“Leave me alone,” Brighid told it.
“Come home, daughter.” Her mother’s voice filled her mind.
“I am coming home. To MacCallan Castle. My home, Mother. My home!”
“That is not your home, foolish colt!”
“No,” Brighid’s voice was steel-edged. “I am not a child. Not anymore. I make my own decisions.”
“Your herd needs you.”
“My herd or your pride?”
“Insolence!”
“Truth!” Brighid countered. She paced two steps forward and glared down at the dark bird. “I will not be manipulated by you ever again. I am sworn Huntress to the Clan MacCallan. That is my chosen path.”
“Your chosen path, but not your destiny…”
Her mother’s voice faded as, cawing, the bird unfurled its ebony wings and, beating the wind, rose sharply into the night air, disappearing into the waiting darkness.
Grimly Brighid glanced down at the body of the deer. Except for her arrow wound it was clean. No exploded chest. No gore spattering the forest or-she touched her face and felt that it was clean-herself.
“Shaman’s tricks and manipulations,” she muttered between clenched teeth. Forget it. Focus on the job at hand. Brighid bent to gut the deer, readying it for the short trip back to Guardian Castle. She tried to lose herself in the familiarity of the task, but it was no use. The serenity of the forest had been shattered, as had the peaceful reprieve she had found. All around her she felt watchful, prying eyes.
It was full dark by the time the guards opened the thick doors to Guardian Castle. Eager hands met Brighid and relieved her of the deer while the people praised and thanked her. Brighid accepted their effusive show of gratitude uncomfortably. It made her even more aware of the sad state in which a sister Huntress had left her castle. Her mother should be paying attention to the habits of errant centaurs instead of focusing her time and energy on a wayward daughter.
Brighid frowned. Not that she was actually wayward. By the Goddess, why was her leaving the herd such an all-encompassing issue? Yes, it was Dhianna tradition that the eldest daughter of the High Shaman follow her mother in herd leadership, but that didn’t always happen. There had been times when no daughter had been born to the High Shaman, or when she had died without producing an heir. Why could her mother not see that her succession was to be one of those times?
It wasn’t like Brighid didn’t have any other siblings. Yes, her sister had shown little promise for leadership. Niam was golden and beautiful and perpetually happy because her mind was as empty as a broodmare. But Brighid’s brother…Bregon’s fondest desire would be fulfilled if he followed their mother. It wasn’t forbidden for males to become High Shaman. The position of centaur High Shaman of Partholon was always held by a male. He was the centaur who mated with Epona’s Chosen and led Partholon by The Chosen’s side. Bregon would welcome the power that being Dhianna High Shaman would command, and perhaps then he would even believe he had attained that which he had struggled after his entire life-their mother’s love.
Her brows drew together. Thinking of her younger brother always gave her a headache. They’d never been close. Or at least they hadn’t been since…
“Brighid! Good, you’re back in time for dinner.”
The Huntress set her shoulders and let Ciara draw her toward the courtyard. Another damned Shaman…another damned spying, meddling…
“I’ve been watching for you. There is a place saved for you at fireside.” The Shaman gave her a concerned look. “Is something wrong? You look-”
“No! Nothing’s wrong.” Brighid made her face relax and smiled at the winged woman. She would not let her mother poison her growing friendship with Ciara. This Shaman was not her mother. She was not spying; she was concerned. “I am hungry, though. I appreciate that you kept watch for me.”
They entered the large, square courtyard, and Brighid’s wooden smile became an authentic one. The tents were set up in a cheery circle, though not so tightly packed as they’d been in The Wastelands. Here they were already sheltered from the biting night wind by the walls of Guardian Castle. Children sat all around, talking to the Guardian Warriors in animated bursts between bites of steaming stew and hunks of fragrant bread.
“So the warriors didn’t disappear with the night,” Brighid said.
“Oh, no.” Ciara laughed softly. “It seems the great warriors of Guardian Castle have been taken hostage.”
“Hostage?”
“Yes. By curiosity.”
Brighid snorted. “Or they’re being slowly talked to death and have already lost the ability to escape.”
Ciara laughed again. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do. You have no idea how dangerous those little voices can be to the uninitiated.”
“You mean one of them could even cause a centaur Huntress to take on a new apprentice?” The Shaman smiled knowingly at Brighid.
“That is exactly what I mean,” she said.
Ciara touched the centaur’s arm lightly. “Liam is resting comfortably inside the castle infirmary. Nara will stay with him through the night. She assures me he can travel in the morning, but it will have to be on a litter.”
“Thank you. I…” Brighid paused and swallowed around the knot that had suddenly risen in her throat. “I find that I have developed an affection for the boy.” The Huntress stopped short. Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I announced formally that Liam was my apprentice before going to his parents.”
She sighed, thoroughly annoyed with herself. It was bad enough that she had broken with tradition by taking on a male apprentice-one with wings who was decidedly not a centaur. She had also completely disregarded proper protocol. For a child as young as Liam, his parents should be consulted and their approval obtained. Of course, she had been young when she had begun her Huntress training, and her mother had definitely not given her approval-not that that had stopped Brighid, but…
“Rest your mind. Liam’s parents are dead. If Lochlan was here you could go to him for his permission, which I feel certain he would give.” She shrugged her smooth shoulders, causing her wings to rustle. “I am acting as our leader in his absence, and I gladly give consent that he be apprenticed to you.”
“I still should have thought of it. I don’t know why-”
“Be a little easier on yourself. You accepted the boy under unusual circumstances-you were facing the warriors who had tried to kill him. I think even Huntress protocol can be loosened in a case such as this. Come,” Ciara said. “Eat and rest. Tonight you can sleep soundly knowing that an army of warriors guards our back.”
Brighid snorted and muttered, “You mean the same warriors who shot my apprentice?”
“That was then,” Ciara said, making a sweeping gesture toward the campsite where Guardian Warriors and winged children intermingled, “before they knew us. You can relax tonight, Huntress. The only malice I sense within these walls comes from one of our own, and she is securely locked within the bowels of this great castle.”
Silently Brighid followed Ciara into the circle of friendly firelight. The Shaman led her to a centaur-size empty space. With a sigh that came close to being a moan, Brighid folded her knees and reclined on the thick pelt someone had been thoughtful enough to prepare for her. She accepted a hot bowl of stew and a hunk of fresh bread gratefully from the human woman who offered it. It was simple fare, but tasty and satisfying. Excellent food for warriors, she thought. Warriors and hungry growing children. As she ate she watched the firelight play across the children’s faces. She had never known a group of people-especially people who had overcome so many hardships-who were so filled with joy.
And the Guardian Warriors! Those staid, well-trained soldiers, men and women who lived to protect Partholon, were smiling and answering the barrage of childish questions.