Chapter 24 #3
When Scáthach looked away from him, she saw that a stream had materialized.
It bubbled over a rocky bottom beside the road.
“Thank you,” she murmured to the Autumnal Realm.
As she held her arm over the stream and her blood dripped lazily to mix with the clear water, the now-familiar tingle that feathered across her skin let her know the veil between realms was thinning.
She motioned for Cuchulainn to lead Chance to her.
As the warrior, the horse, and the puppy joined her, the air over the stream began to ripple and glisten.
She pinched the gossamer veil between her thumb and forefinger and drew it aside as if it was a curtain. Then she turned to face her companions.
She went to the puppy first. He grinned up at her, tongue lolling adorably. She scratched his ears and kissed his wet nose. “I want you to go with Chance. The Summerlands are waiting for you.” She looked from the pup to Cuchulainn, who held him close. “You should say goodbye now.”
Cuchulainn swallowed and nodded, and while he cuddled the pup and told him what a good, smart, perfect boy he was, Scáthach turned to Chance.
The chariot had disappeared. In its place was a large hunk of Skye marble that glistened even in the wan light.
On it was a new carving of Chance harnessed to their chariot, with the Queen of Shadow and the Hero of Ulster in the cart driving him across a beach at a run as they laughed joyously.
The stallion lowered his head and nuzzled her, nickering softly.
“I know,” she murmured to him as she stroked his wide forehead.
“I don’t want you to go, either. But if you don’t cross over, how will the pup know where to go?
Mother is still in Valhalla. She can’t guide him.
The pup needs you.” It was, of course, not completely true.
She’d opened the veil to the Summerlands.
All she needed to do was send the pup there.
He wouldn’t be lost at all. He’d be greeted warmly and adored.
But she knew Chance well by then. The stallion had grown into a wise, loyal horse.
Given the choice, she knew he’d prefer to remain with her and Cuchulainn—to finish the quest with them.
“You are free,” she said softly before kissing his velvet muzzle.
“Your penance is over. You have earned your place in paradise. I will see you again. On that I give you my word.”
Scáthach walked to the glistening oval that opened in the middle of the narrow, shallow stream. Chance was at her side. She turned to Cuchulainn, who was still holding the pup. “Put him on Chance’s back. They’ll enter the Summerlands together.”
Cuchulainn put the pup atop the stallion’s broad back, where he sat, lolling a doggy smile at the warrior, who smiled back at him through eyes bright with tears.
Much as she’d done that night that seemed so long ago, Scáthach pressed her palm to Chance’s forehead.
“Go with my blessing, my love, and my gratitude.” Then she stepped aside, and after Chance nuzzled her one last time, the stallion strode into the stream and through the glistening entrance with the pup yipping happily from his back.
Cuchulainn took her hand as they watched Chance walk into a verdant meadow where clover grew to his knees and wildflowers painted splashes of color. The sun shined and in the distance a horse neighed a glorious welcome. Chance returned the greeting. The pup yipped happily, and the veil closed.
Cuchulainn wiped his eyes and laughed softly. “I hope I see that pup again.”
Scáthach squeezed her lover’s hand. “You will.”
Their travel packs and weapons were in the middle of the road. They strapped the packs to their backs, sheathed their swords, hefted their shields, and side by side walked down the road the short distance to the wall of gray.
When they stood before the roiling wall, Cuchulainn blurted, “It’s not just fog and ice and snow. I can see faces. I can hear screams.”
“Yes. The faces and screams of the damned. Some spirits are absorbed into the realm and some are absorbed here, to make the barrier.” Scáthach saw the openmouthed, horrible faces in the writhing mass before them and suppressed a shudder.
“Do we just walk through it?” Cuchulainn asked.
“Yes, but not until we have the protection of my shadows.” Scáthach turned her back to the grotesque wall of the damned.
She spread her arms wide. Her voice filled with power and command as well as the spoken music she and her mother shared, Scáthach called out across the Autumnal Realm.
“I am Scáthach, Queen of Shadow. Through my birthright as daughter of the Goddess of the Underworld, I call shadow to me and to the Hero of Ulster. Cloak us. Conceal us. Protect us. Guide us to the sea monster Curruid and remain with us until I release you with gratitude and appreciation. Come to me, my sweet shadows!”
It was as if the land awakened from a long autumn slumber.
First it rumbled under Scáthach’s feet, and then it seemed the rocks and dirt, spare grasses and sparsely leafed trees shivered and released darkness within darkness.
The shadows came at the command of their queen.
Rushing to her and to Cuchulainn, they engulfed them, wrapping around the two of them like dark cocoons in which they were fully concealed and protected, effectively rendering them invisible.
Scáthach turned to Cuchulainn, who was looking in wonder above and around them at the screening shadows. “Are you ready?”
His gaze went to her. “With you by my side, I am ready for anything.” Together they entered the Winterlands.