Page 109 of Queen of the Shadow

“Oh, gods! This is a surprise!” Cuchulainn squatted down and the pup jumped up, putting its paws on his shoulder and licking his face enthusiastically. Laughing, Cuchulainn stood, holding the pup in his arms. He turned to Scáthach. “He’s a Wolfhound, the kind of dog Culann's used to be.”

Scáthach ruffled the pup’s ears as he wriggled and yipped and leaned to her so he could lick her face. The Queen of Shadow laughed. “Yes, you are definitely a surprise.”

“Is he still dead?” Cuchulainn asked.

“He has to be. Nothing is alive here except us. But he has clearly been given the opportunity to begin anew.” Scáthach smiled as she caressed the pup. “He is going to be very popular in the Summerlands.”

“I’m glad for him,” said Cuchulainn. “Should you send him there now? Before we enter the Winterlands?”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking that I should send Chance to the Summerlands before we pass through the barrier between realms,” said Scáthach. Hearing his name, the stallion trotted to them. Scáthach stroked his sleek neck. “You’ve matured so much. I’m so proud of you. Your service to Cuchulainn and me has fulfilled your penance. The Winterlands are unpleasant. You’ve earned your rest.” Her gaze flicked to the puppy in Cuchulainn’s arms. “As has that pup.”

Cuchulainn sighed and then nodded. “You’re right. Much as I would love to keep the two of them with us, they don’t belong here or the Winterlands.” He went to the stallion, and with his spare hand stroked the horse’s neck. “I’ll miss you.” Chance nuzzled him and the pup yipped at the stallion. With dignified patience, Chance allowed the pup to sniff him.

Scáthach gazed at the border to the Winterlands. It was close. She looked from it to the warrior who held the wriggling puppy beside the obedient stallion and felt a pang of regret. She would miss them. All of them.

She unsheathed the dagger from around her waist and made a quick, narrow cut on her forearm.

“So soon?” Cuchulainn asked.

She looked up to see that the three of them were watching her. Scáthach nodded. “The sooner I send them to the Summerlands, the sooner we can finish our quest.” Cuchulainn met her gaze, and she saw her regret reflected there, but he nodded.

When Scáthach looked away from him, she saw that a stream had materialized. It bubbled over a rocky bottom beside the road. “Thank you,” she murmured to the Autumnal Realm. As she held her arm over the stream and her blood dripped lazily to mix with the clear water, the now-familiar tingle that feathered across her skin let her know the veil between realms was thinning. She motioned for Cuchulainn to lead Chance to her. As the warrior, the horse, and the puppy joined her, the air over the stream began to ripple and glisten. She pinched the gossamer veil between her thumb and forefinger and drew it aside as if it was a curtain. Then she turned to face her companions.

She went to the puppy first. He grinned up at her, tongue lolling adorably. She scratched his ears and kissed his wet nose. “I want you to go with Chance. The Summerlands are waiting for you.” She looked from the pup to Cuchulainn, who held him close. “You should say goodbye now.”

Cuchulainn swallowed and nodded, and while he cuddled the pup and told him what a good, smart, perfect boy he was, Scáthach turned to Chance. The chariot had disappeared. In its place was a large hunk of Skye marble that glistened even in the wan light. On it was a new carving of Chance harnessed to their chariot, with the Queen of Shadow and the Hero of Ulster in the cart driving him across a beach at a run as they laughed joyously.

The stallion lowered his head and nuzzled her, nickering softly.

“I know,” she murmured to him as she stroked his wide forehead. “I don’t want you to go, either. But if you don’t cross over, how will the pup know where to go? Mother is still in Valhalla. She can’t guide him. The pup needs you.” It was, of course, not completely true. She’d opened the veil to the Summerlands. All she needed to do was send the pup there. He wouldn’t be lost at all. He’d be greeted warmly and adored. But she knew Chance well by then. The stallion had grown into a wise, loyal horse. Given the choice, she knew he’d prefer to remain with her and Cuchulainn—to finish the quest with them. “You are free,” she said softly before kissing his velvet muzzle. “Your penance is over. You have earned your place in paradise. I will see you again. On that I give you my word.”

Scáthach walked to the glistening oval that opened in the middle of the narrow, shallow stream. Chance was at her side. She turned to Cuchulainn, who was still holding the pup. “Put him on Chance’s back. They’ll enter the Summerlands together.”

Cuchulainn put the pup atop the stallion’s broad back, where he sat, lolling a doggy smile at the warrior, who smiled back at him through eyes bright with tears. Much as she’d done that night that seemed so long ago, Scáthach pressed her palm to Chance’s forehead. “Go with my blessing, my love, and my gratitude.” Then she stepped aside, and after Chance nuzzled her one last time, the stallion strode into the stream and through the glistening entrance with the pup yipping happily from his back.

Cuchulainn took her hand as they watched Chance walk into a verdant meadow where clover grew to his knees and wildflowers painted splashes of color. The sun shined and in the distance a horse neighed a glorious welcome. Chance returned the greeting. The pup yipped happily, and the veil closed.

Cuchulainn wiped his eyes and laughed softly. “I hope I see that pup again.”

Scáthach squeezed her lover’s hand. “You will.”

Their travel packs and weapons were in the middle of the road. They strapped the packs to their backs, sheathed their swords, hefted their shields, and side by side walked down the road the short distance to the wall of gray.

When they stood before the roiling wall, Cuchulainn blurted, “It’s not just fog and ice and snow. I can see faces. I can hear screams.”

“Yes. The faces and screams of the damned. Some spirits are absorbed into the realm and some are absorbed here, to make the barrier.” Scáthach saw the openmouthed, horrible faces in the writhing mass before them and suppressed a shudder.

“Do we just walk through it?” Cuchulainn asked.

“Yes, but not until we have the protection of my shadows.” Scáthach turned her back to the grotesque wall of the damned. She spread her arms wide. Her voice filled with power and command as well as the spoken music she and her mother shared, Scáthach called out across the Autumnal Realm. “I am Scáthach, Queen of Shadow. Through my birthright as daughter of the Goddess of the Underworld, I call shadow to me and to the Hero of Ulster. Cloak us. Conceal us. Protect us. Guide us to the sea monster Curruid and remain with us until I release you with gratitude and appreciation. Come to me, my sweet shadows!”

It was as if the land awakened from a long autumn slumber. First it rumbled under Scáthach’s feet, and then it seemed the rocks and dirt, spare grasses and sparsely leafed trees shivered and released darkness within darkness. The shadows came at the command of their queen. Rushing to her and to Cuchulainn, they engulfed them, wrapping around the two of them like dark cocoons in which they were fully concealed and protected, effectively rendering them invisible.

Scáthach turned to Cuchulainn, who was looking in wonder above and around them at the screening shadows. “Are you ready?”

His gaze went to her. “With you by my side, I am ready for anything.” Together they entered the Winterlands.

Chapter 25