Brighid’s Quest

“So what you’re saying is that they wouldn’t help her escape and then join her in small but deadly strikes against Partholon?”

“Of course not.”

“But what if they did? What if a winged creature who came from the southwest-the exact area of MacCallan Castle -managed to break into Guardian Castle and free the insane Fomorian, leaving blood and death in their wake? What would the Guardian Warriors do?”

“This is a ridiculous guessing game. It could not happen. The New Fomorians want nothing more than to live peacefully in Partholon. They wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

Gorman’s laughter filled the tent, almost drowning out the next roll of thunder. Bowyn and Ma

“She knows as little as Bregon said she would about it,” Ma

Brighid’s eyes snapped to his. “You have a tongue? I thought you and your brother were only mouthpieces for Bregon. If he’s not present feeding you your words I didn’t think either of you-” she let her disgusted gaze include Bowyn “-could actually speak for yourself.”

“You always thought you were so much better than us,” Bowyn said angrily.

“Not better, just more humane,” Brighid said.

“Don’t you want to know what the ‘it’ is?” Gorman interrupted, calling her attention back to him.

“I don’t care about anything you have to say, Gorman.”

“Really? Perhaps you will. ‘It’ is shapeshifting. Bregon told us the people of Partholon know as little about shapeshifting as his own newly made High Shaman sister. And that he would use their ignorance to his benefit.”

“What are you…” With a shudder of horror she knew. The “Fomorian” who helped Fallon to escape would be Bregon. “Oh, Goddess! No!”

“Oh, Goddess! Yes!” Gorman mocked. “But don’t think it was Bregon who thought of the plan.”

“Mairearad.” She breathed her mother’s name, remembering the raven’s obscene shriek for vengeance.

“Of course it was Mairearad. Even dying she was brilliant. She orchestrated the revenge for her own death. She told Bregon to enter Guardian Castle at night and alone, and find the Fomorian. Then he was to kill everyone who had seen him enter in his true form, shapeshift into a Fomorian, and allow the creature to escape-only then would he let any of the warriors who saw him live.”

“Because they wouldn’t see him. They would see a Fomorian,” she said, shaking her head back and forth in horror, remembering the kindness the Guardian Warriors had shown the children. But that wouldn’t matter, not if they believed Partholon was being attacked by the race they had been commissioned to defend her against.

“Yes.” Gorman chuckled. “And they’ll follow a Fomorian’s trail that will lead back to MacCallan Castle. What do you think Clan MacCallan will do when the Guardian Warriors surround their castle?”

“They won’t give up the children,” she whispered, more to herself than to Gorman. “They’ll fight to protect them.”

“We’re counting on that,” Gorman snarled.

“Why? Those people have done nothing to you. Why would you want to destroy Clan MacCallan?”

“For the same reason you should. They killed your mother.”

“That’s crazy. Clan MacCallan could not possibly have harmed my mother.”

“She died in a pit dug by humans.” Gorman moved quickly to a dark corner of the large tent and picked up a wad of material from the floor. He returned to stand in front of Brighid and shoved the bloody cloth into her face. “This is what the humans were wearing. Do you recognize it?”

It was the MacCallan plaid. Brighid’s stomach pitched as she remembered Elphame telling her of the clan members who had chosen to break their oaths and leave the castle, making themselves unacceptable to any other clan. They must have made their way to the vast Centaur Plains, probably thinking to begin anew, maybe even found their own clan.

Instead they’d founded a war.

“These people were not a part of Clan MacCallan. Several clan members broke oath and left-these had to be those people. Where are they? I’ll recognize them if I see them.”

“You wouldn’t recognize them now, not even with your excellent Huntress vision,” Bowyn said sarcastically.

“You killed them!” she said.

“We did. It was the begi

“This has to be stopped before the world is awash in blood,” Brighid said.

“Let it be awash!” Gorman shouted. “While you were chatting with your uncaring Goddess, Bregon was going about your mother’s business. He’s already been to Guardian Castle, and should return to the plains any day with news of his bloody success. The wheels are spi

Brighid’s eyes went cold. “Don’t ever tell me what’s impossible, you pathetic sycophant. What would you know of the impossible? All you’ve done your whole life is follow a centaur who is little more than a petulant colt and lust after a female who knew more of hatred and manipulation than love. I pity you, Gorman.”

“You pity me!” he screamed, blowing spittle in her face. “We’ll see very shortly who’s to be pitied.”

Thunder roared ominously and lightning flared outside, brightening the tent with a surreal, fitful light. Breathing hard Gorman sidled closer to her and fisted his hand in her hair, jerking her head back painfully.

“Bregon had more to report from the Otherworld than the news that you’d finally managed to taste of the Chalice.” With a single, violent movement, he ripped the vest from her chest, exposing her breasts. “He also said something we found very shocking. He told us that you had mated with a man. Could that really be truth?” With his other hand he lifted her breast so that he could easily bend his head over it. When his tongue flicked out to lick her nipple, she surged so violently away from him that her world began to blacken as the rope cut off her air supply.

Then two other sets of hands pressed against the other side of her body as Bowyn and Ma

“Answer him,” Bowyn said, his voice gruff and breathy. “Did you mate with a man?”

“I did,” she ground between her teeth, fighting off panic. “Cuchulai

“That will never happen!” Gorman shrieked.

“Perhaps she has been too long without a centaur lover, and she has forgotten true passion,” Bowyn rasped between ever-thickening breaths. His hand closed over her other breast and as he squeezed and prodded the nipple he bit into her shoulder so hard that his teeth drew blood.

Gorman’s low chuckle sounded near her ear as his tongue flicked up and down her neck. “Perhaps you are right, Bowyn.”

She could feel Ma

“If you do this thing I swear by the Goddess Epona that I will not rest until each of you are dead,” Brighid hissed. She struggled against the blackness that kept narrowing her vision by concentrating on the warmth that had begun to spread from the turquoise stone that hung between her naked breasts.

“And how will you fulfill that oath?” Gorman whispered, his hot breath coming fast and heavy against her skin as he nipped and licked the mound of her breast. “Will your puny man mate track us down and scare us to our deaths with his overwhelming strength?”

“He won’t have to. He’s going to kill you tonight where you stand,” Cuchulai