Eternal: More Love Stories with Bite

Eternal: More Love Stories with Bite Page 39

Brighid had wanted to get on the road before midday, but the sun was beginning its path down the western part of the sky when they finally left MacCallan Castle. They took the wide, newly restored road that led from the great front gate to Loth Tor, the town that nestled at the bottom of the plateau. She and Cu spoke very little at first. Brighid set the pace. Cuchulainn rode beside her on his big gelding, leading an extra mount, who would spell his buckskin when the horse tired, as he would inevitably do. No normal horse could keep pace with a Huntress for long. And the road they had begun was going to be a long, wearying one.

Cuchulainn let Brighid pull a little ahead of him, though he kept his gelding close to the centaur's rear flank. It had been difficult to leave MacCallan Castle. Not like the last time, when he had been so shattered from Brenna's death that he was only going through the motions of living. It was an irony that this time his soul was healed, and he was newly married, but his departure had been much more wrenching. His sister had been stoic. There had been no weeping. El hadn't tried to convince them to stay another night - she had understood the need for haste. But in her eyes Cuchulainn had seen the sadness that losing him again so quickly had caused. He understood it; he felt it himself. Etain had, of course, been loving and offered Epona's blessings on them. It had been his father's idea to take the extra horse so Brighid would not have to slow her pace. He had also suggested their initial destination - the Blue Tors.

"You're right! I wouldn't have thought of it, but it's a natural physical entry to the Underworld," Brighid had said with more animation than she'd shown since they had separated at her sister's pyre.

His father had nodded and given her what Cu thought of as his Shaman look - one that was serious as well as kind. "But beware, Brighid. You will not find the Chalice in the Underworld. It will be in an upper level of the spirit realm."

"But all of the spirit realms are interconnected," the Huntress had said.

Midhir had nodded again. "They are. Just remember that..." His voice had trailed off and he'd sighed in frustration as he checked his impulse to aid the centaur. "I should not say more, though I wish I could give you more guidance."

"I understand," Brighid had quickly assured him. "I - " She hesitated only a moment before adding,

"Cuchulainn and I must discover our own way. This does help us, though. It gives us a clear direction in which to travel, rather than just aiming toward the Plains and praying that we somehow find the Chalice along the way. I appreciate it."

Cuchulainn frowned as he thought back to their departure. It had been heart-wrenchingly obvious that Brighid had been holding her emotions in tight check. She and his sister had whispered only a few parting words to one another and embraced. She had hardly spoken to Etain. But he'd seen the pained look on his new wife's beautiful face when they finally turned away from the castle. Her usually graceful body had moved woodenly, as if her hooves had become mired in mud.

They'd passed through the little village of Loth Tor, barely hesitating to return the greetings called to them, and then the Huntress had kicked into a ground-eating canter that had Cuchulainn settling deep in the saddle and concentrating on coaxing the gelding to match. Grimly he realized that Elphame had been right when she'd insisted that Fand remain behind at MacCallan Castle. He would miss the wolf cub. She had become a part of him over the past several moons. Her presence was warm and familiar, but the wolf had become attached enough to the hybrid children, especially the little girl Kyna, that he was fairly sure that even after they untied the howling cub she would remain at the castle. At least he hoped she wouldn't try to follow them. Fand wouldn't catch them - or if she did, there was no way the young wolf could maintain the grueling pace the Huntress was setting. It was a pace meant to cut the time it would take to get to the Blue Tors by at least a full day. It was also a pace that was not conducive to conversation, and Cuchulainn wondered if that might not be part of the reason Brighid had chosen it.

He'd handfasted with her. She was his wife - his lifemate. Had they chosen to keep the ceremony private, between only the two of them and simply speak the words before Epona, the mating would have been legally binding for the space of one year. But he had negated that condition when he had asked the ritual to be witnessed by his mother. Handfastings presided over by the High Priestess of Partholon were lifetime bonds. Of course no two people would be forced to stay together if either or both truly wished to part from the other, but the breaking of a lifemating was rare.

He watched the beautiful Huntress pushing her pace. What was she thinking? Just the thought of losing his sister and his mother in the space of one day chilled him to his marrow. Should he try to get her to talk about it? He thought of how he felt after Brenna had been killed. He'd refused to speak of her. He'd run away from his memories of her. But he'd also been broken...shattered. Brighid was whole. So wouldn't she need to vent? To remember?

His thoughts had so totally eclipsed his concentration that Cu's mind didn't register the darkening of the sky or the slowing of Brighid's pace, until his gelding broke from their steady canter into a jarring trot.

Reorienting himself, Cu nudged the big horse up beside the Huntress.

Brighid glanced over at him. "It's almost full dark. I thought we should start looking for a place to camp." She hesitated, not meeting his questioning gaze. "Or we could just slow our pace and keep going.

The road is wide and well-marked. Maybe we'll come to a village. I traveled up from the Centaur Plains on this road, but my trip was..." Her eyes narrowed in painful remembrance. She hadn't allowed herself to think during the hasty trip from her old life. She'd pointed herself toward the promise of a future and not let anything get in her way. Now she was heading into another future, only this one was filled more with pain and danger than promise and contentment.

"It's fine, Brighid."

Cu's deep voice was so normal - so ordinary - so in complete contradiction to what was going on within her head. He was just a man, talking to a woman. Not a human warrior who was freakishly mated to a centaur Huntress. Not a man joining his mate in a futile quest that would either be successful and lead them blindly into deep waters, or unsuccessful and strand them to flail about in unconsummated shallows.

He was just a man - theman who cared about and accepted her. It calmed her and anchored her heaving emotions. Perhaps it shouldn't - perhaps she was being foolish - but it did.

"Brighid," he repeated. "We can keep traveling. The moon is nearly full, and after it rises the road will be easy to follow. But the day has been long." He smiled. "Honestly, I'd prefer camping and beginning renewed at dawn."

She returned his smile gratefully, feeling the ice that had been holding her emotions in check all day begin to thaw. "Do you know if there are any villages close by?"

"Mostly between here and McNamara Castle there's nothing but vineyards and forest." He jerked his chin to the right of the road. "We could climb to the top of the plateau. Should still be grassy up there and a decent place to camp."

"Lead the way," she said, relieved that she could mindlessly follow him for at least a little while.

Slowing considerably, Cuchulainn nosed his gelding between a break in the trees that lined the road.

Almost immediately, the land became an incline, angling up and up until they finally emerged from a scattering of oaks and pines onto the plateau that eventually gave way to the imposing cliffs over the B'an Sea. The sun had already set, but the ocean horizon was still stained with the burned colors left by a dying sun. For a moment they simply stood quietly watching the close of another day. Then Cuchulainn dismounted and tossed the reins of the extra mount to Brighid.

"I'll gather some firewood if you unpack the supplies. I don't think we'll need the tent up tonight. Sky looks clear and it's been warm enough."

Before she could answer, he and the buckskin gelding disappeared back into the trees. At least unpacking and setting up a temporary camp would keep her occupied. She was hungry. When had she eaten last? That morning before she lit Niam's pyre and handfasted with Cuchulainn. Had all of that happened just this morning?

Oh, Goddess.She stopped suddenly in the middle of untying a pack.Tonight is my wedding night. The thought made her fingers slow and clumsy.Breathe, just breathe. She pulled the last pack free from the horse and gave the mare a quick, perfunctory wipe down before she hobbled her and then began pulling supplies from the packs, silently thanking Etain when she discovered the generous skins of rich red wine.

She was taking a long pull from one of the skins when Cuchulainn dropped the load of dry branches near her.

"I've made you turn to drink already, and we haven't even been married one full day," he said, smiling boyishly.

"Just thirsty," she said.

His chuckle was more of a grunt.

"Want some?" she asked.

"Definitely - as soon as I unsaddle the gelding and settle him in. I think I'mthirsty, too." He grinned at her and led the gelding over to where the mare was already grazing.

Nervous and uncomfortable, Brighid busied herself with building the campfire. By the time he rejoined her she had thick slabs of salted pork frying and cheese and bread laid out on a blanket.

"By the Goddess, that smells good!"

She told herself to relax and smile at him. "You wouldn't believe the supplies wrapped away in those packs. I won't have to hunt for days."

"Wynne's doing," Cuchulainn said.

"Not the wine." Brighid tossed a skin to him. "This has your mother's touch all over it."

Cuchulainn uncapped it and drank. Then he sighed in pleasure. "May Epona bless my mother for her love of fine wine."

"And her willingness to share."

Cu grunted his agreement before taking another drink. Then he sighed and reclined next to the Huntress near the campfire. Before long, they were both busy forking hot pork onto bread and relishing the sharp tang of the well-aged cheese. Cuchulainn was almost finished with his third helping, and was feeling relaxed and replete, when he gave a little half laugh of remembrance.

"These sandwiches will always remind me of El."

"El? Why?" Brighid asked, clearing her mouth with another long drink of the excellent wine.

"Well, she was a loner - liked to go off by herself, especially in the years before she studied at the Temple of the Muse. Mother didn't want to restrict her, so she let her explore, even allowed her to go all the way up to the fringes of Ufasach Marsh, under only one condition."

"That you accompany her?"

Cuchulainn grinned. "You guessed it." He raised the small piece that was all that remained of his last sandwich. "These were a favorite of hers whenever we went camping. I imagine she was behind making sure that Wynne included them in our provisions."

"Nice of her to think of that," Brighid said.

"She's like that. She remembers small things - always has," Cuchulainn said, his voice and face softened as he thought of his sister.

"So you two have always been close? Even when you were young?"

Cuchulainn nodded. "Always. It was just us until the twins were born when I was six and El was seven.

Arianrhod and Finegas were so much younger." He shrugged. "And they had each other."

"Like you and El had each other," Brighid said.

"Yes." His smile didn't reach the sadness in his eyes.

"I'm sorry that I've taken you away from her," Brighid said slowly.

"You haven't taken me anywhere. I handfasted with you willingly. I don't want you to ever think otherwise. And this - " he gestured absently around them " - isn't your fault. Neither you nor I wanted to leave MacCallan Castle, but it was the right thing to do. It was what we had to do."

She almost blurted that it was what she had to do, not him, but the stubborn set of his jaw had her sipping from the much depleted wineskin and keeping quiet instead.

"So tell me about what you were like when you were young," he said, motioning for her to pass him the wine. "My guess is that you were much like El - you liked to be off by yourself."

Instead of answering him right away, she fed the fire more branches and they were both silent as the logs popped and cracked.

"Brighid," he said her name and waited for her to shift her gaze to his. "You made me talk to you when I wanted only to crawl into a dark hole and lick my wounds. You wouldn't let me give up on life."

"And now it's your turn to do the same for me?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Right now, though, I'd just like for my wife to be able to speak easily with me about her past."

Wife...the word was heavy in the night air. Brighid took another long drink of wine, welcoming its warmth and its ability to loosen the bonds she kept carefully in place around the past.

"It's hard," she began haltingly. "I'm not used to talking about it."

"Well, take your time. We have all night." He popped the last of the bread and meat into his mouth and then shifted the saddle that he'd propped behind him as a backrest, using the same movement to edge closer to her. Looking comfortable and settled, he leaned back, bringing himself within touching distance of her. "It's just us. Fand's not even here to listen in."

"Or to yip annoyingly," Brighid said.

"Wolves don't yip. They growl."

"Whatever you want to call it, the cub is annoying."

"Which is one of the reasons I left her at the castle," he said. "And the children like her. They'll keep her occupied."

"They're equally as annoying."

Cuchulainn laughed. "I won't even begin to deny that."

Brighid smiled at him, captured by his infectious laugh. "Just like the cub, they never stopped making noise."

The warrior chuckled and stretched. "There are definitely some good points about being off by ourselves. One is that our ears aren't constantly bombarded with the voices of the young - be they winged or furred."

She sighed and took another pull from the wineskin. "On that point you and I are in complete agreement."

The wine and Cuchulainn's good humor had worked its magic. She wasn't feeling so self-conscious and nervous; actually, she was relaxed and a little sleepy. So she started talking.

"You were right. I was alone a lot when I was young, but it wasn't because I was a loner. It was because it seemed that everyone around me wanted something from me. It was just easier for me to be alone."

"Everyone?" Cuchulainn prompted when she fell silent. "Even your brother and sister?"

"Like Elphame, I'm the firstborn. Niam was several years younger, and she and I were never close. She cared about luxuries and gazing at herself in any and all reflective surfaces. I cared about avoiding our mother." Brighid's brow wrinkled. "I didn't understand then that what she was doing was finding her own way to avoid Mother."

"It was always like that with your mother?" he asked.

She sighed. "Almost as far back as I can remember, though when I was very young, and my father was still alive, she was less controlling and more - " she struggled to find the right word " - more normal.

After he died it was like the coldness that had always shadowed her took over completely."

"What about your brother?"

"Bregon and I were nearer in age, like you and El. As children we were close, even though it used to confuse him that I didn't want to spend time with Mother. He idolized her. In turn, she ignored him. I always expected him to sour toward her, to see what a user she was, but he never did. Instead he began resenting me. Especially after..." She stopped talking, like her words had run out. Brighid stared into the fire, remembering. In the crackle of the flames she could almost hear the small, frightened voice from her past, and see the terrible red sunset of that long ago day.

Cuchulainn's touch on her arm made her jump, and her eyes swung back to his, wide and dark in her suddenly pale face.

"What happened?"

She opened her mouth and words that had remained unsaid for years rushed out. "It was near the end of my training as a Huntress. I was about half a day away from the herd's campsite. No one knew I was there. When I saw the wagon tracks I thought I'd use them as a training exercise. I'd follow and see what they led me to, all the while reading the story they told. I was already unusually good at tracking animals." She moved her shoulders apologetically. "I was drawing on my affinity with animal spirits, though I wasn't consciously aware of it. So I was particularly interested in tracking the wagon. It was pulled by animals, but technicallyit wasn't an animal. I thought it would be more difficult to read. Plus, it had left the road and was cutting through a cross-timbers area of the Plains, which was rugged and harder to track. Then it started to rain. Just lightly, but I remember that I liked the added element of difficulty. When the hoofprints mixed with those of the wagon's it was easy to tell that they were the tracks of centaurs. Five of them."

Brighid met Cuchulainn's eyes and she gave a dry, humorless laugh.

"I'd wanted a story to read in tracks - something difficult - and that was exactly what I was granted.

Only it wasn't the reading of it that was difficult. That was clear, at least to me. I suppose Ciara would say that I should thank the ability that runs innately through my blood for that clarity. That day I didn't feel much like giving thanks." She stopped speaking, and tilted the wineskin against her lips.

"What story did the tracks tell you?" Cuchulainn asked softly.

She glanced at him, and then looked away, back into the fire. "They told me that the five centaurs had chased the wagon. That the horses that were pulling it had panicked, and that the centaurs purposefully herded the stampeding team toward the timberline and the cliff that the creek and time had eroded. Then I didn't need to read the tracks anymore because I heard her. I followed the sound of her cries as I slid down the side of the cliff to where the wagon had overturned, spilling out its driver, as well as the bolts of brightly colored cloth that she had been bringing to the centaur herd for trade. I remember that most of the cloth was dyed rich jewel tones - reds, blues, emerald greens - so when I found her at first I thought that the bottom of her body was swathed in yards of ruby-colored linen."

Brighid shook her head, her eyes far away, seeing that day in the past.

"The wagon had rolled over her, crushing her body just below her rib cage. She lay there on the ground, the rain mixing with her blood, and she was still alive. She was crying. When she saw me she tried to drag herself away, begged me not to hurt her anymore. I told her I didn't want to hurt her. I don't think she believed me, but when she moved the bleeding got worse. A lot worse. Like something within her had snapped and broken loose. She knew she was dying and she didn't want to be alone, even if it meant breathing her last breath in the arms of a centaur." Brighid lifted her eyes from the fire to the warrior beside her who was so silent and attentive. "Oh, Cu, she was just a girl. She said she'd snuck away from her merchant train and come alone to trade with the Ulstan Herd to prove to her parents she could do the work of an adult, but she'd gotten lost. Then the centaurs - young males, she said, had surrounded her and scared the horses and laughed and whooped while they ran her over the cliff. Then they'd left her alone in the rain to die."

Brighid took another long pull from the wineskin, forcing the trembling from her voice. It was important that she tell the story clearly - that he understand everything.

"She clung to me. There was nothing I could do for her except hold her and be with her at the end. She kept saying, over and over again, 'Tell Mama not to be mad at me. Tell her I'm sorry that I'm late.'

Afterward I cared for her body quickly. The rain was heavier, and I didn't want to lose their tracks."

"You followed them?" Cuchulainn asked.

She nodded. "Yes, I followed my brother and his friends back to our home. In my heart I'd known it had been his tracks from the moment I'd found them. But I didn't want to believe...I didn't want to think that..." Her body shuddered and she spoke between gritted teeth. "I tracked him home and I watched them laugh and make merry, as if nothing had happened. When I dragged him before my mother and confronted him with what he had done he said that the silly human girl should have controlled her animals better. That's what he said, Cu. In front of my mother, the High Shaman of our herd - the centaur who should have been exemplifying honor and integrity."

"She did nothing?" Cuchulainn's voice was rough with emotion.

"Shesaid nothing. Shedid much more than that. From that day on her attitude and actions toward my brother changed. She no longer ignored him - she went to the other end of the extreme. My mother petted and spoiled him outrageously. His friends were awarded her favors, too." Brighid's lip curled in disgust, making it clear what kind of favors her mother granted her brother's young friends.

"I went back the next day to get the girl's body. I was going to try to find her parents...take her back to the mother she'd died crying out for...but all I found was a burned shell. My mother wouldn't speak of it, but I knew she'd had it done. It wasn't long afterward that I left the Dhianna Herd. Since then I have wandered the Plains, staying as far away from my herd as possible. When I heard Elphame wanted volunteers to rebuild MacCallan Castle I turned to the north and let the call carry me to her."

"Goddess..." Cuchulainn choked out the word.

Brighid wiped a shaky hand over her face. "I should have told you before. I should have told someone before...I just didn't..." She looked wildly at his face as if she could find redemption there. "All I could think to do was to get away from that life. To change my future and to try not to look back. But I understand. Now that you know you might...might not be able to stay with me...might not want to care about me and - "

"Stop!" Cuchulainn's voice was sharp as he grabbed her arm. "I'm not going to leave you. What they did was not your fault. What they are today is not your fault. By the Goddess, do you think I'd let you go back into that alone?"

"I don't know what I think. I've never told anyone. Didn't think I ever could. And now I've told you.

My husband. My husband who is a man." Her breath hitched on a sob. "What dream were we living when we thought we could be together? How can this possibly work?"

In an instant Cuchulainn had swiveled to his knees and was facing her. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. She stiffened, feeling the oddness of his torso against hers - the unfamiliar sensation of the muscular width of him that was just man and not melded with the equine body of a centaur male. He ignored her stiffness and didn't relinquish his hold on her. When he spoke he turned his head so that his voice was a warm breath against her ear.

"It will work because we are bonded, the two of us. Because somehow, miraculously, Epona fashioned your soul to match mine. We are not defined by our bodies alone, Brighid. You and I know that only too well."

"It seems impossible," she said.

"No. It's not impossible - it's just difficult."

She pulled back, and this time he loosened his hold on her so that she could look into his eyes. "How can you be so sure? I'm from a different world. We're different species. We can't even consummate our mating tonight."

"My father is a centaur, Brighid. Don't forget that I have his blood running thick in my veins. We're more alike than we are different."

"But your body is human."

"That it is." He sighed and rested back on his heels, letting his hands slide down her arms. "Does that repulse you?"

Brighid frowned at him, hearing the echo of his sister's words in his voice. "Of course not! How could you even ask me that? I wouldn't have handfasted with you if you repulsed me."

"There are many different reasons to handfast. Physical attraction is not always one of them," he said.

"You mated with me. That does not automatically mean that you're attracted to me."

Her frown deepened. "I'm attracted to you. You're not like most men."

His brows shot up. "I can assure you that I am very much like most men."

Brighid felt her cheeks heating. "I didn't mean that you're not...uh...not..."

"Yes..." He drew the word out. "Go on. I'm not what?"

Her frown turned into a scowl. He certainly wasn't making this any easier for her. "Most men seem too small."

His brows disappeared completely into his hairline. She shook her head, trying to figure out how to explain it to him without sounding patronizing or offensive.

"Remember the first day we met? You were with El and Brenna in the Main Courtyard of MacCallan Castle. You'd just uncovered the fountain."

"I remember," he said. "You said you were of the Dhianna Herd and I may have reacted badly to that."

"May have?" She snorted. "You wanted El to kick me out. You were defensive and overprotective of your sister." Before he could protest, she hurried on. "And I thought you were intriguing. You weren't some small, weak man. You were a warrior, and everything you said and did was filled with such confidence and power that I never thought of you as just a man. From the first I've thought of you as a warrior, without the label of 'centaur' or 'man.'"

"So you didn't hate me on sight?"

"No. I just disliked you." His amused expression made her smile. "But part of me agreed with you. Had I been another member of my herd, you would have been wise not to trust me."

"I learned to trust you," he said.

"And I you."

"Don't you see that that's it, Brighid? Our relationship is based on trust and respect, which grew into friendship." Slowly he took one of his hands from hers and lightly, just using the tips of his fingers, retraced the path up her arm to the roundness of her shoulder. He felt her skin prickle under his fingers and he heard the sharp intake of her breath. "And then that friendship changed. I'm not even certain when." In a long, slow caress, he drew his hand across her shoulder until he found the softness at the base of her throat. There he let his thumb trace a light, sensuous pattern along her delicate collarbone. "I remember how the part of my soul that came into your dreams teased and kidded with you. You thought I was playing...only pretending desire for you..." His thumb moved to the hollow of her neck and he felt her pulse beating fast and hard against the smoothness of her skin. "It was no pretense. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. And I don't care what form your body takes. I will always desire you."