shimmering power she had seen countless times when Elphame called upon Epona’s name.
“You didn’t expect that, did you?” Cuchulainn whispered.
Brighid could only shake her head and continue to stare at the Goddess-touched hybrid.
O Goddess of our hearts
protectress of things wild and free
we thank You for Your bright presence here
and for Your power that works through water…
Arms still raised, Ciara turned to her right, and the group followed her movements.
Through earth…
She turned again to the right.
Through air…
Again, the group followed her in the sacred circle by turning to face the south.
And through fire.
Then Ciara and the group closed the circle by turning again to the west. At the moment the sun sank into the earth, she lifted her voice joyously, threw wide her arms, and called,
Strike, Goddess lights!
Brighid gasped as two torches staked just outside the longhouse door flamed into bright, burning light.
This is a day of bounty and of joy,
worthy to be celebrated,
as in times far ancient
our mothers taught us
to honor You, O Goddess.
Your light will ever guide
those who have been lost in the dark.
All hail Epona!
“All hail Epona!” the group shouted and the circle broke as smiling children made their way amidst lots of giggling talk into the longhouse.
Brighid felt like her hooves had been rooted to the cold ground.
“By the hot holy breath of the Goddess, she has fire magic!” Her words exploded at Cuchulainn. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Over the past two moons I have learned that some things must be seen to be fully appreciated. Come on, Huntress.” Much like he would have his sister, Cu wrapped his arm through Brighid’s and guided the stunned centaur toward the longhouse. “I told you understanding them is not as easy as you might think.”
Chapter 6
“You couldn’t have told me about this, either?” Brighid muttered to Cu as she stepped inside the longhouse.
“There really wasn’t time,” he said under his breath. “And I don’t think the simple telling of it would have been adequate.”
It was a beautiful building. More rectangular than circular the two longest walls supported huge hearths in which fires crackled merrily around enormous, bubbling pots that, from the wonderful smells drifting throughout the room, must be filled with wellspiced stew. Long rows of trestle tables were formed by smoothed wooden planks resting snugly atop stone pillars that had been carved to look like blooming flowers. But what drew Brighid’s eye were the walls of the great building. From the outside they looked like the walls of Cu’s small lodge, but on the inside they had been meticulously smoothed and covered with painted scenes so lovely they rivaled any of the treasured pieces of art gracing the marble walls and hallowed halls of Epona’s Temple.
The centermost scene was breathtaking. A silver mare, silhouetted in the golden light of a rising sun, arched her proud neck and presided regally over the room. The mare’s eyes were wise—her gaze benevolent. All around her vignettes of Partholon had been brought to life with a master’s hand. There was the Temple of Epona, glistening with pearlized walls and stately carved columns. The Temple of the Muse’s elegant grounds were filled with silk-clad women, frozen in time, clustered around each of the nine Incarnate Goddesses, listening in rapt attention to their daily lessons. There was even a scene wherein two centaurs raced through wither-deep grass that Brighid easily recognized as the Centaur Plains. Framing each one of the scenes were intricate knots that hid birds and flowers and animals indigenous to a land much more hospitable than the Wastelands.
“It’s truly amazing,” Brighid said.
“I’m pleased you like it,” Ciara said. With an elegant unfolding of her hand she motioned to a section of one of the tables that had been arranged away from the others. The benchlike sitting area on one side of it had been removed to accommodate Brighid’s equine body. The other side remained fashioned for more diminutive human hindquarters. “I hope this will be comfortable for you. I thought Cuchulainn and I could join you, here apart from the others, so that you would not be deluged with the constant questioning of the young.” Ciara led them to their seats as Liam and Kyna hurried over with trays of steaming food. “Well, with two possible exceptions,” Ciara whispered to the Huntress.
Brighid eyed the eagerly waiting children with suspicion. Their inquisitive looks made her more uncomfortable than a pack of starving coyotes. The moment she sat beside the table, Liam rushed forward and ladled for her a generous portion of thick stew filled with chunks of potato, meat and barley, and a side dish of warm greens that smelled a lot like spinach.
“The wildgreens are special for you, Brighid.” Liam’s nervous excitement brimmed over and spilled around them. “They’re a real treat so early in the spring. I, um, I mean we hope you like them.”
“I’m sure I will. Everything smells wonderful.” Brighid smiled tentatively at the boy. He practically wriggled out of his skin with pleasure.
“Can Fand eat at our table, Cu?” Kyna asked the warrior as he helped himself to the wildgreens she offered.
“Of course, but be sure she stays under the table. Not on it,” Cu said.
“Leave the trays and go eat now,” Ciara prompted when the two children looked as though they would be content to stand all night and watch every move Brighid made as she attempted to eat under their intense scrutiny. They obeyed, but reluctantly, still throwing curious looks over their shoulders at the beautiful centaur.
“The children are enamored with you, Huntress,” Ciara said with a smile.
Cuchulainn glanced up at Brighid from under his brows. “It’s a relief to have them obsessed with someone else,” he said around bites of stew.
Ciara laughed. “Oh, do not think they have forgotten you, Warrior.”
Cu scowled and turned his attention back to his bowl.
Brighid ate silently, letting her eyes dwell on the incredible scenes that filled the walls.
“I sense that you are surprised by our artwork,” Ciara said.
Brighid’s gaze shifted to her. “Yes,” she said frankly. “I am.”
Ciara’s warm smile didn’t waver. “You wouldn’t be if you knew the story of our birth.”
“I know some of it—that your people come from a group of women stolen from Partholon by the Fomorians during the war more than one hundred years ago. When the Fomorians realized they were losing the war, they escaped into the Trier Mountains with as many human women as they could capture. They planned to hide there and grow strong again, replenishing themselves with a new generation of demons born of human women. Eventually they would return to attack Partholon again.”
“Yes, that much is true. What else do you know?”
Brighid lifted one shoulder. “Only what Lochlan told us. That the Fomorians escaped the Partholonian warriors, but they couldn’t escape the plague brought to them by Epona’s outrage at the violation of her women. The demons grew sick and weakened. Then a group of pregnant women, led by Lochlan’s mother, attacked their captors, killed them, and searched through the mountains, helping the other groups of women rise against their captors,