It was a soul-catcher, gifted to her through her spirit guide. The thought made her feel light-headed.
Later! She repeated the word sternly to herself. The Huntress shook herself and glanced up at the gray wall, trying to see Liam as he moved in and out of the deepening shadows. For now she should just forget about the wild goats and return Liam to the rest of the group. It was getting late; they would be worried about her and the boy’s absence had more than likely been discovered. Brighid grimaced, imagining the scene with Cuchulainn when she returned with Liam chirping about being her apprentice and helping her hunt.
She squinted up at movement along the ledge. Liam was suddenly visible, his winged shape silhouetted clearly against the deep blue-gray of the sky as he scrambled toward her.
Brighid opened her mouth to call a reminder to him to be careful, even though it was obvious that the child was as comfortable scaling the heights as were the damned elusive goats. But she did not have a chance to speak the words.
The day exploded in violence.
She heard the familiar twang of an arrow being loosed. Instinctively she launched herself forward.
“Liam! Get down!”
The boy stood frozen, wings spread as he balanced on the edge. He was a panicked statue. An easy target. The black arrow tore through his right wing.
“No!” Brighid shouted, but the word was drowned out by the child’s scream of pain. The boy crumpled. The wounded wing lay brokenly over the edge of the chasm, along with most of Liam’s upper body. Oh, Goddess! He’s going to fall! The Huntress’s hooves bit into the gray shale shooting sparks as she cut through the maze of boulders, feeling more than seeing the way because she couldn’t take her eyes from Liam. Fervently and silently she prayed to Epona that there would be no more arrows-that the boy wouldn’t tumble to his death.
“Hold on! I’m coming! Don’t move!” she called to him.
A hawk’s shriek sounded from atop the opposite wall of the pass. Brighid wrenched her gaze from Liam to see the hawk diving like a golden arrow at a dark-clothed warrior. The man dropped his bow and used both arms to cover his head, trying to dodge the bird’s talons.
“He’s just a child, you fool!” Brighid screamed. She saw the warrior’s head turn in her direction and his body jerk in obvious surprise, but she had no more time for him-she’d have to trust the hawk to keep him from firing another arrow. Liam needed her.
She slid to a stop beneath the boy.
“It’s going to be fine,” she called up to him as she frantically searched the rock wall for the narrow goat path. Liam’s sobs echoed around her. There! Half an equine length up the wall was a roughly hewn trail. She bit off a curse as she approached it. The damned thing was two hand lengths wide! The centaur followed it up with her eyes. Yes, it got wider-by maybe another hand width. She’d never be able to climb the trail. Despite all of her strength and agility, it was physically impossible. She needed a human’s body to scale the wall.
Brighid looked at the boy and her stomach rolled. He had managed to drag himself away from the edge, but his wounded wing still hung limply down the side of the rock wall, smearing scarlet stains against the gray stone.
Call the warrior. The voice was inside her head again. Use your connection and call for him.
Brighid didn’t need to look up. She heard the angry cries of the bowman and the predatory shrieks of the hawk. She knew the voice came from the bird-her spirit ally.
“Brighid!” Her name was a sob.
“I’m here, Liam.” The Huntress pressed her palms against the side of the pass, staring up at the wounded boy. “You’re going to be fine. Just be brave a little while longer. You can be brave for me, can’t you?”
Liam started to nod his head, but broke off with a moan. “It hurts,” he said, biting his lip to keep from sobbing.
“I know, brave one, I know. I’m going to get help, though.”
“Don’t leave me!”
“I won’t,” she assured him. “I don’t have to.”
Liam’s eyes met the centaur’s steady gaze. “Magic?”
“Magic,” she said. Oh, Goddess she hoped so. She closed her eyes and did the only thing she could-Brighid followed her gut instinct. He’d come to her in her dreams…dreams were only another part of consciousness…always there, just more elusive when one was awake…
She thought of her friend, the happy warrior with the ready laugh and the ability to draw people as bees to wildflowers.
Damn it, Cuchulainn! I need your help! Come to me!
Was it her imagination, or did she hear the whisper of Cuchulainn’s laughter?
Ciara jogged alongside Cuchulainn’s gelding. With her dark wings spread she used the gliding Fomorian gait to easily keep pace with the big horse. “Liam is not with the animals, and none of the adults have seen him since the last rest break,” she said. “He seems to have vanished.”
Cuchulainn grunted in annoyance and frowned down the stretch of pass that yawned ahead of them. “I have an idea where the boy might have gone.”
Ciara’s relief was obvious. “I didn’t even think about that! Yes, he must have followed the Huntress.”
“I wouldn’t sound too pleased. Brighid is very unpleasant when she’s angry.” She’s even prickly when she’s not, Cuchulainn added to himself. “The boy is bound to learn a lesson in what it’s really like to be apprenticed to a surly old Huntress.”
“Old?” Ciara laughed. “Brighid is young and attractive.”
Cu grunted. “She’s old inside-old and prickly.”
It was in the middle of Ciara’s laughing response that he Felt it. He jerked his gelding to a rough halt. A sense of joy, of youthful unbound happiness flashed through him, making him gasp with surprise.
“Cuchulainn, what…”
The warrior heard no more of what the winged woman said. With the heady happiness came something else, something Cuchulainn hadn’t experienced in many phases of the moon. The knowledge of what was happening settled within his mind like a nightmare as the vision slammed into him. Against suddenly blind eyes he saw Brighid. Her hands were pressed against the side of the pass and blood streamed down the stone walls all around her. Damn it, Cuchulainn! I need your help! Come to me! The words rang in his head.
“Brighid!” he cried. The vision disappeared. With it the fleeting sense of happiness evaporated and the world around him returned in a rush.
Ciara was grasping his arm and peering up into his face.
“What did you see? What’s wrong with Brighid?”
“She’s calling me.” He shook loose from her. “Tell the adults to keep the children close and to be wary.”
“Don’t worry about us. Go to her.”
Instead of answering, Cuchulainn dug his heals into the gelding’s sides and gave the horse his head.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The moaning wind had stilled. Liam’s small gasps of pain and Brighid’s murmurs of encouragement seemed suddenly unnaturally loud in the echoing pass, so she easily heard Cuchulainn before she saw him.
“Thank the Goddess.” Brighid’s breath came out in a rush. “You’re doing so well, brave one.” She smiled up at Liam.
“I want to be brave. Huntresses are brave,” the boy said.
“You are being an excellent Huntress, Liam.” What else could she say? If pretending to be a centaur helped him bear the pain of his wound and kept him from falling over the edge, then he could damned well pretend away.
Before Brighid turned to meet Cu she spared a glance at the opposite side of the pass. It was empty. There was no dark-clothed warrior holding a black bow. No golden hawk diving in attack. Where had they gone? They couldn’t be a hallucination, or even ghostly apparitions, Liam’s wound was evidence that she had not imagined them.