She smiled. “His lack of intelligence has definitely not adversely affected his taste.”
“Probably because he was too stupid to do much running,” he grumbled.
She laughed out loud. “See, you’re a better Huntress than you thought.”
“No, I’m not, but I did dig up some early potatoes and wild onions.” He prodded what she would have otherwise taken for rocks within the edges of the campfire with the toe of his boot. “You need to eat as much as you can today. Even I know that a journey into the spirit realm can appear to take only a few hours but turns into days.”
“So you’re not just trying to make me fat and unattractive to other men?” she said, wanting to tease the worried shadows from his eyes.
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“Cu, has something happened?”
“No…yes…I’m not sure,” he said, running his hand restlessly through his hair. “I’ve been uneasy since we entered the tors. And this place-” he gestured at the cave “-has my teeth set on edge.”
“But you haven’t had a specific Feeling?”
“No. And I’ve tried. I’ve listened with that other sense.” He sighed. “Nothing. I don’t know if it’s because of my ineptitude or if it’s because there’s nothing specific there.”
“Perhaps the Feeling was sent to remind you to stay vigilant.”
He started to snap at her that of course he would be vigilant-then he remembered that he hadn’t always been so. He had been prewarned of Brenna’s death and he had done nothing to prevent it.
“Perhaps…” he said. “The spirit realm is a mystery to me.” He glanced up at her and forced himself to smile. “But I do know enough about it to be certain that you are well fed before we visit there.” He carved off another hunk of meat and brought it to her.
“Visit-that sounds so much nicer than journey or quest,” she said. “I should tell you that I visited MacCallan Castle last night in my dreams.”
His eyes shot to hers. “Brenna?”
She shook her head and pushed down the jealousy that his quick look and tense tone made her feel.
“No, it wasn’t anything like the times you or Brenna came into my dreams. Last night my spirit was awake and aware. I watched myself lift out of my body and travel to MacCallan. And I heard Epona’s voice.”
“The Magic Sleep,” Cuchulainn said thoughtfully. “My mother has described it many times. It is the way Epona often communicates with her and allows her to see important events as they take place.” Then his contemplative look became alarmed. “Was everyone at the castle well?”
“Very,” she assured him. “But I do think I witnessed an important event. Apparently there’s more to the New Fomorians than their goodness and tenacity. Epona has gifted them with the ability to nurture growing things-and according to Wynne’s report-this ability allows them to hasten the growth of plants.”
“That should make Wynne happy.”
“It pleased everyone, including your mother.” Brighid paused. “But I don’t understand why that was important for me to witness.”
“Maybe Epona wants us to know that all is well with the Clan so we won’t head into the Otherworld with worry to distract us.”
“Maybe…” she said. “Did your mother ever say anything about being seen when she was on one of her Magic Sleep journeys?”
“Not that I remember. Did they see you last night?”
“No one acted like it, except your mother said something that made me wonder.”
He grinned and carefully pulled a hot potato from the coals. “You know it’s impossible to keep anything from my mother.”
“Anything important,” Brighid added.
“Trust me, often it feels like she knows everything.”
They chatted about home and the Clan and the fallout of the New Fomorian’s unexpected gift while they ate the nourishing meal of venison, potatoes and wild onions, and Brighid felt her strength returning. Afterward she stood under the gentle fall of cold cave water and gazed at the beauty of the Centaur Plains. The land called to her soul. She could find belonging and comfort at MacCallan Castle, but she knew it would never have the ability to move her like the open land of her birth did. It was late spring and in some places the grass would already have grown past her withers. The brilliant blues, pinks and reds of spring wildflowers would have given way to the long, lace-topped white flower known as snowpeak and the tall, brown-eyed daisies that could be found in unexpected fields alive with the summertime sound of buzzing bees. She held her hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of the midday sun and thought she could just make out dark dots on the horizon that could be bison. Then the Huntress frowned as what else she was seeing registered in her sharp eyes.
“Drought,” Cuchulainn said. He was standing above her at the edge of the clearing and he, too, was gazing out at the rolling grasslands.
“It’s been a dry spring at MacCallan, but I had no idea it was affecting the plains so drastically.” Her sharp eyes narrowed as she discarded the romantic haze her vision had been peering through and looked with new eyes on the grasslands. “It should be green, so rich and alive that from this distance it should look like the landscape has been painted the color of emeralds.” She shook her head, feeling her gut clench with foreboding. “But it’s the brown of fall.”
“I haven’t seen it this dry for years, maybe for as long as I can remember,” Cu said.
“What began the Fomorian War?”
Cuchulainn’s brow tunneled. “Their attack on MacCallan Castle, of course.”
She shook her head, tasting the bitterness of foreboding in the back of her throat. “Before that. Decades before that. Why were they in Partholon?”
His turquoise eyes widened in understanding. “They were driven from their lands by a great drought.”
“It’s a bad omen, Cu. I Feel it, deep within my soul. I think it’s time we followed this hunt to its conclusion.”
“Agreed.”
“Good. Then let me tell you what my mother taught me of the Quest for Epona’s Chalice.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“If you keep looking so damned gloomy you’re going to make me nervous,” Brighid told Cuchulainn.
“Sorry. I’ve spent so much of my life avoiding the Otherworld that it’s hard for me to step willingly into it.”
“So then don’t think of it as stepping into the Otherworld. We’re following a trail, remember? We’ve hunted together before, Cu. This will be no different.”
“You mean except for the spirits and the fact that we won’t be in our bodies.”
She frowned at him.
“All right!” He raised his hands in surrender. “We’re going on a hunt.”
“Good. Let’s review what we know one more time.” She held up her hand to tick off her fingers. “First, we’ve readied the labyrinth.”
Cu’s eyes went to the spiraling circle of stones they had placed in the center of the cave. The stones unwound smoothly around and around until they led to the small tunnel and the stream of water.
“I still don’t like that,” Cu said, staring claustrophobically at the constricting hole in the back of the cave.
“I don’t particularly like it, either, but it fits with everything your father and my mother have said about the beginning of the spirit journey. Midhir directed us here because the tors have always been linked to the Underworld. My mother told me many times that using a labyrinth was one easy way to begin a spirit journey, as well as to return at the end of one.”
“We’re just following a trail,” Cu repeated.
“That’s all we’re doing,” Brighid agreed. “But I want you to remember that the labyrinth is the path back to this realm.”
“I’ll remember,” he said, his jaw tightening. “But I will not return without you, and you should remember that.”