by P. C. Cast
“Maybe I should ride Vic again.” I peeked over at her where she and Dougal were stomping out the fire. “I don’t think she’d mind.”
“I would mind. I want you close to me.” He kissed the top of my head. “But I would appreciate it if you would refrain from fondling my rump—” he paused and gave me a teasing look “—today.”
I pulled away from him and went back to salving his wounds, muttering, “You probably need a good smack on the rump.”
We left the island and traveled south, into the ever-thickening marshlands. Thankfully, the water stayed at a depth between the centaurs’ knees and their flanks, but it made for slow going. The mud sucked against their hooves like a living thing. Shortly after we had started out, a log drifted past us. I caught sight of movement on it and shouted an alligator warning.
Vic’s crossbow was in her hand, and Dougal and ClanFintan unsheathed their long swords, taking up a defensive stance with their backs to each other. As it floated closer to us we got a better look at it. It wasn’t an alligator; it was a log teeming with writhing snakes.
“Yeesh, that’s disgusting. Are they poisonous?” They made my skin crawl.
“Yes, but they are mating. If we let them drift by without bothering them, they should not bother us.” Vic’s voice mirrored my disgust.
Needless to say, we gave them a wide berth.
Except for all the bugs, crawling things and green, slimy water, I was surprised by the hidden beauty of the marsh. Tall, pointed-nosed birds stood in the water, blinking at us like lazy blue-haired old southern women. High in the moss-dripping cypress trees, brilliant scarlet birds nested.
“That must be a scarlet ibis.” I pointed at one as it floated gracefully to the water.
“Yes.” Vic nodded. “They are a rare bird. Have you seen one before?”
“Only in a story,” I sighed, remembering the poignant coming-of-age story that I read to my freshmen every year entitled The Scarlet Ibis. “Remind me to tell you the story about Doodle some day.”
“I will,” Dougal said with endearing enthusiasm.
A little before midday we came to another patch of dry land, too small to even be called an island. There the centaurs took a break from the constant water. I searched the leaves for more apple snails.
“They only come out at night,” Vic informed me.
“I don’t suppose we have time for a fire anyway.” And I didn’t think I was hungry enough to eat one raw. Yet.
“No,” ClanFintan said. “Victoria and Dougal must be on their way. And so must we.” He turned to Victoria. He clasped her upper arm, and she his. “Take care of each other.” Then he faced Dougal. “If you reach the temple before we do, tell them they must evacuate to the other side of the river. Head to Glen Iorsa. From there we will decide what is to be done.” They clasped arms. “But you must get the humans across the river. It is no longer safe for them, no matter what has become of the other armies.”
His words shocked me, and I could read my shock mirrored in Victoria’s expression, although she didn’t speak. But Dougal simply nodded, as if he had expected the news. I walked over to Vic, and gave her a girlfriend hug.
“Stay safe,” she said.
“Allow yourself to be loved,” I whispered.
Her eyes widened at my words and I was amazed to see a hint of color sneaking into her cheeks.
“I am too old to bother with such nonsense,” she whispered back to me.
“No one is too old for such nonsense.”
Then I went to Dougal, who tried to kiss my hand, but I pulled him down and gave him a hug, kissing him soundly on the cheek.
“Watch out for her—and for yourself.” I turned away so that I wouldn’t have to see them leave. I heard them leap off the dry land and back into the water, but soon the swamp covered all sounds of their departure.
“We will see them again soon.” ClanFintan stood behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders.
“I know,” I said with false bravado.
“We must go.”
I reached up and he swung me onto his back, and we, too, immersed ourselves back in the unending marsh.
It seemed like days instead of hours had passed when ClanFintan finally made an abrupt left turn.
“This should be enough space between us,” he said as he changed direction.
“Good!” I agreed cheerily, to cover up the worry that had begun inside me. ClanFintan’s amazing stamina was beginning to wane. His coat beneath my legs was damp with more than water; it was flecked with white sweat—something I’d never seen on him before. The gashes on his rump were constantly dripping yellowish drainage. I could hear his breathing deepen as he strained against the muddy ground.
“I think I should walk for a while.”
“No,” he said between breaths.
“Really, it’s okay. I’d like to stretch my legs.”
“I said no!” he snapped.
I just sat there, not sure if I should smack his butt and tell him not to yell at me, jump off his back and tell him I’ll damn sure do what I want or just sit there and cry. Confusion won, so I shut my mouth and sat there in a tight ball of emotions.
Soon he came to a halt and wiped the sweat from his brow wearily with the back of his hand.
“Forgive me, love,” he said with a voice that sounded like it came from a grave. “I shame myself by taking my exhaustion out on you.”
I leaned forward, carefully wrapping my arms around his chest. I rested my chin on his shoulder. “You’re forgiven.”
“When the water becomes a little more shallow you may walk, if you would like.”
“I would like.” I kissed his neck. He lay his arms over mine briefly, then took a deep breath and forced his hooves out of the soggy ground. The horrible sucking sound made me want to cringe. We continued to move slowly forward.
When the water had subsided to his knees he halted again.
“How about if I walk for a little while?”
He nodded, and helped me to dismount. My booted feet sank down in the mucky ground until I was standing in water up to my thighs.
“Yuck, this stuff is seriously gross.” I took his hand and we started walking.
“Seriously gross?” he asked.
“Yeah, like that log that was filled with snakes.”
“Oh.” He nodded tired understanding.
We struggled on. After we had only gone a short way, I was breathing heavily. It amazed me that he had been traveling in this mud all day—with me on his back and a butt that was all torn up.
“It can’t be much farther,” I said between breaths.
He didn’t reply. It seemed that he was focusing all of his energy on continuing to move forward.
Soon the water level had noticeably subsided, which would have been wonderful, except that the level of the mud increased. The water came only to my knees, but every time I put a foot down, I sank to mid-calf in mud. In the dwindling light we didn’t see the grass until it was right before us. It was an incredible sight; much of it even towered over ClanFintan.
We stopped, both of us breathing heavily.
“Didn’t Vic say a field of tall grass came right before the edge of the swamp?” I asked hopefully.
“Yes, and she said it was sharp. You should remount me so that I can shield you from its cuts.”
“No, let me try walking through it.” I could see he wanted to argue, so I rested my hand on his arm and said, “If it’s too sharp, I’ll climb back aboard.”
He agreed reluctantly, and we stepped into the forest grass.
As usual, Vic had been right; the grass cut. And now that I thought about it, I remembered seeing red slashes across her skin, but we were all so mud spattered and insect bitten that I had given it little thought.
Well, now that I was walking through the stuff, I gave it lots of thought. I put my arms up to try and shield my face from the worst of the grass. Soon I could feel warm blood trickling down my forearms from the scratc
hes on scratches as the razor-edged grass sliced across my skin like a giant paper cut.
“Rhea, stop. You must ride now.”
“Just a little farther, then I will.” I had managed to draw a small distance ahead of him, and I didn’t even pause to look back, afraid he’d see the blood on my arms. The mud still sucked at my feet, and I knew he didn’t need the burden of my added weight.
I pulled one foot up, and put it out in front of me, set it down—
And my foot continued to sink down, down, without stopping. I cried out and struggled to pull it back, but I fell off balance and floundered, suddenly finding myself up to my waist in a soft, sandy mixture. The more violently I struggled, the more it sucked me into it.
“Rhea!” ClanFintan yelled, and with a ferocious strength he grabbed my arm and yanked me backward, almost causing my shoulder to be wrenched out of its socket.
ClanFintan went down, and I fell back into his arms, where we stayed for a moment—happy that what was beneath us was just mud. My husband’s hands were traveling over my body, like he was checking to make sure everything was still there.
“Did something grab you? Are you hurt?” His voice was shaking.
“No, I’m okay.” I laid my head against him, breathing deeply. “It didn’t have a bottom. It felt like it was sucking me down. Ugh—it must be quicksand.”
“Yes.” He sounded calmer now that he knew I was in one piece. “I have heard of the sinking sand.” He attempted a smile. “It is one reason centaurs stay out of swampy land.”
“Well, it’s a damn good reason.”
He surged to his feet, lifting me with him.
“We must go around it.” He started working his way to the south, stepping carefully. “And now you cannot ride me.”
He didn’t need to say what we both knew. He could pull me out of quicksand, but there would be no way I could do the same for him. We kept moving, and I sent a silent prayer to my Goddess, begging for help.
CHAPTER 19
Eventually, we traveled far enough south so that we skirted the quicksand, and were able, once again, to turn to the east. The cutting grass felt as if it was ripping the flesh from my arms, and my footsteps became slower and slower.
“Rhea, let me walk ahead.” He had stopped. “Rub some salve on your arms and walk behind me, give them a chance to rest,” he coaxed. “After a time we can change positions again.”
“But what if you step into some quicksand?”
“I will be careful.”
“Okay.” I gave in with something that sounded very much like a sob, and stumbled back to him. He took the pouch from my shoulder, and I wished we had some wine left, but the four of us had finished that off before midday. I held out my arms, flinching as his gentle fingers applied the sticky ointment. Almost immediately the burning stopped, and I breathed a long sigh of relief.
“That feels good.” I noticed the scratches on his arms and chest. “Here, I’ll put some on you, too.”
“They are just small scrapes—my skin is not soft, like yours.” He touched my cheek.
“I’ll just put a little on you. I know how badly they sting.”
He smiled indulgently at me while I doctored the scratches. Then I put the jar away and moved reluctantly behind him.
“Be careful!” I called.
“I will.” He started out, and we began our timeless struggle forward again.
Just as I thought the field of grass would never end, ClanFintan called over his shoulder excitedly, “I can see the tree line ahead!” He surged forward with renewed vigor.
And right into a bed of quicksand.
His equine body floundered, struggling against the sucking sand. His arms flailed out, trying to grab something, anything, that he could use to pull himself to safety.
“Stay back!” he yelled as I tried to go to him. “I am too far in—you cannot reach me.”
“What can I do?” I yelled, feeling panic rise in my throat.
He looked frantically around. “If you can make it to the trees, find a long branch and bring it back here.”
I nodded, and started searching for a way around the quicksand, but I knew I would never make it in time. I couldn’t even see the stand of trees, and I couldn’t run in the marsh’s sucking mud.
I knew he was going to die—and all I could do was watch him.
He must call The Change. The thought burst loud and clear through my panicked mind. I rushed to the edge of the quicksand. He had sunk to midway up his human torso.
“Stay back…” His breathing was ragged.
“Listen!” I dropped to my knees and crawled around the side of the pit. “You must shape-shift.” I stretched out my arms to him. “See, if you reach out, I can grab you. Try!”
He did, and our fingers touched.
“Now, shape-shift. I can pull out a man—but not a centaur.”
I saw understanding flash through his eyes. Then he closed them and bowed his head. His body became very still as he began the chant, raising his arms and head synchronistically. The shimmer started. Before I had to close my eyes to the brilliance of the light, I watched his face twist in unimaginable agony.
Then the light extinguished. Immediately, I stretched forward.
“Help me! Reach!” I yelled at him.
With weary determination he reached for me, and our fingers touched. Then our hands grasped one another’s. I dug my heels into the murky ground and pulled with everything within me. Inch by inch I won ground over the deadly sand, until ClanFintan’s torso lay on the wet ground and he was able to help me pull the rest of him free.
He rolled over on his side, and for a long time we lay there against each other. Our only movement was to breathe.
“Thank you, Epona,” I said aloud.
“Your Goddess is good to you.” I was reassured by the normal sound of his deep voice.
I brushed some of the clinging sand from his face, then kissed the spot I had cleaned.
“Can you walk yet?”
He nodded and stood with painful, stiff movements. As he turned, I was afforded a glimpse of the rear of his body. The gashes were huge, horribly flapping wounds, tacked together obscenely with dark sutures. They ran from just above his buttocks, all the way down to the back of his thighs, and oozed fluid, which mixed with the sand and water of the pit.
“Oh, God!” I couldn’t stop the exclamation. “Change back!”
“I think—” his slow answer was painful to hear “—I should stay in human form until we have crossed the river. Remember, they are not looking for a human man and woman. They search for Epona’s Chosen and her centaur mate.”
“But your wounds.” Just looking at them made me ache.
“Put more salve on them and it will be tolerable.”
I didn’t want to touch those horrid gashes in his flesh. I was petrified I would hurt him more than he hurt already.
He reached for the bag and drew out the half-empty jar.
“I can do it,” he said when he noticed my reticence.
I dipped my fingers into the jar.
“I’ll do it.” I gritted my teeth and forced myself to smear the ointment over and into the gashes. He didn’t move, and he didn’t speak. He also didn’t breathe until I was finished.
“Better?” I asked, wiping my fingers across the slashes on his forearms to rid them of the lingering ointment.
“Yes.” He made a great show of acting brave, but his skin had taken on a sickly pale hue. “I saw the tree line just over there.” He pointed. “It is not much farther.”
We started out, careful to pick our way around the pit of quicksand. I gave his naked body a sideways glance.
“You want to borrow my thong, or something?”
His bark of laughter made him flinch with the pain it caused his wounds, but his eyes sparkled as he looked down at me.
“I think not. If we were captured by the Fomorians, think of the stories they would tell.”
“I can see the
headlines now, Cross-dressing High Shaman of the Centaurs Finally Captured.”
“Headlines?”
“Gossip that everyone reads about.”
“Yes, that would be embarrassing.”
“It certainly would.”
“Perhaps we should talk about what we can do with your thong at a later time.”
I was heartened to hear a sexy tease in his voice.
“Save your energy, big boy. Who do you think you are, John Wayne?”
I knew he was going to ask.
“John Wayne?”
Now here’s a subject I could pontificate on for hours. I cleared my throat and assumed my teacher-lecture mode.
“John Wayne, real name Marion Michael Morrison, born in Winterset, Iowa. He was what we called a Great American Icon in my old world. Personally, I think of him as a patriot and a hero.”
He gave me a curious glance, which was all the encouragement I needed. “Let me tell you about him…”
I was in the middle of retelling the plot of The Cowboys, and choking myself up, when ClanFintan put his hand out, stopping me.
“Shh,” he said. “The end of the grass.” He pointed, and I saw that, sure enough, the field of cutting grass ended just a few feet ahead of us as abruptly as it had begun.
I peered around in the fading light. A line of trees began on the other side of the grass field. Not a pretty grove with a carpet of dried leaves, like we had traveled through on the opposite side of the river. Here the trees were wild and thick, an impenetrable jungle of cypress, willow and hackberry, interspersed with huge, red-tipped elephant ear and something that looked like mutant hibiscus.
But, as we stood there silently, a delicious sound came to our ears. We realized what it was at the same time, and our eyes lit up as we smiled at each other.
“The river,” ClanFintan said in a low voice.
“Thank you, Goddess! Finally!”
“Shh.” He put his arm around me and spoke into my ear, “If we can hear the river, that means the creatures are somewhere between here—” he nodded his head back at the marsh behind us “—and the bank.”
“How do we get past them?” I asked quietly.
“They are expecting a centaur to crash through the underbrush with his mate riding boldly astride his back, not two humans who can duck and dodge through the trees stealthily.”
