Brighid’s Quest

“It does indeed,” Brighid said softly. Throughout Partholon the Temple of the Muse was known for its various schools of learning and the exceptional women who lived and trained there. Epona’s own Chosen was always educated by the Incarnate Goddesses of the Muse. The Huntress considered Ciara’s words. There were many more layers to this situation than she had anticipated. And layers meant things were rarely as they at first seemed. “Your mother was daughter to Terpsichore’s Incarnate Goddess of the Dance, and your father?”

Sadness crossed the winged woman’s expressive face. “He was the son of an acolyte devoted to Calliope who was captured by the Fomorians, raped and impregnated when she was thirteen years old. Really just a child herself…” Ciara’s voice trailed off.

“Where are your parents now?” Brighid forced herself to ask.

Before she answered, Ciara looked at Cuchulai

“More than two decades ago my parents committed suicide. They chose to die in each other’s arms before they succumbed to the evil that was choking the humanity from them. As they wished, I scattered their ashes into the south.” Ciara’s eyes pierced Brighid almost as fully as did her next words. “I am my people’s Shaman. Trained by my mother, who followed the ways of her mother, the Beloved of Terpsichore. I would not lie to you, Huntress. I sense you have knowledge of the Shaman Way. Can you not discern the truth in my words?”

Brighid felt more than saw Cuchulai

“Shamans can lie,” Brighid said. “I know that from my own experiences.”

“Yes, they can.” Ciara’s open, honest face was tinged with sadness. “But I do not.”

“They all committed suicide,” Brighid said.

“Not all. Most did. The others…” Ciara looked away. She laced the fingers of her hands together. Her knuckles whitened under the pressure with which she held herself together. “The madness claimed the others and shortly afterward they died, too.”

“It pains you to speak of it,” Brighid said.

“Yes, very much.” Ciara forced her hands apart and pressed her palms into the smooth wood of the table. “You have to understand what happened to us when Elphame fulfilled the Prophecy and took the madness from our blood. All these long years we fought against the evil within us, even though it caused us pain and each battle cost us a piece of our humanity. And then suddenly that great, sucking evil was gone.” Ciara’s breath caught and her eyes glistened as she relived the moment. “What is left within each of us now is what we fought so hard to keep. Our goodness. Our humanity. We want to move forward-to become the people our human mothers believed us to be so long ago. When I remember the horrors of the past and those of us who were defeated before salvation came, it feels like I am deconstructing the fortress of goodness within my mind. Grief and sadness drift into darkened corners. Disillusion moves in until breathing in remembrance does nothing but barricade the doors and seal in pain.” She didn’t turn to look at Cuchulai

Brighid ignored Cuchulai

Ciara sat still and serene, waiting patiently for the Huntress to search her spirit and see what lived there.

“You’re not hiding anything from us,” Brighid finally said.

Ciara’s smile was radiant again. “No, Huntress. I am not hiding anything from you. But if it would rest your mind, I invite you to travel with me on a true spirit journey to the Upperworld, and I will pledge before Epona Herself that my words are truth.”

Brighid felt a cold fist close around her heart. Using her i

“No,” she said a little too quickly. “That won’t be necessary, Ciara.”

“You have the power within you, but you do not take the Sacred Journey?”

“No. I am a Huntress, not a Shaman.”

Ciara opened her mouth, and then changed her mind and simply nodded slowly. “We each must find our own path.”

Cuchulai

Ciara made no attempt to hide her disappointment. “But the storytelling will begin shortly. The children will be asking for you.”

“Not tonight,” he said curtly.

“I, too, must ask your indulgence that you allow me to retire early. My journey here has been a long and tiring one,” Brighid said, rising gracefully and walking around the table to stand beside Cuchulai

Ciara’s disappointment turned quickly to a gentle look of understanding. “Of course. Rest well tonight, Brighid.”

Before they turned to leave, Cuchulai

“That’s an excellent idea. I’ll make plans to join you,” Ciara said.

Cuchulai

Torches were lit all over the settlement and it didn’t take long for Brighid’s sharp eyes to pick out his hunched back as he walked briskly between lodges. She caught up with him easily.

“You have Shaman powers,” he said without looking at her.

“Yes. Though I choose not to, I do have the ability to travel the Sacred Journey and to commune with the spirit realm. It’s in my blood-” she paused and glanced at his stony profile “-from my mother. She is Mairearad Dhia

Her words brought him up short. “You are the daughter of the High Shaman of the Dhia

“I am.”

“Which daughter?”

Brighid set her face in carefully neutral lines. “The eldest.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “But your herd’s tradition is that you follow your mother as High Shaman.”

“I have broken with tradition.”

“Yet you carry that power within you,” he said.

“Yes! You sound like I just a

Cuchulai