by P. C. Cast
“You said you heard my voice. What did I say?” Alex asked, deciding it was best not to mention anything about clothing.
He didn’t answer her for so long that Alex didn’t think he was going to speak again. Just as she was going to say something banal about the weather, he said, “You told me to wait for you, and promised to come to me.” He did turn in the saddle then so that he could look her in the eye, and demanded, “Where did you come from, Soul Speaker, and what is it you want from me?”
While she stalled for time and tried to think of a reasonable answer that wasn’t a lie, Alex said, “I really wish you wouldn’t call me Soul Speaker.”
“Blonwen, then. Where did you come from?” he repeated.
“I can’t tell you that,” she stated.
“Can you tell me why I shouldn’t expose you to Boudica as a fraud?”
“I’m not here to cause Boudica any harm. I respect the queen and think her cause is just.”
“Still, that doesn’t tell me why I shouldn’t expose you.”
Alex was trying to formulate a reasonable response to him when the air behind Caradoc shimmered and the ghost of his mother materialized, sitting behind him on his horse’s rump. She smiled and motioned for her to go on.
Alex sighed and tried not to let the spirit distract her. “I’m here for a reason that goes beyond Boudica and her war. It has ramifications that will affect the whole world. No, I can’t tell you what they are.” You wouldn’t believe me anyway, she added silently to herself. “But I can promise you I want only good things for Boudica.”
“Yet you lie to her.”
“Only because I have to. I’m telling the truth about everything I can.”
“I know you can speak to souls. You could not have described my mother’s burial garb had you not seen her, and I know you could not have made up her words. But I do not believe you are a true Soul Speaker. Aedan said he asked for your aid in summoning the spirit of his father, and you denied him.”
Totally irritated, Alex snapped, “I told Aedan that I’d help him if I could, but I can’t call souls!”
“All Soul Speakers can summon the dead.”
“Not this one! This one can only talk to them.”
“Is that, perhaps, because your power is based on dark forces?”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I can’t call ghosts because I don’t know how. Actually, I’ve never tried. I know as a druid you might find this strange, but not everyone wants to chat with ghosts,” she said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, even though his mother was frowning severely at her. “They tend to be a pain in the ass.” She glanced at the stowaway Caradoc didn’t know he had, and added, “Plus, they’re nosy. Very nosy.”
Generalizations are rather impolite, said Caradoc’s mother.
“Impolite or not, it’s true,” Alex said to both mother and son.
He was staring at her with an incredulous expression. “You have had no training in the art of Soul Speaking?”
“No.”
He shook his head, still clearly shocked. “Then you could not be a priestess of Andraste. And that deceit is a very grave one.”
Alex didn’t respond to him. Her gut felt too empty. No, she wasn’t a priestess of the goddess Andraste, but for a short time while she’d been performing her blessing ceremony, Alex had felt truly connected to this land, this time, and perhaps even this world’s goddess. Caradoc’s words had reminded her that she really was nothing more than an interloper here. Her mission was to come, take and leave. It wasn’t to belong.
Tell my son it is not his place to judge who is, or isn’t, in the service of the great goddess, Caradoc’s mother said.
Alex shook her head slightly. There was no point in repeating the words. She was an imposter.
Tell him, child, the ghost prompted gently. It is a mother’s prerogative to admonish a child who has become…She paused, obviously looking for a mom-watered-down-nice-version-of…
“Obnoxious?” Alex suggested aloud.
I was going to say overly judgmental, the ghost said.
“Obnoxious? That is a question?” Caradoc asked.
“Actually, it’s an answer. Your mother was trying to describe the kind of guy you’ve become. I was helping her.”
“My mother is with us again?”
“Yes. She’s sitting behind you.”
Caradoc jerked around, sending his elbow through his mother’s semisubstantial form and causing his horse to snort and shy.
Unfazed by his movement, she reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. All is well, my selkie, she murmured.
Touched by the warmth in his mother’s voice, Alex said, “She says that all is well.”
Caradoc quieted his horse before he spoke again. Still stoking the big bay’s neck, he asked, “Does she say anything else?”
His mother raised her brows at Alex. Alex raised her own brows, but said, “When she first materialized she asked me to tell you that it isn’t your place to judge who is or who isn’t in the service of the goddess.”
Caradoc’s sharp look snagged Alex’s attention. “My mother said that?”
Alex shrugged. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but it irritated her that I wouldn’t repeat what she said to you. She said it’s a mother’s prerogative to admonish her child.”
Caradoc’s bark of quick laughter seemed to surprise him as much as it did Alex. His expression softened, adding a warmth to his chiseled features that was so appealing Alex felt her cheeks warm. When he glanced over at her, Caradoc was still smiling.
“I’ve missed her. Can you tell her that?”
“I don’t have to,” Alex said gently. “She’s still here. She can hear you just fine.” She paused and added, “She’s touching your shoulder.”
Slowly, Caradoc’s hand came up so that it rested on his left shoulder. For a moment it merged with his mother’s.
I love you, my golden selkie, she said in a sweet, sad voice as her ghostly body faded and then disappeared completely.
Alex found it hard to speak, but finally managed to clear her throat and say, “She’s gone, but before she left she said that she loves you.”
Caradoc’s hand dropped back to the pommel of his saddle. He nodded and didn’t reply.
They rode on in silence. Caradoc was so obviously engrossed in his own thoughts that Alex was able to study him. She didn’t have a clue about the selkie part, but she could see why his mom called him golden. His long, thick hair tied back by a leather thong, was the color of spun gold. His tanned skin, flushed with health and stretched smooth over long, lean muscles, had a goldish tint to it. Even his eyes were a deep amber color with flecks of gold in them. As with most of the Celts, Caradoc was tall, at least six feet four, Alex guessed. His face was strong and distinctive. As she continued studying him she had the ridiculous thought that he reminded her of a young, vibrant Marlon Brando, when he was in his prime and exuded confidence and sexuality.
And then Alex felt a jolt as she realized that Caradoc was no longer staring ahead, lost in thought. He was watching her watch him.
“It seems I must ask your pardon,” he said.
She blinked in surprise. “What for?”
“For questioning your tie to Andraste.”
“Oh, well, I…” Alex stuttered, trying to figure out some way to tell him as much of the truth as she could without totally messing up her mission.
“No, I was wrong to judge your commitment to the goddess. You are not all that you appear, but there is one thing I know—you have been touched by Andraste enough to be considered her priestess.”
“How do you know that?”
His smile was sad. “My mother was the goddess’s high priestess for the last decade of her life. She wouldn’t have admonished me if you did not belong to Andraste. So you see, I must ask your pardon for being hasty in my judgment.”
“You’re pardoned,” Alex said, feeling flushed and short of breath as what he
was saying began to sink in.
Caradoc nodded and then continued. “As she followed the goddess’s path, my mother did things I found mysterious and oftentimes even strange. She told me over and over that the ways of Andraste could not be understood by men. It seems you may be just another example of my mother being right.”
Alex didn’t know what to say. His mother had been a high priestess of Andraste! Then why hadn’t she been mad at her for pretending to be a priestess of her goddess? Alex remembered the jolt she had felt when she touched the tree, and the serene sense of rightness that had filled her as she’d performed the blessing and evoked the goddess.
A thought, amazing and awe inspiring, drifted through her mind: Could there really be a goddess who watches over this world, and could she have touched me?
Chapter 9
T he rest of the day the tension between Caradoc and Alex eased, partly because it was impossible for them to be left alone during the entire trek, and partly because Caradoc simply stopped questioning Alex. Then, as the day waned, Boudica ordered the army to leave the rough trail they had been following and cut into the forest. Like everyone else, Alex was busy guiding her horse and dodging limbs. While she fought back foliage there was no way for Caradoc to say much of anything except to call an occasional “Beware the branch!” to her.
By the time the queen ordered camp to be made, Alex wasn’t sure she’d ever feel her butt again. After she managed to half fall, half climb down from her horse, it took all her willpower not to hobble over to a fallen tree limb and collapse on it. Everyone else was practically leaping off horses or nimbly climbing down from carts, or even walking briskly up to the campsite. None of them appeared crippled by the day of travel. No way could Alex curl up in an exhausted ball without calling a lot of attention to herself.
The people worked steadily and seemingly tirelessly to make camp and begin the evening meal, though they were unusually quiet. So she volunteered to help Mirain and Una set up Boudica’s tent, one ancient skill she knew she’d be good at, since she often camped out on the tallgrass prairie.
As she worked side by side with the girls, she asked Mirain, “Why is everyone so quiet? It didn’t seem like this last night.”
“We’re close to Londinium. The people will not raise their voices tonight. There will be few campfires. We do not want the Romans to know our army is here and that many of them will enjoy their last night’s sleep tonight.”
Alex felt a chill at the thought of the coming battle and the deaths that had to happen.
“You glowed today.”
Surprised by the younger girl’s words, Alex smiled at Una. She didn’t have a clue what the child was talking about, but didn’t want to discourage her. Boudica’s daughters had ridden close to their mother, and Alex had noted that Una rarely spoke. Even when she did her voice tended to be flat and her voice expressionless. Actually, she looked more animated now than she had all day.
“I glowed? When?” Alex asked, still smiling at the girl.
“When you evoked the blessing this morning. You touched the tree and I saw you glow.”
Alex was taken utterly off guard by the girl’s comments, and while she scrambled to think of something even vaguely intelligent to say, Mirain spoke softly to her sister. “You didn’t tell me you saw Blonwen glow.”
Una shrugged. “Why should I have told you? You were watching, too. You saw her.”
“I was watching, yes, but I only saw Blonwen sprinkle libations and call on the goddess. I did not see her glow. That was something meant for your eyes alone.”
Una’s eyes, so much like her mother’s, widened. Then she pressed her lips together, shook her head twice, crossed her arms in a gesture that was more protective than defiant, and marched out of the tent. Mirain sighed sadly and reached for another fur to arrange on one of the pallets.
“I don’t understand,” Alex said, frowning at the tent flap through which Una had just disappeared, and wondering if she should go after the girl.
“She saw you glow as the goddess touched you during the blessing.” The elder sister said it as if that should clear everything up.
It was Alex’s turn to sigh. “That part I understand. What I don’t get is why that upset Una so much.”
“My sister doesn’t want to believe in the goddess anymore, but seeing with her own eyes that Andraste touched you says the goddess does exist and is watching over this camp.”
“Why would that upset her?”
Mirain quit arranging furs and faced Alex. “Because if there is a goddess, she allowed the Romans to beat our mother and rape us. It’s easier for Una to believe the goddess doesn’t exist than to believe she cares so little about us that she didn’t intercede.”
Alex’s stomach felt sick. “I’m so sorry that happened to you two,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say.
Mirain gave a short nod and went back to unpacking the bedding.
“And what about you, Mirain?” Alex felt compelled to ask. “Do you still believe in the goddess?”
The teenager looked over her shoulder at Alex. “I believe in my mother’s retribution.”
Dinner at the queen’s campfire was a hushed event, but far from somber. As Alex ate her venison stew she thought that the sense of anticipation and excitement in the camp was so strong it was almost a visible entity. Boudica’s people were filled with a tension that hummed through camp, albeit silently.
Their queen oversaw everything. As evening melted into night, Boudica moved throughout the camp, speaking softly to men and women, touching children’s bright heads. She soothed their nerves with her quiet confidence, and Alex marveled at how the entire army seemed to take on her personality and her sense of calm waiting.
After making her rounds, Boudica returned to her campfire and gratefully accepted a goblet of mead. She drank deeply for a while without speaking to anyone, and then she called for Caradoc and Alex to sit beside her.
“I want to ask a boon from both of you,” Boudica said.
“Of course, my queen,” Caradoc said.
Alex nodded, agreeing also. How do you say no to a queen’s request for a favor?
“It is my wish that the two of you stay with my daughters during the battle tomorrow. Keep my children safe. That is the favor I ask of you.”
“I will guard them with my life,” Caradoc vowed.
“I’ll do everything I can to protect them,” Alex said, wishing she’d smuggled an M16 in the folds of her cloak instead of Thumper.
Boudica smiled. “Thank you, my friends. My mind will be at peace knowing that they are being watched over by you.” Her hand came up to find the empty circle at the end of her torque where the second medallion piece should be. “Catus will return this to me tomorrow, and my husband’s torque will again be whole.”
Watching her, Alex saw that there was much more behind Boudica’s words than the return of a piece of bronze. She understood that the queen was talking about a wholeness in her soul, and righting the only piece of a terrible wrong that she could control. Boudica couldn’t return her children’s innocence—she couldn’t wipe from their minds the brutality of rape. All she could do was make this one piece of the puzzle fit back into their lives, and then move ahead to deal with the incomplete picture the violence of their past left them with.
At that moment there was a disturbance in the circle of warriors who shadowed Boudica everywhere she went. The group parted, allowing through a young Celt who, breathing hard, ran to the queen and dropped to his knees before her.
“What have you discovered, Heddwyn?” she asked.
“They only have the Ninth Legion for protection!” Heddwyn gasped, struggling to catch his breath between words. “Suetonius hasn’t returned from Mona with the rest of the legions. He dallies there, even though he has heard you march against him, my queen. The people of Londinium brag that they have nothing to fear from an army led by a woman.”
Boudica’s smile was feral. “Then we sh
all show them how wrong they are to misjudge the Iceni.”
He bowed to her. “Yes, my queen!”
Boudica stood. “Rest and prepare. We attack Londinium at dawn from the east, with the rising sun blazing behind us. Tomorrow the Romans will know what it is to harm an Iceni queen and anger her vengeful goddess!”
While the warriors, men and women alike, rallied around Boudica, touching her and asking for her blessing on the morrow, Alex got up and quietly slipped away into the night. Feeling a terrible sense of foreboding, she walked slowly to Boudica’s tent.
History reported that Boudica was victorious at Londinium; it wasn’t the queen’s possible death the next day that worried Alex. Boudica would win. She would probably even find Catus and get the missing medallion piece.
But then what? Was Alex supposed to rip the torque off the queen’s neck and retreat into the future? Just the thought made her sick.
Alex reached the queen’s tent, but couldn’t make herself go inside. The girls were probably in there. She couldn’t face them just then, didn’t want to see Mirain’s controlled despair or Una’s hurt and anger. Wouldn’t she just be adding to the trauma the girls had already faced? The torque was their mother’s sacred sign of royalty—and all they had left of their father. Alex, who was supposed to be a priestess of their goddess, was going to steal it.
But if she didn’t, the world as she knew it might very well be destroyed.
She sighed and walked over to a boulder that sat beside a sweet little tinkling stream not far from the queen’s tent. The big rock rested at the base of a thick old oak, making a perfect bench, if Alex ignored the roughness of the bark. She winced as she sat, wishing her butt had stayed numb. She tried to get comfortable, but soon gave up and looked out at the silent forest instead. The moon was almost full, and it gave off a silvery light that glistened on the water’s surface, turning it into liquid jewels. The spring night was warm, the air soft. Wearily, Alex took off her shoes, pulled up her tunic and, with a sigh of relief, submerged her tired feet in the cool, clear water. It felt heavenly. She wiggled her toes and was starting to consider whether she could get away with pulling off her tunic completely and taking a quick bath when the ghosts showed up.
