Page 10 of Queen of the Shadow

“Well, he does appear out of his mind,” said Tabiti. “Better to put a mad dog down than to—”

She went silent as Cuchulainn stopped pacing and stalked to the bridge. He was a scarlet nightmare. His body dripped with fresh blood from countless long, angry welts. His face, which had been so beautiful only moments before, had turned a horrid purple-red and was wet with sweat, spittle, and snot. His golden eyes were awash in red and bulged from his florid face. His hair was matted with sweat and blood. He’d grown several inches. His muscles bulged and flexed. He more closely resembled a monster than a man.

Facing the Bridge of Leaps, he roared and then, head down like a charging bull, Cuchulainn attacked the bridge. He climbed it with such speed and force that he caused it to quake, sending stone and mortar into the seething water below. It did not matter that the bridge bucked and shook. Cuchulainn utterly defeated it. He thundered from the center arch down, landing on the opposite side without so much as a misstep. But he didn’t stop with that victory. Still roaring, he raced up the stone stairs that led to Dunscáith’s thick door, where he pounded his fists against the wood and shouted in a voice that was barely human. “Bridge conquered! Demand enter! Scáthach! Queen of Shadow! Bridge conquered!”

“He attacks us!” Tabiti said, unsheathing the sword at her side.

Scáthach put her hand on her gatekeeper’s shoulder. “He has conjured a berserker rage.”

“That young fool! What was he thinking?” Tabiti’s lip curled in disgust as she shook her head.

The berserker pounded on the door again with such force he split the wood as he thundered her name, “Scáthach! Scáthach!” It was obvious that with his next strike he would shatter the door, and his red rage would be loosed upon the castle. Scáthach didn’t have to look to know the sounds of booted feet rushing down from the battlements were her Shadow Guard as they hurried to meet the threat to Dunscáith.

“Tabiti, Uathach, keep everyone back. I’ll deal with Cuchulainn.” Holding the spear tightly in one hand, Scáthach leaped from the sentry platform and landed just a few feet from the snarling warrior.

At first Cuchulainn didn’t notice her. He lifted his hammer-like fists to pound through the wood.

“Donotbreak my door.” Scáthach didn’t raise her voice, but she punctuated her command by using the blunt end of her spear to whack him on his ass.

Cuchulainn spun around, roaring his anger at her. He moved so fast that any warrior but the Queen of Shadow would have been easily caught by him and broken by his superhuman strength.

As if made of shadow, Scáthach glided aside, and when he charged past her, she whacked him on the ass again. Then, matching his speed, she pursued Cuchulainn. “I said,do not break my door.” With every word, Scáthach spun and used the blunted spear end to strike him. She did not raise her voice. She didn’t even seem angry. Her breath was steady—her body relaxed. The grace and speed with which she moved made it appear as if she danced with a madman. She was ice to his fire. Each time the blunted spear hit him, Cuchulainn deflated, and Scáthach kept talking to him, speaking in a voice that was soft and calm. “You’re being impolite and that is something I do not tolerate in my students.”

“Scáthach!” He roared and charged her again.

Scáthach ducked and spun as she whirled her spear in a low arch. It collided with the back of Cuchulainn’s knees with such force the warrior was knocked off balance and fell forward. Scáthach pressed her attack. She stood on his back, pinned him to the ground, and twirled the spear so that the deadly iron point rested against the base of his neck where it would only take one simple thrust to end Cuchulainn.

“Do not move,” Scáthach said softly.

Cuchulainn’s body went rigid, but still he growled and snarled his rage.

“You should breathe with me, Cuchulainn,” Scáthach said. “I would rather not return your body to Ulster lifeless and untrained, though I will if you do not regain control over yourself.”

“Get off ! Fight me!” he snarled, but held himself very still.

Scáthach pressed the spear tip more firmly against the young warrior’s neck and a single line of scarlet joined the rest of the blood painting his body. “I did fight you, Ulsterman, and I defeated you. Concede and control yourself. Now, before I tire of teaching a lesson to a warrior I have yet to accept as a student. Breathe with me. Four counts in and four counts out. Like this. Inhale and one... two... three... four...” Scáthach tapped the ball of her foot against his back in time with her count. Slowly, Cuchulainn’s inhuman snarls and growls stopped. His back rose and fell with Scáthach’s count, and as it did the florid flush of his skin faded, his body deflated, and he finally went limp.

Still, Scáthach stood on him, pressing the spear to his neck, counting his breaths.

Cuchulainn turned his head to the side so that he could look over his shoulder at her. “Scáthach?”

Only then did Scáthach step off his back and lift her spear. “I am she.”

Cuchulainn sat and faced her. “I greet you, Queen of Shadow. May I have your leave to stand?”

“You may.”

Moving more like a stiff old man than a virile young hero, Cuchulainn stood and slowly straightened. He brushed back his hair and used his forearm to wipe the sweat and saliva from his face. Then he bowed formally to her. “Queen of Shadow, I have conquered the Bridge of Leaps and earned the right to demand a boon from you.”

A bark of laughter came from the sentry platform above them. Scáthach’s lips lifted in a smile. “Demand?”

He squared his shoulders and stood straighter. He raised his chin. They were the same height, and Cuchulainn was able to look directly into Scáthach’s eyes. “Is it not known that any warrior who crosses the Bridge of Leaps may demand a boon from Scáthach?”

More laughter echoed from above them, and Cuchulainn threw a dark look up at the sentry platform.

“It seems you have been fed false information, Ulsterman,” said Scáthach. “Crossing the Bridge of Leaps only earns you the right toaskthat I accept you as a student warrior.”

Cuchulainn’s forehead furrowed. “Ask? But I was told—”