Chapter 8
There was only one reason Sentanta wanted to win the race.
He must win so he could collect the boon.
He’d had no idea that his opportunity to claim it would come so soon and so perfectly, but when he heard them arguing with her, Sentanta knew he had to speak up. He told himself it wasn’t just about what he wanted. It was the right thing, the safest thing to do. Uathach and Tabiti agreed.
They spoke almost as loudly as his heart.
* * *
“Can you see any of them yet?” Uathach asked.
Tabiti lifted a hand to her brow, squinting against the bright summer sun as she peered out from Dunscáith’s western parapet, searching the slate-colored water. “No, but the boats that took the students out to sea returned not long ago. It’s still too soon for any of them to have reached shore.”
“I always worry about this part of the training.” Uathach kept her attention focused on the water as she paced along the parapet. “It’s a lot to ask of them.”
Scáthach went to her daughter and stilled her with a hand on her shoulder.
“They must swim to shore from where they’re dropped out at sea, concealing themselves by succeeding at the underwater feat as they come within sight of the castle.
They leave the sea and their chariots await them.
” Scáthach pointed her chin in the direction of the seventeen empty chariots being held just off the beach by members of the Shadow Guard.
“Each student must drive their chariot down the road to the castle, complete the chariot feat, free their horse from the cart, and race to the Bridge of Leaps, where they are to vault over the bridge. Every warrior who completes all three feats gets to continue their training and the victor wins a boon from me.”
“Yes. I know all of that, Mother. And it is why this race always worries me,” said Uathach. “Each student would rather die than fail.”
Scáthach turned her daughter, forcing Uathach to shift her gaze from the water to her mother. “You know this isn’t just a race.”
“It’s a test,” said Tabiti.
“Exactly.” Scáthach nodded.
“And from last year’s group of students, one almost drowned. Two fell during the chariot feat, both breaking bones, and three more fell to the rocks and water below the bridge and had to be fished out half-dead,” Uathach said.
“Better they fail here than during battle,” said Tabiti.
When Uathach rounded on Tabiti, Scáthach silenced her by speaking first. “Tabiti is correct, and you know it, Uathach. During this test they are not being shot at with arrows. They are not being chased by ambushers. They are not vaulting over a moat to end a siege. What I’m asking them to do today is easier and less dangerous than what will be asked of them after they leave here.
” She met her daughter’s gaze. “What is it that has you acting like a mother hen brooding over her chicks?”
The tension released from Uathach’s shoulders as she blew out a long breath. “The Sight.”
“You had your first vision?” Tabiti asked.
“Yes, and it was confusing and frustrating,” Uathach said as she rubbed her temple.
“And it made your head ache?” Scáthach asked softly.
Uathach nodded.
“Drink water. A lot of it,” said Tabiti. “That’s what your mother always did after a vision.”
Scáthach raised a brow. “You knew that?”
Tabiti scoffed. “I’ve been leader of the Shadow Guard and your friend for over a decade. How could I not know that?”
“Well, I’m her daughter and I didn’t know that,” blurted Uathach.
“Daughters often see only their mothers and not the woman—or the seer—within them.” Scáthach smiled so that her words were not an admonishment.
“Even I have sometimes failed to see the divinity within Béfionn and recognized her only as my mother. Remember, Uathach, women are never just one thing. We carry the magick of creation within us, and that allows us to be composed of a myriad of wonders.” Her hand slid from her daughter’s shoulder to her hand, which she squeezed before releasing.
“Would you like to tell me about your vision?”
“Yes. No.”
Scáthach said nothing.
Uathach sighed. “I saw your head.”
“My head?” Scáthach asked, not sure she’d heard correctly.
“Detached from your body,” continued Uathach.
“Describe what you saw with the head,” Tabiti said quickly. “Could you tell where it was? When it was? Summer, like it is now? Winter? What else did you see?”
“Tabiti, leave off. Let Uathach describe what she saw and stop panicking. The Sight only shows one possibility of many,” Scáthach said.
“Yes, the most likely possibility,” said Tabiti. “And don’t deny that. You’ve told me so many times.”
“Most likely does not mean fated,” Scáthach reminded her friend before she turned back to Uathach. “What else?”
“Blood. A lot of it.”
Scáthach ignored the tightening in her gut and nodded. “Yes, well, beheading someone is a bloody business.”
Uathach squinted like she was trying to get a better look at the vision. “The blood was from a spear wound.”
“Ah, see.” Scáthach glanced at Tabiti. “There’s a second possibility already. It’s unlikely a spear decapitated me.”
“It didn’t. It struck your leg.” Uathach shook her head and corrected herself.
“I’m not completely sure the leg was yours.
The two are connected—your severed head and the leg wound.
Perhaps it was an either-or situation rather than both happening.
I do know the spear struck a thigh. Nasty wound. Smelled of shit.”
“That’s bad,” said Tabiti.
Scáthach snorted a laugh. “Not as bad as losing my head.”
“Stop it!” Uathach snapped at her mother and rubbed her temple again.
“There was nothing funny about the vision.” She dropped her hand from her head.
“You died. I saw your severed head. The vision was drowned in blood and next I saw the reeking spear and the thigh wound. Then the sun cleared away the rain and the blood, and I watched a huge bear swim from Skye to the mainland across the narrow waters where the Inner Sound and Loch Alsh meet. When the bear reached land, it brought a tide of blood with it and a flash of sunlight so bright that it shocked me out of the vision.” Uathach shivered and blinked.
“And that was it. The vision was gone, leaving only my aching head and a lot of questions. Can you help me answer any of them? Like the most important—will it come true?”
Scáthach shrugged. “The Sight always holds truth, though it’s rarely clear.
I will take your vision as the warning it was meant to be.
I will be careful with my head.” She did not smile or jest. She held her daughter’s gaze, willing comfort to Uathach.
“If I, or any of our people, are wounded in the thigh, I now know that wound is likely to fester if not treated carefully.”
When she said no more, Uathach asked, “And what of the bear and the blazing light?”
“The bear is a symbol of Béfionn’s strength,” Scáthach said. “I share that strength with her. So, it could mean that the might of Skye will be needed on the mainland.”
“Aife,” Tabiti grumbled. “Was a dark dragon in the vision?”
“No.”
“Not surprising,” Scáthach said. “I have no plans to leave Skye, especially not to chase after my sister. It’s been two months since her army ambushed us.
She has not set foot on Skye. As long as she continues to leave us in peace I will not track and attack her.
In truth, I do not know my sister, but she is my father’s daughter, too, and I have no stomach for battling her. ”
Tabiti snorted but said nothing.
“Uathach, when the students’ test is finished, go to the healer and ask for the soothing tea she used to give me when my head ached.
And try not to allow the Sight to rule you.
Remember that it is a gift and not a curse.
” Scáthach’s gaze left her daughter to sweep out to sea.
She didn’t want Uathach to see the pain in her eyes.
When she held the gift of Sight, it hadn’t been a burden.
At times it had been confusing, frustrating, and even frightening, but she’d learned to understand that what she glimpsed were simply warnings of what could come.
Scáthach hoped she hadn’t saved her daughter’s life by cursing her with a Sight she would never carry comfortably.
Uathach touched her arm. Scáthach blinked the pain from her eyes and fixed her face with a smile when she turned to her daughter.
“It’s okay, Mama. This was my first vision. I didn’t know what to expect. I think much of my reaction to it was—” Uathach had to pause and look away from her mother before she spoke the last word. “Fear.”
Scáthach gently turned her daughter’s chin so she had to meet her mother’s gaze. “It is not shameful that you felt fear. The visions often frightened me.”
“Truly?” Uathach blinked tears from her eyes.
“Truly,” Scáthach said firmly. “You will become accustomed to them, but it will always be frightening to see the possible death of any of your people.”
“Especially your mother,” added Tabiti. “That would frighten me.”
This time Scáthach’s smile was genuine. “And me as well.”
Uathach wiped her eyes as she laughed softly. “Your severed head was completely horrible.”
“Completely? And to think they sing ballads of my beauty,” teased Scáthach.
“Not your severed head’s beauty they don’t,” Tabiti said. “Too much blood. And I don’t believe the expression on your face would be anything but gruesome.”
Scáthach’s brows shot up. “Gruesome? Me?”
Laughing, Tabiti began to nod and then her gaze was caught by something near the beach.
She rushed to lean over the balustrade. “Look there!” Tabiti pointed to their left, where the Shadow Guard who had been stationed on the beach was waving a flag back and forth.
“It’s the signal a swimmer has been spotted! ”
“There! Do you see the reed?” Uathach pointed. “It’s almost parallel to the flag bearer.”
“Yes!” Scáthach smiled. “And look behind it. See, there! Several more reeds follow.”