“You even protest like a mated pair. But I didn’t come to talk with you about your relationship. We’re nearing the entrance to the pass. Before we begin crossing into Partholon we should take a moment and beseech Epona’s aid and protection.”
“How do you know we’re near the pass? Have you been here before today?” Brighid asked.
“Of course not. I only know it from our mothers’ stories.” She opened her hand, gesturing in a wide sweep at the land around them. “We were told the rocks became redder, more bloodlike, as you neared Guardian Pass. Our foremothers warned us to stay away from the east. To flee from the scarlet rocks and the pass that spewed them from Partholon.”
Cuchulainn looked around, chagrined that he’d been too busy arguing with Brighid to notice the change in the jagged rocks that flanked the mountains. He knew the deepening of color signified the pass was near.
“It makes sense,” Brighid was saying thoughtfully. “Of course the women would tell you to stay well away from Guardian Pass. They would fear your capture.”
“And our deaths,” Ciara said softly.
“It will be different now,” Cuchulainn said.
Ciara’s bright, guileless smile returned. “Of course it will be! We have the two of you, and the sacrifice of your sister. All will be well.”
Cuchulainn grunted, wishing she didn’t look quite so naively confident. Partholon had spent over a century hating the Fomorians. It would take more than his sister’s word and the presence of one warrior and one Huntress to win over a people who still remembered all too well the slaughter perpetuated by winged demons.
“Cu and I were just talking about the pass. We think Cu should talk to the children-reassure them-before we go any farther.”
Ciara’s smile was radiant. “They would love that, Cuchulainn! I’ll pass the word.” The winged woman squeezed the warrior’s arm before hurrying away.
“Apparently that was the right decision,” Brighid said with forced nonchalance. Ciara’s smile and the intimate way she touched Cu were good, she told herself, Cu needs the touch of a woman to feel the fullness of life.
“There,” the warrior said, pulling up his gelding. He pointed to a slash in two dark red rocks. No vegetation grew nearby. The sides were sheer, and the wind howled eerily through the gap. “It’s the entrance to Guardian Pass and the way into Partholon.”
Cuchulainn stood in the mouth of the pass facing the New Fomorians who watched him carefully. He glanced up at the sky. The sun had traveled past its midday position, but it still hung high in the blue-gray heavens. There would just be time for them to reach Guardian Castle before darkness. His gaze dropped to the silent crowd. He realized it was probably his imagination, but even the goats seemed subdued.
“Go ahead,” Brighid whispered, moving to his side. “They’re waiting, and we’re running short on time.”
He scowled at her, even though he knew what she said was true. Actually the Huntress was proving to be annoyingly right about too many things. The broken part of my soul has been visiting her dreams. The knowledge of it astounded him. So she’d been right about that, too. That’s why I can’t get past Brenna’s death. That’s why I feel so empty and lost. Which meant if she was right about that, she was probably right about him healing when his soul was whole once more. Then he could live without Brenna. He might even learn to be happy again.
Is that what he wanted?
“Cu!” Brighid whispered.
By the Goddess! He’d been daydreaming while the entire group stared at him, waiting for him to speak. Broken soul or not, he needed to pull himself together-figuratively if not literally.
Clearing his throat, Cuchulainn stepped forward.
“You’ve done well on our journey. The Huntress and I are proud of your strength and endurance.”
There was a happy rustling of wings and the children’s bright eyes smiled up at him. He met those gazes, looking from child to child, making each of them feel as if he chose his words specifically for him or her.
“You know that Fallon went mad and killed Brenna?”
The children responded with vigorous nodding of little heads.
“And that Fallon is imprisoned in Guardian Castle, awaiting her execution.” He barely paused long enough for their nods. “Then you must be prepared for the warriors at the castle to distrust you.” Instead of the denials and various degrees of upset responses he expected, the children grew very still again. Their eyes never left him. “But I don’t want you to be afraid.”
Brighid had been studying the children while Cu spoke, but his last words drew her eyes to him. He sounded so gentle-so much like the old Cuchulainn-the man who was more than just a gifted warrior. He had so much depth, which was why Brenna had finally allowed herself to love him. And Brighid surprised herself by thinking that when he looked so world-weary, yet sounded so gentle, she could understand why her friend had been unable to turn away from him.
“I will be with you,” Cu continued, “as will Brighid. But you have more than that-more than our protection could ever command. You have the goodness within you that the warriors of Guardian Castle will see.” Cuchulainn drew a deep breath and raked his hand through his disheveled hair. “I know it’s true because I was once as they are-worse actually. When I came to you I was looking to place blame for Brenna’s death. I wanted to find barbaric creatures on which to vent my hatred.” His hard expression softened. “Instead I found you. And…” The warrior faltered, wiping his hand across his face as emotions he had been keeping at bay for weeks overwhelmed him. “And I…”
“Don’t worry, Cu!” a little voice rang from the front of the group as Kyna jumped to her feet. “We understand. You didn’t know us then.”
“Yeah, you didn’t know us then,” Liam echoed.
Then, like tidewater breaking through barriers, all the children were on their feet surging toward the lone warrior. Brighid snorted and backed away quickly as they engulfed him, patting him with their small hands and offering childish words of comfort. Cuchulainn stood for a moment, a giant in the middle of young winged shapes, looking helplessly down at the throng. And then, with a deep sigh, he crouched and opened his arms to them. Disbelieving, Brighid watched as silent tears made wet paths down Cuchulainn’s face.
“Thus it begins,” Ciara said.
The Huntress wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad sign that Ciara’s eerie ability to sneak up on her had begun to feel normal.
“What begins?” Brighid asked.
“His healing. He’s allowing himself to feel again.”
“The part of his soul that is broken has been visiting me in my dreams,” Brighid said, keeping her voice pitched low so that only the Shaman could hear.
“That doesn’t surprise me. You and he have a strong bond. It would be easy for Cuchulainn to hear you calling to him, and natural for him to respond.”
Brighid turned to face Ciara. “And what about you and him? What kind of bond do the two of you have?”
Ciara smiled. “I do not think you would call it a bond. Cuchulainn appreciates female grace and beauty-that is all.”
Brighid narrowed her eyes at the flippant answer. “Don’t hurt him.”
Ciara’s laughter was alluring and musical. “You need not worry about me hurting your warrior, Huntress, and someday soon you will realize it.” Still laughing, the Shaman clapped her hands together and called the group of milling children to order. “Let us ask Epona’s blessing.”
The children parted and Ciara walked through, smiling at Cuchulainn as she took the warrior’s place in the center of the circle. Cu nodded respectfully to Ciara before he backed away to stand beside Brighid. He wiped his face, and then ran tear-dampened hands through his hair.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He looked at her and shrugged a little sheepishly. “I hadn’t planned on getting emotional.”