Authors: P.C. Cast
The Huntresses were out of sight somewhere ahead of us, but Victoria confidently dodged around corners and cut through gardens, until we finally cleared the internal maze of the temple and found ourselves on the front lawn. We veered to the left, but a movement on our right caught my eye.
“Victoria!” I yelled, pulling on her shoulder with one hand and pointing with the other. Dougal and the Huntress skidded to a halt, turning in the direction I was pointing. Spilling onto the northwestern edge of the lawn was a ragged line of centaurs. They attempted to stand their ground, and their claymores sang as they hacked at one winged creature after another. But, just as I had witnessed in the telescope, as soon as one creature fell, another stepped in to take its place—all teeth and claws, standing atop its fallen comrade. Step by step, they beat back the centaur line. As I watched, one exhausted centaur fell to his knees and six creatures leaped on his back, raking their claws over him, turning his coat red with his own blood.
“Get to the bridge!” Dougal yelled. “The warriors will hold them off as long as possible.” And we resumed our flight.
We followed the lush green lawn around a corner, and came face-to-face with a group of four students who were running fearfully back in our direction.
“Stop! You cannot go back this way, you must get over the bridge.” Victoria and Dougal put their bodies in the path of the terrified group, forcing them to halt.
The girl who appeared to be in the lead shook her head violently from side to side.
“T-t-they are t-t-there already!” She was shaking so hard she was difficult to understand.
“What? Who do you mean?” Dougal asked frantically.
“Them!” Her voice was shrill. “The Fomorians. They are ch-chopping d-down the bridge!”
“Oh, Goddess help us,” Victoria breathed.
“They must have flanked our army and circled around the temple to the north to cut off the river escape.” Dougal’s voice was flat.
“Go toward the swamp.” I said the words aloud as they whispered into my mind.
“Yes!” Victoria spoke to the frightened girls. “Go into Ufasach Marsh…the Fomorians will be loath to follow you there.”
The girls nodded and darted off in a new direction.
“That is where we must go, too,” Dougal said, staring back the way we had come. “There is nothing the two of us can do to stop the Fomorians at the bridge.”
Victoria nodded tightly.
“Not yet,” I said firmly.
“We must.” Dougal sounded exhausted.
“No, I’ll go to the edge of the swamp, but I won’t go into it unless ClanFintan is with us.”
“Lady Rhea, he sent me ahead to be sure you were moved to safety. He said he will join you when he is able.”
“Then he’s still alive.” My stomach wrenched as I asked the question.
“He lived when last I saw him.”
“Then I wait for him to find me,
before
I go into the swamp.”
Victoria and Dougal exchanged glances as they began a flat gallop in the direction the girls had taken. We quickly overtook them. I felt Vic sigh as she and Dougal slid to a halt beside them.
“Scoot forward, Rhea, you have company.” Vic’s voice attempted light humor. “Come on, girls, we do not have time for riding lessons.”
Dougal grimaced in pain as he lifted two girls up behind me, then he put the other two on his own blood-flecked back. We took off again with the frightened kids clinging like crabs to the backs of the centaurs.
“I hope the swamp is not too damn far away,” I said into Victoria’s ear.
“As do I,” she whispered between labored breaths. “You humans just seem to get heavier and heavier.”
We smelled the marsh before we saw it. Again, I thought it reminded me of an old compost heap, but this time the smell was much more inviting. We came to a halt on the edge of a steep incline, at the bottom of which bunched a grove of trees, mostly moss-laden cypress, intermingled with a few willows and some trees with yellowish bark that I thought were probably hackberry. Along the edge of the incline, at intervals of about ten feet, stood an enormous ring of old stones, reminding me a little of the rocks at Stonehenge.
“They look like they’re standing guard.”
“That is the legend, Lady Rhiannon.” The kid sitting behind me, who was clutching me around the middle so hard I felt short of breath, spoke.
While I helped the teenagers behind me drop off Vic’s back, she continued educating me.
“Thalia taught us that the first Incarnate Priestesses of the Muse erected the Stonewatchmen to help stop Ufasach Marsh from spreading to their new temple.” She suddenly looked apologetic and embarrassed. “Oh, forgive me, my Lady, you must already know that.”
“Don’t worry about it, kid. It never hurts to hear one of Thalia’s lessons again.”
When all the teenagers were on the ground once more, Vic spoke urgently to them. “Now, hurry into the marsh, but keep as close to the eastern edge as you can. As soon as you are far enough south, try to find a way to get across the river. If you cannot, stay within the marsh until you reach the boundaries of Epona’s Temple. Help will be waiting there.”
They thanked us, then ran bravely down the incline and disappeared into the swamp.
“We have to join them,” Dougal said.
“I’m waiting for him.”
The two centaurs turned, and we stared down the lawn that led back to the temple. The land sloped gradually down from the lovely buildings, so from where we stood it was apparent that the network of Muse temples had been built on a raised plateau, which, even in the gloom of the cloudy day, allowed us a good view of the south side of the grounds. I realized that the stand of ornamental shrubs that Vic and Dougal had crashed through to get to the edge of the swamp looped in a decorative line before us, serving to shield us from the sight of anyone standing on the southern grounds.
The temple had become a battlefield. Hordes of Fomorians blackened the steps of the central temple and the surrounding lawns as they attacked groups of retreating centaurs. There was no more organized line of centaur warriors; instead, they had broken off into clusters, heroically attempting to keep the creatures from getting past them. But even as we watched, creatures slipped around the battling centaurs and sped past them, entering the temple and racing past it toward the river.
“I hope the women got across the bridge.” Dougal’s voice sounded strained.
“I wish I still had that telescope,” I said, straining my eyes to try and make out individual centaurs.
“We must enter the swamp.” Vic didn’t sound happy at the prospect.
“I won’t go without ClanFintan.”
“Even if you see him, he has no way of knowing you are here.” Vic’s voice sounded exasperated with my insistence.
“I could try and find him,” Dougal said.
“A lone centaur? You’d be killed for sure.” I shook my head.
“I could go with him,” Vic offered.
“Then you’d both be killed.”
My mind was whirring, trying to come up with a plan, but my thoughts were all jumbled together. Everything had happened too fast. We hadn’t been prepared. They had attacked too soon. Where were the other armies? And where was ClanFintan where was ClanFintan where was ClanFintan…?
Peace, Beloved—let yourself hear my voice.
At the Goddess’s words I forced my mind to clear, closed my eyes, put my face in my hands and took a deep, cleansing breath, letting Epona’s wise words drift through my addled brain.
“Yes!” My eyes shot open. “Vic, get me over there to one of those stones.”
Victoria gave me an odd look, but she didn’t argue as she trotted over to the nearest stone. It was huge. I’d have to stand on her back. Hopefully, I could grab the craggy ridges near the top of it and haul myself up.
“Um, I’m going to have to stand on your back, Vic. Sorry about that. And you’ll need to hold this wineskin for me.”
She grabbed the leather bladder from me and backed up against the rock. “You should probably stand on my rump.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“I know.”
I stood on her rump and grabbed the rough side of the rock.
“Dougal, help boost me up on top of it.”
I lifted my right foot and set it in Dougal’s hands so he could boost me up, just like I was mounting a horse (which, I realized, was vaguely ironic). He counted to three, then shoved, and I scrambled, till I was sitting on the thing.
The top was flat and about as wide as the bottom of a folding chair. Slowly, I got my feet under me and stood, with my arms out to help me balance.
“Be careful,” Vic called.
“It’s damn high,” I said, feeling my stomach flutter.
I was facing the temple grounds. The scene of carnage now visible was horrendous. There were only a few clusters remaining of living centaurs. Fomorians dominated the scene. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the defilement of the temple.
Concentrate on your love for him.
I nodded my head in response, and focused my mind on ClanFintan. Images flashed against my closed eyes: of ClanFintan carrying me, tipsy and giggling, into my room—rubbing my tired feet as we made our way to MacCallan Castle—holding me gently in his arms so that I could overcome my fear of him—shape-shifting so that we could join together as man and wife—and telling me he was born to love me.
I tilted back my head, took a deep breath, and with all the strength of my body and soul, I loosed a shout that Epona magnified until it was almost a physical thing.
“CLANFINTAN! COME TO ME!”
I opened my eyes to see that all movement had ceased on the temple grounds. Every being, centaur and Fomorian, had turned in my direction, and they stood frozen, like they were a part of a macabre painting. Then my heart began to beat again as a small cluster of centaurs from the far right of the scene broke the immobility and began an all-out run in our direction. Even from this distance I recognized the silhouette of the centaur leading the group.
“He’s coming!” I yelled. Then my breath caught as the Fomorians, too, became unfrozen and they gave chase. “Oh, no—they’re after him.”
“Get down from there!” Dougal held out his arms to catch me.
“Wait.” I kept watching as ClanFintan and the centaurs fought off the seemingly endless stream of creatures while they made their way toward us. I could hear the screams of the creatures as the centaur warriors hacked at them with renewed strength, but it seemed to no avail as one by one the mighty centaurs fell under swarms of dark winged shapes. As I watched, a single Fomorian broke ranks and sped after the group of retreating centaurs ClanFintan led. Then another followed him, and another…
The way the lead Fomorian moved drew my eye. He didn’t have to get any closer for me to recognize him.
“Catch me,” I said to Dougal as I faced the rock and let myself drop over the side. I took the wineskin back from Victoria and said grimly, “The centaurs are trying to fight the creatures off, but they are being overwhelmed by sheer numbers.”
In response, Dougal unsheathed his claymore, and Victoria pulled her crossbow and quiver from the sling at her side.
Then ClanFintan exploded through the hedge. Up close he was barely recognizable. His claymore and the hand that held it were drenched in blood. His body was covered with gore. His vest was gone, and in its place were deep claw marks that bled freely. His hair was matted with blood and grime, and a laceration ran from his right temple down to his jawline, barely avoiding his right eye. He skidded to a halt in front of us as Dougal yelled.
“They cannot follow us into the swamp!”
He grabbed me with arms that felt like slick iron, and threw me to his back. I caught a glimpse of a set of deep gouges on his rump. I couldn’t tell if the blood that covered his back was his. I put my hands lightly on his shoulders, and tried not to tighten my legs around him, afraid I would break open an unknown wound. Normally, his skin felt warmer than mine, but beneath my hands his shoulders felt like they were burning.
He spun around and faced the hedge.
“The centaurs who were following me?” His voice was raw.
“There were too many creatures. They didn’t make it,” I said quietly. His only response was to reach up and lay a hot, blood-soaked hand over mine.
The first Fomorian leaped over the hedgerow.
In a motion so fast it blurred, Victoria fired an arrow that embedded itself to the quills in the creature’s forehead. It fell, and another creature sprang onto its body, snarling. Vic dispatched that one with an arrow through its throat.
The centaurs began backing quickly down the slope of the incline, with Victoria firing arrows as if she was shooting a machine gun. As we entered the grove that bordered the swamp, a long, sharp hiss focused our eyes on one of the Stonewatchmen.
I knew that hiss.
He hid behind the giant rock, with only the outline of his erect wings visible, but his voice echoed eerily to us.
“I see you,
female.
” His wings quivered. “Remember, I have claimed you for my own. This will not be the last time we meet.”
Victoria sighted and let fly an arrow, which tore neatly though an exposed flap of his wing.
We entered the swamp as Nuada’s scream sounded behind us.
After we left the cover of the grove of trees, the land changed dramatically. It was like we had been transported from a lovely villa in Greece to the middle of the Louisiana bayou. Before us stretched a trackless wetland—a world of still water, and seen and unseen (yeesh) reptiles and bugs. The air was very quiet, and the saturated ground sucked at the centaurs’ hooves as they surged ahead, determined to get as much of the wetlands between them and the Fomorians as possible.
The soft ground gave way to a stagnant lake, but the centaurs didn’t hesitate. Soon they were flank high in soupy, green-tinted water, pushing their way through thick mats of algae.
As time passed, ClanFintan slowed and fell behind Victoria and Dougal. I saw them sending worried glances over their shoulders at him. Vic pointed in the direction of a stand of trees that appeared to be on semisolid ground. We changed direction and made for the trees.
As we got closer, it was obvious it was some kind of island shooting up in the middle of the shallow lake. Along the edges of the solid land, huge cypress roots were exposed. They looked like thick, brown-gray snakes. I was sure they housed all sorts of crawly things.
One at a time, the centaurs hauled themselves out of the water and onto solid ground. As soon as ClanFintan’s four hooves were on the island, I slid off his back and handed the wineskin to Victoria. She uncorked it but handed it to Dougal before she drank. Then I began untying the pouch Sila had given me (and I said a silent prayer of thanks for her thought-fulness—please let her have crossed the river). Inside the pouch was a jar of thick, yellow salve, a couple of rolls of gauzy linen strips and (I was surprised to discover) several hooked needles and a black thread that felt like fishing line. I gulped when I realized they were clearly meant to sew up wounds and not to replace a button on a dress.
“Show me where you are hurt.” I looked up at him, overwhelmed by what I saw. He was breathing hard, and where he wasn’t covered with blood and grime, his ordinarily bronzed skin was pale and gray. His muscles twitched and I could see blood trickling steadily out of the slash on his head.
“I heard you call me,” he rasped.
“I wouldn’t leave without you.” I felt tears wash over the corners of my eyes. “Are—are you going to be okay?”
He reached his hand toward me. I rushed forward and clung to it.
“I’m afraid to touch you,” I said shakily.
He raised my palm to his lips, closing his eyes as he kissed my hand.
“Do not be afraid.” I felt his lips move against my palm.
Salve his wounds,
the voice in my mind ordered.
Before I started working on his wounds, I took a strip of gauze and motioned at Dougal to bring me the wineskin. Then I soaked the linen, took a drink, then soaked the linen again.
“You’ll need a drink of this, too.” I handed the wineskin to ClanFintan, who drank deeply.
“Bend down so I can reach that cut on your head, and hold still, I’m pretty sure this is going to hurt. A lot.”
“Tend to Dougal’s wounds first.”
I looked at the young centaur, who shook his head pointedly at me. “Dougal’s not bleeding, you are. Now bend down and hold still.”
“I will tend to Dougal,” Victoria said in a businesslike voice. She, too, took a strip of gauze and soaked it in wine. I watched out of the corner of my eye while she approached him. He looked as if he didn’t know whether to wriggle with enthusiasm or bolt. He chose neither and froze as the beautiful Huntress began cleaning the wound on his cheek. I wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
“You can breathe,” I overheard Victoria chiding him.
“Yes, Huntress.” The young centaur expelled a long breath.
I guess I had a silly smile on my face, because my husband’s rough voice whispered, “Don’t laugh at the colt.”
I gave a guilty jump. “I’m not laughing,” I whispered back, pleased beyond words that he felt well enough to tease me. “You know I think Dougal’s adorable.”
“Perhaps so does Victoria.” I was pleased to see his lips relax into a smile.
“That would be nice, but right now I want you to quit talking and hold still.”
He grunted a response, but he kept silent as I worked on his head wound. As I got the blood and dirt cleaned out of it, I was relieved that it didn’t appear as deep as all the blood caused me to think. I spread Sila’s salve over it, and began working on his chest wounds, which were far deeper. There were four long, ugly slashes that began up over his left breast and traveled in a diagonal line to the bottom of the right side of his rib cage. They had quit bleeding, but I had no idea if that was a good or bad sign. I looked up at him and found him watching me.
“Do you have any idea how badly you’re hurt?” I asked, trying not to sound as incompetent as I knew I was.
“I will recover.” His voice was starting to sound more normal. “Centaurs are very resilient.”
“I know, I know.” I smiled, relieved at his answer. “You’re probably way better at healing than a mere human.”
“Among other things.” He bent to kiss me, but the effect was lost when I saw him grimace in pain.
“There’ll be time for that later. Let me get you cleaned up.”
I went back to work on his cuts. He stood quietly, and soon I was able to lather in the salve. That done, I reluctantly moved to the rear of his body.
“You’re too matted with dirt, and, uh, stuff, for me to tell. Are the cuts on your rump the only big wounds on the rest of your body?
He turned at the waist, looking up and down his horse body as if it didn’t belong to him.
“I believe so.”
“Okay, well, you’re too tall, so you’re going to have to lie down for me to take care of these.”
With a sigh, he folded his knees and dropped to the ground.
Warnings from my memory file titled Stuff You Don’t Let Sick Horses Do flashed in my mind. “You will be able to get up, won’t you?”
“I hope so.”
Great. Where the hell is a veterinarian when you need one, anyway?
The cuts on his rump were terrible. It looked as if the claws of a giant bear had raked him. Three L-shaped gashes, huge flaps of skin and muscle, had been gouged out, then laid back down. I pulled one of the flaps up a little, and heard ClanFintan’s sharp intake of breath.
“I think these are going to have to be sewn up.” Just the thought of it made my head feel faint.
“Do what you need to do,” he said quietly.
“I’m going to clean them first.” I wet another strip of linen with more wine, trying to use it sparingly, but it was hard not to just douse his entire rump in wine. The wounds were deep and scary. After I worked as much of the grime as I could out of them (I would’ve given all of Rhiannon’s jewels to have a big bottle of peroxide and a syringe filled with penicillin), I applied a thick layer of Sila’s ointment, and was relieved to see his face relax as the numbing salve took effect.
“Just rest, I’m going to go talk to Vic.” I patted his shoulder and handed him the wineskin.
Vic and Dougal were talking amiably. I noticed his wounds looked clean, glistening with yellow salve, and his skin had returned to a more normal color.
“Vic.” I sounded like I was having an anxiety attack. Probably because I was having an anxiety attack. “I think the wounds on ClanFintan’s rump need to be sewn up.”
“That is very likely.”
I spoke tightly under my breath. “I can’t sew up his skin!” I felt like I was going to cry, which really made me mad. “I could sew up your skin. I could sew up Dougal’s skin. But I just can’t friggin sew up
his
skin.” I paused in my tirade. “No offense meant.”
“None taken,” Dougal’s sweet little self assured me.
“I can do it,” Vic said, as if she was talking about driving down to the corner to pick up pizza.
“Good.” I grabbed her hand and pulled. “Come on. I’m sure the longer we wait, the more swamp dirt and crap will fester away in it, and his butt will probably fall off in the morning…or something.”
“I hope you realize I can hear you quite well.” ClanFintan’s amused voice carried across the few feet that separated us.
“You didn’t hear anything,” I said as Vic and I approached him. “You’re probably delirious.”
“Or you will soon wish you were,” Vic said sadistically as she began threading one of the needles.
I was horrified, but ClanFintan and Dougal shared a big belly laugh.
“I’m glad you three are having a good time.” I crossed my arms, and felt a serious teacher leg-tap coming on.
“Come here, love.” ClanFintan held his arm out to me.
I stepped into the shelter of it, even though he was still covered with all sorts of scabby unmentionables.
“The worst is over now.” He kissed my cheek.
“Is it?” I asked as I watched Victoria head toward his rump, needle in hand.
“I will need something to cut this!” she yelled, and Dougal unsheathed his sword and moved quickly to her side.
“We are together,” he said simply.
His words made my heart beat more regularly, so I shut my mouth and peeked over his shoulder at Vic.
“Brace yourself,” Vic said.
I watched her jab the needle through the flaps of his skin, and I heard the distinctive
pop
sound every time she poked through one side and the other—then I listened to the
shuuuuuu
sound the thread made as she pulled it taut, tied it off (with the help of Dougal’s sword) and started anew.
I thought I was going to be sick.
“Do not forget to leave room for the drainage.” ClanFintan’s voice sounded remarkably calm.
Victoria threw him a look that said, “I know that, dummy.”
“Rhea—” my husband’s voice was soft in my ear “—the salve has numbed the wounds. She is not hurting me.”
I looked into his face, wanting to believe him, but seeing the film of sweat over his upper lip made me have my doubts.
“I just don’t like needles.” I snuggled into his shoulder, watching Victoria as she sewed up my husband’s flesh.
It seemed like hours had passed before Victoria tied off the final suture and asked me to hand her the salve, which she applied generously all over the freshly sewn-together skin.
“I believe you will have a scar.” Victoria sounded jealous.
ClanFintan grunted, and acted as if he was starting to get back to his feet.
“Oh, no!” I pushed down on his shoulders. “You need to rest.” I looked over at Dougal. “So do you. The creatures can’t follow us in here. You two have just been through a major battle. You need to stay put.”
“Rhea.” ClanFintan’s voice sounded strained. “I have to gather the centaur survivors, find the women and get back to Epona’s Temple. Quickly. The Fomorians have not finished with us.”
“You can’t do anything if you don’t get some rest.” I glared at him.
Before our own little private war could begin, Vic cleared her throat and said, “Does anyone have any idea how far we are from the river?”
The centaur know-it-alls were silent.
“Nope, doesn’t look like any of us does. Centaurs don’t like the swamp, and I sure as hell have never been in here before,” I said.
“Then I propose I scout and find out where we are. It might be a simple thing for us to cross the river—and it might not.” Victoria had turned into Centaur Barbie In Charge.
“Sounds like a great idea, Vic,” I said. “Just be careful.”
“I am Lead—”
“Huntress,” we said together, and smiled at each other.
“I will accompany you,” Dougal said.
“No, I hunt alone.” But as she passed by the young centaur she touched his cheek gently, which took the sting out of her words.
Nimbly, she leaped from the island with a splash, but soon the thickness of the swamp swallowed all sound of her passage.
Dougal sighed and took a position near the edge of the island, peering into the distance after her.
ClanFintan shifted his weight to his other side so he could lean his torso against the craggy edge of a cypress tree. He patted the ground next to him.
“Come, I need you beside me.”
His words made me feel a rush of warmth for him, and I sat down, nestling against him on the soft ground. He tucked me under his arm and rested his chin on my head.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, trying to get another look at his wounds.
“Be still. As you have already said, I need rest.”
“Oh, sorry.”
His chuckle vibrated through his chest and I felt his warm lips on the top of my head. I pressed myself against him harder, trying to be careful of his wounds but needing the comfort of his body to reassure me that he was truly here and alive. He seemed to understand my need, because he laced his fingers with mine, pulling me against him.
“I was so afraid you were dead.” I couldn’t stop the words from coming.
“You would have known.”
“Let’s not test that theory, okay?”
He squeezed me, and I was pleased it was with enough strength that I felt the air rush out of my lungs.
“I watched from the roof of the temple.”
“We could not hold them—there were too many.” His voice was suddenly hollow.
“I should have known there were too many of them. I saw them coming. I just didn’t realize.”
“It would not have mattered if you had known.” His voice lowered, and I wasn’t sure he knew he was speaking aloud anymore. “It would not have mattered if the human forces had joined us. There are too many of them.”
A chill crawled down my spine. Too many of them? For even our combined armies? Then what the hell were we going to do?