Clearly shaken by her introduction, Fagan’s eyes widened as the beautiful winged woman rose and smiled radiantly at him.
“I-we did not expect-” He shook his head as if to clear it. “All of the Guardian Warriors are well versed in the history of the Fomorian War. It was reported that Terpsichore’s Incarnate died after spreading the pox plague to the demon army.”
“My grandmother did, indeed, infect the demons with the pox, but she survived it. She also survived the birth of my mother,” she said in a sweet, clear voice. “Many of the Incarnate Muses and their acolytes survived with her.”
“This is unexpected news,” Fagan said.
“Perhaps you would like to meet some of the descendants of the Nine Muses?”
“I-” He glanced at Cuchulainn.
“Things are not always what you expect, Master Fagan,” Cuchulainn said softly. “I think you should meet the children.”
“Ah! You are a Master!” Ciara said. “What is your weapon?”
“It is the sword.”
“The children will be delighted,” she said with a joyous laugh. Then she turned to the silent group sitting patiently, their bright eyes trained on the strangers.
Brighid could hardly believe the children were being so good. She did notice a lot of wing rustling and she could almost see their nervous energy. But not one of them was chattering or leaping about. The Huntress felt a swell of pride.
Ciara’s voice lifted and with it Brighid realized their temporary respite from the children’s exuberance would soon be over. She glanced at the unsuspecting warriors. Well, at least four of them were already parents, and might be somewhat prepared for…
The Shaman made a grand, dancer’s flourish and announced, “Let the descendants of the Nine Muses rise and be first to meet Swordmaster Fagan of the Guardian Warriors!”
Oh, Goddess, Brighid thought, now she’s done it. The Huntress braced herself as children, all shouting at once, leaped to their feet like caged baby birds that had suddenly been set free.
With supreme satisfaction, Brighid watched Fagan take an automatic step back. She sought Cuchulainn’s gaze and found the warrior watching Fagan with a knowing smile. He glanced at her and she had to struggle not to laugh out loud. Thankfully, Ciara clapped her hands and the children quieted.
“They do get excited when they meet new people,” Ciara said apologetically.
“Are there no other adults except for you and the Healer?” Fagan asked.
“Oh, yes. But not many.” Ciara looked into the crowd of children. “Adults, please make yourselves known,” she called.
Sprinkled throughout the crowd the adult New Fomorians stood.
Fagan shook his head as he counted. “But this can’t be right. There are so few of them.”
“There are twenty-two adult New Fomorians,” Cuchulainn said. “That is all.”
“And how many children are there?”
“Seventy.”
Fagan turned to him incredulously. “How can there be so few adults and so many children?”
“Master, if you offer us sanctuary tonight at Guardian Castle, we will be happy to explain everything to you,” Cuchulainn said.
Fagan looked from his ex-student down to the pale boy with the torn wing and then out at the throng of eagerly waiting children.
“ Guardian Castle will offer you and the New Fomorians-” he tripped only slightly over the people’s name “-sanctuary.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I would rather carry him myself,” Brighid told the Healer for the fifth or sixth time. She was walking beside Liam’s makeshift litter that was lashed between two of the domesticated goats. Every time Liam’s sleeping body was jolted the Huntress grimaced.
“It is better for his wing if he lies flat and immobile.”
Brighid frowned in worry.
“Huntress.” Nara touched the centaur’s arm gently. “The bleeding has stopped. The boy will recover.”
Brighid saw the truth in the Healer’s eyes and allowed herself a small measure of relief.
“Brighid!” Cuchulainn’s deep voice boomed back at her from his place at the head of the slowly moving column of people.
“You may rest assured that Liam will be well cared for. He will sleep through the night and wake in the morning supremely disappointed that he missed the first meeting with the Guardian Warriors,” the Healer said.
Brighid snorted a laugh. “I’ll have to remind him that he was the first meeting with the warriors.” Before she left the boy’s side she leaned forward and brushed the hair from his face. She didn’t know why she did it, she just knew it felt right to touch him-to reassure herself that he was warm and breathing and living.
How could such a small boy cause her such a large amount of worry?
Children…little wonder parents, who were otherwise young and healthy, could appear so haggard and distracted.
She took one last look at Liam before trotting away to join Cuchulainn. She studied the mixture of warriors and children as she wound her way to the front of the group. All around her children chattered endlessly. They had been traveling through the pass escorted by the Guardian Warriors for the past two hours, and the children’s questions had not slowed. They were like bright balls of impetuous curiosity wrapped in wings. Brighid thought the sound of their happy voices mixed with the warrior’s much less exuberant answers was highly satisfying.
These warriors would not take up arms against the children. Not after marching with them and seeing them as living, breathing individuals. True, she thought, stifling another smile, they might run from him if they came upon a winged child in a dark passageway, but they definitely wouldn’t shoot him.
“Brighid!” Cuchulainn called again, gesturing for her to join him.
The Huntress increased her pace, overtaking Cu’s gelding easily. Brighid noted with a new wave of amusement that Fagan and Cu had pulled far enough away from the main group that they had outdistanced the questioning children.
“ Guardian Castle is just around this next turn. Fagan sent runners ahead to prepare the castle,” Cu said.
“Cuchulainn described the unique shelters the hybrids carry with them. The courtyard of Guardian Castle should be a more than adequate place for them to set up camp tonight,” Fagan said.
All vestiges of Brighid’s humor fled, and she gave the Swordmaster a disdainful look. “Are you so unwilling to allow the New Fomorians into your guest quarters that you would leave children out in the cold?”
Cuchulainn started to answer her, but Fagan’s raised hand stopped him. “You misunderstand, Huntress. Guardian Castle has no luxurious accommodations for guests. We are a military castle. Our sole purpose is the defense of Partholon. I simply thought the children would be more comfortable within their own tents, which they could erect inside the safety and warmth of the inner walls of the castle. My offer of sanctuary was genuine.”
“So was the arrow that sliced through Liam’s wing,” Brighid snapped.
Instead of reacting to Brighid’s words with anger, the Swordmaster gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Your anger is understandable, Huntress,” he said. “The children are fortunate to have found such a fierce protector.”
Brighid’s hard gaze didn’t waver. “They are just children, Master Fagan.”
“And you are pledged to bring them safely to your Chieftain.”
“We are pledged to do so,” Cuchulainn said firmly.
“Understood,” Fagan said. “No matter what the two of you think, I respect your pledge and the diligence with which you are fulfilling it.”
The Swordmaster looked over his shoulder at his warriors who were still marching in formation, even though small groups of talking, laughing, question-asking children were sprinkled throughout their ranks. Fagan’s rough voice rumbled with a dry laugh, which he quickly cleared from his throat.