“We follow the labyrinth. Always to the right in the journey there, and to the left when we return,” she said, turning in the proper direction and beginning the circular spiral.
As they followed the path of stones Brighid noticed that the walls of the cave changed, darkening into a cavern so vast that by the time they reached what used to be little more than a small gap in the back of the cave they were instead standing before a rough rock door over which was written awen.
“Inspiration,” Brighid whispered. “It’s what it means in the ancient language of Shamans.”
“Your mother told you that?”
Brighid felt her soul shiver with excitement. “No. No one told me. I just understood it.”
“Then this is the way we go,” Cu said. He opened the door and raised his sword protectively. But before he could step ahead of her she touched his arm.
“I have to lead here, Cu.”
His nod was little more than a jerk of his head, but he stepped aside and let her precede him through the doorway. She gasped, and then disappeared.
“Brighid!” he cried, holding his sword before him and preparing to plunge into the darkness after her.
Then her laughter bubbled up from below. “It’s nothing bad, just relax and let yourself go with it.”
He’d go with it because she was down there, but he certainly wouldn’t relax. Gritting his teeth and holding tightly to his sword he stepped through the doorway and his body fell. It spiraled gently round and round to the right, reminding him of the few times it had snowed enough at his mother’s temple for the ground to be covered in slick whiteness and how he and El and the twins had fashioned childish sleds and sped down and around any surface that was at all hill-like.
His feet hit the ground and he took a moment to reorient himself. This time he and Brighid were standing directly in front of a round portal. Brighid touched his arm again.
“Be careful. This is the entrance to the Underworld. It is not our destination.”
Without waiting for his reply she stepped into the portal and emerged into a sea of fog. The gray mist licked her spirit body and she shivered. She heard Cuchulainn’s surprised grunt and she quickly stepped back to him and laced her fingers through his.
“By the hand of the Goddess! This was where we met in our last dream,” Cuchulainn hissed.
“Brighid…” The disembodied voice came from the mist and it tingled along the centaur’s spine. “Brighid…” the voice repeated.
“We’re not to stay here.” Cuchulainn’s voice reflected his tension.
“Wait, Cu. I know that voice.”
The mist in front of them parted and Niam appeared.
“Niam!” Brighid cried, automatically moving forward to greet her, but her sister stepped back at the same time Cuchulainn’s grip tightened on her hand.
“Sister, in this journey you are not to enter the Underworld.” Then she smiled and her beautiful face lit, making Brighid’s heart catch. “I am only here to pose one question to you. Your answer will decide whether you move on or whether you return to the physical realm.” But instead of asking the question, she turned her attention to the warrior at her sister’s side. “And what will you do if my sister does not drink of the High Shaman’s Chalice? Will you call your handfast a mistake and return to the comfort of your castle and those who love you there?”
“In life you didn’t know me, so I will not take offense at your question. I do not believe you mean to insult me, and because of that I will answer you. Whether Brighid does or does not drink of Epona’s Chalice our marriage will not end. Where she goes, I will go. I will stand beside her if fire should try to burn us, if the seas should try to drown us, and if the earth should shake in tumult. And I will cherish her name as my own unto death and, if Epona wills it, beyond.”
“Because you swore an oath that was much like your answer?” Niam’s spirit asked, unmoved by the warrior’s passionate reply.
“Because when I swore an oath I gave her my heart. To me they are one in the same.”
Niam finally smiled, looking very much like her older sister. “Though you are only a man, you may be worthy of her.” Then her gaze left the warrior and refocused on her sister. “Why do you wish to become a High Shaman, Brighid?”
Taken aback by her sister’s question she could only blink and stare at the lovely centaur who had been so fragile in life and who now, in death, appeared so strong and confident.
“Answer now, Brighid Dhianna!” Niam’s mouth formed the words, but the voice was strange and powerful. It worked on Brighid like a goad.
“I wish to become a High Shaman because I am weary with trying to escape the responsibilities I was born to. Too many tragedies, from the death of a young girl long ago, to your recent death, happened because I refused to face my fate.”
“What is your fate?”
“To heal the blight my mother’s reign has spread.”
“And what of your personal desires?”
Brighid raised her chin. “I belong to Cuchulainn and he to me-with or without me attaining the ability to shapeshift.”
Niam smiled and her voice returned to her own. “When I said personal desires I wasn’t referring to your new husband, sister. As a High Shaman you will wield great power. What of that?”
This time Brighid thought before she answered. She had always liked the sensation of Feeling the spirits of animals. She had relied on it and used it for good. And she remembered the rush of excitement breathing in Cu’s spirit had brought her. It had been a heady Feeling. Not just kissing him for the first time, but having the power to guide his spirit back to his body. She could protest to Ciara, Cuchulainn, and even to Etain, but she knew that deep within her soul she delighted in the power that simmered in her blood.
Slowly she met Niam’s eyes. “What I think is that I will have to be very careful to wield great power wisely-to listen to the Goddess and my conscience more than my emotions and desires.”
Her sister’s smile was radiant. “Then may Epona bless you with her Chalice.” Niam made a wide, sweeping motion with her arm and to the right of the Huntress and the warrior the mist roiled and bubbled before parting to expose a flight of gray stone stairs which led straight up and disappeared into more grayness.
Brighid turned to say goodbye to her sister, but the mist had already closed, obscuring the centaur’s form. The Huntress drew back her shoulders and said to Cuchulainn, “Let’s climb.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The stairs were wide enough to allow Cuchulainn to ascend them by her side. As they entered the mist again, he held his sword at the ready. Perhaps it shouldn’t have comforted her, but it did.
Finally the stone stairs ended and a warm wind swept against their faces, dissipating the fog to reveal that they were standing on a platform overlooking a shining river of light. Brighid’s and Cu’s eyes were drawn compulsively to the glistening waters. As they stared the lapping liquid swirled and scenes from each of their past lives took ghostly form within the crystal depths.
Cuchulainn as a boy hefting his first real sword…Brighid running with wild abandon across a sea of flank-high grasses…Cuchulainn holding the wounded Elphame tightly in his arms as Brighid carried both of them back to the safety of MacCallan Castle…Brighid bending over talon-shaped tracks and reading the story of Brenna’s death…
“Stop!” Brighid cried, taking Cu’s shoulders and pulling him around to face her. “Don’t look into the river!”
“What is it?” His voice was hoarse and he was clearly shaken to his core. “Why are we seeing the past?”
“It is the Middleworld.” At his blank look she wanted to curse and berate him for not paying better attention to his childhood lessons of the Otherworld. Later he must learn more. But now was not the time to berate him, instead she hastily explained. “The Middleworld is the place of time and space journeying. The river will show you your past-my past-our world’s past, and even other worlds and places foreign to us. It would be easy to become lost here-many have. But we cannot let it capture our souls, Cu. We must go on.”