Divine by Mistake (46 page)

“Yes, another group arrived this morning shortly after Victoria and Dougal. They were escorting humans who are very ill with the pox.”

“So, how many centaurs have made it here?” I held my breath.

“At last count a little over three hundred,” Alanna said softly.

Out of one thousand, only a third survived? It was unimaginable. I closed my eyes, praying that more centaurs had lived, and that they were making their way back to their homelands.

“My warriors?” I asked.

“Two barges left, each with fifty warriors. One barge returned. The warriors said the creatures were waiting for them as they disembarked.” Her voice sounded hollow.

“Woulff and McNamara?”

“Their arrival was too late. Connor sent word that they were forced to retreat. They lost many men.”

I breathed deeply. “It’s a living nightmare.”

“There must be a way to stop them,” Alanna said in desperation.

“Yes, and we will find it.” But my words sounded empty, even to my own ears.

Dressed in clean clothes, with my hair combed through, two glasses of wine and a lot of fruit inside of me, I felt a little less gloomy. Alanna placed the coronet around my head, and we walked arm in arm to my room. We were almost there when a little handmaid rushed up, curtsying apologetically.

“Forgive me, my Lady, but there is a problem in the laundry room. Some sheets caught afire, and they were extinguished, but now there is a huge mess and much confusion about what should be done. And Una is arguing with Nora about who was responsible,” she added to Alanna under her breath.

Before I could respond, Alanna smiled sweetly at the girl and said, “I will come.” She turned to me and gave me a quick hug. “I will take care of this. Carolan will probably release your husband shortly. Dinner is waiting within for both of you. I will return later this evening.” She followed the girl down the hall.

My guard opened the door for me, and as it closed securely behind me I realized that I could use some alone time. My room looked welcoming and familiar. The frame of my bed had been removed, and in its place the “marshmallow” was neatly made up. The drapes were partially drawn, allowing the rainy non-light of day to give the room a cozy, curl-up-with-a-good-book-and-a-glass-of-wine ambience. The table was laden with food; delicious smells wafted to me enticingly. My stomach gave a loud roar, prompting me to walk quickly over to the waiting smorgasbord and to commence chowing down.

Just as I was lifting a delectable leg of some small, fat bird, a sound from the library room drew my attention.

“Hello,” I called, wondering what nymphet was in there dusting or something. No one answered. I shrugged my shoulders and decided it must have been my overworked imagination.

The bird was melting in my mouth when I heard the sound again. This time it was louder—a thud like something heavy and hollow had been dropped.

Great. Some timid little girl had probably broken something, and now she was too scared to come out here and face Rhiannon the Bitch. That’s what it probably was—but something brushed at the back of my mind. An uncomfortable feeling that was hard to define.

I sighed and wiped my mouth on the gold linen napkin and, giving the laden table a desirous glance, walked reluctantly to the library.

I knew it was ridiculous, but the closer I got to the arched doorway, the more uncomfortable I felt. I stopped, suddenly fearful that a Fomorian had somehow slipped into the temple.

No, the feeling wasn’t one that portended evil. It was simply uncomfortable. And it was a familiar discomfort—I just couldn’t place it. As I stepped into the room, I realized my stomach had started to hurt and I was gritting my teeth.

The library was lit by many flickering candles, all in the sconce skull decor. The room looked like it had the last time I’d been in it, only the map had been rolled back up. Books lined the shelves, giving the room a comfortable appearance that was in direct contradiction to the sick feeling in my stomach. I was beginning to think maybe I was just overtired and some of the fruit hadn’t agreed with me, when something about the center table caught my attention.

And the breath rushed out of my body as if I’d been hit in the gut.

It was sitting in the middle of the table. The same pot I’d bought at the auction. The same pot that had caused my car wreck and my exchange of worlds. I tried to catch my breath, suddenly overwhelmed with dizziness. The room began to waver, like I was standing in a giant fishbowl looking out. I tried to step backward, but my body wouldn’t obey me. I felt like I was being sucked into a giant whirlpool; I couldn’t breathe; I was drowning. Then the pot began to glow, and I knew it had been sent there to pull me back to my old world.

I felt my sense of what was real dissolving. As the pot glowed brighter, I thought I could see an image of myself standing naked in an unfamiliar room. Plate-glass picture windows reflected the lights of a modern skyline behind the mirror image of me. My arms were spread and I was walking forward.

Suddenly I was flung backward and ClanFintan hurled past me, knocking the pot off the table so that it shattered against the tiled floor. Then he repeatedly reared up and came down with all his weight on the pieces of pottery, until it was nothing but rubble under his hooves. Slowly, the glow disappeared.

I realized I was still not breathing, and my legs gave way beneath me as everything faded to black.

“Rhea…Rhea,” I heard someone calling, as if from far away. “Rhea…wake up,” the voice continued calling. I couldn’t answer it—I couldn’t find my way out of the blackness.

“Shannon Parker! Open your eyes and return!”

My eyes flew open. I was lying on our mattress in ClanFintan’s arms. His face was white with worry.

“What happened?” I asked, trying to remember. Then I remembered, and I struggled to sit up. “The pot! It tried to take me back!” A wave of dizziness passed over me.

“Lie still. I destroyed it.” ClanFintan pressed a kiss against my clammy forehead. “I have sent for Carolan.”

“I think I’m fine,” I said, but I didn’t try to sit up again.

“You look like a ghost.”

“You don’t look so great yourself.” I touched his face gently.

Before he could answer, Carolan burst into the room, with Alanna close behind.

“What happened?” he asked as he knelt next to me. He touched my face and felt my wrist, checking my pulse.

“The pot appeared. Rhiannon tried to exchange places with her again,” ClanFintan said.

“Oh, Goddess, no!” Alanna’s hand flew to her mouth.

“I was outside in the hall,” ClanFinton said, “and I heard her scream inside my mind. I ran in here. She was in the library. The pot was glowing and the room seemed to be wavering, like a rippled pool of water. I pulled her out of the room and destroyed the pot. Then she fainted.”

“I feel better now.”

“Can you stand?” Carolan asked.

“Yes.” They helped me get slowly to my feet. The room stayed put. “Help me walk over to the table, I’m starving and I seriously need a drink.”

“She is better.” ClanFintan sounded relieved, but he kept his arm around me as he guided me to the table.

ClanFintan took his normal place on the chaise, pulling me securely against him. Alanna handed me a goblet of wine, then she and Carolan sat across from us.

I took a long drink, focusing on getting the trembling inside me under control.

“She’s trying to come back.” I was surprised at how calm I sounded. “I should have realized this would happen. She left here a Goddess Incarnate whose every whim was anticipated and fulfilled, to become an Oklahoma English teacher. Fifty out of fifty on the national pay scale. Please—who wouldn’t want to return?” I knew they didn’t understand everything I was saying, but they let me babble. “She somehow eavesdropped on my world. She saw cars and planes, huge skyscrapers and superhighways, the ‘magic’ of TV and computers.” I giggled, feeling light-headed. “She thought she would be Goddess queen over it all. Hardly. Teachers are underpaid and overworked. We have to put up with absentee parents blaming us for the problems their poor choices have caused. I mean, really, some of us are even thinking about wearing bulletproof vests to school.”

“Love…” ClanFintan’s voice of sanity stopped my tirade. “I will not let her take you away from me.”

“How are you going to stop her?” I was shaking again.

“Did I not stop her today?” He put his arms around me and I clung to his warmth and security.

“We will make sure everyone knows what the urn looks like.” Alanna smiled reassurance. “We will say it is being used by the forces of evil. If another appears, it will be destroyed before it can harm you.”

“Not if,
when.
I know she’ll try again.”

“Let her,” Carolan said. “She will not be allowed to succeed.”

ClanFintan’s strong hands kneaded the tension out of my shoulders as I allowed myself to believe I was safe.

“Eat, love,” he whispered into my ear. “It will make you feel better.”

“It always does,” I muttered and plunked a piece of delicious whitefish in my mouth. I was just beginning to relax, listening to Carolan and ClanFintan discuss the dynamics of the morning evacuation, when there was a quick knock and the door to my chamber flew open.

A sweat-covered guard saluted hastily and said, “Fomorians have been sighted outside the temple grounds.”

ClanFintan surged off the chaise and lunged to the door.

“Get Dougal. Have him assemble the centaurs and the rest of the Temple Guard at the entryway to the top of the northeast wall,” ClanFintan ordered, and the guard nodded and rushed off. The four of us moved resolutely down the hall in the direction of the entrance to the courtyard.

“How could they be here so soon?” My voice was incredulous.

We entered the courtyard, which was a scene of milling people.

“The rain,” Carolan said grimly. “It has kept the sun shrouded, and they have used it to their advantage.”

“I should have anticipated how quickly they can travel,” ClanFintan said, turning to face us. “Carolan, get all of the centaurs and warriors to the top of the temple wall. I do not care how badly wounded or how ill they are—tell them we have no choice.”

Carolan nodded, kissed Alanna briefly and rushed away.

“Alanna,” ClanFintan said. “Have the women gather all the cooking cauldrons in the temple and bring them here to the center courtyard. Then have the barrels that hold the oil for the lamps carried out of storage and brought to the courtyard, too.”

“Yes, ClanFintan.” She rushed off.

“Don’t even think about sending me on some friggin errand; I stay with you.”

“I never thought otherwise,” he said as we jogged across the courtyard.

We went in the direction that would take us out through the wide walls to the rear of the temple, but instead of passing through the exit, ClanFintan followed the wall around to the left. Soon we came to a ragtag-looking group of centaurs and humans assembled at the bottom of a narrow staircase that was built into the wall itself. It led up.

Dougal stepped out of the group. Victoria was at his side.

“Fomorians.”

Dougal nodded. “We heard. What now?”

“Where is the sentry who notified the guard?” ClanFintan asked.

A young man stepped forward and saluted crisply.

“Report,” ClanFintan ordered.

“My Lord, I was stationed at the northernmost watch point this side of the river. I heard a series of unexplained noises, so I climbed an old grandfather oak near my station. To the north, as far as I could see spread creatures with wings. I ran back with the news.”

“Victoria, get your Huntresses to the top of the wall. We have need of your crossbows.”

Vic and her Huntresses moved immediately to the steep stairs and began climbing to the top of the battlements. ClanFintan addressed the rest of the group, which was made up of members of my battered-looking guard and a third of his original legion, who were exhausted but determined.

“The women are collecting cauldrons and oil in the central courtyard. Get them up to the top of the wall. Bring torches and firewood. It may be the only way we can keep them from gaining the temple.”

The warriors sprinted away, leaving us alone with Dougal.

“Let us join the Huntresses,” ClanFintan said and led the way up the stairs.

It was steep going, and I had a sudden, uncomfortable flashback to just a couple of days before when I had followed Victoria up similarly steep steps, and into disaster.

The walkway that ran the length of the wall was smooth and wider than the roof battlements at the Muses’ temple had been. Epona’s balustrades were thick and well placed. We went up, and the Huntresses spread out, notching their crossbows at the ready. I stood between ClanFintan and Dougal, peering with them out into the murky evening light, trying to distinguish shapes from fog and mist. Nothing moved except the rain.

Noises from our side of the wall drew our attention as the warriors clambered up the stairs, straining under the weight of the heavy cauldrons and oil barrels. We concentrated on helping the warriors while the Huntresses and centaurs kept watch for the creatures.

Between every third or fourth balustrade, smoothed-out holes had been carved into the floor of the walkway. Hanging over the holes were iron hooks that were screwed securely into the side of the marble teethlike balustrades. The warriors began filling the holes up with hot coals and firewood. Then they suspended the cauldrons from the hooks, filled the cauldrons with oil and lit the fires.

I remembered ClanFintan’s words that had praised Epona’s Temple as a fortress, and Carolan explaining that, unlike the Muses, Epona was a warrior goddess. So the temple itself was ready for a fight—I just hoped we had enough warriors to man her.

Soon wounded centaurs and human warriors joined us. Their faces were set in grim lines and they followed orders without comment as ClanFintan stationed them around the length of the temple wall.

I heard him ask the sentry who had originally brought word of the Fomorians to us, “What is your name, warrior?”

“Patrick,” he answered.

“Does the temple have a storeroom supply of longbows and arrows?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Get them,” was ClanFintan’s sober response.

Carolan joined us briefly, checking on his patients.

ClanFintan pulled him aside to give him instructions. “Have Alanna gather all of the women within the temple. Tell them to bring one pack apiece—they should each be carrying a blanket, a bladder of wine and a weapon.” He paused. “Any weapon. A kitchen knife or a pair of scissors is better than nothing.”

“I will tell them.” Carolan hurried back down the stairs.

“ClanFintan!” Victoria’s voice snapped across the battlements. “There!”

We followed her pointing finger and saw that a line of creatures was approaching the temple wall. They came from all sides, like a tightening noose. I could hear their predatory hissing in the still evening air.

“Wait until the Huntress gives the word.” My husband’s voice was strong and sure. “Aim for their heads or necks. As most of you know, they are difficult to kill.”

The line drew closer.

I saw Victoria take aim with her crossbow. The Huntresses and the other warriors followed suit.

The line drew closer.

I could see the individual creatures. Their eyes shone with an unnatural reddish glow, and even in the low light their claws and teeth gleamed wetly.

“Now!” Victoria cried. There was a great whooshing of arrows, and the sickening sound of flesh being pierced by the deadly shafts. Many of the first line of creatures fell, but their comrades stepped over them and kept coming, oblivious to their death throes.

“Again!” Vic shouted. And the arrows thunked home.

On and on the arrows rained, but it didn’t stop the Fomorian mass. Too soon, they were at the foot of the slick temple walls.

“Spill the oil!” ClanFintan gave the order, and the cauldrons were dumped onto the creatures. Those nearest the wall screeched and writhed in agony as the boiling oil scalded flesh to the bone. The others hissed and paused, not sure they should continue climbing over the bodies of the dying.

“Drop the torches!” At ClanFintan’s order, warriors dropped lighted torches down onto the oil-soaked creatures, who instantly became flaming effigies of pain, blundering blindly into their living comrades, causing them, too, to catch afire. The flames spread down the temple grounds, and soon the creatures were running frantically, clawing over the top of each other to get away from the temple walls.

I looked away, unable to watch their agony.

A victorious shout went up from the warriors of the temple and their centaur allies.

“More oil.” ClanFintan took no time for celebration. “Re-arm your supple of arrows. They will be back.”

The scent of roasting flesh wafted up from the still-flaming creatures, and I pressed my hand over my mouth and hurried down the battlement stairs. I ran, following the wall a few steps, then folded at the waist and puked what little my stomach held all over the inside of the temple wall.

When I was finished, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stepped shakily away from the mess. My insides felt as if they had been knotted together with wire, and my mouth tasted terrible.

All kidding aside, I seriously hate puking. Really.

I had come to the realization that English teachers weren’t made for all-out warfare. Gang wannabes yelling obscenities at each other—yes. Girl fights outside the lockers of ex-friends started by the words “You stole my boyfriend, you ho!”—yes. Semi-innocent ninth-graders who mix clear laxative into your water bottle while you’re in the hall explaining to another ninth grader why throwing balls of chewed gum up on the ceiling is going to cost him time in detention—yes.

But real war—no. I wasn’t made for it. I wasn’t prepared for it. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t lead people out of it. I—

You have the strength, Beloved.
I tried to catch my breath and let the comfort of my Goddess’s words wash over me, but I still felt inadequate. And I had puke breath.

“Rhea?” ClanFintan stepped out of the shadows. “Where did you go?”

“I was puking.” I sounded like a little girl, and I didn’t care.

“Come here, love.” He put his arms around me and I rested against his warmth.

“Just don’t kiss me—I’m sure I taste like puke.”

A laugh vibrated his chest. “Perhaps we can find some wine to wash the taste from your mouth.” He kissed me on the top of the head, and his arm enfolded me. We began walking across the courtyard.

“Female!”
The hiss surrounded us.
“Where are you, female?”

The sound was carrying over the wall of the temple; it was as if the words were looking for me. I stepped out of ClanFintan’s arm and sprinted up the stairs to take my place on the battlement. Nuada was pacing back and forth at the edge of the mound of smoldering corpses. His wings were fully erect. His colorless hair flew wildly around him, and his naked body was fully visible in the oily glow of the fire.

At the sight of him, the sickness in my stomach left me, and I was filled with a goddess’s vengeful anger.

“What do you want, you pathetic creature?” I spoke the words softly, but somehow Epona magically picked them up, lifted and magnified them so that they carried easily across the temple grounds.

“You, female. I want you.”

“Too damn bad. You will never have me.” I knew what I said was true. No matter what happened, I felt my Goddess’s promise that Nuada would never possess me.

“I will!” he shrieked. I noticed his normally pale face was flushed and covered with a film of sweat. “I will have you—soon! The rest of my army joins me on the morrow.” Taunting laughter followed his words. “I let them amuse themselves with the women from the other temple, but that amusement did not last long. I have higher expectations for you!” He cackled more taunting laughter at me. “Tonight make peace with your weakling Goddess, and say goodbye to that mutation you call a mate. Tomorrow you belong to me!”

I felt ClanFintan gesture to Victoria, and she tossed him her crossbow. With a motion that blurred with speed, my husband sighted the bow. The twang of the shot was followed by a shriek from Nuada as the arrow sliced the side of his head, severing his ear from his body.

Nuada’s hand tried to stem the flow of blood as he whirled around and disappeared into the fading light.

“That guy needs some serious therapy,” I muttered.

“Sleep in shifts.” ClanFintan’s voice was flat and cold as he spoke to the warriors on the battlement. “Victoria, Dougal, Patrick, find Carolan and Alanna, then meet us in Rhea’s chambers. Follow me,” he said bluntly to me as he went down the stairs.

We did as we were told.

I had to scramble to keep up with him, and in no time we were rushing through the door to my room. Before I could catch my breath, ClanFintan pulled me roughly into his arms and covered his mouth with mine.

I wanted to struggle and remind him I had puked not too long ago, but his heat was overpowering and I felt myself enthusiastically returning the kiss. His mouth broke away from mine, and he pressed me against his hard body.

“That creature will never possess you. I will not let it happen.”

“I know, love,” I murmured against his skin as his hands roamed familiarly over my body. My knees had just begun to feel weak, when two quick knocks sounded at the door.

ClanFintan reluctantly let loose my body and yelled, “Come!” as I poured myself a large glass of wine and had a seat on the chaise.

Dougal, Victoria, Carolan, Alanna and Patrick poured into the room. Without any preamble, ClanFintan faced them and announced, “We leave at dawn.”

To their credit, the assembled mix of people and centaurs didn’t comment. Alanna moved quickly to the side of the room. With one of her Alanna miracles, she produced six goblets and began distributing them and pouring wine. I helped.

“How?” Carolan asked the only question.

“We form a phalanx. Part of the centaurs with clay-mores drawn and shields at ready will form the outside of the formation.” He caught Patrick’s eye. “Intermingled with human warriors holding their spears at the ready.” He turned to Vic. “And Huntresses firing their deadly crossbows. Within the phalanx will be the women and children. The rest of the centaurs and human warriors will form a line between the creatures and the phalanx. We will move out as the sun rises, heading into the east to greet it, and to cross the river. We will hold off the Fomorians until the women make it to the river, then we will follow them.”

The room was silent.

“It is the only way. If we stay here, we are all dead.”

“Many will not make it across the river.” Carolan’s voice was not accusatory—he was stating a fact.

“But some will make it,” I spoke up. “If the creatures get into the temple, the women will face something worse than death.”

“There is no way we can hold them off?” Alanna asked ClanFintan.

“No.” His answer was firm. “Not indefinitely. Nuada said more creatures were joining them. We cannot chance that their numbers will swell so large that they can trap us and overrun the temple.”

“Where do we go after we get to the other side of the river?” Patrick’s voice sounded young and afraid.

“To safety.” ClanFintan grasped the young man’s shoulder. “To the Centaur Plains. There we will rebuild and return.”

Patrick swallowed hard and nodded.

Terpsichore’s sacrifice flashed through my mind, and I considered asking for just a couple more days to see if smallpox could affect the creatures. Then I looked closely at the people and centaurs surrounding me. What if I was wrong and a few days of waiting would cause the Fomorian trap to snap shut? I simply was not willing to risk them for a maybe.