She simply wasn’t certain-she glanced at the restlessly sleeping form of Cuchulainn-she wasn’t certain of anything here, except that she would remain alert and guard against anything that threatened her clan. Brighid closed her eyes, but sleep didn’t come easily. She kept hearing the phantom sound of wings and seeing the horizon drenched in the scarlet color of blood.
The morning was still young. The day had dawned bright and breezy, with an almost imperceptible shifting of the ever-present wind from the relentless frigid north to a slightly gentler northwesterly current that brought with it the distinct and enticing scent of the sea. Cu and Brighid had joined Ciara in the morning blessing ceremony, and after breaking their fast the three of them retraced the path Brighid and Cu had taken the day before, all the way to the mouth of the hidden mountain pass.
But something wasn’t right. Ciara Felt it deep within her spirit. The closer they got to the mountains the more intensely she Felt the wrongness. It was more than just her lifelong dislike of the rocky barrier that divided them from Partholon and all that was good and green and growing. Today she Felt the warning crawl across her skin and lodge inside of her like the bite of a venomous spider. She wanted to believe it was just her imagination, just the fact that the Trier Mountains symbolized so many negatives. But she wasn’t an ordinary maiden. Ciara was her people’s Shaman; she didn’t need to be on a Sacred Journey to recognize a message from the spirit realm.
She needed to get away from the mountains and the unease they seemed to be evoking. Then she could retreat to her lodge and open herself to the Sacred Journey. There Ciara could call upon her spirit guides to help her sort through the warning that had shaken her all the way to her soul. She realized she had been ready to bolt from the shadow of the mountains when Cu’s voice broke through her inner tumult and anchored her back in the physical world.
“It’s melted quite a bit. If the weather holds, and all the signs say that it will, the trail should be passable in the next couple days,” Cuchulainn said thoughtfully, nodding his head while he squinted into the still snow-speckled path that led between two sheer edges of red rock and directly into the mountains.
“You really think so?” Ciara forced her voice not to betray the fear that his words had sent spiraling through her.
“I can’t see why not. It will, of course, be a difficult journey. But you said yourself that winter has broken.” He nodded his head at the narrow path. “At least there won’t be any more snow to block the way.”
The Huntress watched Ciara and Cuchulainn as they peered into the dark slash in the ancient walls of rock. She folded her arms across her breast and shook her head at them. “You two must be totally mad.”
The warrior frowned, but the winged woman simply shifted her gaze to the Huntress.
“What are you talking about?” Cu asked.
“What am I talking about? Better ask yourselves that question.”
“Explain yourself, Huntress,” Cu growled.
Brighid curled her lip at him. “By the Goddess, it’s simple! You cannot take seventy children through that pass. Not in a couple days, nor in a couple turns of the moon.”
Cuchulainn opened his mouth to bluster, but Ciara’s calm voice interrupted his rant. “What do you mean, Brighid?”
“I mean it’s clearly too dangerous. Maybe it was different when Cu came through it two moons ago, but today it would be a difficult journey for a party of adults. For children it is impossible.”
“Our children are special,” Ciara said softly. “They are not normal children.”
“Regardless, they are still children. No matter how strong, their legs are only so long. I’ve watched them. Some of them are barely gliding, which means adults, or the older children, would have to carry the littlest ones. That would double the danger and difficulty.” Brighid spoke matter-of-factly, in the logical emotionless voice of a Huntress discussing the tracking of game.
“You’re certain? Even if we took them through in small groups?” Cu asked.
“Small groups would be better, but still dangerous. Travel would be slow, so they would be forced to spend the night in the pass. And that would be a night without fire.” Brighid glanced at the Shaman who had so easily wielded the power of flame. “Fire would weaken the snow that is already thawing on the walls of the pass.”
“Avalanche,” Cu said. The warrior shook his head in self-disgust. He hadn’t thought of that, and he should have. “But small groups could work?”
Brighid lifted one shoulder. “I suppose.”
The Shaman’s dark eyes caught hers. “If they were your children, would you chance taking them through the pass, even in small groups?”
“No.”
“If you would not lead your own children through, I will not lead ours,” Ciara said.
Cuchulainn raised his brows at the quickness of the winged woman’s decision, but they were her people and it was her choice to make. “Then we’ll have to wait until late summer to lead the children through, when there is no more snow on the walls of the pass,” he said slowly. He could already feel the weight of the children’s disappointment when they found out that they would not be traveling to the land of their dreams for several more turns of the moon.
“Not necessarily,” Brighid said.
“But you just said-” Cu said gruffly.
“I said this pass was too dangerous for the children. But this is not the only pass into Partholon.”
Cuchulainn jerked in surprise. “ Guardian Pass!”
“Exactly.” The Huntress looked pleased with herself.
“I hadn’t even considered it, but you’re right. It does make the most sense. It’s wider, well-marked and well-maintained. Probably even passable today.”
“It’s guarded by warriors from Guardian Castle.” Ciara’s soft voice shook only slightly. “Their sole charge is to keep Fomorians from entering Partholon.”
“You aren’t our enemies. My sister’s sacrifice promises that,” Cu said gruffly.
“But that is where she was taken to be imprisoned.”
Cuchulainn’s body jerked as if someone had struck him. The she Ciara spoke of was Fallon, the mad hybrid who had murdered Brenna. After Fallon had been captured, Elphame had sentenced her to death as retribution for the taking of Brenna’s life, but the hybrid had been pregnant, and not even Cuchulainn had been willing to sacrifice an unborn child to pay the debt its mother owed. So Fallon had been taken to Guardian Castle to be imprisoned until the birth of her child. It was there that she would eventually be executed.
“Yes,” Cuchulainn clipped the word. “Fallon is jailed there.”
“So won’t the people assume we are as she is?” Ciara asked, eyes luminous with feeling. “Won’t they already hate us?”
“You aren’t responsible for Fallon’s actions,” Brighid said. “She chose madness and violence. None of the rest of you did.”
“The warriors are honorable men and women. They will treat you justly,” Cuchulainn said.
Brighid slanted a look at him, considering the irony of the situation. Here was Cu, reassuring Ciara about something that he had struggled with himself. He had been ready to treat the New Fomorians unjustly-he had already admitted that to her. But their goodness had been obvious, even to a grieving warrior. If Cuchulainn could look past their wings and their father’s blood, wouldn’t the Guardian Warriors be able to do the same, too? Brighid desperately hoped so.
“If they were my children, taking them through Guardian Pass is the only way I would lead them into Partholon,” the Huntress said.
Ciara looked from the Huntress to the warrior. “If you believe it is for the best, then it is through Guardian Pass that we will enter Partholon.”