Page 29 of Queen of the Shadow

Uathach nodded and added, “And consider how dangerous it is to drive a chariot through the woods at a full gallop.”

“Or through any bog,” continued Scáthach. “If you can leap from your chariot to your horse, all you need to do is cut him free from the yoke and you will not be trapped by a cumbersome cart. Now, let us begin. As I said, your first step is with the cart at a standstill. Once you successfully leap from the cart onto the back of your horse, you may then attempt the feat at a walk.”

“Are you not going to send them to the water?” Uathach asked.

“I’d almost forgotten,” said Scáthach as Tabiti chuckled. “For the beginning step, drive your chariots into the sea and attempt your stationary leaps there.”

“The water is a much softer landing than this road,” added Uathach with a grin at the group of nervously sweating students.

* * *

“Cuchulainn!” Scáthach called the warrior, who had to wait his turn at a first attempt of the stationary leap because of the odd number of students. He jogged across the beach to where she and Tabiti had parked their chariot beside Uathach and the bard, who rode in the cart with her. When he reached her, Scáthach jumped out of the chariot and motioned for him to take her place. “Tabiti will be your driver while you drill the first steps of the feat.”

He nodded and leaped into the chariot. Tabiti clucked to the horse, urging him into the water. The beach sand was interspersed with rocks and she was careful to guide the chariot around them. She halted the horse when the water was deep enough that it would cushion Cuchulainn’s fall—should he fall—but not swamp the cart.

Scáthach walked along the beach, studying her students and calling out encouragement as well as correcting and instructing. The threat of rain dissipated and the sky cleared so that spring sunlight lent them its warmth, which was welcome as every student except for Cuchulainn tumbled into the sea attempt after attempt.

The Queen of Shadow whistled sharply, and the students wiped seawater from their faces as they turned to give her their attention. “Watch Cuchulainn. He has mastered the first step of the feat. Note that, unlike the rest of you, he does not pause long on the lip of the cart. The longer you pause before the leap, the better the chance of losing your balance.”

“Yes, consider how difficult it will be to attempt to stand on the lip when your chariot is racing through a battlefield,” added Tabiti. “You are not meant to stand there and gather wool. You only pause long enough to pull your foot from the loop and use the lip to leap.”

“Exactly,” Scáthach agreed. “Cuchulainn, please demonstrate.”

Cuchulainn executed a perfect stationary leap and then, without being asked, he waded up and down the line of chariots, giving pointers to the students and cheering when they were almost successful.

Scáthach, content to let Cuchulainn and Tabiti lead the drill, found a flat rock and sat, lifting her face to the sun. She loved the wildness of Skye’s shoreline but did appreciate this unusually tranquil section of beach. About a quarter of a mile stretched between the cliff-like rock giants that jutted out into the sea. Between the rock walls the shallows were calm and the beach was more sand than rock. Scáthach smiled as she remembered playing here as a child, nursemaided by sturgeons.

“Whoa, there! Whoa!”

Uathach’s voice cut through her memory and she glanced to her right, where the dark bay stallion that pulled her daughter’s chariot pranced restlessly and tossed his head. Scáthach stood and went to Uathach, who frowned at the horse as she attempted to quiet him.

“He’s restless,” Uathach said. Her mother went to the horse’s head and stroked his neck, murmuring to him.

“He’s young,” said Scáthach. “And a lot less experienced than the others.” She nodded in the direction of the horses standing quietly in the water as student warriors attempted, and mostly failed, to leap from the carts to their backs.

Uathach let out a long breath and rolled the shoulder of her wounded arm as she grimaced. “I should have known better than to harness a green horse today.”

“He has been unpredictable.” The bard sounded choked. His knuckles were white where he clutched the side of the cart.

Instantly concerned about her daughter’s injury, Scáthach said, “I’ll drive the chariot in your place. Rest yourself on a rock.”

Uathach grinned when her mother flicked an irritated look at the bard. “Oh, I’m fine, Mother. Just a little stiff and sore. It’ll be good for me to run him down the beach and back a few times. This sand will tire him and then he’ll behave himself.”

“I would, uh, prefer to wait on a rock here with—” Sechan began, but it was too late. Uathach had already clucked to the restless stallion and, with a wink, guided the chariot past Scáthach.

Scáthach watched her daughter skillfully hold the young horse to a controlled canter as she wove the chariot between rocks, heading toward the cliff-like wall to her left. Silently, she chided herself. Uathach was an excellent horsewoman and was particularly skilled with a chariot. Scáthach drew a long, calming breath and released it, remembering how Béfionn had allowed her the freedom to develop confidence in herself. Scáthach knew better than to hover overprotectively and give her daughter a reason to doubt her own abilities, though next visit she would have to ask her mother how she had made it look so easynotto hover. Resolutely, Scáthach shifted her attention from her Little Fry to the drilling students.

“Cuchulainn, Tabiti.” She motioned for them to join her on the beach. “You’ve done well,” she told Cuchulainn. “The students benefited from your demonstration and your encouragement. I’m proud of how you’re progressing.” She pretended not to notice the flush of color that painted the young warrior’s cheeks at her praise. Scáthach was used to the hero worship of her students and knew it would pass as he worked through his training. “Tabiti, Cuchulainn is ready for the next step in the feat. Begin on the road at a walk. I recall that the area of the road parallel to the easterly rock wall is the smoothest.”

Tabiti nodded. “It is indeed. We’ll start there.”

“Remember, Cuchulainn, strength, courage, and balance. And do not—”

“Pause too long on the lip of the cart,” he finished for her with a smile.

She nodded but did not return the smile. “Hubris is dangerous.”

The young warrior’s grin instantly disappeared. “You are right to remind me, Queen of Shadow.”