Brighid’s Quest

Brighid shook her head. “I don’t want your help, Mother.” Eerily her voice bounced back to her from the tu

The raven’s cawing drifted down on a wind that suddenly, magically, felt warm, bringing with it the scents and sounds of the Centaur Plains. Brighid closed her eyes against a tide of longing. The green of the waving grasslands was more than a color-it held scent and texture as the warm breeze shushed through it. It was spring on the Centaur Plains, and completely unlike this cold, white world of mountains. The grasses would be midhock high and dotted with the proud show of blue, white and violet wildflowers. She drew a deep breath and tasted home.

“Stop it!” She jerked her eyes open. “It’s a sham, Mother. Freedom is the one thing the Centaur Plains does not offer me!”

The raven’s call faded and died, taking with it the warm home-touched wind. Brighid shivered. She shouldn’t have been surprised that her mother had sent a spirit guide. The anticipatory sense she had felt all day had been instigated by more than nearing the entrance to the mountain passageway. Brighid should have sensed her mother’s hand. No, Brighid corrected herself, she had sensed it-she should have acknowledged it.

I have made my choice. I am Huntress for the Clan MacCallan-an oath-sworn member of the clan. I do not regret my choice.

The Huntress squared her shoulders and entered the tu

The day was still young. According to Lochlan, she should be able to clear the most treacherous parts of the trail before dark. If all went well, tomorrow she would find the Fomorian camp and Cuchulai

As she scrambled around a slick, narrow corner in the treacherous trail, she smiled in grim irony. The physical path she had chosen to travel was quickly proving to be almost as difficult as the life path she had chosen.

Distracted by her i

Unhindered within the darkness, the eyes glowed the color of old blood as they continued to watch and to wait.

CHAPTER TWO

The damned wind was never-ending. Cuchulai

Cuchulai

The young wolf made a muffled whine as she pressed her cold snout into his side. Absently Cuchulai

“Cold and hungry, too, are you, Fand?”

The wolf whined softly again and nuzzled her wet nose under his chin. Abruptly he stood and tightened the lacings of his cloak. “All the more reason to finish tracking the sheep. Come on, it’s not far ahead of us. Let’s get this business done.”

The wolf’s whining stopped as she moved forward at his side. Though not even half grown she was totally devoted to her surrogate parent. Where he went, she would follow.

Cuchulai

The New Fomorians, quite simply, had been one surprise after another.

When Cuchulai

They had survived in the harshness of the Wastelands for more than a century. And even with the madness recently excised from their blood, they were still the spawn of demons. His sister had insisted they return to Partholon, as the land was part of their heritage. She was his Clan Chieftain and he would obey her, but he was also an experienced warrior. Cuchulai

As he and the hybrid Fomorian twins, Curran and Nevin, traveled from MacCallan Castle through the northern forest and into the hidden pass in the Trier Mountains, Cuchulai

So Cuchulai

His mind skittered away from the pain thinking about Bre