Chapter 2
His first sight of her made his mouth go dry. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that was breathtaking. Even from a distance he could see she held herself with confidence and moved with an agile grace that was mesmerizing.
He hadn’t meant to lose control. He’d told himself he wouldn’t. He could have made more than three attempts. He would have conquered the damned thing eventually.
But she watched as they laughed and jeered at his failures. His anger bubbled and he allowed it to boil, scalding away his judgment so that he called the berserker.
* * *
“I see he hasn’t crossed the bridge.” It was past midday when Scáthach joined her gatekeeper on the sentry stand that had been built on the wide stone wall above the wooden door to the castle, which could only be accessed after crossing the Bridge of Leaps and then climbing up steep stone stairs.
The bridge spanned the twenty feet between mainland and castle.
Beneath the bridge, frothy waves almost hid the pointed rocks that would break the fall, and the body, of any warrior who could not conquer the magicked bridge.
Tabiti scoffed. “He hasn’t even attempted the crossing.
” The warrior woman jerked her sharp chin at a small campfire not far from the entrance to the bridge.
The fire had been built in front of one of the two stone monoliths that marked the end of the raised platform that spanned the boggy field that led to Dunscáith.
The dozen or so warriors who had camped before the bridge for almost one full month, having not been successful in crossing, were some distance away and closer to the Bridge of Leaps.
Two men sat near the new campfire, facing the castle. The older of the two fingered a travel harp and hummed softly with the chords. The younger man, who was shadowed by the stone monolith, stoked the fire as he grilled fish over it. “He’s preparing to eat.”
Scáthach’s brows lifted. “Well, Tabiti, he had to cross the Plain of Ill Luck and fight his way through the Perilous Glen to arrive here. Perhaps he’s wise enough to know he must eat and rest before attempting the Bridge of Leaps.”
Tabiti laughed scornfully. “Or he’s hoping his bard will sing a ballad that will show him the way.”
“We shall see.” Scáthach shrugged. “He has not mixed with the other warriors?”
“Oh, they greeted him and then advised him on how to cross the Bridge of Leaps,” said Tabiti.
Scáthach barked a laugh that had all the men gazing up at her, squinting against the sunlight as they attempted to glimpse the Queen of Shadow. “And he did not take the advice of failed warriors?”
“No. When he turned his back on the warriors, I thought, briefly, that he could have a modicum of common sense, but he began to build a fire and then grill hunks of fish, like he is taking a picnic by the sea, and I changed my mind,” said Tabiti.
Scáthach tried to peer through the smoke from the fire and the shadows from the boulder to get a better look at the young warrior.
She could tell he was fair-haired and had an impressive shoulder width, but she couldn’t make out his features.
“I’m going to go to the practice field to help Uathach drill the students for the vault feat. ”
“Have any of them so much as left the ground yet?” Tabiti asked.
“Uathach has been frustrated by their lack of progress, so I don’t believe they have, which is why I’m joining the drill.
Send word to me when he attempts the bridge.
I’ll be curious to see how the young Hero of Ulster fares.
” Scáthach clapped her friend on the shoulder before she retraced her path down the stone stairs that opened to the first level of the castle.
Dunscáith was a marvel, one Scáthach never took for granted.
She’d watched her divine mother create it, hewing it from the massive rock just off the western peninsula of the isle they’d taken to calling Skye, after the daughter for whom the castle had been built.
Thanks to Béfionn, Dunscáith was an unbreachable fortress.
A huge stone curtain encircled it, topped with battlements and four towers.
The goddess had created it with only two entrances.
One was accessed by crossing the Bridge of Leaps and the second was a sea-level entrance tunneled directly into the massive rock on which the castle stood.
There boats brought supplies to the seaside tunnel, and a drawbridge could be lowered so that horses, cattle, and sheep had access to a large pasture.
The pastured livestock were enclosed and hidden by steep rock walls. No one raided the Queen of Shadow.
The curtain wall was ten feet thick and built into the enormous rock so that it followed its egg-like shape.
Nestled safely inside the thick wall were the barracks for Scáthach’s student warriors, a large smithy, the kitchens, a deep freshwater well, and housing for the servants, tradesmen, and families who lived inside the castle walls.
Within the inner ward was also the three-storied keep, which held the great hall where they took their meals and Scáthach met with the chieftains, jarls, queens, kings, and wealthy landowners.
Level two of the keep held Scáthach’s impressive quarters, as well as suites for Uathach, Tabiti, and the one hundred warriors who had completed their training but, instead of returning to their own homes, had chosen to swear fealty to Scáthach and remain at Dunscáith as her elite Shadow Guard.
The top level of the keep had more training areas and several guest suites.
As Scáthach stealthily descended to the first level, which held the grassy area where the warriors usually trained, she observed Uathach scowling at a group of students who were attempting the vault feat—unsuccessfully.
Uathach stood at the entrance to a long, rectangular sand pit, hands fisted on hips, shaking her head as a lean, red-bearded warrior charged toward the pit, long vault pole in his hands, face contorted with concentration and red with strain.
He planted the spiked end of the cedar pole in the spot on the ground marked with a wide X just before the rectangle of sand and attempted to vault into the air.
Scáthach knew he’d fail before he left the ground.
His hands weren’t far enough over his head on the pole and his leap was mistimed.
Scáthach cringed as he fell hard on his back.
“Again!” Uathach snapped.
Leannan woofed softly as she spotted Scáthach and trotted to her from the sunny spot in which she’d been napping. Scáthach ruffled her ears as Uathach turned her attention from the warriors sweating in the midday sun to face her mother.
“They cannot do it.” Uathach shook her head in disgust.
“They can and they will.” Scáthach’s melodic voice was pitched to soothe as she turned from her daughter to the group of student warriors, whose shoulders all slumped in defeat.
“Go to the water bucket. Drink. Take a moment to rest.” The students jogged across the field to the large barrel of fresh water as she turned to her daughter.
“Little Fry, a teacher must have patience.”
Uathach frowned and wiped sweat from her brow. “A teacher must have capable students.”
“Each of these warriors was granted entrance here because they are more than capable. Are you saying they are lazy or not giving the vault their all? If that is so, then they do not belong here, and I shall send them back over the bridge.”
“They belong.” Uathach’s cheeks pinkened. “So, it’s my fault they fail?”
“They haven’t failed. They simply haven’t succeeded. Yet.”
Uathach ran a hand through her mass of tawny hair. “Then please take over so they will succeed.”
“Will you vault for me, my daughter?” Scáthach asked. Though she spoke softly, every warrior at the water barrel had turned to watch and listen.
Uathach blinked in surprise. “Vault over what?”
Scáthach jerked her chin in the direction of the sand pit. “Over nothing. The same as your students. Just show me and your students a successful vault feat.”
She met her mother’s gaze, opened her mouth to protest, and quickly closed it.
Scáthach and the warriors watched as Uathach warmed up, stretching thoroughly and then going through a series of leg swing, skips, and jumps.
When her muscles were warm and limber, she strode to pick up the pole the previous warrior had left staked to the ground.
Holding the pole, she walked several yards away from the rectangle of sand, turned, grasped the pole with a wide grip, and sprinted strongly for the pit.
She planted the staked end of the pole in the X spot.
Her body lifted fluidly, hands positioned perfectly, long legs going up and above her head until she turned at the apex of the arch, so high above the ground that she could have easily vaulted over the wall of a keep, and then descended gracefully back to the pit.
Scáthach nodded as her daughter returned to her side, wiping sand from her backside. “Well done. And now they have seen a successful vault feat.”
“But none of them have done it.”
“Then begin again with them. Teach them at their pace, not yours. Remember that they are not grandchildren of a mighty goddess. Start with a simple two-step and small leap drill, and then increase to four steps and a larger leap. Drill that over and over until each of them masters the beginning steps; then they will remember what success feels like. Look at them.”
Uathach’s gaze went to the group of warriors—ten women and nine men—who had come from as close as Tribe Creones on the mainland and as distant as Scythia, from where the leader of Scáthach’s Shadow Guard, Tabiti, hailed.
Uathach took in their bowed shoulders and weary faces and blew out a long, frustrated breath. “They are defeating themselves.”
“And you expect them to fail.” Scáthach spoke those words so only her daughter could hear them.