Brighid’s Quest

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Gelding and centaur leaped forward together and then they were consumed in the mass of stampeding creatures. Their scent hit Cuchulainn-musk mixed with smoke and panic. He could hear nothing except the pounding of their hooves. Frantically he tried to guide his gelding so that they remained beside Brighid, but it was impossible. The ocean of bison separated them until all he could see was her silver-blond hair as it streamed behind her. And then he was pulling too far ahead of her and he lost her completely.

Fear exploded within him. He couldn’t lose her! Slowly he managed to angle his gelding so that they were very gradually cutting through the running creatures. The horse was more agile than the lumbering bison and they finally made it to the edge of the herd. He slowed the horse to a steady trot and scanned the dark beasts for any sign of Brighid’s silver coat.

The herd thinned and as stragglers staggered past him a new sound reached his ears. It was a distinctive crackle and popping that was followed by an ominous whoosh of air. He turned his head as a sudden updraft cleared the smoke and the gelding squealed and fought to lunge away as the wall of flames materialized. From within the orange fire, Cuchulainn could see a young bison calf and its mother being consumed.

He spun the gelding around and began crisscrossing the flattened grass path left by the herd.

“Brighid!” he yelled, eyes searching for a spot of silver in the empty plain.

He would have passed her if Fand hadn’t begun to whine and wriggle frantically to be free. Brighid had fallen to her knees and was bent forward at the waist, resting her hands against the ground and gasping for air.

He raced to her and dropped from the gelding to her side.

She raised her head and looked up at him, her eyes large and glassy.

“No,” she whispered. “You were supposed to be safe.”

“I told you I wouldn’t leave you,” he said. Turning quickly to the gelding he grabbed the water and held the skin to her lips. She gulped and then turned away to cough.

The whoosh and crackle of the fire had her head snapping around. “Get out of here!” she yelled at him.

“Only if you come with me,” he said.

“There’s no point.” She gestured to her right foreleg, which was bent at the wrong angle along the ground. “It’s broken. Quickly, Cuchulainn. Leave me!”

“I will not! Where you go I go-if you die I die! I will not lose you, Brighid. I could not survive it.”

“Please don’t do this,” she said brokenly.

Then his eyes widened. “Shapeshift!”

“Cu, I-”

“You can! You must. Shapeshift and the gelding can carry us out of here. If you don’t, we die here.”

Live, child…

The gentle, familiar voice of Epona drifted through her mind, calming and soothing her. Brighid bowed her head and began whispering the words as she steeled herself for the pain of the Change.

Her skin had barely stopped glowing from the transformation when Cuchulainn lifted her to the gelding’s back. The fire was so close that the heat seared their skin and sparks rained around them.

“It’s going to catch us,” Brighid panted against his ear.

Cuchulainn leaned forward and dug his heels into the gelding, who lengthened his stride, but they couldn’t pull away from the flaming monster that pursued them. Brighid closed her eyes and clutched the turquoise stone that dangled from around her neck.

I need you again, my winged friend.

The hawk’s cry sounded above the spitting flames and her mighty wings beat against the smoke that surrounded them as she circled over them once and then dove like a plummeting star to their right.

Come…

Cuchulainn reined the gelding to the right, and followed the soaring bird to the riverbed.

The water was shallow-only reaching just above the gelding’s hocks. And they weren’t alone. They had joined an odd assortment of deer and coyotes, all of whom were cringing into the water and staring with hypnotic fascination at the approaching wall of flames. When Fand leaped the bank and splashed to them, not even the timid deer spared him a glance.

“Get the skin off the gelding!” Brighid yelled over the thunder of the flames. “Let him go. He can outrun it without us.”

She gritted her teeth against the pain in her broken leg as he helped her from the horse’s back. She balanced on one leg in the muddy water while he tugged off the saddle, packs, and bison pelt, and shooed the gelding away. Then Cuchulainn lowered her with him as he sank into the water and called Fand to them. Wrapped in each other’s arms with the wolf pressed closely, Cuchulainn covered them with the bison pelt and their world went black.

They lost all sense of time, and knew only the heat and the terrible, deafening sound of the feeding fire. The water around them hissed and steamed. Brighid held tight to Cuchulainn and tried to control the instinctive panic that made her want to fling off the oppressive bison skin. Her pulse beat painfully in her broken leg and her body felt horribly weak, and amidst the heat she began to shiver and she knew that shock was setting in. That could kill me as surely as the fire. The thought was detached from her, and she knew she should force herself to care-to struggle to stay conscious and aware…but it was so much easier to sleep…and it was so very cold…

Then she heard the singing. Her lips tilted up as she recognized the voices of the winged children and remembered that it was the song they sang the day they began their journey from the Wastelands.

Greetings to you, sun of Epona

as you travel the skies on high,

with your strong steps on the

wing of the heights

you are the happy mother of the stars.

“Do you hear them,” she whispered to Cuchulainn.

“I do,” he said, his voice hushed. “I hear them even though they can’t be here.”

“They aren’t-” Brighid’s voice was choked with tears “-but their love is. Gorman was wrong, Epona still cares about what happens to her High Shamans.” As she listened to their disembodied song of praise she felt the strength of love fill her body and expand around her as she tapped into and focused it, blanketing them in a mother’s protective touch.

You sink down in the perilous ocean

without harm and without hurt.

You rise up on the quiet wave

like a young chieftain in flower,

And we will love you all the days

of our lives!

“It’s over,” Brighid said quietly when the singing stopped. “The fire has burned itself out. I can Feel it-its anger is gone.”

Slowly Cuchulainn raised the thick pelt from them and gazed into the alien dawn of a much-changed land. He stood and lifted Brighid, with Fand following closely, and carried her from the riverbed that had dried to little more than a puddle and was littered with the scorched bodies of animals. He climbed the eastern bank to stand on the rise amidst the blackened corpses of trees. The series of tributaries that fingered into the Centaur Plains from the main river had finally broken the line of the fire, and the green that still covered the ridge behind the last of the waterways looked bizarrely out of place in a world of black and gray. Before he could turn to face the south and what was left of the Centaur Plains, Brighid spoke.

“Let me stand,” she said. “I want to Change back.”

He lowered her feet to the ground. When she had her balance, he took a half step away from her, and then shaded his eyes as the brilliant light of the Change engulfed her body. Back in her natural form, she stood awkwardly on three legs, but she met his eyes resolutely.

“I’m ready to see it now,” she said.

Together, the two of them turned to face the south. Brighid could hardly comprehend what she was seeing. The sun was rising over the eastern edge of the horizon, casting cheery pink and gold into the sky over a sea of ruin. The plains were gone. In their place were still-smoldering ashes that clumped in grotesque charred formations. Trees were indistinguishable from bodies. Nothing moved except small trails of rising smoke.

“Oh, Goddess.” Brighid pressed her hand against her mouth to keep from sobbing aloud. Could anything survive it?

“Yes, child.” Etain’s voice came high and sweet from behind them.

They turned to face the Goddess Incarnate and Brighid gasped. Etain sat on the silver mare at the edge of the blackened line. Midhir stood to her left. To her right were Elphame, Lochlan and Ciara. And stretching behind them were all of the winged children.

“Now tell me, my daughter, how could anything survive such devastation?” Etain asked Brighid.

The Huntress’s eyes went from the Goddess Incarnate, to Elphame, and then to Ciara and the unusually silent children and, finally, her gaze lifted to her husband’s turquoise eyes. With a rush of clarity, Brighid finally understood-and it was at that moment that the Huntress fully became the High Shaman.

“With hope and love anything can be survived,” she said, and her words rang with Goddess-enhanced power so that they carried not just to all the children, but spread like ripples in a still pool across the Centaur Plains.

Etain smiled her approval.

Suddenly there was shouting from behind the children and dark-clothed warriors appeared with their bows and swords drawn. Brighid felt Cuchulainn tense at her side, and she opened her mouth to call a warning, but Etain raised one silk-clad arm and the sun glistened off the palm of her hand as if she had called its rays to her.

“Hold, Guardian Warriors!” she commanded without glancing behind her at the approaching army. “I did not allow you to follow them here for misplaced retribution. You are here to witness rebirth. Stand silently and observe.” Then her voice changed, and softened and she finally did glance behind her, but not at the warriors. The High Priestess smiled at the children. “Come,” she said.

The group descended from the green ridge and crossed the fire line without hesitation. When they reached Brighid and Cuchulainn, they halted. Brighid wanted to greet her friends, Elphame, Ciara and the small winged figure of Liam, but the preternatural tingling was back all over her skin and it seemed that her blood hummed with a sudden surge of wordless desire-something that was just beyond the reach of her mind and spirit-but something she wanted…had to have.

“Lead them, Brighid, High Shaman of the Dhianna Herd. It is your love and their hope that will heal the soul of the land,” Etain said.

“Let me lean on you?” Brighid asked Cuchulainn.

“Always, my beautiful Huntress,” he said.

With her arm around his broad shoulders she limped down the embankment, crossed the scorched river, and with the rustle of the moving wings that followed her, Brighid, Cuchulainn and the New Fomorians stepped onto the destroyed plain.

Brighid turned to face the children and their Shaman. “Will you help me make it grow again?” she asked them.

“Yes, Brighid!”

“Of course, Huntress!”

“Yes!”

“Yes!”

She smiled as their joyous voices sang over the deathly stillness of the burned land. “Then join me.” She held out her hand and Liam ran to take it. Ciara stepped up next and took Liam’s hand. Then Kyna skipped up to clutch Cuchulainn’s hand and grinned toothily up at him. And one-by-one, the New Fomorians linked hands and spread out in a semicircle, facing the destruction of the southlands.

“I-I’m not sure…” Brighid said quietly.

Ciara caught her eye and smiled that joyous smile of hers that was so full of love and kindness. “Yes, you are, Brighid. Just let your heart speak.”

And then Brighid opened her mouth and her heart poured forth.

Gracious Goddess Epona!

Guardian of those wild and free,

we seek Your blessings upon this place.

It was a place of hatred and strife,

but it has been purified with fire,

now let it be rebuilt as a

place of happiness and love!

A place of refuge and peace,

A place of enchantment!

Wild and free as the Goddess who created it…

Brighid paused as Ciara, and then the children following her, began to hum a wordless, lilting melody that reminded her of the wind as it swept through the long grasses of deep summer. At the same time an emerald glow began to emanate from all of the New Fomorians. Cuchulainn’s hand tightened on hers as Epona’s voice, filled with love and happiness swept over them like a magical wind from the depth of their hearts.

“I consecrate you, Brighid Dhianna, as Guardian of the Centaur Plains. You are tied to it through blood and love and hope-and now by my sacred trust!”

Overcome with emotion, Brighid bowed her head in acknowledgment, recollecting herself before she could complete her prayer. When she spoke again her voice was thick with the love and happiness that surged through her.

O Gracious Goddess!

Divine protectress of those wild and free,

Be always present

in this place of beauty!

Hail Epona!

So may it be!

As she spoke the last words of her prayer the emerald glow that had been hovering over the children suddenly exploded, and like a jewel-colored whirlwind that had the power to blow away the past, it swept across the plain, removing the ugly black ash and smoke to suddenly expose the beautiful new growth that was already pushing through the rich soil underneath.

With tears streaming unheeded down her face, Brighid watched her homeland be reborn. And then, before she could comprehend the enormity of what the Goddess-blessed children had done, there was a stirring in the newborn land as centaurs suddenly appeared. They were led by a silver-blond male whose hair had been singed from his body and whose skin was blistered and burned.

Brighid stood very still in the center of the line of linked hands while he and the other centaurs made their way slowly to her. As they drew closer she recognized many of them, especially the females, as Dhianna Herd members, but the focus of her attention remained on her brother.

Bregon stopped just a few paces before her. Slowly, deliberately, he executed the low bow of respect paid only to centaur High Shamans.

“Forgive me, Brighid.” When he raised his face to her, his soot-covered cheeks were awash with tears. And then he dropped to his knees. Keeping his eyes on his sister, he began speaking in a deep, earnest voice.

“Through the deep peace of the flowing air I bind myself to you.

“Through the deep peace of the crackling homefire I bind myself to you.

“Through the deep peace of the quiet earth I bind myself to you.

“Through the four elements I am bound to you, Brighid Dhianna, High Shaman and Guardian of the Centaur Plains, and through the spirit of our herd I seal this bond. Thus has it been spoken, thus will it be done.”

Shocked, Brighid could only stare at her brother and the other members of the Dhianna Herd who had all knelt as her brother had spoken the ancient words of binding.

“You must accept them or not,” Cuchulainn said quietly. “It is your decision.”

“Rise, Dhianna centaurs. Your High Shaman accepts you.”

With a glad shout, the centaurs rose-all except her brother-who bowed his head again and wept openly.

There was a stirring in the line to Brighid’s right, and Ciara dropped the hands of the children on either side of her. With that grace that was so singular to her, the winged Shaman approached Bregon. He raised his face and stared into her eyes. Brighid saw the jolt that went through his body, and she began to limp forward, but Cuchulainn’s hand on hers restrained her.

“Wait,” he whispered.

Slowly Ciara wiped the tears from Bregon’s cheeks and then she offered him her hand. The centaur took it, and lurched up so that he was standing again. Keeping his hand in hers, the winged Shaman turned to face the children.

“This is Brighid’s brother,” she told them. “Let us make him welcome.”

Instantly the little winged dam broke free and small bodies clustered around the singed centaur, jumping about and asking their usual assortment of unending questions.

“Look at him, Cuchulainn, and tell me what you see within his soul,” Brighid said.

The warrior watched his wife’s brother, and then his eyes shifted to hers.

“I see redemption, my beautiful Huntress.”