Page 97 of Queen of the Shadow

“Will you help them, Queen of Shadow?”

“I will try,” said Scáthach. “Let me consider.” Leaving the still-kneeling army, she strode along the base of the mammoth cliff, wishing her mother were there to advise her.

She knew how to guide spirits from the mortal realm to Annwn. She could open the veil from the Autumnal Realm to the Summerlands. But Scáthach had no idea how to guide the dead from Annwn to Valhalla.

Water always helped when passing from realm to realm. Scáthach gazed around her. “Would water show them the way?” she asked the realm.

Nothing changed. The Autumnal Realm looked exactly as it had before she’d asked the question.

Scáthach sighed and tapped her chin as she thought. Often she’d used her blood, but that was only effective because this was her mother’s realm. She didn’t need to open the veil to Annwn; the army was already here. Mistakenly. They needed to get to Valhalla and there was no god there to whom her blood attached her. “In Valhalla I’m only connected to Father,” she reasoned aloud as she paced. “And he’s definitely mortal, which was why he’s in Valhalla, where these two hundred spirits need to be...” Scáthach halted. “That’s it!”

A waterfall suddenly manifested before her. It cascaded from the top of the cliff, disappearing into the ground at the base of the huge wall of stone. She smiled, turned, and shouted, “Cuchulainn! Bring the army to me!”

* * *

Scáthach commanded that the two hundred dead warriors form a double column facing the strange disappearing waterfall. Drest was at the front of the line, standing before the double columns. Scáthach stared into the flowing water. She had the conduit and the person to whom she would call, but she knew she needed more. It was like conjuring her mother. Scáthach could shout across the waters surrounding Skye and maybe Béfionn would hear her—but maybe she would not.

She glanced at the two hundred spirits, who watched her every move.Maybewasn’t good enough in their current situation.

Cuchulainn joined her as she turned her back to the dead army. Chewing her lip, she stared at the waterfall, hoping the answer would come to her.

“Ahem.” Cuchulainn cleared his throat.

She glanced at him and whispered, “I almost have it figured out.” She jerked her chin at the waterfall. “This showed up and water is often used to enter the immortal realms.” Scáthach sighed. “I would usually just cut my hand and drip it into the water and use it to call Mother, but...” She shrugged.

“You don’t need your mother. You need Valhalla,” he said.

“Yes, exactly. My connection there is to my father, but he’s not a god. My blood won’t call him,” she said.

Cuchulainn ran a hand through his hair. “You’re calling him instead of Odin?”

Scáthach tapped her leather-booted foot against the ground, impatient with herself. “Yes and no. Father is my connection to Valhalla. If I can reach him, I’ve pierced the veil to the immortal realm of the Norse. From there Odin should be accessible.”

“But first you have to breach the veil,” he said.

“Yes.”

Drest approached them. He bowed his head and cleared his throat before asking, “Might it help if we burned offerings to Odin?”

Scáthach’s brows shot up. “It would. Do you happen to have the thighbones of some fat kine with you? Cuchulainn and I surely do not.”

“No.” Drest scratched his beard. “But we do carry many of Odin’s talismans.”

Scáthach nodded. “I think that might work. Collect them and I’ll see if the Autumnal Realm will allow me a fire.”

“I’ll collect firewood,” said Cuchulainn before he jogged off toward a cluster of bare-branched oaks.

Drest cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted down the double column of men. “Pass forward your talismans of Odin! The Queen of Shadow calls the All Father!”

Instantly there was movement along the lines as the warriors passed forward ravens’ feathers, pieces of fabric with the Valknut triple interlocking triangles embroidered or dyed on it, and little wooden carvings of the Ansuz rune, symbolizing Odin’s leadership.

One of the Wolfskins bowed before Scáthach and offered his wolf-fur-lined cloak. “We wear these for the All Father’s two mighty wolves, Geri and Freki.”

“This will work well,” said Scáthach, taking the cloak from him before the warrior moved back to his place in line.

She met Cuchulainn with his armload of dried branches and spread out the cloak near the waterfall. “Pile the wood in the center of the cloak,” she said. “Drest, place the offerings among the wood, as if it is a funeral pyre.”

When it was done, there was a neatly stacked mound of branches atop a wolf fur cloak. Placed in between and among the wood were the precious items collected from the army.