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She met his eyes. “We return together or not at all.”

He scowled, but the mischievous glint was back in his turquoise eyes. “I prefer the together part of that.”

“Stop worrying,” she said.

“Next.”

“Next-” she held up a second finger “-you join me in my dreams.”

The warrior sighed. “You say that like it happens every day.”

“Cuchulainn, in less than half a cycle of the moon you have entered my dreams four times.”

He grinned. “I don’t think you can count that last one.”

She gave him a stern look. “Actually it counts for even more. We shared the same dream and neither of us had shattered souls, which means our spirits met somewhere in the Otherworld. All we need do is just to repeat what we’ve already done.” He raised his eyebrows and coaxed a small smile from her. “Minus the sex,” she added.

“So I join you in your dreams.”

“That’s the easiest way of putting it.”

“Just now your tone, the way you looked at me, reminded me of my father,” Cu said.

She curled one side of her smile. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about this journey or are you telling me our marriage is in trouble?”

He grinned at her. “You’re not concentrating.”

“Third-” she lifted another finger “-when our spirits are together we follow the labyrinth, beginning in the center, around and around to the tunnel entrance.”

“Then we slide down into the Underworld.” All trace of humor had left his voice.

“Yes, but only because that is where a Shaman Journey typically begins. We won’t stay there. Your father said Epona’s Chalice will not be found in the Underworld, and my mother often implied the same. I believe Epona’s Chalice is in the highest realm of the spirits-the Upperworld-the realm where the Goddess is most often found.” She took his hand. “Remember, Cu, there are three levels of the spirit realm-the Underworld, the Middleworld and the Upperworld. We cannot afford to get lost in the first two. Always follow the path upward and don’t let anything persuade you to turn aside from our purpose.”

“I’ll remember. I’m ready.”

“Cuchulainn, there were several things my mother made very clear to me about this journey. The first is deceptively simple because it is what even the smallest children learn as they begin to practice rituals and test their aptitude for the spirit realm.”

“Leave the problems of life in the physical realm. Do not carry them with you into the Otherworld,” Cu said. “I know that as well as you.”

“You know it-I’m just reminding you to abide by it,” Brighid said sternly. “For both of us.”

“For both of us,” he repeated, kissing her hand. “I’ll bank the fire and make sure the gelding is seen to.”

Brighid nodded and gave him a smile that was meant to cover up the fear and doubt that lurked just beneath her confident facade. As he set their camp to order she paced the length of the cave, going over and over the small, disjointed details of a High Shaman’s spirit journey her mother had sprinkled throughout her childhood. One thing her mother had said kept circling around and around in Brighid’s head. Before you drink of the Chalice you must face your greatest ally and your most powerful enemy-and the two are one in the same.

She hadn’t known what her mother had been referring to then, and she certainly hadn’t received any illuminating information that would clear up the riddle now. She’d just have to take the leap and trust herself, her Goddess, and the man at her side.

“All is ready,” Cuchulainn said, striding back into the cave. “It’s only early evening, hopefully we’ll be back before morning.”

“Don’t count on it. Time passes differently in the Otherworld.”

“Then let’s get it over with.”

Cuchulainn held out his hand to her and she joined him on the pallet they had made up carefully in the center of the labyrinth of stones. Beside them they had placed a full wineskin and a loaf of wrapped bread and cheese. The first thing they must do when they returned would be to eat and drink so that their bodies would reground in the physical realm.

“We’re missing something,” Brighid said. She looked around the cave till she found what she needed sheathed in Cuchulainn’s scabbard. Carefully she pulled the gleaming blade free and rejoined her husband in the center of the labyrinth. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I’d feel better if you held this,” she said. “I know you can’t physically take it with us, but all things are ensouled. Perhaps the spirit of your blade will deign to accompany us.”

“It would relieve my mind greatly if it did,” he said, closing his hand around the familiar hilt.

They lay on the pallet, fitting their bodies together. Brighid sighed, glad that the physical awkwardness that had once been between them was gone. She pressed her head against his broad chest. Before she closed her eyes she touched the turquoise stone that hung between her breasts.

“Just breathe, Cu. Relax your body and will your soul to follow the beat of your heart to me,” she whispered.

“I’ll be there. I won’t let you be alone,” he said.

She kissed him before she closed her eyes and began the deep cleansing breaths that would take her into a trancelike state. It was an easy exercise for her. She used it often to follow the spirit trails of animals. So she fell into a meditative state quickly. Only this time instead of focusing her concentration on her chosen prey, the Huntress blocked out everything except the beat of Cuchulainn’s heart.

The Shaman drums are the easiest way to find an opening to the Otherworld. All of life beats with them. Listen and you will find an opening to the spirit of the earth.

Her mother had said those words to a very young Brighid when she had complained that Mairearad had taken too long choosing a simple drum. Brighid remembered that she had been eager to leave the crowds and heat of the open air market, and for once her mother had not snapped at her for her complaint. Instead she had explained to her daughter why choosing the correct drum was important for a High Shaman.

Then Brighid had discounted her mother’s words, and had only been grateful she had somehow avoided a reprimand. Now she used the memory to begin her own High Shaman quest. They didn’t have a drum, and even if they had she knew that Cuchulainn would not have been willing to remain in this realm to beat it while she entered the Otherworld alone. She’d pondered her mother’s words, trying to find a compromise. Mairearad had said that all life beats with the sound of drums…life…the heartbeat of life…and it had come to her with sudden clarity. Her husband’s heart would be the life beat she would follow into the Otherworld.

So she pressed her head against his chest and let the strong beat of his heart guide her.

Thump-thump…thump-thump…thump-thump…thump-thump…

It was more magical than a drum, more primitive and real, and she would gladly follow it even to the ends of the earth.

When her spirit lifted from her body it was a much different sensation than she had experienced during her dreams or even the Magic Sleep. Her spirit was surrounded by the warmth of Cuchulainn’s heartbeat and for a moment she stood beside their bodies, listening with her soul.

“You were right. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be,” Cuchulainn said. He was standing next to her and his body was illuminated by a gentle golden glow. In his hand he clutched a shimmering white sword.

“It came with you,” Brighid said.

“I think my hold on it was so tight that it had little choice,” the warrior said. Then he lifted his other hand and touched her face. She felt the caress like a warm breeze against her spirit. “You’re incredibly beautiful like this, all silver and shining.”

“You’re golden,” she said, touching his shoulder gently.

He looked down at his spirit form and grunted. Then lifted his eyes to hers. “Let’s go.”