Brighid's Quest. P.C. Cast

to see wings as the self-proclaimed New Fomorians moved between circularshaped houses and corrals and low, squat structures she thought might be animal shelters.

      She could feel Cuchulainn watching her.

      “The human women chose wisely. There’s shelter in the walls of the canyon and a ready water supply. I can even see a few things that might be masquerading as trees,” she said. “If I had been with them, this would have been the site I would have recommended.” In actuality if Brighid had been with them, she would have recommended they slit their monstrous infants’ throats and return to Partholon where the women belonged. But that was a thought the Huntress decided was best kept to herself.

      “It’s an unforgiving land. I have been surprised at how well they have survived. I expected…” Cuchulainn’s words trailed off as if he was sorry he’d said so much.

      Brighid was looking at him with open curiosity.

      Cu cleared his throat and pointed the gelding’s head down the steep trail. “Watch where you step. The shale is slick.”

      Brighid followed Cuchulainn, wondering at the changes in him. Were they all because of Brenna’s death, or had something happened here in the Wastelands? Even had he not been her friend, the Huntress owed it to her Chieftain to find out.

      Chapter 4

      The first hybrid Brighid saw was doing something totally unexpected. He was laughing. The Huntress heard him before she saw him. His laughter rolled up the trail to meet them, punctuated by mock growls and youthful snarls.

      “They like Fand,” Cuchulainn muttered in explanation.

      The warrior and the Huntress finally stepped onto level ground and walked around a rough out-cropping of rock to see a winged man sprawled on his back in the middle of the trail. Tongue lolling and mouth open as if she were smiling, the young wolf cub’s paws were planted squarely on his chest.

      “Fand rolled me, Cuchulainn. She’s growing so fast that in no time she’ll be a proper wolf,” he said, chuckling and scratching the cub’s scruff. When he glanced up and saw the centaur by Cu’s side, his eyes rounded in shock.

      “Fand, here!” Cuchulainn ordered. This time the wolf chose to obey, hopping off the hybrid’s chest and loping back to her master.

      The winged man stood quickly, brushing dirt and snow from his tunic, all the while keeping his large eyes fixed on Brighid.

      “Gareth, this is—”

      Gareth’s excited voice cut him off. “The Huntress, Brighid! It is, isn’t it?”

      “Yes, Gareth. This is MacCallan’s Huntress, Brighid Dhianna.”

      Gareth executed a quick, awkward bow, and Brighid realized that he was really just a tall, gangly youth who stared at her with open, awestruck delight.

      “Well met, Brighid!” Gareth gushed, his voice cracking on her name.

      Brighid could hear Cuchulainn’s sigh and she stifled a smile.

      “Well met, Gareth,” she returned the greeting.

      “Wait till I tell the others! They won’t believe it. You’re even more beautiful than Curran and Nevin described.”

      Gareth started to rush away, then stopped, turned back and bowed sheepishly to Brighid again. The Huntress could have sworn that the youth’s cheeks were reddened with an embarrassed blush.

      “Pardon me, Huntress. I’ll go tell the others that we have a visitor. Another one!” Then he turned and, with wings spread, all but flew down the path.

      “Foolish boy,” Cuchulainn muttered.

      Brighid raised a brow at the warrior. “I’m even more beautiful than Curran and Nevin described?”

      Cuchulainn lifted his hands in a gesture of quiet frustration. “The twins tell stories in the evenings. You are a favorite subject.”

      “Me? How can that be? Curran and Nevin hardly know me.”

      “Apparently they put the short time they spent at MacCallan Castle to excellent use. They listened and observed. A lot. You know how the Clan likes to talk, and the more they talk, the more deeds grow. You didn’t just track Elphame in the night through the forest to find where she had fallen—you did it all in a lashing storm, too,” he said.

      “I did nothing of the sort. The storm began on our way home. And it wasn’t full dark until after we found Elphame.”

      Brighid tried to sound annoyed, but she couldn’t help the smile that played at the corner of her lips.

      “And then there’s the story of Fand,” Cuchulainn said, shifting in the saddle as if he was suddenly uncomfortable.

      Brighid’s brows went up. “And who told them about that, Cu?”

      Cuchulainn shrugged and kneed the gelding to follow Gareth’s path. “They asked. And they can be very persistent when they want to know something.”

      “They being Curran and Nevin?” Brighid asked his broad back.

      “No. They being the children.”

      And then a noise drifted to the Huntress’s acute hearing. She thought it sounded like the chattering of many birds.

      Cuchulainn’s horse’s ears pricked forward. “Remember that I forewarned you about the children,” he called over his shoulder.

      Brighid frowned severely at the warrior’s back. Forewarned her? He hadn’t forewarned her about anything—he’d just asked if she liked children. What in the darkest realm of the Underworld was going on here?

      They took another turn in the path and the trail opened up. Brighid moved quickly so that she was beside Cuchulainn. The road widened and led straight into the heart of the neat little settlement, which was currently filled with small winged bodies chattering excitedly. When they caught sight of her, the children’s talking was instantly replaced by a collective gasp that reminded Brighid of the coo of doves.

      “Oh, great merciful Goddess,” the Huntress murmured. “There are so many of them.”

      “I tried to tell you,” Cuchulainn said under his breath. “Prepare yourself. They are as energetic as they are small.”

      “But how can there be so many?” Her eyes were roving the group as she tried to get an accurate count…ten…twenty…forty. There were at least forty young bodies. “I thought you said there were less than one hundred hybrids in total. Do they have multiple births?”

      “No. Not usually. Most of these children no longer have parents,” the warrior said grimly.

      “But—”

      “Later,” Cuchulainn said. “I’ll explain it all later. They won’t stay still much longer.”

      “What are they going to do?” Brighid asked warily.

      The warrior gave her the briefest of smiles. “Nothing you can defend yourself against, believe me.”

      The waiting group rippled and Cuchulainn caught sight of Ciara’s dark head.

      “Come on. It’s best to face them head-on.”

      Side by side Cu and Brighid came to a halt before the waiting group just as a lovely winged woman stepped out to greet them.

      Cuchulainn made hasty introductions. “Ciara, this is MacCallan’s Huntress, Brighid Dhianna. Brighid, Ciara is Shaman for the New Fomorians.” He gestured at the two winged men who had followed Ciara through the children. “And, you will remember Curran and Nevin.”

      The twins nodded their heads, smiling widely at her. She was instantly struck by how well they looked. The last time she’d seen them their wings had been dreadfully torn. Now they looked whole and healthy, with only pale pink lines scarring the delicate membranes.