“I understand.” He nodded his head up and down, up and down. “You want me to chase them to you.”
“Yes. Exactly. I’ll be following here, below you in the pass, slowly. If we’re very lucky the goats will run away from you and down here.” In theory it sounded like a good plan. She would certainly run away from the yelling, hopping, flapping boy. “And directly into me.”
“And then you’ll get one for dinner!” he said triumphantly.
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
“If that happens will I officially be your apprentice?”
“We’ll see,” Brighid prevaricated. “Being apprenticed to a Huntress is a complex procedure.”
Liam chewed his lip. “I understand.” Then he brightened. “I’ll do my best, though. You’ll see. I’ll be the perfect Huntress!”
“Doing your best is always the best choice,” Brighid said inanely.
And then, with a flutter of very uncentaurlike wings, the boy took off with his face pointed into the wind.
“Be careful and stay away from the edge!” Brighid called after him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
At least the child was being quiet. Except for the occasional spray of pebbles that his pretend magic hooves dislodged, the Huntress had to admit that Liam was moving silently along the narrow path above her. There was no giggling, no flapping of wings, no constant barrage of questions. Maybe keeping the young busy was the key to controlling them. Brighid glanced up in time to see the tip of one wing disappear ahead of her as the sides of the pass veered sharply to the right and Liam followed the goat trail along the turn.
No, she should know better. She wasn’t in control of the boy. He was off in his own pretend world where he was a magic centaur Huntress. It was just dumb luck that part of his pretense included temporary silence. Had she been like that when she was young? Filled with fantasies and imagination while she chattered incessantly and hopped about? The Huntress sighed. She didn’t ever remember being that young-it seemed like she’d been born old, weighed down by the responsibilities of tradition and her mother’s expectations.
The breeze swirled around her, feeling suddenly several degrees cooler. Brighid shivered and looked up at the sinking sun. How long had she and Liam been hunting? The sheer sides of the pass were almost completely made of gray stone in this section of the tunnel-like trail. No wonder it looked darker here. At least the red brightened the shadowy gloom. The gray seemed to suck in the waning light of the sun as if the walls themselves wanted to steal the spirit of the day.
The Huntress shivered again and felt the soft hair at the back of her neck lift. Her eyes skimmed up the gray rock walls. Where had that boy gone? She couldn’t see anything past the sharp turn. Damn it! He shouldn’t be that far ahead of her. She stopped and listened to the wind. Was that the echo of a goat’s bleat? She thought it might be and concentrated harder…
The screech from above had her pulling an arrow from the quiver slung across her back and notching her bow so quickly that had anyone been watching all they would have seen was the silver-blond blur of Brighid’s practiced movement. She aimed the bow at the sound and the breath caught in her throat.
Circling above her was a silver hawk with gold-tipped wings. As if waiting for her full attention, it soared down on the air currents, folding its wings and diving directly at Brighid. The Huntress felt like a statue, frozen with the arrow notched in place, unable to do anything but stare at the beautiful bird as it rode the air. The bird’s golden eye captured Brighid’s gaze, and within its avian depths the centaur saw the reflection of her own soul.
Brighid Felt their connection. Freedom…power…courage…a seeker of justice…a warrior…might used for right. The words blasted through the centaur’s consciousness in a clear, unfamiliar voice. I belong to you and you to me. It is past time you acknowledge our bond, Sister. The hawk screeched again as it skimmed above Brighid’s body, so close that the wind under its wings caused Brighid’s hair to move in response.
And like a bothersome black fly from the lowlands, something bit Brighid hard, squarely in the middle of her equine back.
A gift. Something that has too long been hidden…much like our bond and the power that is your heritage.
Utterly off balance, Brighid spun around and stared after the golden bird, her equine skin still twitching from the sharp bite. Had the damned bird clawed her?
Look down.
Brighid’s gaze fell and she saw the stone. Its rich blue-green color stood out against the drab slate path, an oasis of color in a desert of gray. The centaur picked it up, intrigued by its brilliant coloring and the smooth, warm feel of it against her skin. It reminded her of something…
Above her, the circling bird screeched again, and Brighid’s head snapped up.
He needs you.
“He?” Brighid called into the air.
The voice in her head was suddenly a shout. Liam!
Liam? Brighid kicked into a controlled gallop, placing the turquoise stone within her inner vest pocket. As she hurried forward she could feel its hard round shape press sharply against the softness of her breast.
The walls and the rising wind muffled the sound of her hooves as she slid around the abrupt turn, her eyes moving restlessly from the treacherous ground in front of her to the sheer sides of the rock walls. There was no sign of the winged boy.
“Liam!” she yelled. The boy’s name bounced eerily off the walls and came back to her like a half-forgotten memory.
By the Goddess! She had a bad Feeling about this! She should never have allowed the child to be separated from the rest of the group. She and Cuchulainn had agreed on the importance of staying together. Who knew how many hidden dangers the rugged mountains held? Then there was the hawk and the voice that warned her Liam needed her. What, by the Goddess’s silver breastplate, was that all about?
And where was the boy? How far ahead of her had he gotten? She’d had no idea he could move so fast. She vaulted over a heap of rock and rubble, stumbled, and then caught her balance. Gritting her teeth and silently cursing the Goddess-forsaken roughness of the trail, she increased her speed.
Once again the pass veered sharply to the right. She skidded around the curve, almost losing her balance as her hooves slipped on the slick rock floor. Here the pass was broader, opening to a width of several centaurs. Gray boulders dotted the ground haphazardly so that Brighid had to slow down to wind her way between them.
She Felt it. Someone was watching her. Instinctively she raised her bow along with her eyes, and was washed with relief. Above and ahead of her the unmistakable shape of Liam’s little head and the tips of his wings jutted just over the edge of the chasm. When he saw the Huntress looking his way, the boy waved gaily at her. Brighid sighed and lowered her bow. He was too far away to hear her, so she lifted her arm and signaled for him to come to her.
What had been the damned bird’s problem? Liam was fine. Or had the voice come from the hawk at all? She glanced warily down the dreary pass. Who knew what malevolence lurked within these mountains? Ciara had sensed something that made her wary. Perhaps the restless spirits of her people were prowling around. It seemed likely they would enjoy causing trouble. The turquoise stone pressed against her breast. Was she imagining its warmth?
She pushed the confusion from her mind. Later. When the children were safely deposited at MacCallan Castle, then she would have time to think about the oddness of this day, and the glimpses into the spirit realm she had been gifted with all too often during this journey.
Gifted…
The Huntress’s skin twitched as if another stone had fallen from the sky. Realization made her suck in a breath. Ciara had told her to be careful what she asked of the spirit realm… The blue-green stone pressed warmly against her breast, sending a flush of knowledge through her body.