by P. C. Cast
“Morning.” I tried to smile back. I sat on the log and carefully scooped the hot mixture into my mouth with my fingers, and noticed my bedding was already packed away somewhere. Everyone looked eager to hit the road.
“Will we reach the temple today?” I asked ClanFintan as I chewed the surprisingly scrumptious egg mixture.
“Yes, we should arrive just before dusk.”
“They do know we’re coming, don’t they?” I asked.
“Runners were sent, as well as carrier-pigeon messages. They know our plan.”
“Any word on the condition of the ladies?”
“None. The centaur runners were directed to stay there and prepare for our arrival, and nothing was mentioned through pigeon messages.”
“Rats with wings,” I muttered around a piece of egg à la Bambi.
ClanFintan gave me a questioning look.
“Just ignore me—I’m grumpy in the morning.” I looked around at the lack of light. “And especially grumpy in the premorning.”
ClanFintan laughed good-naturedly. “You just need to get going. Once we have started you can go right back to sleep.” He lowered his voice and brushed a curl away from my face. “If I remember correctly, you are quite comfortable astride me.”
I playfully slapped his hand away and smiled through my eggs. “You’re so fresh.”
“Come!” He grinned and lifted me off the log and onto his broad back. “You can finish the rest as we travel.”
“Yeah, great,” I said as I brushed his thick hair out of my leaf plate so I could eat the last bites of my breakfast, and seriously wished for some coffee.
The centaurs broke camp quickly, and soon the army was on its way. I had to admit it was a gorgeous morning. It was still too damn early, but even I could appreciate an exuberant display of Mother Nature Morningness. The sun rose over the forest, shining precociously with a clear, brilliant tint. Today our path took us more toward the picturesque bank that had been growing ever steeper. It was beautiful, though, lined with weeping willows, cottonwoods, and I was even pretty sure I glimpsed an occasional wild-cherry tree. A thousand centaurs’ hooves muted the noise of the river, but its majesty was visible when the foliage thinned out, and its tumultuous rush downriver impressed me.
About midday we paused long enough to pass around dried meat and hard biscuits. ClanFintan deposited me near the bank so I could stretch my legs. While I was attempting a runner’s lunge, the direction of the wind changed. It had been blowing softly from east to west, now it originated in the west, and it was blowing harder. It lifted the branches of the willows, making them look like a woman’s long hair blowing in the breeze.
I turned my face into the breeze, shaking out my own hair, liking the way it was lifted off my shoulders. I breathed deeply, stretching my sore muscles, and…
“Shew! What is that nasty smell?” The breeze brought with it a decidedly gaseous scent.
“Ufasach Marsh.” ClanFintan wrinkled his nose as he, too, tested the air.
“Ugh, it’s horrible. Smells like my grandma’s compost heap.”
“Those who live near the marsh say it has its own unique beauty.”
“Yuck—they can have it. How close is it, anyway?” I walked over to stand on the precipice of the bank, squinting and shielding my eyes from the reflection of the midday sun off the turbulent water. I could barely make out the far bank. I could tell it wasn’t high like the eastern bank, but all I could see were more willows—no clinging moss hanging from branches or snakes or alligators.
“What I have been told is that it begins about the length of twenty-five centaurs inland from the western bank, and stretches almost the entire breadth of the land from the Temple of the Muse to the northern border of Epona’s grounds.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I have never traveled through the marsh. Centaurs avoid swampy ground.”
“Well, I’m with you on that one. Snakes, leeches, stinky water…yeesh! Makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.”
Movement of the troops behind us caught our attention. I stretched one more time, then held up my arms so that ClanFintan could redeposit me on his back, and we could take up our position at the head of the army.
Smallpox, or no smallpox—I was going to be really glad to get to the Temple of the Muse. My butt felt like it was adhering to my husband’s back, which is not a particularly good thing.
The day progressed pretty much as the previous day. The farther north we traveled, the thicker the forest became. Soon the line of centaurs was forced to re-form and travel in columns of twos. But they kept up their ground-eating canter. Even though I’d witnessed it before, their stamina amazed me. ClanFintan’s breath came just as easily after he’d been traveling for several hours as it had this morning before the sun had risen. I’m telling you, centaurs could seriously kick butt in an aerobics class…My head snapped up and I realized I’d been nodding off.
ClanFintan’s head began to tilt back in my direction and I spoke before he could.
“I know—” I cuddled up against him, and he looped his arm over mine “—you won’t let me fall.”
“Never,” he repeated.
I smiled against his warm back and let myself drift off into a deep sleep.
* * *
I was in a parent–teacher conference with one of our school’s counselors and our vice principal in charge of discipline. Across the table from me sat a student and his mommy. Even in my dreams I’m too professional to mention any names, but I will describe said student as a replica of The Missing Link, if The Link had been introduced to marijuana, so that his general appearance had become reminiscent of a Neanderthal-like sloth. His mommy was blond, perky and extremely well dressed—begging the question: just exactly how much alcohol and/or recreational drugs had she consumed while he was in utero?
I was just explaining to Mommy, accompanied by a standing ovation from the counselor and vice principal (who, by the way, was being played by Pierce), that her sixteen-year-old “baby boy” was neither under-challenged nor too bright to be interested in sophomore English, he was simply a lazy, whiny, pot-smoking brat who could be the poster child for why we should bring caning into America’s public schools…
…When I was sucked off of my husband’s back and found myself suspended over the middle of the violently churning river.
“I don’t mean any offense by this, but this time you interrupted one of my top ten favorite dreams,” I said to the air around me. “And I was just getting to the real fantasy part where the vice principal actually backs up a teacher.” There was no response, but my body did begin hurling north, following the river.
“Someday, do you think I’ll be able to sleep without these little…excursions?” I asked aloud.
Patience, Beloved.
“Not one of my virtues,” I mumbled.
Then my attention was captivated by the huge building I was rapidly approaching. It was a domed edifice, and even from a distance the stately arches of carved marble were impressive. As I got closer I saw that what I took at first to be one enormous building was really several graceful structures, joined together by elaborate walkways and gardens. The center building was the focus, and the surrounding structures were situated like spokes in a wheel. I was close enough now to see that women dressed in flowing robes walked the pathways between buildings. Many of their heads were tilted together, as if they were in the midst of lively discussions.
Although all of the buildings were beautiful, the central building was the most impressive. I studied it, intrigued by the lifelike statues that ringed its entrance. In the garden before it, a woman was speaking to a group of young women sitting all around her feet. She gestured gracefully with one hand, and with the other she held an exquisite cane carved of ivory. Her beauty was so striking that if she hadn’t moved I would have thought her one of the perfect marble statues.
As I hovered nearer, she suddenly stopped speaking, and cocked her head like she was listening to a voice in her mind
. Then her face broke into a delighted smile, and she tilted her head up, speaking directly to me.
“Welcome, Beloved of Epona!”
The girls at her feet (I was close enough now to see that they, too, were unusually beautiful) murmured excitedly and began searching the air as though they were trying to see me.
Thalia, Incarnate Muse of Comedy, the voice in my mind volunteered.
“Thank you, Thalia,” I answered politely, trying to project my spirit voice.
She cocked her head again, like she could hear but not see me, and asked, “Are you and the centaurs close?”
“We’ll be here a little after dusk,” I yelled.
Her smile broadened and she turned her head, speaking to the girl nearest her feet. “Fiona, run to the main temple and announce that the centaurs will be here shortly after dusk!”
Delighted cries and giggles went up from the healthy, obviously smallpox-free girls. I wondered if we had been premature in isolating humans from this temple.
“We will be pleased to welcome you this evening, Lady Rhea.” She tilted her face up, and I had the sudden realization that her eyes could not see my spirit body, or anything else. Her milky orbs had no pupils—she was blind.
All I had time to do was sputter a quick “Goodbye!” and I was on the move again, this time heading directly into the west, where the sun had already begun its descent.
The land surrounding the Muses’ temple was reflective of the women’s beauty. The mountains to the north made a picturesque backdrop to a valley painted with fields of wildflowers and irrigated with bubbling streams. I was preoccupied with gawking at the scenery beneath me, so when Laragon Castle loomed suddenly before me, I felt myself startle in surprise.
Torches burned brightly from the battlements and the interior rooms and courtyards. Tall, winged figures scurried around the surrounding grounds, shooing away flocks of dark birds so that they could drag pieces of bodies into a gruesome pile at the edge of the castle grounds.
I closed my eyes and whispered, “Please don’t make me go down there.”
Be strong, Beloved. Remember, I am with you was my only answer, but, thankfully, my body didn’t pause at the carnage outside the castle. Instead, I floated quickly toward an inner towered room that was lit up with an overabundance of torches, candles and hearth fires.
Epona didn’t have to prepare me. I knew what I would be facing as my body dropped through the ceiling of the room.
Nuada was alone, sitting in a thronelike chair before a blazing hearth. His abnormally long, ivory-colored fingers were wrapped around a goblet of red liquid. I hoped it was a nice Merlot, but I had my doubts.
“Worrying about the battle to come, Nuada?” my ghostly voice asked.
He didn’t hiss and lunge toward me, as was his custom. Instead, he sipped delicately at the liquid in his cup, and smiled over his shoulder at me.
“Not worrying, female, anticipating tomorrow night, when you will be mine to claim.” As he spoke, his lips glistened with the red wetness from the thick liquid in the cup.
“Good idea. You have one last night of freedom. You might as well stay deluded and make it easier on yourself,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
He stood slowly, like a snake uncoiling, and turned toward my voice. He rested one hand on the high back of the chair, in the other he still held the goblet.
“I have decided that I will not kill you. Instead, I will keep you alive for a very long time, so that you will have the opportunity to pleasure me over and over again.”
“Really?” I laughed and felt my body shimmer into view. “I’m afraid my centaur husband will not approve of your little plan.”
“Husband!” His hiss was back. “Sever your ties, female. You belong to me.”
I felt anger fill my soul and I spat the words at him, “You disgusting creature! ClanFintan will squash you under his hooves like the roach you are, and send you back to rot in hell where you belong! Take a good look at me, because this is as close as he will ever allow you to come.”
His wings began to rustle in angry response and he shrieked, “Tomorrow night, female! You will belong to me!”
As he hurled the goblet at me, Epona pulled me away from that disgusting scene. I kept my eyes tightly closed until I felt myself resettle into my body.
* * *
I breathed deeply and tightened my grip around my husband. He squeezed my arm in response.
“They’re at Laragon Castle,” I said.
He took my hand and raised it to his lips.
“They’re going to attack the Muses tomorrow night.”
“That is according to our plan.”
“He’ll be looking for you.”
“Good.” His voice was flat and dangerous. “That will save me the trouble of searching him out.” He barked an order at the centaur closest to us in the column. “Tell Dougal to loose the pigeons to send word to the human armies. We attack Laragon tomorrow night.”
I started to tell him to be careful, but just then we rounded a bend in the river and a joyous cry went up from a crowd of enthusiastic girls on the opposite bank. The Temple of the Muse stood brightly lit by the setting sun. The centaurs began shouting and waving in reply. ClanFintan called a command and the entire army broke into a synchronized gallop.
Which would have been an exhilarating experience, except I could see that we were headed directly for a delicate-looking suspension bridge that was obviously the only means of crossing the raging river.
“Oh, crap,” I said.
ClanFintan shouted above the cries of the welcoming women, “Close your eyes and hold on! You know I will never let you fall.”
I shut my eyes and buried my head into his thick hair, muttering, “Great, that means we’ll both hurtle to our deaths when the damn thing breaks.”
I could feel his laughter shaking his shoulders as he stepped onto the bridge.
“I just hope I don’t puke.”
“If you do, turn your head. And remember, they are here to welcome you, too.”
“Ohhhh!” I felt us swaying with the breeze and the weight of the centaurs who followed us.
“You couldn’t choose now to make me go on one of my spirit-trip things?” I asked my Goddess.
Trust him, Beloved. He will never let you fall drifted through my mind, but I swear it was accompanied by goddess-like laughter.
CHAPTER 13
The Temple of the Muse was even more impressive from the ground. We followed a flower-strewn path to the central building, then beautiful young women divided up the army, leading each group to their quarters amidst lots of young human voices giggling and centaurs laughing. Thalia was on the steps of the great building to greet us. She wore a long, silver gown that sparkled like it had been threaded with zillions of tiny diamonds. Her thick, honey-colored hair was braided with fragrant gardenias and hung past the middle of her back. The deepening twilight cast her blind eyes into shadow.
“Welcome again, Epona’s Chosen.” She smiled warmly. “And Shaman ClanFintan, we are always pleased to have you visit us.”
“Thalia…” ClanFintan walked forward and took her hand as she offered it, raising it briefly to his lips. “You never age.”
Her laughter was infectious. “Save your flattery for your new wife,” she said, but with obvious affection. Then she tilted her head toward me. “Lady Rhea, I have waited long to welcome you.”
I had the disconcerting feeling that she knew who I was. On impulse I slid off ClanFintan’s back, and took her hand in mine, squeezing it warmly.
“Thank you, it’s nice to meet you, too.” From close up I could see her face was etched delicately with laugh lines and small creases that said she was not as young as she appeared.
She squeezed my hand in response. “Come, our maidens will show you to your quarters. After you have refreshed yourselves you can join the feast we have prepared for you.” She turned, and her robe rippled and shimmered as she moved with graceful confid
ence up the steep stairs to the open doors of the temple, her ivory cane tapping occasionally in front of her the only evidence of her blindness.
She sees more than most, Beloved. The words in my mind didn’t surprise me.
We were led through halls that made Epona’s Temple look modest. The ceilings were impossibly high, decorated with crown molding that was carved with lifelike scenes of the Priestesses and their students. I was amazed to see colorful songbirds flitting above us, filling the air with welcoming trills. Our opulent chamber had its own private bath, complete with a sunken pool of steaming water. I noticed a filmy-looking gown, much like Thalia had been wearing, draped over the end of the huge bed.
ClanFintan smiled as I cooed in delight.
“Oh, man! I’m going to take a long bath! Want to wash my back?” I was already peeling off my dirty riding clothes and heading to the sunken tub.
“If I know Thalia and the rest of the Muses, we do not have time for much intimate bathing.” His eyes followed my naked body with what I was pleased to recognize as lustful longing.
“I’ll hurry.” I looked at the bath, then at him. “Come here, I’ll share my sponge with you, there’s just no way you’re going to fit in here.”
He grinned, stripped off his vest and approached the tub with a leer.
“Be good.” I slapped his hands away with the wet sponge. “Hold still, you smell like a horse.”
After much splashing and laughing, I declared both of us clean, and my husband wrapped me in a towel. I held tightly to his arm so I didn’t slip on the water that we’d caused to spill from the tub.
“We made a mess,” I said as I dried myself and headed over to the bed, where my hands caressed the diaphanous material of the dress.
ClanFintan stood behind me and took the towel from around his shoulders and began helping me to dry my damp hair.
“You will look edible in that.” He leaned down and kissed a sensitive spot on the side of my neck.
I shivered in pleasure, then turned and walked into his arms, resting my head against him.
“Please be careful tomorrow. Nuada is…” I didn’t know how to describe such perfect evil. “Horrible beyond words.” I faltered.
