Eternal: More Love Stories with Bite

Eternal: More Love Stories with Bite Page 51

The deadly sound of Cuchulainn's sword being drawn free of its sheath was echoed by a wolf's low, menacing growl. When the warrior moved Fand struck. Bowyn was the first to go down, screaming as the wolf lunged under Brighid's body to get to his rear legs. With one powerful tear of Fand's teeth, Bowyn was hamstringed and floundering in his own blood on the grassy ground.

Cuchulainn didn't move like a man. He moved like a malevolent spirit - silent, all-knowing, deadly. With speed that caused his sword to become a silver-white blur he whirled and lunged past the fallen Bowyn, slicing his throat in a neat, scarlet arch. The centaur's last breath escaped his open mouth in a gurgling gasp.

The warrior closed on Mannis without making a sound. The centaur was scrambling back from Brighid's haunches, his body still engorged with his obscene lust, when Cuchulainn struck. He skewered him in the chest, pulled his sword free and whirled past him, dragging the blade along his equine belly and disemboweling him.

"I won't be so easy to kill," Gorman said, hefting the long sword he'd retrieved while the man had been kept busy with Gorman's comrades.

Cuchulainn's only response was to move relentlessly toward the centaur. He didn't speak and he didn't break his stride. With speed that had been honed like the edge of a blade, he made the centaur look old and clumsy in comparison. Cuchulainn ducked smoothly under Gorman's sword, but instead of going for a killing blow, he sliced at the centaur's front hock.

Gorman hissed in pain and stumbled back - and right into the wolf's path. Fand wasn't as silent a warrior, but she was just as deadly. Thunder blanketed Gorman's scream and, in turn, lightning illuminated the torn flesh that dangled from his rear hamstring. He collapsed and Cuchulainn closed on him.

"No!" Brighid yelled.

Cuchulainn's body jerked to a halt. The face he turned to his wife was one she had only seen once before, when they had fought side by side against Fallon and the misguided Fomorians who tried to protect her. But his blood-spattered warrior's mask did not frighten or repulse her. She knew her own visage was a reflection of the same cold intensity.

"Cut me free," she said.

"Fand! Watch him," Cuchulainn ordered. The wolf slunk over to stand near the centaur's bleeding hindquarters, fangs bared.

Cuchulainn sheathed his sword and pulled free the dagger from his belt. With swift, sure movements he cut the ropes from his wife's body.

Without asking, Brighid pulled his sword free, and then, bare-chested and holding the bloody blade before her she approached Gorman.

He looked up at her, eyes glazed with pain and fear.

"Don't kill me! I'll do anything!" he pleaded.

"Don't speak to me," she ground between her teeth. Without looking at the warrior who was standing beside her she said. "Cuchulainn, Epona gave you the gift of seeing the soul. What do you see within this centaur's soul?"

She heard his sharp intake of breath and knew that this was the first moment he had used the gift newly given to him by the Goddess.

"I see rot and darkness."

With no hesitation, Brighid plunged her husband's sword into the centaur's heart. In almost the same motion, she jerked it free and handed it back to Cuchulainn.

"I have to get out of here," she said.

Cuchulainn nodded tightly. Before he followed her through the open tent flap he stopped to pick up her torn vest, and the Huntress's bow and quiver of arrows that had been thrown into one of the tent's corners.

"Fand! Come," he said.

The warrior and wolf walked out into the night to find that Brighid had stumbled several steps from the tent. She had dropped to her knees and was being violently sick. Fand lay close by, whining worriedly.

Cuchulainn stroked her back, held her hair, and murmured wordless sounds of comfort, all of which were drowned out by a deafening crack of thunder, followed by a blinding blaze of lightning. Brighid's head jerked up.

"There's no rain," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"No, love," he said gently. "There is no rain."

The Huntress drew in several deep breaths. "I can smell no rain in the air, either. It's a dry storm. By the Goddess, I've always hated the damned things! Dangerous - they bring deadly lightning and the chance of..." With a look of horror, she stood. Orienting herself quickly, she turned so that the wind was blowing directly into her face while she looked southward out across the length of the Centaur Plains.

"Oh, Goddess, no!" she cried.

Cuchulainn followed her wide-eyed gaze. The horizon was on fire. As they stood staring with horrified awe, a shaft of lightning snaked to the ground, igniting another, closer, section of the grasslands.

"We have to get off the plains. Now," she said, slipping on her vest and strapping the bow and quiver in their proper place over her back. "A grassfire is deceptive. In no time it can engulf you."

"The gelding isn't far from here."

"Wait," Brighid said before Cuchulainn sprinted off. "Help me cut two pieces out of the tent."

He didn't question her, but went to the tent and began to slice through the thick hide.

"Big enough to cover us," she said, grasping the torn edge and pulling it so that it would tear more quickly.

"Cover us?" His cutting faltered.

"If we can't outrun the fire we have to find a gully, or better, cross-timbers with a stream. We get in the streambed and cover ourselves with the hides. If we're lucky the fire will pass over us."

"If we're not lucky?" he said.

"We suffocate or burn to death."

He grunted and began cutting the sections from the side of the tent with renewed energy. When the two pieces of the tent fell free, neither Brighid nor Cuchulainn spared a glance at the silent, bloody remains within.

The gelding was hobbled not far from the tent. Cuchulainn flipped open his saddle pack and tossed a skin of water to Brighid. She drank greedily while he rolled up and then tied one of the pieces of the tent to Brighid's equine back, and the other behind his saddle. When he was finished he turned to the Huntress. She was standing with her head down, petting Fand and murmuring endearments to the whimpering wolf cub.

Cuchulainn didn't let himself dwell on what he had found in the tent and what had almost happened to his wife. He couldn't. If he did, he would be lost. His stomach was tight and hot, and he still felt the preternatural clearness that always came over him during battle. He'd need a warrior's strength to get them through what lay ahead. But he couldn't stop himself from going to her and lifting her face. Holding it between his hands he felt the shudder that passed through her body when she met his eyes.

"You came in time," she whispered. "Thank you."

He couldn't speak. He could only kiss her with an intensity that edged on violence. She met his passion with her own, wrapping her arms around him and drinking him in.

Lightning streaked across the sky, breaking their kiss.

"We have to ride hard. The wind is with the fire," Brighid said.

"Back to the tors?"

"No. There's not enough water there to stop the fire, and we couldn't climb fast enough to get away from it."

"East, then. The tributaries of the Calman River finger into the plains between the tors and Woulff Castle.

My father and I fished there often in my youth."

Brighid nodded. "Let's hope the drought hasn't dried them up."

"If it has then we'll just have to make it to the river itself," Cuchulainn said, swinging aboard the gelding.

He might be able to make it. The gelding is fresh and well-rested. I won't.

"Brighid," Cuchulainn turned in the saddle and their eyes met in the next flash of lightning. "I will never leave you. We either live or die - together."

She knew he was speaking the truth. This man would never leave her, not even to save himself.Then Goddess help me not to get us both killed.

"You lead. I'll be right behind you," she said.

The warrior dug his heels into the gelding's sides and they raced into the northeast with the wolf cub streaking behind them.

Their flight from the Centaur Plains seemed to be a descent into an Underworld that had been abandoned by the Goddess. The thunder and the lightning served to illuminate vignettes of a nightmarish reality. Animals of the plain rushed past them - deer, fox and other small mammals like rabbits leaped hysterically into their path before bounding away. And with the animals came the smoke. At first it was just a brief, bitter taste on the southern breeze, but as the night lengthened the air became thicker until Cuchulainn pulled up his gelding, and tore his shirt into long swatches of linen that he soaked with water from one of the skins.

"When it gets really bad tie it around your nose and mouth. It might help."

Gasping for air Brighid nodded, and they both drank thirstily from the skin. "I wish it was wine," she said between coughing fits.

Cuchulainn smiled at her. "It will be soon. My mother's temple isn't far from the Calman tributaries."

"I don't suppose I need to ask whether she'll know to be there to greet us." Brighid tried to keep her tone light, but she was still struggling to get her breathing under control, and the intermittent flashes of lightning clearly showed how hard her equine body was trembling.

"Mother will probably have dancing girls and a parade all prepared for us," he said, attempting to match her tone, but he guided his gelding close to her. His face was drawn and his eyes worried as he studied the Huntress. "Let's rest here. We have some time."

"We have no time," Brighid said. Fand came panting up to them and Brighid bent, pouring water in her hand for the wolf to lap. "There's a brave, good girl," she told the wolf. Then she glanced up at Cuchulainn. "You lead. I'll follow."

Cu nodded tightly and pointed the gelding's head to the north again, and kicked him into a steady lope.

Suddenly lightning forked the night with brightness, clearly illuminating the shape of a lone centaur moving almost parallel to them. In the white light his coat shone gold and sliver, an exact copy of his sister's.

"Give me your bow," Cuchulainn said.

"No. If it's to be done, I'll do it." At a gallop she notched the bow and waited for the next strike of lightning. When it came she sighted and let fly an arrow, which embedded itself in Bregon's flank, causing him to stumble and fall hard to the ground.

At a flat run, Cuchulainn's gelding beat Brighid to her brother, and the warrior leaped from the horse's back, drawing his sword and pressing it against the centaur's heaving chest so hard that it broke the skin.

The next lightning flash illuminated the scarlet drops that trailed down his colorless chest as if he was a half-finished painting.

"This is just so that you don't doubt that my sword works in this realm," Cuchulainn snarled.

"Don't kill him, Cu," Brighid said quietly, putting a trembling hand on her husband's arm. "At least not yet."

But her brother was ignoring the warrior. Instead he was staring at the rope burns and teeth marks that had left red, angry wounds on his sister's body.

"What happened to you?"

Cuchulainn's growl matched the wolf's low angry rumble. "The centaurs you left behind did as you ordered them. They captured her. They bound her with ropes so that if she moved she would choke herself. Then they began to rape her." With each sentence he pressed the sword more firmly into Bregon's chest and fresh blood welled under the razor-like blade. "I made certain they didn't complete your orders."

"No," he said faintly, eyes widening in shock. "They were just supposed to hold you until I returned."

"Until it was too late to stop the war!" Brighid cried. "How could you do it, Bregon? How could you cause such bloodshed and hatred? Wasn't our mother's hatred enough to fill you full for a lifetime?"

A shudder passed through his body. "I just wanted to make her happy."

"That was an impossible task for anyone, Bregon," she said. Then the pitying look in her eyes hardened.

"Have you done it? Have you freed Fallon?"

Bregon closed his eyes and nodded.

"Open your eyes and look at the man who is going to kill you!" Cuchulainn ordered.

Again, Brighid's hand lightly touched her husband's arm, and with obvious effort he stopped himself before plunging the blade the rest of the way into Bregon's chest.

"Where did Fallon go?" Brighid asked.

"Into the mountains. That's all I know," Bregon shuddered again. "She was horrific." His expression of shock was receding and an arrogance that reminded her of her mother was creeping into his tone. "How can you defend those creatures? They are evil. Even pregnant she ripped and tore the guards with her hands and teeth to get free. Taking their form, even temporarily, was a ghastly experience."

"They're not like Fallon! The New Fomorians are gentle and kind. Epona has even gifted them with the ability to nurture life." Brighid shook her head in disgust, feeling thoroughly sick and so weary it seemed every word was a struggle for her to form. "You've always been like this, Bregon, unable to see beyond your immediate needs and desires."

"I don't believe those winged creatures should be allowed to live," he said.

"It's not your choice! And what of the Guardian Warriors? How many of them did you kill? And how many more did Fallon kill?"

"And what of the Clan MacCallan?" Cuchulainn said between clenched teeth.

"They killed my mother!" Bregon cried.

"You young fool, the men who were on the Centaur Plains had broken with the clan," Cuchulainn told him. "Why else would they have been there trying to forge a new life?"

"And no one killed our mother, Bregon. It was an accident - an accident which would have been avoided if she had given the little group of people permission to settle in one small part of our land."

"They had no right to be there! They cannot trespass upon the herd's land!"

"No!" Brighid made a violent cutting motion with her hand, and the sudden, violent motion made her feel light-headed. "The plague of hatred our mother spread ends now. You will come with us to Epona's Temple. There you will tell Etain what you have done and let her decide your punishment."

"I won't go!" His breath started to come in hard, shallow pants and his eyes darted around, as if searching for aid in the smoky darkness that surrounded them.

"If I have to hamstring you and drag you behind my horse I will," Cuchulainn said.

Brighid's skin began to tingle just before the sound reached them. Then the roar built. It was thunderlike, but more living - more intense. The earth beneath them began to vibrate.

"Bison," Brighid said, staring at her brother incredulously. "You have an affinity with animals, too."

Her brother returned her gaze steadily. "We do have some things in common, sister."

"What's happening?" Cuchulainn said.

"He's stampeded the bison. Get mounted," she said quickly, carefully keeping the panic from her voice.

"We'll deal with him later."

Cuchulainn didn't move, but kept his blade pressed against the centaur's bleeding chest.

"Cuchulainn! If we don't move and move fast we will be killed."

"We'll lose him."

"We may, but he cannot hide from Epona."

With a frustrated snarl, Cuchulainn stepped back. The instant the sword was no longer against his chest, Bregon surged up. He turned to his sister.

"Forgive me," he cried, stumbling toward her.

Automatically her arms went out to catch him, but instead of embracing her, his hand snaked out, grabbing the rolled up bison skin from her back. Before Cuchulainn could react, he spun away, and melted like a blond spirit into the smoke.

Cuchulainn swung aboard his gelding, who was restlessly skittering to the side, ears cocked at the rumbling darkness, and made to go after him.

"Let him go," Brighid said heavily. "He's not worth your life." With a mighty effort, Brighid scooped Fand up and tossed her over the saddle in front of Cu. "Keep her with you or she'll be trampled!" She had to shout over the growing noise. "Keep a firm hold on the gelding. He'll want to panic, but you'll be safe as long as you're mounted on him."

An enormous dark shape thundered past them.

Brighid met her husband's turquoise eyes and smiled. She was near the end. The shapeshifting, and then her abduction and fleeing from the grassfire had depleted even her deep reserves of Huntress strength.

She would not be able to keep up with the stampeding bison, but she would not have his last living memory of her be of tears and regrets. "I love you, Cuchulainn," she said, and saw his face soften in response.

"And I you, my beautiful Huntress."

Another beast rushed past them and Brighid drew a deep breath before slapping the gelding on the rear and shouting, "Now ride!"