Authors: P.C. Cast
The gloom of the cloudy day gave way easily to night. Dougal and ClanFintan slept fitfully, and I stayed awake, listening to the hum of what must be a zillion cicadas, and a symphony of mewing, chirping and croaking frogs mixing in gross harmony with other unseen slimy, crawling things.
And I swatted mosquitoes. I’d thought Oklahoma had a mosquito problem. This place must be Insect Heaven.
And I was starving.
And it was really dark.
I kept feeling ClanFintan to see if he was feverish, but his body was always so hot that I couldn’t tell if he had a raging temperature, or if he was just “normal.” Plus, he had started getting annoyed at me for waking him up every few minutes. So I sat back and tried to rest, without actually falling asleep because I really, really, really didn’t want to go on another one of those spirit-dream things. I just couldn’t handle seeing what I was sure was happening back at the Temple of the Muse.
Rest, Beloved
drifted through my tired mind.
I felt my eyelids droop in response, and I breathed a silent plea that I would, please, be allowed to stay in my body…and sleep enveloped me.
The thrashing sound of a large body sloughing its way through water made me come suddenly awake. I sat straight up, wondering for an instant just where the hell I was. Then the smells of the swamp registered in my foggy brain.
“It is Victoria,” ClanFintan’s deep voice rumbled against me.
There was little light. It seemed the marshy landscape soaked the moonlight up, but the silver-blond of the Huntress’s coat glimmered ethereally.
“It took you long enough.” My worry came out as bitchiness.
“It was—” she paused, and I realized how hard she was breathing “—more difficult than I had imagined.”
“Tell us,” my husband said as he moved me gently to the side, then rose stiffly.
“I traveled into the east, attempting to find the edge of the river. This lake goes on for quite some time before it gives way to a field of tall, sharp grass.” Her voice drifted in the darkness. “There are dangerous bogs within the grass—I was almost trapped in one.”
I remembered ClanFintan’s comment,
centaurs avoid swampy ground.
No wonder.
“It is slow going through the bog, but when it finally gives way it is bordered by a thick growth of trees, much like we saw at its beginning. Only the grove that runs along the swamp’s eastern edge is probably twenty centaur lengths in width. Then that ends at the edge of the Geal River.”
I felt my heart flutter. All we had to do was get across the river. Then it would be a straight shot south back to Epona’s Temple and home, where we could regroup and come up with plan B.
But Victoria wasn’t done.
“The Fomorians have stationed guards along the perimeter of the marsh so that they can catch anyone who tries to flee from the swamp to the river.”
“He’s looking for me.” They knew I meant Nuada.
“He is looking for all of us,” ClanFintan assured me.
“Okay, how about going toward the Loch instead of the river?” I asked.
“Loch Selkie is even farther away than the river. And if Nuada has creatures posted between the swamp and the river, he will certainly have them posted between the Loch and the river,” ClanFintan reasoned, “and we would only be safe as long as we were in or on the Loch. Crossing it is out of the question, its width is too great to swim, even if its waters were not icy.”
“Bad news,” I said.
“Exactly,” Vic replied. I could hear her rummaging around in what I assumed was her quiver (since she wasn’t carrying a purse). Then she began searching the island, gathering what sounded like loose leaves and twigs. I heard her crouch down, striking two sharp objects together—from which sparks flew. Soon she was breathing life into a spark, which she fed into a friendly blaze. The fire reflected off her white teeth as she smiled at me.
“Males never have flint. When you need a campfire, call a Huntress.”
“I’ll remember that.” I stood up and moved closer to the warmth of the fire. My stomach let loose a mean-sounding growl. “Now, if only we had something to roast over it.”
“How about this?” Victoria had moved from her spot by the fire, over to the leafy side of one of the cypress trees. She reached out and plucked a golf ball–size thing off one of the leaves, then returned to the fire.
“What is it?” I asked, studying the thing that lay in her hand.
“Apple snail.” She grinned as she searched the ground around her. Finding what I supposed was the appropriate twig for the job, she grabbed a stick and jabbed it up into the brown shell, fishing out the soft-skinned creature. Impaling it like a snail shish kebab, she held the squirming thing over the fire.
“Does it taste like chicken?” I gulped.
“No, more like oysters.”
Well, oysters were cool with me. So I swallowed my squeamishness and joined the centaurs in the Great Apple Snail Hunt and Fry. Thankfully, the little island seemed to be some kind of snail vacation spot—probably snail Florida—there were zillions of them. And Vic was right—if you discounted their little eyeballs and antenna-thingies, they tasted a lot like oysters. I wished I had some crackers, Tabasco and an icy Coors.
Later, we were contentedly picking snail guts from between our teeth and swatting mosquitoes, and I, for one, was feeling full and sleepy.
“They will be watching for three centaurs and one human,” ClanFintan said suddenly.
“Yes,” Victoria said.
“Then we split up. Separately we will have a better chance of getting past their line.”
“I’m
not
being separated from you!” I said.
ClanFintan put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “No, you and I will not be separated.”
Dougal remained silent, looking miserably at Victoria. The Huntress’s gaze rested on the ground while she said, “Dougal and I should stay together, too. Two couples would still have a better chance at getting past their line than one group of four. Besides,” she continued, “there are alligators in this swamp and we each need two sets of eyes to watch for them.”
I saw Dougal flush in happy surprise. When Vic finally raised her eyes to meet his, I thought I detected an unaccustomed shyness in her gaze.
“Victoria and I will travel together.” Dougal’s voice sounded strong and confident.
ClanFintan looked pleased that the two centaurs were staying together. “At first light the four of us will travel south until the sun is midway in the sky. Then you and Dougal will branch off to the east. Rhea and I will travel farther south, then we, too, will turn toward the river.”
Dougal and Victoria nodded in agreement.
“The night is still young. Let us rest, my friends.” ClanFintan’s voice was hypnotic in the waning fire. I leaned against him, pleased he sounded like himself. Maybe everything would be okay…
Exhaustion caught up with me and a deep, thankfully dreamless sleep claimed me as its own.
The
rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat
of a woodpecker woke me.
“God, what an annoying bird.” I grumbled as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
Then I smelled something that was cooking—something that smelled yummy. The three centaurs were standing around the fire. Cooking over it on a spit was a long, thick piece of white meat. I got up and stretched my way over to them.
“Good morning!” Dougal said cheerfully. ClanFintan pulled a leaf out of my hair. Vic nodded.
“Morning,” I grumped. “What is it? It looks too thick to be snake,” I said hopefully.
“No, caiman,” Vic said.
“Oh, good. What’s a caiman?”
“Small crocodile—easier to kill and skin than a large one.” She smiled proudly. “They are a little tricky to catch, but—”
“I know, I know—tastes like chicken.”
They laughed. Were they all morning people/centaurs/whatever?
“Here.” ClanFintan pulled something that looked like a burnt sweet potato out of the coals. With one of Vic’s sharp arrowheads he slit it to expose steaming pulp. I picked a small piece out and blew on it, then popped it into my mouth.
“Not bad, a little bitter and barky tasting, but not bad. What is it?”
“The tuber part of a cattail.” Vic motioned at a grove of cattails just off the far side of our little island.
“You Huntresses are just dang handy to have around.”
“Of course we are,” Vic said with her normal lack of modesty.
The caiman was pretty good, too. What they write in books is the truth—sometimes you get too hungry to care what you’re eating.
Before we left, I checked ClanFintan’s wounds. His head and chest wounds looked good, especially under the definite lack of sterile circumstances. But the sutured slashes on his rump looked ugly. They were weeping bloody fluid. They worried me, especially given the stiff way ClanFintan was hobbling around. I told him to hold still while I rubbed more salve on all of them.
He met my eyes, smiling gently, and pulled me into his arms. “It is normal for the wound to drain.”
“You can hardly walk!”
He laughed. “Perhaps I am simply not a morning centaur.”
“Don’t be a smart aleck, you’re hobbling around worse than Epi did when she went lame.”
“I am older than Epi.”
I put my head against the side of his chest that wasn’t wounded. “Tell me the truth, are you really okay?”
He ruffled my hair. “Yes, I will move more easily when my muscles are warm.”
“Maybe I should ride Vic again.” I peeked over at her where she and Dougal were stomping out the fire. “I don’t think she’d mind.”
“I would mind. I want you close to me.” He kissed the top of my head. “But I would appreciate it if you would refrain from fondling my rump—” he paused and gave me a teasing look
“—today.”
I pulled away from him and went back to salving his wounds, muttering, “You probably need a good smack on the rump.”
We left the island and traveled south, into the ever-thickening marshlands. Thankfully, the water stayed at a depth between the centaurs’ knees and their flanks, but it made for slow going. The mud sucked against their hooves like a living thing. Shortly after we had started out, a log drifted past us. I caught sight of movement on it and shouted an alligator warning.
Vic’s crossbow was in her hand, and Dougal and ClanFintan unsheathed their long swords, taking up a defensive stance with their backs to each other. As it floated closer to us we got a better look at it. It wasn’t an alligator; it was a log teeming with writhing snakes.
“Yeesh, that’s disgusting. Are they poisonous?” They made my skin crawl.
“Yes, but they are mating. If we let them drift by without bothering them, they should not bother us.” Vic’s voice mirrored my disgust.
Needless to say, we gave them a wide berth.
Except for all the bugs, crawling things and green, slimy water, I was surprised by the hidden beauty of the marsh. Tall, pointed-nosed birds stood in the water, blinking at us like lazy blue-haired old southern women. High in the moss-dripping cypress trees, brilliant scarlet birds nested.
“That must be a scarlet ibis.” I pointed at one as it floated gracefully to the water.
“Yes.” Vic nodded. “They are a rare bird. Have you seen one before?”
“Only in a story,” I sighed, remembering the poignant coming-of-age story that I read to my freshmen every year entitled
The Scarlet Ibis.
“Remind me to tell you the story about Doodle some day.”
“I will,” Dougal said with endearing enthusiasm.
A little before midday we came to another patch of dry land, too small to even be called an island. There the centaurs took a break from the constant water. I searched the leaves for more apple snails.
“They only come out at night,” Vic informed me.
“I don’t suppose we have time for a fire anyway.” And I didn’t think I was hungry enough to eat one raw. Yet.
“No,” ClanFintan said. “Victoria and Dougal must be on their way. And so must we.” He turned to Victoria. He clasped her upper arm, and she his. “Take care of each other.” Then he faced Dougal. “If you reach the temple before we do, tell them they must evacuate to the other side of the river. Head to Glen Iorsa. From there we will decide what is to be done.” They clasped arms. “But you must get the humans across the river. It is no longer safe for them, no matter what has become of the other armies.”
His words shocked me, and I could read my shock mirrored in Victoria’s expression, although she didn’t speak. But Dougal simply nodded, as if he had expected the news. I walked over to Vic, and gave her a girlfriend hug.
“Stay safe,” she said.
“Allow yourself to be loved,” I whispered.
Her eyes widened at my words and I was amazed to see a hint of color sneaking into her cheeks.
“I am too old to bother with such nonsense,” she whispered back to me.
“No one is too old for such
nonsense.
”
Then I went to Dougal, who tried to kiss my hand, but I pulled him down and gave him a hug, kissing him soundly on the cheek.
“Watch out for her—and for yourself.” I turned away so that I wouldn’t have to see them leave. I heard them leap off the dry land and back into the water, but soon the swamp covered all sounds of their departure.
“We will see them again soon.” ClanFintan stood behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders.
“I know,” I said with false bravado.
“We must go.”
I reached up and he swung me onto his back, and we, too, immersed ourselves back in the unending marsh.
It seemed like days instead of hours had passed when ClanFintan finally made an abrupt left turn.
“This should be enough space between us,” he said as he changed direction.
“Good!” I agreed cheerily, to cover up the worry that had begun inside me. ClanFintan’s amazing stamina was beginning to wane. His coat beneath my legs was damp with more than water; it was flecked with white sweat—something I’d never seen on him before. The gashes on his rump were constantly dripping yellowish drainage. I could hear his breathing deepen as he strained against the muddy ground.
“I think I should walk for a while.”
“No,” he said between breaths.