Page 33 of Queen of the Shadow

his longboat claimed the waves

his longboat claimed the waves

Maidens fair smiled on him, attempting to enthrall

his longboat claimed the waves

his longboat claimed the waves

But Béfionn saw his kindness and the goddess did fall

her smile claimed his heart

her smile claimed his heart...

As Sechan sang the love story of Ardgeimm and Béfionn—accurately and beautifully—Scáthach’s gaze found her daughter.

“How did he get their story right?”

Uathach grinned. “I told him. Today, when he sat with me and played the harp softly while the healer tended to this.” She gestured at the bandage that was wrapped around her forehead. “He’s not a bad man, Mama, only a weak one. Do not judge him too harshly.”

“He’s no warrior,” Tabiti said.

“Exactly. He has never claimed to be a warrior,” agreed Uathach. “And he should not be judged as one.”

“I do not tell you enough, but I am proud of your compassion,” said Scáthach.

“Thank you, Mama. That means a great deal to me, especially as you have been the best teacher of compassion I could have had.”

Scáthach took her daughter’s hand in hers and held it while the students insisted Sechan sing the love ballad again and again.

* * *

It was well past midnight when Scáthach made her way down the tunnel to the stables. Looking for the young stallion, she walked slowly through the herd. As if he expected her, she found him standing quietly a little apart from the others. He watched as she approached, ears pricked, his dark eyes never leaving her.

Scáthach pressed the palm of her hand against his wide forehead. “It is time. Come with me.” When she left the herd, the stallion followed the Queen of Shadow without the need of halter or rope.

Scáthach led him out of the cave, over the drawbridge, and into the pasture area. Unhurriedly she walked to the far end of the pasture where there was a large rounded boulder that blocked the entrance to the rocky shore. It was carved with galloping horses and symbols of power. The stallion stood calmly as she rolled the boulder aside, just enough for the two of them to access the path to the sea. Before Scáthach led him through, she stripped out of her clothes, keeping only the leather belt that wrapped around her curving waist and held her sheathed dagger. She loosened the tie in her hair and shook her head so that it spread around her like a lion’s mane. Naked, with the stallion at her side, she walked from the pasture to the shore, at first keeping to the thick shadows that hugged the huge rock on which Dunscáith perched. As always, Scáthach could feel the shadows, and their familiar caress helped to ready her for what was to come. Where the beach was widest, she moved away from the castle’s shadow and led the stallion directly into the sea, halting only when she came to the edge of the shallows.

She waited a few moments, taking in the beauty of the night. The moon wasn’t full, but the fat crescent was a scythe that cut the darkness with silver. The sea was restless; white-capped waves drove against their legs, though neither horse nor woman noticed.

Scáthach turned to face the stallion. Again, she pressed her palm to his forehead and looked into his dark eye. “You would have caused her death. Had Sentanta not been there and not had the perfect mixture of talent and courage, Uathach, my daughter, would be making her way to Annwn and the Summerlands this very night.” She paused. One hand still pressed against his forehead, Scáthach pivoted her body so that she stood beside the stallion, her right shoulder touching the left side of his bowed neck.

As she drew the dagger from the sheath at her waist, Scáthach’s voice changed, drawing power from her divine blood. When she next spoke, her words tolled across the water with such strength that they rang above the sound of waves on surf.

“As penance, I send you to Annwn, where you will wait on the other side of the eternal stream just before the hawthorn arch. You will not enter the Summerlands. You will learn patience. You will learn to be calm. You will spend the years observing and becoming wise. And in the distant future when Uathach, daughter of Scáthach, granddaughter of Béfionn, finally crosses from this world to the next,only thenwill you be allowed to enter with her and find the lush green pastures of the Summerlands.”

Gently, Scáthach turned the stallion’s head so that she could look into his eye again. With one fast, deep stroke, the Queen of Shadow severed the artery in his neck.

The stallion trembled as his blood sprayed across her naked body. Scarlet flecked his nose and mouth. He dropped to his knees in the water and she knelt with him.

“Sssh,” Scáthach soothed, and he immediately stopped trembling. “All will be well. It will be over soon. I will guide you to the stream.”

His blood pumped into the sea; the water around them swirled and the froth of the waves turned dark with it. She did not break their connection, did not look away from the fading light in his eyes—not even when she heard them swimming toward her. It seemed to take a long time, but finally he gasped his last breath, his eye clouded and his head drooped into the water.

Covered in the stallion’s blood, Scáthach stood.

Boney scutes sliced the waves with huge dorsal fins as the sturgeons swam to them. The horse’s body slid into the depths and while the sturgeons consumed him, a sliver of light lifted from his body. Ethereal and free, the horse’s spirit hovered at Scáthach’s side.