“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.”

“It can show me Brenna, her death, or even the last time we were together in life.”

“It can,” Brighid said, pushing aside the pain his words caused her. “If you truly desire it you can stay here in the waters of the past. I will not hate you for it. I will even release you from your oath to me.” Then she drew a deep breath and let none of the heartache or longing she was feeling tinge her words. Her voice was that of a Huntress strong in her convictions and confident in herself. “But know this, Cuchulainn. I want you to make this decision and I want you to make it now. Choose Brenna and your past, or me and our future. I loved her, too, but I will not share my husband with a ghost.”

He jerked as if she had struck him and then blinked and looked around them like he was only then understanding fully where they were. When his eyes touched the river’s beckoning surface, he looked hastily away.

“I choose you and our future. I chose that when we handfasted and I have no desire to be free of that oath now or ever. No matter how beguiling this Realm of Spirits makes the past,” he said.

“Then let’s go on,” she said, not wanting to give voice to the relief his words brought her.

“Where?”

The Huntress jerked her chin to their right. “Through there.”

Cuchulainn turned and saw an open door that led into the black interior of what was obviously a burial mound, the outside of which was covered with grass and flowers. Great flat white stone slabs lined the doorway. Cuchulainn moved aside and motioned for Brighid to precede him, carefully keeping his eyes on the Huntress and not the silver river that twinkled alluringly at the edge of his vision.

As Brighid entered the dark mound the sound of a raven’s angry screech echoed behind them, and with intuition that Felt preternaturally enhanced by the power of the spirit realm, she knew that her mother had somehow orchestrated Cuchulainn’s Middleworld temptation.

Which meant it must be important that the warrior accompany her-if he was insignificant, he would not be a target for Mairearad.

“Are you well? Why have we stopped?” Cuchulainn’s voice came from the darkness behind her.

“All is well, Cu.” Even though he couldn’t see her through the blackness, she nodded to a faint pinprick of light ahead of them. “We follow that light.”

They moved quickly, and soon found themselves on the threshold of another door, which was lit by moonlight. Together, they stepped through the door and into the Upperworld.

In front of them stretched a thick forest. Even in the silver moonlight they could see that the trees and grass and flowers were painted in colors that were unusually bright. Three paths led from the doorway where they stood, each disappearing into the green depths of the forest.

“Which one do we take?” Cu asked.

Brighid cleared her mind and tried to Feel the way, and then sighed in frustration when she was guided to none of the paths in particular. Actually, as she studied each of them more carefully, she realized that she had been mistaken. It wasn’t that none of the paths called to her. The truth was that they all beckoned her. The music that flowed from each of them was alluring and magical, and she wanted nothing so much as to shake off the net of responsibility in which this quest was trying to snare her. She could stay here and follow these paths for an eternity. She could run down them, just as she had raced over the Centaur Plains of her youth. She would be free and happy and filled full with music, and then…