicate head. She had run herself dangerously past the point of exhaustion.

Suddenly Niam pushed the water skin away from her mouth, choked and coughed. Brighid brushed the wet hair from her sister’s face, murmuring to her.

“Shhh, you’re here now. Focus on being calm…on cooling the heat within your body.”

“No! Brighid, you have to listen!”

Niam clutched her hand and Brighid almost cried aloud at the heat that radiated from her sister.

“Later, Niam. When you’ve rested.”

“No, now!” The centaur spoke frantically, and then more violent coughs consumed her.

“Let her speak.”

Brighid looked up at the sound of Etain’s voice. The people who had gathered in the Great Hall parted so the Chosen of the Goddess could approach. The priestess’s face was serene, but when Brighid met her eyes she saw within them a terrible sadness that made her heart turn cold.

My sister is going to die.

Brighid turned back to her sister and held her flushed hand between both of her own, trying to will strength into her.

“I’m listening, Niam,” Brighid said.

“Mother died this morning, but the accident happened four days ago. She fell into a bison pit. The stakes pierced her.” Niam closed her eyes and shuddered with the horror of the memory. “I knew she was dying. We all knew it. I had to come for you.”

“No! No-that can’t be. We don’t hunt bison in pits. We don’t use stakes.” Brighid shook her head, feeling awash in confusion.

“It wasn’t a centaur pit. It was a pit of human design.”

A terrible, foreboding chill skittered through Brighid’s blood. “But humans do not hunt the Centaur Plains, not without the permission of the herd’s High Shaman.” Which the Dhianna Herd never gave.

“They trespassed and poached, causing the death of our mother.”

Niam had to stop again to cough. This time when she gasped for air afterward her lips were wet with blood-tinged spittle.

“Her dying has driven Bregon mad. Before I left the Plains he had already sworn to take up the Chalice of High Shaman and to lead the Dhianna Herd against any human who dared step foot on the Centaur Plains.”

Horrified, Brighid could only stare at her sister. Her brother was willing to begin a war over a dreadful accident?

Niam clenched her sister’s hands. “It’s not just the Dhianna Herd. Since word reached the Plains that the winged creatures were being accepted back into Partholon, the Shamans of other herds have joined us. They mean to make war, Brighid.”

Niam broke off, retching painfully and Brighid held her while blood spewed down her sister’s chest and ran in crimson rivulets to the floor.

“Mother didn’t send me for you. She wanted the war. She told Bregon over and over again to avenge her. I had to try to stop it. I had to come for you.”

Niam didn’t have to explain how she knew that their mother had died. The truth of it settled over Brighid as her mind flashed back to the stricken raven and the hate-filled words of its death rasp.

Avenge me!

As her spirit left her body, Mairearad Dhianna would have sent the same message to each of her children, hoping that even her death wouldn’t end the manipulative hold she considered the one true bond of motherhood. Even at the end of her life, her mother had still been plotting…trying to force them to bow to her will. In Brighid’s brother’s case, Mairearad seemed to have been victorious.

“Shhh now, Niam.” Brighid took the linen cloth Elphame silently passed to her and wiped the blood from her sister’s face. “We’ll figure this out. Shhh.”

Niam shook her head and gave a little half sob, half laugh. “You always thought that I was stupid.” When Brighid began to deny it, Niam just tightened her grip on her sister’s hand and kept speaking. “That part doesn’t matter now, but I wanted you to know that I wasn’t what you thought-I just wasn’t strong like you. I couldn’t stand up to her, so I made her believe that I wasn’t worth her notice.” Her lips trembled as she tried to smile. “And I fooled everyone. No one watched me, especially not Bregon. No one thought that I would be the one to come for you.” With surprising strength, Niam pulled her hand from her sister’s so that she could grip Brighid by the shoulders. “You must return. Even those who have been most corrupted by Mother would not dare to stand against the power of the Dhianna High Shaman. Take the Chalice. Make sure that Mother doesn’t win. Bring an end to the madness.”

Niam’s next cough was a bloody sob, and she slumped down onto the bench. Through the blood that was trickling steadily from her nose and the corner of her mouth, she smiled at her sister.

“I always envied you, Brighid. You got away from her. But maybe now I have finally gotten away from her, too…”

Niam’s eyes rolled so that only their whites showed, and her body convulsed so violently Brighid was knocked from her side. Through a haze of despair Brighid watched Etain. The Goddess Incarnate’s arms were spread wide, and as she spoke a pure white light emerged from her open palms, engulfing Niam.

Niam, sister to our Beloved Brighid, in the Name of

our Great Goddess

I bid you to forget your broken shell

It can serve you no longer.

I bid you in the Name of Epona,

Goddess of things wild and free,

To go beyond this pain…

To rest within the bosom of Epona’s Summerland.

Child of the Goddess, I release you!

Etain pressed her glowing hands against the centaur’s heaving flank, and Niam’s body went still. With a small, relieved gasp, Brighid’s sister breathed her last breath.