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.”

“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?”