Chapter 9 #4
“That’s because it’s just a legend with no truth to it.
Mother used to tell me it was good luck to keep one with me, though.
When I was a little girl, I almost always had one tucked somewhere on my body.
” She grinned, turned to Cuchulainn, and with a flourish, presented it to him.
“For you, Hero of Ulster. May it bring you luck.”
Cuchulainn took it and bowed deeply, saying, “I am honored by the gift, Queen of Shadow,” before he tucked it into his breeches.
As they climbed the hill to the cart, Scáthach noticed the billowing clouds that were beginning to darken the sky over the island. “Rain,” she said, climbing into the cart.
“I’m glad it waited until now,” said Cuchulainn, flicking the reins against the horses’ backs and guiding them to the road. “Swimming in the sun is better than swimming in the rain.” He glanced sideways at her and added wryly, “Even with monsters.”
“So, it was worth it? Using your boon for today?” Scáthach asked.
His gaze met and held hers. His amber eyes darkened, crinkling at the corners with his grin. “Yes.”
Scáthach found it difficult to look away from him—until she felt her cheeks heat. She ignored his soft laughter, though there was a smile in her voice when she said, “Take the horses to a trot. We have thirsty warriors waiting for our mead.”
“I do as the Queen of Shadow commands.” Cuchulainn snapped the reins. “Hup, boys!” he told the geldings. “We’re going home.”
They hadn’t gone very far when Cuchulainn had to urge the horses off the road to maneuver around a tributary stream that was too deep to chance fording with a loaded cart.
They wound carefully around several copses of pines with heavy brambles twining around their trunks like they wore skirts decorated with needles.
As Cuchulainn pointed the cart back toward the road, Leannan growled.
Scáthach put her hand on Cuchulainn’s arm, instantly alerting him. He met her gaze and nodded slightly, slowing the horses to a plodding walk.
Scáthach whistled for Leannan and patted the seat beside her.
The deerhound leaped gracefully up onto the cart’s bench.
“Where are they?” she asked the big dog.
Ears pricked, Leannan stared ahead and to their left at a large group of yew trees they would have to pass to return to the road and growled low in her throat.
“Turn away from the yews,” Scáthach spoke softly. “Stay close to the pines, especially the ones filled with brambles.”
Cuchulainn nodded.
Scáthach stroked Leannan and picked up one of her paws, pretending to check it for thistles as she surreptitiously studied the yews. Their thick, twisted trunks cast the copse into deep shadows as daylight dimmed, the sinking sun being shrouded by rain clouds.
It was a good ambush site. The ancient yews provided excellent cover.
Their strange shadows appeared to move only with the evening breeze and not because warriors crouched within them.
But their mistake was to attempt to ambush the Queen of Shadow by using the element she manipulated as easily as she breathed.
Scáthach relaxed and expanded her senses as she concentrated on the darkness within the group of yew trees.
She drew on the power passed to her at birth through her divine mother, Goddess of the Underworld, and reached out to the thick shadows.
The sensation was a lot like how it felt to be dreaming and somehow know she dreamed without waking.
Her senses joined with the shadows. With her consciousness joined to shadows Scáthach counted twenty-five armed men.
Then she stretched her connection with darkness to glide from the grove, flowing from shadow to shadow to glimpse one more man waiting with a boat beached on the shore.
She saw no sign of the black dragon. As the Queen of Shadow returned to herself, she noted that she did not recognize the strange crescent moons with hidden faces stamped on the ambushers’ shields.
Scáthach petted Leannan, purposefully not looking at the clump of yews filled with waiting warriors. Hardly moving her lips, she spoke to Cuchulainn. “Do you see the pine copse about five cart lengths ahead and to our right?”
“I do,” he said.
“Be subtle about it, meander as if we’re going to eventually return to the road, but veer toward those trees.” She spoke softly and quickly. “As soon as the ambushers realize you’re not going to the road they’ll give themselves away. We need to reach the trees well ahead of them.”
His gaze flicked to the pine grove before he whispered, “Looks like there’s room for the cart within the grove, but it’s filled with brambles.”
“Indeed. You might get scratched,” Scáthach said.
“You mean I might get scratched again.” He grinned and lifted his shirt so she could see the raised pink scratch that stretched the length of the side of his torso. “Sea monsters.”
Scáthach’s laughter echoed around them. “Sea monsters!” As his laughter followed hers, she whispered, “They number twenty-five. I didn’t see any bows. Just spears, swords, and shields. No horses. They came by boat.”
“Aife?” he asked softly.
“I saw no black dragon.”
“Twenty-five against two.” He nodded. “I like the odds.”
Her smile was fierce. “As do I.”