Page 4 of Queen of the Shadow

Her mother’s gaze sharpened on her. “Were he in my realm of Annwn I would, but I will have to petition Odin and Hel to be allowed entrance to Valhalla. The All Father and his Goddess of Death do not welcome mortals unless they are dead, even a mortal who shares my blood.”

“I am not afraid.”

Béfionn touched her daughter’s cheek gently. “Of course you are not afraid. You are my daughter and know the realms of death are to be respected, not feared. It simply would not be allowed.”

“Mother, who will watch over our dead while you are in Valhalla?”

The goddess’s brows lifted. “The realms of the dead are sentient. They can watch over the spirits for the time I will be absent, as they are doing at this moment. But you already know that.” Her smile was soft. “You remind me of when you were a child and worried so much about the dead.”

“Well, there are a lot of them.”

Béfionn laughed. “There are indeed. Do not worry so, my beloved. As I told you when you were a little girl, the dead are like children to me. I care for them but do not believe in smothering them with my attention. Even in death many mortals still have lessons to learn, and my hovering will not aid with those lessons.”

Scáthach could have reminded her mother that she was Béfionn’s actual child and she always longed for more of her mother’s attention. She could have told her mother that the loneliness and sadness she’d glimpsed in the eyes of the dead when she used to visit their realms with Béfionn had haunted her dreams for years... decades even. Scáthach glanced at her mother. No, now was not the time to rekindle that old discussion. Scáthach only nodded somberly and said, “I understand, Goddess.”

Béfionn touched her cheek gently. “Do not worry so,” she repeated. “I will give your father your love.”

Scáthach bowed her head. “Thank you, Mother.”

“And how is our Little Fry?” The goddess glanced up at the parapet. “Did I glimpse her working your rappelling contraption?”

“You did and she is quite well, growing into an excellent warrior and teacher.”

Béfionn’s sharp gaze caught her daughter’s. “Be sure you allow her room to find her own way in this world.”

For a moment Scáthach didn’t know what to say. Then she sputtered, “Is—do you believe Uathach to be unhappy?”

“Not at all!” her mother assured her. “But I have also raised a strong, independent-minded daughter. Remember to listen to her with your heart as well as your mind.”

“I will.”

The goddess stood and opened her arms to Scáthach. Her daughter stepped into her embrace, and they held each other until Béfionn released her reluctantly. “I shall go to Valhalla now.”

“I’ll burn offerings to Odin in honor of Father tonight.”

Béfionn bowed her head slightly. “I thank you. Odin will appreciate that oblation.” She took a step toward the water and added, “As will Freya and her Valkyries who escorted Ardgeimm to Valhalla.”

“Mother, why is it you have no shield maids to escort our warriors to Annwn?” Scáthach asked.

Béfionn paused at the waterline and looked back at her daughter. “Perhaps I should. I shall consider it.” Then she began to grow in size and, as she did, she smiled down at Scáthach. “Daughter, say yes to the bard.”

Scáthach’s forehead furrowed. “The bard? I have no bard at Dunscáith.”

“Not yet but say yes so you will. He’ll be amusing.” Her voice faded as the goddess dove into the sea, disappearing among the glistening silver of her sturgeons.

* * *

It took longer to climb up the thick stone side of her castle than it did to fly down the wall, but Scáthach enjoyed the burn in her arms, shoulders, and legs. Though she had not worked up a sweat on the way down, scaling up the fifty-foot rock wall heated her muscles and blood, and as sweat dripped from her body she felt some of the grief of losing her father a second time leave her. He had loved her and he had loved her mother. Scáthach would remember him always, as would the Goddess of the Summerlands.

Scáthach reached the toothlike battlements and pulled herself over the edge. Her daughter was by her side in an instant, having operated the pulley system that allowed Scáthach to rappel down and then return up.

“Grandmother seemed pleased with your gift,” Uathach said as she helped her mother step out of the complex rappelling harness. “How did she take the news?”

“It saddened her, but she appreciated hearing it from me. She is off to Valhalla to visit him. Tonight we must burn the thighbones of a sacrificed bull to honor Father and Odin and the Valkyries who escorted him there.”

“Would you like me to choose the bull?” Uathach asked.

Scáthach smiled and nodded. “I would. Then it will be us honoring Ardgeimm together.”