Brighid’s Quest

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

In the stunned silence Elphame’s voice sounded calm and authoritative. “Lochlan, go to Ciara. Tell her what has happened. Have the adults keep the children away from the castle until I send word that they may return.”

The winged man hesitated only long enough to touch Brighid’s shoulder and murmur, “I am sorry for your loss, Huntress,” and then was gone.

“Mother,” Elphame continued. “Will you-”

Before she could finish the question Epona’s Chosen was already responding.

“Of course. Have her brought to me.” But like Lochlan, before she left the room she approached Brighid, who knelt on the floor near her sister’s body, head bowed. The Goddess Incarnate lifted one of the layers of her silk robe, and used it to wipe the blood and tears from Brighid’s face. She bent and kissed the Huntress on each cheek, as a mother would a daughter.

“Epona knows your pain, child, and the Goddess weeps with you.”

Then Etain hurried from the room, her clear voice echoing from the Main Courtyard as she called for her handmaidens.

Danann, the centaur Stonemaster, with the help of several men, took Niam’s body to Etain’s chamber.

When Cuchulainn and Elphame were alone with Brighid, he crouched down so that he was level with her eyes. He heard the clip of his sister’s hooves against the marble floor as she joined him.

“Brighid.” He pitched his voice so that it was calm, as his mother’s had been, even though his emotions were raw and bleeding. He understood too well her look of shock and grief. “Brighid,” he repeated, and she finally moved her eyes to his. “Come with El and me. Let’s leave this place of death.”

“But it’s my home,” she said numbly.

“It is still your home,” Elphame said quickly. “It will always be your home. Cuchulainn doesn’t mean for you to leave MacCallan Castle. Just this room.” Elphame took her friend’s limp hand. “Let’s go to your quarters and leave the cleansing of this to Wynne and my mother.”

Brighid stared at Elphame, her eyes wide and round with shock. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“Yes,” El said.

Brighid nodded her head twice in an unnatural, jerky movement. Still holding tight to Elphame’s hand, she lurched up.

“Cuchulainn?” Her voice was hesitant and soft.

“I’m here.” He took her other hand firmly. “El and I won’t let you go through this alone.”

She lifted her eyes to his. “You’ll have to forgive me. Right now I can’t pretend that I don’t need you close to me.”

He raised her blood-spotted hand to his lips. “By your side is exactly where I want to be.”

“You couldn’t get rid of either of us,” Elphame said.

Linked by love and loyalty, Brighid walked with heavy, somnambulistic steps to her chamber. When Elphame and Cuchulainn let loose her hands she stood in the room, waiting for whatever would happen next. It suddenly seemed that she was unable to continue the forward motion on her own.

“There’s blood all over me,” she said, surprised at how strange her voice sounded.

“I’ll take care of that,” Elphame said, moving to the pitcher and basin that waited on the table. “Cu, get Nara.” In response to his rebellious look, she grabbed his arm and pulled him close to her, whispering, “Brighid won’t thank you later when she remembers that you stood and stared as I cleaned her sister’s blood from her body.”

Cuchulainn closed his mouth and nodded understanding.

“Brighid needs a dram to make her sleep.”

“Yes. You’re right, of course,” Cu said.

While his sister poured clean water into the bowl, he took Brighid’s hand again. He looked into her pain-filled eyes and remembered how she had been beside him when they had discovered Brenna’s body, and then, as if his mind was just now truly processing it, he realized Brighid had always been beside him in those bleak days after Brenna’s death while Elphame had been in a coma and it had seemed that everyone he loved had deserted him. Brighid hadn’t, and he’d been too distracted by grief and then by selfishness to realize it.

Well he realized it now, and he would not let her be alone, either.

“I’m going to get Nara. But I won’t be long. Elphame will be with you until I get back.”

“But you’re coming back?”

“Always,” he said. Cuchulainn pressed her hand against his lips, and then he strode from the room.

Before Brighid could feel his absence, Elphame was back at her side. With a wet cloth and soothing words, her friend cleansed the scarlet spatters from her body. Days later, Brighid would not remember what Elphame had said to her. All she knew was the gentle touch of Elphame’s hands, and the cool feel of the clean water as it washed away Niam’s lifeblood.

“Come, lie down.”

Brighid clung to her friend’s voice. Obeying it as if she had no will of her own, she let Elphame lead her to her thick sleeping pallet. In slow motion, she folded her knees and let her body drop down. Elphame took a wide, soft brush from the top of Brighid’s dresser, and while she hummed a wordless lullaby, she stroked the Huntress’s long, silver-blond hair. It was in the midst of that simple, loving gesture that Brighid returned to herself.

She drew in a deep breath. Her muddy thoughts sifted through the refuse of pain, settled and then finally cleared. Swiftly she reoriented herself.

Her first coherent thought was that she was whole. Her soul had not shattered. Briefly, she wondered how she knew it with such certainty, and the answer came to her simply. Her blood told her. Her heart told her. The Shaman instinct inherent within her soul told her.

Her next thought was like a cold knife piercing her body. My mother is dead. It sounded impossible, but her heart-and now her mind-knew it was true. And then, like a flash-flooded gorge, her memory was swept with painful images.

Her sister was dead. She gave her life for me. I was wrong about her, and now it’s too late to fix it. I can never make it right.

“If you blame yourself for her death, you will be as wrong as Cuchulainn was for blaming himself for Brenna’s murder.” Elphame continued to brush Brighid’s hair as she spoke.

“How do I not blame myself?”

“Your sister chose to give her life so that you-and through you the rest of Partholon-would be forewarned. She didn’t blame you, she made that clear. If you blame yourself when she didn’t it will be disrespectful to her memory.”

Brighid drew in a shaky breath. “Niam was strong and brave.”

“Yes…yes she was.”

“No one has ever brushed my hair for me,” Brighid said.

“When I was a child Mama used to brush my hair whenever I was feeling particularly lonely. I never understood why, but it always seemed to help.” Her voice hitched on a sob. “I-I didn’t know what else to do to make you feel better.”

Brighid turned her head so that she could gaze at her friend. “You did the right thing.”

There were two rapid knocks on the door, and then it opened. In a rustle of agitated wings, Nara hurried into the room, followed by Cuchulainn. The Healer was carrying a steaming pot in one hand and a heavy leather pouch in the other.

“Stoke the fire, warrior,” she ordered, passing the pot to Cuchulainn. “I need this to brew.”

With no-nonsense gestures, she settled to the floor beside Brighid’s pallet. With hands that were infinitely gentle, she quickly touched the pulse points at the centaur’s temples, neck and wrists, and then ran her hands gently down Brighid’s equine body.

“I’m not injured,” Brighid told her.

Nara glanced up while she dug through her leather pouch, pulling out bundles of dried herbs.

“I wasn’t worried about a physical wound, Huntress,” Nara said. “And now I’m less worried about your spirit, though I still want you to drink my brew.” The Healer stood and moved to the table, mixing herbs into a small, tightly woven strainer.

Brighid started to shake her head, remembering Brenna’s potions. She didn’t want to sleep-she was sure that there was something she needed to be doing. But before she could stir, Elphame was back at her side.

“Mama is caring for Niam. There is nothing more for you to do today.”

“I should go to her. I have to…” Brighid ran out of words and could only gaze brokenly at her friend.

“Epona’s Chosen is anointing the body of your sister. She and her handmaids are saying prayers over her and guiding her spirit to the Goddess. Wynne and her cooks are cleansing the Great Hall. Soon I’ll call the children and they will return and fill the castle with life and laughter.”

“But what can I do, El?”

Elphame took Brighid’s hand. “You can sleep and heal so your mind will be clear to make decisions that will honor your sister’s sacrifice.”

“Is that all I can do?” Even to her own ears she sounded defeated.

“That’s enough for now,” Elphame assured her.

“I knew she was dead,” Brighid said, her voice more resigned than sad.

“Niam?” Elphame asked.

The Huntress shook her head. “No. My mother. She came to me this morning when I killed the boar. She said…” Brighid paused, swallowing around the thickness in her throat. “Her spirit shrieked at me to avenge her.

“I thought-” Brighid paused again, drawing in a deep breath. “I thought that it was just another of her tricks, just another attempt to pull me back to a place where she could change me…control me…use me.” Brighid shook her head. “But I think deep inside I knew she was dead. I didn’t want to face it. But I should have. If I had started back to the Centaur Plains at that moment, maybe I would have met Niam and stopped her before she-” Her voice broke, and she couldn’t go on.

“No!” Cuchulainn knelt, touching her face, wiping away her tears. “Don’t do this to yourself, Brighid. You could not have changed your sister’s fate any more than I could have changed Brenna’s. Let her go, my strong, beautiful Huntress. Let Niam go.”

“Drink this.” Nara handed Brighid a steaming mug that smelled of lavender and spice.

Suddenly yearning for oblivion, Brighid emptied the cup, not caring that the fragrant herbs didn’t quite mask the bitterness of the brew.

“You’ll sleep now, and when you awaken your mind will be clear,” Nara said. “I cannot heal your heart, but I can give you a rested body for wise decisions while your spirit mourns.”

“ Nara,” Brighid called to the Healer before she could slip quietly from the room. “Don’t let Liam worry about me. Tell him that all will be well.”

For the first time, the Healer smiled. “Do not fret, Huntress. I will put your child’s mind at ease.”

“I must go, too,” Elphame said, kissing Brighid on the cheek. “Don’t worry about anything. Mama and I will take care of the pyre. Rest. I’ll come back and check on you soon.”

Brighid’s eyelids were already beginning to feel heavy when her gaze met Cuchulainn’s.

“I’m not going to leave,” he said.

“Good.” Her eyes fluttered shut. Then, with a gasp, she forced them open.

“What is it?” Cuchulainn said, smoothing her hair from her face.

“I’m afraid to sleep. What if part of her spirit comes to my dreams, like yours did?”

Cuchulainn knew it was her mother’s twisted soul to which she referred. “That won’t happen,” he said, settling back on the down-filled pallet so he could pull her torso into his arms. “I won’t let it.”

She rested her head on his chest and tried to fight the drug. “How? How can you stop her?”

“I’ve been in your dreams before. I’ll go there again, and I’ll make certain nothing harms you.” He kissed the top of her head. “Sleep, my beautiful Huntress, and I’ll watch over you.”

Unable to fight it any longer, sleep pulled her into darkness.