Page 83 of Queen of the Shadow

She smiled, but didn’t look at him. Instead she pointed ahead of the boat. “It’s clearing. Welcome to Hy-Brasil.”

It was like parting a heavy curtain from a darkened room into a land of wonderment.

“It’s so green,” Cuchulainn said.

“Does that surprise you?”

“Yes!” He nodded. “I thought land of the dead meant darkness and gloom.” He pointed his thumb behind them at the curtain of fog that hid the island. “Like that. Not like this.”

They’d entered a crescent-shaped harbor. In the middle of the crescent was a beach of pristine white sand. Framing the rest of the crescent, willow trees grew thick along the bank, draped down to the water. Gentle hills rolled away from the beach. Ancient oaks so old their branches often touched the ground were sentinels before the hills, which were covered with tall pines and ferns, interspersed with glades filled with grasses and wildflowers.

The boat picked up speed as the sturgeons hurled it toward the sandy beach, pulling themselves free before they ran aground.

Scáthach jumped from the boat and waded out into the bay, laughing and talking to the sturgeons, thanking them for their help while they swam excitedly around her and she petted their silver sides. She felt his gaze on her and she glanced at him. He’d been dragging the sailboat farther up on the beach, but Cuchulainn stopped and was watching her. There was an intensity about the way he looked at her that heated her cheeks.

When she reached the semi-beached boat, she took their supply packs and weapons from where they’d stored them, tossing him one of the heavy fur-lined cloaks she’d brought.

“Shouldn’t we beach this boat better and secure it?” Cuchulainn asked her.

Scáthach shrugged. “We won’t need it. We either won’t leave the Underworld, or if we’re successful, we’ll find ourselves in the sea within swimming range of Dunscáith.”

Cuchulainn rolled up the heavy cloak and added it to his pack before he slung it over his shoulder. “That doesn’t comfort me.”

“Good,” Scáthach said. They waded the few feet from the boat to the beach. She, too, packed her cloak and hefted a travel bag onto her back. “It wasn’t meant to comfort you.” She strode to the edge of the white sand. There was only one path and it led through the willows toward the sentinel oaks and the pine forests beyond. She halted at the beginning of the trail. “This leads to the entrance to Annwn, which contains the Summerlands, the Autumnal Realm, and the Winterlands. Once we are in Annwn, we are no longer in the mortal realm. You must remember that. We trespass.” She paused and her tone lightened. “Actually,youtrespass. I’m always welcome.”

He smiled. “Perhaps you’ll help me be welcome, too.”

“That starts here.” Scáthach pointed down at the place where sand met the hard-packed dirt of the trail. “The island will know you’re here when you step from the beach. It doesn’t like mortal trespassers. If you step with me, they may look more kindly upon you.”

“They? The dead?”

“Not the dead. My mother’s guardians. You’ll see. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Together they stepped onto the path to Annwn. It seemed the island held its breath. All was silent as the two walked the path. A breeze whispered around them, riffling through Scáthach’s mane of hair and lifting the curling ends before it blew away. Then birdsong returned to the trees. Insects hummed. They walked through a little ribbon of water that crossed the trail and heard frogs croaking under the willow branches.

“That’s good,” Scáthach said softly. “The wind accepted that you’re with me. It told the birds, and they told the rest of the isle.” She glanced at him. “Are you afraid of bears?”

“I think wary and respectful more accurately describes how I feel about bears. Why?” Cuchulainn asked.

“Well, there are bears here. Quite a lot, actually. Just think of them as my mother’s Shadow Guard. Powerful, rather good-humored, and not too easily provoked, but...” She grinned at him and shrugged.

“But lethal,” he concluded for her.

Grinning, she nodded. Scáthach was still grinning when the first roar vibrated through the air around them. Automatically, Cuchulainn began to reach for the sword strapped to his back, but Scáthach’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“No weapons. Not against them,” she said, her gaze flicking around them.

She knew when Cuchulainn saw them. He didn’t reach for his sword again, but his loose, relaxed stride changed. His gaze sharpened. She could feel his body hum with readiness to act, to strike, to attack. She moved closer to him so that her arm brushed his as they continued forward, walking along a path framed by enormous brown bears standing on their hind legs, watching the two humans intently.

“Bears are my mother’s familiars, much like sturgeons,” Scáthach spoke nonchalantly. Her voice, which always had a musical quality to it, was soft, sweet, and calm.

Cuchulainn pitched his response low. “Are you telling me these giants also nursemaided you?”

She laughed and the bears roared in response. “Not like the sturgeons. I spent a lot of time in the water with the fish and, in comparison, not a lot of time here with the bears. But I do recognize several of them.” As she spoke, a half dozen or so of the brown giants dropped to all fours and trotted to join them. The first bear to reach them went to Scáthach, who halted and turned to face the bear. She sniffed Scáthach noisily, huffing several times before she began to rub her head against the Queen of Shadow, who giggled and scratched her ears. “There’s my big girl. It’s good to see you, too. Yes, yes, I know. It’s been too long.” Scáthach was soon completely surrounded by bears who huffed and butted her with their heads as she laughed and greeted each of them.

“Scáthach...” Cuchulainn called as one of the bears stuck her muzzle in the middle of his chest and sniffed him mightily.