“Excellent idea. You lead, and we will be close behind.”
Ciara smiled again, this time at both of them, before hurrying back to bring the Masters with her to the front of the castle. Cuchulainn clucked to his gelding and kneed him forward. Brighid moved with him.
“You don’t think a ceremony outside the castle walls is a good idea?” Cu asked.
Brighid slanted a quick, sideways look at him. “It’s fine.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said quietly.
“Do what?”
“Shut down like that. You’ve chastised me for it often enough, but now you’re doing the same thing.”
This time she let his gaze catch hers. His turquoise eyes were warm and concerned. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Not a problem. That’s why we make such a good team. Neither of us is perfect.”
He squeezed her shoulder, and suddenly something besides irritation quivered through her. It felt hot and slick, and it lodged low in her gut, making her draw in a quick, surprised breath.
“Now, want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“I was thinking about the trip,” she lied. “It’s maddening that it’s going to take us at least four or five more days, when if we had wagons and horses we could get there in half that time.”
“Well, we discussed it with Fagan. They had a couple wagons they could spare, but they aren’t a typical castle. Partholon gives them provisions in payment for their vigilance. The castle doesn’t trade goods, so they don’t keep wagons for hauling.” He shrugged. “You know they offered to send word to Laragon Castle and ask them to bring enough wagons for us.”
She shook her head, wishing she could rattle back into place whatever part of her mind had suddenly come loose. “By the time the wagons got here we would be halfway to MacCallan Castle,” she answered him absently.
“So we travel as we are. Keep your chin up, Brighid. You might be surprised at how quickly the next days pass. And I don’t mind admitting that I am damned glad we’re finished with the Wastelands-” he lowered his voice “-and Guardian Castle. I find it no less oppressive than it was during my school days, and the ghosts of the past feel too…” He hesitated, searching for the right word.
“Alive?”
“Yes, alive,” he said.
She nodded and mumbled a vague affirmative. Goddess knows she’d been too immersed in ghostly visits of her own lately.
“This should be interesting.” Abruptly Cu changed the subject, pointing his chin in the direction of Ciara and the four Masters. “She was pretty subdued last night when she said the evening prayer and lit the campfire. I don’t expect such a tame performance for the first time she enters Partholon.”
“Uh-huh,” Brighid said, wondering just how much Cuchulainn had come to care for the Shaman. Could he be falling in love with her, or was he just infatuated with her exotic allure? Was accepting their relationship what Brenna had meant last night when she had made Brighid swear an oath to keep an open mind about the future? No…it didn’t fit. Brenna had said to keep an open mind regarding the impossible. Once the warrior was healed, Cuchulainn falling in love with Ciara didn’t seem impossible at all. Actually it was logical. His sister had been handfasted with the leader of Ciara’s people. The New Fomorians were going to settle at MacCallan Castle, which is where Cuchulainn had chosen to live, too. It would make for a cozy little arrangement.
Then why did the thought of it make Brighid feel so damn annoyed? It was almost as if she was jealous of the Shaman. Ridiculous. Completely, utterly, ridiculous. Why should she feel jealous? He was her friend. It wasn’t like he was a centaur male and she and Ciara were vying for his affection.
The sudden inhalation of awe behind her broke into Brighid’s tumbling thoughts. The great iron gates of Guardian Castle had been pulled completely open, and Partholon stretched before them, green and magical in the soft light of the blush-colored morning sky.
Ciara rushed down the wide, well-trodden road until she came to the tree line. She stood very still then walked purposefully to the east until she stood before a lone oak whose mighty branches were covered with the slick green of spring leaves. She sank to her knees, pressing her palms against the earth and bowing her head. The children didn’t wait for her cue. With a glad cry, they surged forward forming a familiar circle around their kneeling Shaman. Brighid and Cuchulainn moved to join the four Masters, who stood a little way apart from the circle. With a slight movement, Cu motioned back to the castle. Brighid glanced over her shoulder. The wide walls were filled with dark warriors, all silently watching. Then Ciara began to speak and all eyes were riveted to her winged form.
Magnificent, loving Goddess
today Your people have been richly blessed.
The instant Ciara said the word Goddess the air around her shimmered. Not with the tame, earthy light Elphame evoked, or even the golden, flame-kissed glow of Ciara’s other blessing ceremonies. This morning the winged Shaman blazed with a vibrant, powerful light that crackled and pulsed like fire. As she continued to speak, the brilliance of the light grew, and Ciara brought her hands out, away from her sides, palms open, rapturously embracing the living presence of her Goddess.
Mother of animals, She who listens to our pleas
Epona, Great Goddess, I call to Thee.
Guardian of horses strong and free,
Epona, Great Goddess, I worship Thee.
Thine are the blessings of liberty and peace,
Thine are the gifts of happiness and grace,
And whenever I ask a blessing of Thee,
its burdens I do fully embrace.
Unexpectedly Brighid felt a chill run over her skin that contrasted sharply with the flamelike warmth radiating from Ciara. The Goddess’s gifts all come with a cost…whispered the memory of her mother. She knew that-she did not take Epona’s gifts for granted. Remember, she told herself, thinking of how power had corrupted and changed her mother, remember that with great blessings come great responsibility.
Epona, Mother Goddess, today we celebrate with Thee,
through Thy power we return to Partholon, finally free.
For long, cold years You guarded us as if we were a rich treasure,
through our exile You kept alive within us a joy beyond measure.
Ciara stood and the New Fomorians rose with her. They did not obstruct the sight of the shining winged Shaman, if anything they were like a frame that accentuated the beauty of a master’s piece. Ciara’s wings unfurled and her graceful hands and delicately rounded arms lifted to trace mythical patterns in the magic that licked like tendrils of flame through the air surrounding her.
Epona was present. The power of the Goddess was thick and tangible and unforgettable. No one who witnessed the New Fomorians’ entry into Partholon would ever say otherwise. Brighid tore her eyes from Ciara to look at Cuchulainn. He stared unblinking at the Shaman. The Huntress looked from him to the four Masters. They, too, were staring at the winged woman. The Horsemaster, Glenna, had one hand pressed against her mouth, as if to hold back a startled cry. The pessimistic Master of Combat, Bain, had fallen to his knees. Tears streamed unheeded from his eyes. Brighid glanced over her shoulder at the wall of the castle. Many of the warriors were kneeling and reverently bowing their heads.
Shining Goddess, Thy promise has been fulfilled.
Never again shall Your children roam outcast.
With Thy loving hand a new home we shall build.
And by Thy flame of love our frozen years are past.
Ciara flung her arms up over her head and, as if she had called it into the sky, the sun burst over the eastern tree line, blazing with a fierce, joyful glory that spoke eloquently of Epona’s presence among them.
“Hail Epona!” Ciara cried.
“Hail Epona!” The New Fomorians echoed their Shaman.