Kitabı oku: «Divine by Mistake», sayfa 6

5

There was nothing I could do to help. I tried to scream at the dice-playing guards, and my ghostly voice was carried away by the wind. My body still wouldn’t descend, and, for a moment, I felt shamefully thankful as I realized that the thought of being in the castle as the darkness drew closer and closer terrified me. And I couldn’t wake up. Glancing back to the edge of the northern tree line, I was horrified by how quickly the darkness had advanced. And as they got closer, the evil radiating from them felt thicker. How could anyone in the castle sleep or play cards or hang out? How could they not feel it, too?

And suddenly it wasn’t a dream to me anymore. Here and now the unfolding horror had become my reality.

As if responding to my thoughts, my floating body moved closer to the dark line. I was afraid, but curious and committed to understanding what was happening. I watched the front of the line break out of the trees. I drifted closer.

At first I thought they were tall men wearing dark, flapping cloaks. They appeared to be running with amazingly long strides, and then leaping, like a long jumper at a track meet, only not landing on two feet and falling, but landing on still-running legs. This odd manner of movement ate up the land beneath them and gave them the appearance of gliding more than of running.

Like instead of being living beings they were really specters or shades of the dead.

As they got closer, my attention was riveted on their long, loose cloaks. I watched them move against the wind currents caused by the gliding run, until in horror I realized that the movement was voluntary. More and more of them poured out of the forest, and I understood what the cloaks really were—wings, enormous dark wings that spread and trapped the wind, aiding the leaping run and enabling the glide.

A shiver of revulsion shuddered through my floating body. There must have been hundreds of them. They were like huge predatory humanoid bats, or gigantic humanoid roaches. I began to be able to make out individuals and their features. It was only their wings that were dark, and because they were so large and outstretched, they lent the line the appearance of being dark. In truth, under the wings, their bodies were so white they almost seemed translucent. They were naked except for loincloths, and their thin torsos looked skeletal. Their hair was light colored, ranging from blond to silver and white. Their arms and legs were abnormally long, like what would result if a human was mated with a spider. But they were most definitely humanoid. They had the faces of men—cruel, determined men.

And a short Bobby Burns poem flashed through my mind:

Many and sharp the numerous ills

Inwoven with our frame;

More pointed still, we make ourselves

Regret, remorse and shame;

And man, whose heaven-erected face

The smiles of love adorn, Man’s inhumanity to man,

Makes countless thousands mourn.

I was unable to look away from them as they spread to the unguarded castle doors beneath me like a virulent strain of a terrorist’s plague, and then they were there. They poured into the castle, silent and deadly. The dice players didn’t notice. No new doors closed or windows opened. Silence. Silence. Silence.

But I could feel them. Somehow, I could feel what they were bringing. I couldn’t see what was happening inside the many rooms below me, but I could sense the terror and pain rustling through the castle like a silent cancer spreading throughout a diseased body.

Frantically, I searched for some way to warn them. Some way I could help them. And my errant body began floating in a different direction. This time it was taking me toward the solitary man still standing on the observatory ledge. Getting closer, his shadowed shape took on familiar lines.

Oh, my God. My breath rushed out of me in one word.

“Dad!”

He turned at the sound of my voice, and as he glanced around, presumably looking for me, I saw him clearly in the moonlight. It was my father. Damn the mirror-image crap; damn the alternative-world garbage. This man was my dad.

In his mid-fifties his football player’s body was still powerful. One of my cousins once told me that as a child he thought my father was the strongest man he had ever known—and now that he’s an adult he’s sure of it. And he’s probably right. Not that Dad’s a huge guy, he’s not. Probably only five foot ten, graduating from a small country high school he was told he wasn’t big enough to play football at a major university like the University of Illinois. But they didn’t figure on his tenacity. Like a mean little bulldog, he was just too damn tough to be benched. After a successful college-football career, he passed his strengths on to the players he coached, was recruited by the biggest high school in Oklahoma and become the coach who took his team to the state championship seven years in a row. And won all seven times.

I have always been a Daddy’s Girl. I grew up trusting in his strength. As a child I knew that there was no dragon he wouldn’t slay for me, no demon he couldn’t banish.

I saw all of this reflected in the man below me.

“Dad!”

His head shot up at the sound of my disembodied voice, but his brow was wrinkled with confusion. How well could he really hear me?

“Rhiannon? Are you here, daughter?”

Perhaps he could only hear the echo of my soul. Summoning all of my concentration into one word like a prayer, I cried.

“Danger!” The word ended on my sob.

“Yes, lass, I sensed danger in the night!”

His brow suddenly cleared and he began striding purposefully off the ledge. Leaping to the wooden catwalk that ran the length of the inside wall of the castle, he broke into a run. My hovering body was right behind him as he rushed toward the watchtower, booming in a voice very like Dad’s except it was thick with an almost Scottish-sounding brogue.

“Get yerselves armed and awake the castle! Epona has warned me of danger! Hurry, lads, I feel a crawling in me skin that says we donna have much time.” Through the window I observed the shock on the faces of the guards as they followed the man who looked so much like my dad into action. Arming themselves, they rushed down into the bowels of the tower, and I could hear them waking other men. The night was now filled with the sounds of shouting men and clanging weapons.

And screams, which originated from the interior rooms of the castle.

Led by my dad, half dressed in hastily tied kilts, men scrambled to arm themselves as they rushed out of the towered barracks toward the heart of the castle, only to find the enemy already there. Helplessly, I watched as the creatures leaked out of the inner castle to meet the guards. The blood of their early victims had dimmed the white of their skin. They were not creatures of nightmare—they were the nightmare. I could not make out any weapons in their hands, yet as the guards began battling them, their swords and shields did little good against the man-creatures’ bared teeth and claws. The sheer number and ferocity of them overwhelmed the castle guards. Many of the man-creatures had time to stop and feed at the necks and warm entrails of still-living men, as others stepped around them to resume the slaughter. The ripping and tearing of flesh is a sound like no other, and as I watched I felt my soul begin to shake.

I had lost sight of Dad, and I tried to get my body to float closer to the battle. It wouldn’t obey me. And then there was no need—I saw him. Man-creatures surrounded him. Blood poured from open wounds that had been torn in his arms and chest, but his huge sword was still swinging in an arch around him. At his feet were two headless things, victims of his strength. The man-creatures circled him, being careful to stay out of the reach of his blade.

“Come to me, ye bloody cowards!”

His voice reached me, and I recognized the challenge it carried. I had only heard it once before. It was at football practice. Dad had benched the star linebacker because he’d been caught shoplifting at a local store. The smart-ass kid was telling Dad his behavior off the field didn’t matter, that he should still play because he was the best they had. Dad took him (and his ego) to the middle of the field, and while the team looked on as witness he said to the kid, “You can play tomorrow night if you can knock me off my feet.” The kid was almost six inches taller than Dad, more than thirty years younger, and outweighed him by at least forty pounds, but he couldn’t knock my father off his feet, and he damn sure didn’t play in another game that season.

I heard the echo of that challenge in the man’s voice below me. His stance was the same, and his strength was the same. Again he was in the right, but this time I knew that wouldn’t matter. He had caught the attention of more of them. One by one the ring grew until at least twenty man-creatures, their wings taut, surrounded my father, their bloody mouths snarling in expectation.

I’ll never forget how he stood there. He didn’t panic. He was calm and sure. As one being, they began to converge. I saw his sword flash and heard it slice through the first and second and third, until it could no longer keep up. Then their fangs and teeth reached him. He fought with his fists, which were slick with his own blood. Even as he dropped to his knees, he didn’t cry out.

And he didn’t quit.

But I could take no more. My soul felt like it was shattering with his body and I shrieked my agony to the night—

And I was wrenched abruptly awake.

“No! Dad, no!” My body was shaking and my cheeks were wet with tears.

Alanna and ClanFintan burst through different doors into my room at almost the same instant.

“My Lady! Oh, my Lady, what has happened?”

Alanna rushed to me. Not caring that she wasn’t really Suzanna, I wrapped my arms around her and wept into her embrace.

“It was horrible.” Around sobs my broken words came out. “They killed my father. There was nothing I could do but watch.”

Alanna was making wordless, soothing noises as she stroked my back.

“Is there danger? Shall I summon the guards?” ClanFintan’s voice was a warrior’s, and I had a sudden feeling that he would be courageous in battle, and like my dream premonition of evil, I knew this, too, was true.

“No.” My sobs had begun to quiet to whimpers, but the tears still flowed freely down my face. “It happened in my dream, not here.”

Abruptly I felt Alanna still. She gently moved my body back from hers far enough so that she could look into my eyes.

“You must tell us what you saw, my Lady.” Her voice was calm, but I could hear the fear in her words.

“It was a dream.”

Over her shoulder I saw ClanFintan move restlessly, his eyes dark with some emotion I could not identify.

“What did Epona reveal to you, Rhiannon?” His voice beckoned to me, and I closed my eyes tightly, feeling confused.

“It was no dream.” Alanna’s whisper was for my ears alone, and it sent more shivers of shock through my already abused body.

Oh, God, what had happened?

Forcing myself to square my shoulders and still my body’s quaking, my eyes lifted to meet ClanFintan’s steady gaze.

“I need a moment to get myself together, please. Then I’ll tell you everything I saw in my dream.”

The compassion that flashed through his eyes gave me a glimpse of his kindness. Little wonder he was spiritual leader of his people.

“Of course, my Lady. Have your servant send for me when you are ready.”

Not caring about the consequences, I said, “She is not my servant. She is my best friend.” I could feel Alanna’s shocked intake of breath.

“My mistake, Lady Rhiannon. Have your friend send for me.” His smile looked sincere and unexpectedly it comforted me.

As the door clicked softly shut my shaking resumed.

“My Lady, I am not your friend. I cannot be your friend.” Alanna’s voice sounded frightened.

“No, Alanna. What you are not is Rhiannon’s friend. You were her slave, her servant. I am not her.” I wiped my eyes and smiled my thanks to her as she handed me a cloth so I could blow my nose. “I realize you are not Suzanna, but I can’t help but see her in you—and she is my best friend. I hope that you will humor me and maybe eventually you will come to feel that friendship for me, too. And, Alanna, I really need a friend right now.” And I promptly started to cry. Again.

“What you say is true, my Lady, you certainly are not Rhiannon.” Her eyes filled with sympathetic tears as she brushed the hair back from my face and gave me a sweet, impromptu hug. “And your voice seems to be recovered.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” My smile felt awkward and strained, as if my face had forgotten how.

“Shall I get you something soothing to drink so that you do not cause it to relapse?”

“How about some hot tea? I want to stay away from wine for now.”

Alanna clapped her hands twice and a sleepy nymph appeared to fetch and carry for me. (Oh, jeesh, is that another of my slaves?) Despair felt easy to slip into and I was disgusted when my tears began anew.

“Alanna, help me understand what has happened.” Wiping my eyes again, I gained control over my hovering depression. “You said that what I saw was real? How can that be?”

“You experienced the Magic Sleep. It is one of the gifts you have that makes you High Priestess and Beloved of Epona. Even as a small child you were able to send your sleeping soul away from your body and observe events, and sometimes even communicate with people. You were not able to do this in your old world?”

“No, not exactly, but my dreams have always been mine to control, which is unusual in my world. I visited made-up places and had fun things happen to me.” And now that innocence was gone. DreamLand would never again be a place of pure happiness. Not after tonight. I shivered again.

“That must have been how your gift manifested itself in a world devoid of Epona.” After what I had observed tonight it was hard for me to understand why Alanna’s voice sounded sad.

“But why tonight? I definitely didn’t ‘send’ my soul anywhere. Remember, Alanna, I am not Rhiannon. Why would it happen without me even understanding what is going on?” My eyes filled with more tears. “It was horrible. Why was I forced to watch it?”

“Perhaps Epona touched you tonight because she required you to serve as witness.”

“Is your Goddess so cruel?”

“No, my Lady. Great evil can only be combated by great good.”

The nymph was back with a tray holding an exquisite tea set. I smiled my appreciation at her, which she shyly returned. But as she turned to leave I noticed she had brought only one teacup. “Excuse me.” The nymph froze. “Please bring Alanna a cup, she will be joining me.”

“Y-y-yes, my Lady.”

“Thank you.” She looked confused, but she scampered off to do my bidding. Alanna was studying me with what was becoming her familiar What Are You Doing Now face. “Don’t start. I’m under too much stress to deal with this slave crap. You’re going to have to get used to me treating you like you’re my friend. Like they say, damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead!”

“Wha—”

“Just another expression.” The tea was spreading comforting warmth through me and I was starting to feel a little less shaky. “It means let’s try and forget all that is working against us and forge ahead.” The little nymph-maid came back with another cup, which she handed to Alanna. She still looked confused, but she was enthusiastically returning my smile as she bowed her way out of the door. Alanna awkwardly poured herself a cup of tea. “Okay, so what you’re telling me is that what I observed wasn’t a dream or a vision. It was real, happening as my soul or essence or whatever floated above it all?”

“Yes, my Lady,” she said sadly.

“So—” I took several deep breaths “—he’s dead?”

“I am so very sorry, my Lady.”

The teacup clattered against the delicate china as my shaking hand set it back on its saucer.

A sudden thought made my breath stop.

“My mother. What about my mother?” I felt a constriction in my chest. Not her, too. “I didn’t see her, but wouldn’t she be there, with him?”

“My Lady, your mother died shortly after your birth.” Her voice was soft and she set her teacup down on its saucer and reached for my hand.

“Oh…” My voice trailed away thoughtfully. “Oh, that’s good.”

Alanna’s eyes widened. “My Lady?”

“No, I didn’t mean I was glad she is dead.” Alanna looked relieved. “I’m just glad she wasn’t killed by those creatures. In my world she divorced my father when I was a child.” Alanna looked shocked. “It was a good thing, really. They both remarried and are very happy.”

“If you say so, my Lady.” She sounded doubtful.

“You don’t have divorce here?” Oh, please.

“Yes. But it is considered dishonorable.”

“Whatever your customs, I’m glad my mother didn’t have to go through what happened tonight.” Somehow it was easier to think that she had died thirty-five years ago, and not have to picture her being murdered tonight. Like Dad had been. I took a deep breath.

Still feeling shaky, I asked the question that suddenly mattered very much to me. “Was Rhiannon close to her father?”

“I think he was the only man Rhiannon has ever been able to truly love. He never remarried and he raised her alone, not sending her away from him, like many Chieftains would have done.” She smiled sadly at me. “The MacCallan was so very proud of her. He doted on her. I believe he saw a side of her she never allowed anyone else to see. Rhiannon was always on her very best behavior around him.”

My throat felt tight and hot. “Then we do have one similarity—the love we feel for our fathers.”

“You must explain what has happened tonight to ClanFintan. He can help you. Trust him, my Lady. He could be a powerful ally.” She grasped my hands and spoke earnestly. “Except for The MacCallan, Rhiannon did not care for anything that did not bring her pleasure, or anyone she could not manipulate and use to her advantage.” Her soft brown eyes searched mine. “You look like her. You have her fire, her humor and her passion, but because of your strange world, and the different choices you made as you grew to adulthood there, you have developed into a very different woman. I do not believe you are as she was. You have a caring heart. Please, my Lady, have more wisdom, too. Remember, your father approved of your mating with him. ClanFintan is strong and wise, he will know how to right this horrible wrong.”

“Send for him.” I gave her hands a quick squeeze. She smiled at me and touched my cheek before clapping her hands again and informing the answering nymph that I would like to see ClanFintan. Abruptly I realized how disheveled I must look, and with my fingers I began to try to comb my wild hair into some semblance of submission. Alanna’s skillful hands stilled mine as she grabbed a brush off my nightstand and quickly fashioned my hair into a beautiful French braid.

“Thank you, friend.”

Her warm smile was answer enough.

ClanFintan entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. Without hesitation he moved to the side of my bed and reached out to grasp my hand in his.

“I would like to offer you my deepest sympathies. The MacCallan was a great Chieftain and friend.” His grip was warm and firm. “All of Partholon knows of your love for him.” He squeezed my hand before letting it loose.

“T-t-thank you.” My hand felt suddenly cold without the warmth of his touch.

“Are you ready to tell what you have witnessed?” His deep voice was filled with concern.

“Yes.” I squared my shoulders. “My dream began here. I went up through the ceiling and visited the beautiful mare.” Alanna and ClanFintan both smiled in acknowledgment, so I guessed she was real, too. “Then I flew up, loving the brilliance of the moon and the night.”

“Yes, the moon does call.” His voice sounded wistful.

“Yeah, um…” His eyes were warm and kind as they looked at me. Jeesh, now was not the time to be getting confused by a pretty face, or whatever. “Well, I found myself drawn toward the sea. And there was the castle on the cliff overlooking the shore.” He nodded understanding. “Almost from the beginning I knew something was wrong. No, not just wrong. I knew there was evil present. I couldn’t see anything, I just felt it.” He nodded again, encouraging me to continue. “As I tried to find the source of my premonition, I looked out at the forest. That’s where they came from.” I stopped and shuddered. Alanna, who was still standing next to me, put her hand on my shoulder in reassurance. “They were horrible. At first I thought the forest was actually alive, some kind of nightmare creature. It rippled and surged. Then I saw that it wasn’t the forest itself, but that there were awful things passing through it. And then I really saw them. They had wings, but they looked human.”

“Fomorians,” ClanFintan’s voice hissed, incredulous.

Before I could question him, Alanna’s hand tightened on my shoulder in warning. I glanced up at her and saw her nodding her head, agreeing with ClanFintan’s naming of the abominations.

“When I understood what was happening, I screamed a warning to him, and he even heard me. But it was too late. They overran the castle. They killed all of the guards, and all of the people.” I put my face in my hands. “I watched as they killed my father.”

“Lady Rhiannon.” His voice brought me back to the present. “Could you tell how many of them there were?”

“Lots. They were like a ravenous swarm of insects. They devoured everyone.”

“I am sorry to ask this of you, Lady Rhiannon, but I need you to describe them to me—in detail.” His kind eyes were gentle and apologetic.

I cleared my throat and took another drink of tea before beginning. “They seemed to be taller than most of the men from the castle.” Pausing, I blinked away scenes of winged demons flinging themselves on the courageous guards. “They all had enormous, dark wings that grew out of their backs. They didn’t fly with them, but they used them to help them run and glide. They moved amazingly fast. Faster than a man can run. Their arms and legs appeared to be very long and thin, their skin milky white, their hair was long and mostly light colored.” I paused again, remembering. “What was most horrible about them was that they looked like men. Take the wings off, dress them in regular clothes, and they could pass for human men.” I shivered.

“Did they use weapons?” He broke into my thoughts.

“Just teeth and claws.” Then I forced myself to add, “They were stopping to eat the guards before the castle was completely taken—and before the men were even dead.” My flat, empty-sounding voice could not begin to reflect the horror I felt at the cruelty I had witnessed.

“I did not believe it true until now.” He paced back and forth in front of the foot of the bed, running his fingers through the thickness of his loosened hair. “I thought the stories told from our past about the Fomorians were myths, tales used to frighten children into good behavior.”

“I don’t understand.” This is probably something I should already know, or rather, something Rhiannon knew, but now was not the time for me to play Ms. Silent (as if I ever could).

“You’ve heard the stories.” He seemed too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice my lack of knowledge. “Partholonian mothers have frightened children who strayed too far from home with tales of winged demons who would swoop them up and devour them.”

“Oh, yeah.” I tried to sound nonchalant. “I don’t remember the whole story. Where were they supposed to have come from?”

“They came from the other side of the Trier Mountains. I do not think any of the legends ever specified their origin.”

“What happened to them?”

“Bards sing that generations ago Partholon rose against them. Although they possessed great evil, their numbers were small. They were defeated and the surviving few were banished back over the mountains. Which, according to legend, is why Guardian Castle was erected at the mouth of the pass, and how it got its name.” He looked at me intently. “But, being Epona’s Beloved, I would think that you would know this already.”

“Epona does not traffic with evil.” As soon as it escaped from my mouth, I had an intuitive feeling that it was the truth. But my intuition was haphazard and I didn’t feel I could trust it. Great. Back to tap dancing. “And why would I concern myself with legends used to frighten children?” Grasping at straws, I glanced up at Alanna for help. “Epona is much too busy to bother with such foolishness.” I was totally lost—completely clueless. Fomorians? Partholonians? Trier Mountains?

“Perhaps that is why she sent you to witness the horror of tonight, my Lady. So that you could realize what has been loosed upon Partholon.” Alanna’s voice was kind, and she reached down to take my hand. “Could Epona not have been warning you of a danger for which you have been unprepared?” Her words had special meaning for the two of us; she knew I was unprepared for all of this. Her smile was sad, and then she glanced at ClanFintan. “Perhaps that is why she has united the two of you. Epona knew her Beloved was unprepared for this evil, as she knew that as High Shaman you have been better informed about these legends, and would be more prepared to combat this evil.”

“Of course. Thank you, Alanna.” She saved my butt. Again.

“Yes, that does make sense.” Thank God ClanFintan seemed too preoccupied to think too hard. And after all, horse or no horse, he was a guy. And, well, they just don’t multitask very well.

“Which means Epona was warning me that this evil is coming.” Like a big lightbulb going on, I abruptly sat up and shook off any lingering tears. “The damn things aren’t going to be happy with just attacking my father’s castle.” I looked back and forth between the two of them. “I think what Epona is telling us is that we’re not safe.” And, as weird as it sounded, I knew it was true. Maybe Rhiannon was experiencing the same kind of thing in Oklahoma—a bizarre ability to intuitively feel things she didn’t know before.

“Yes, Lady Rhiannon, this is a portent warning us of impending danger.” ClanFintan’s manner was suddenly brusque and professional. “With your permission I will send for the Fintan warriors so they can aid your Palace Guard in evacuating the people who live between here and MacCallan Castle. They can come here. As you know, Epona meant this site to be easily defended, and they will be safer here. I assume you have provisions stored in case of emergencies?”

Alanna’s nod of assent helped me to breathe easier.

“Good. MacCallan Castle is two days hard ride from here.” ClanFintan was pacing again, totally engrossed in his thought process. “Let us hope that the Fomorians will pause to enjoy their victory and not immediately begin their next attack. That should give us time to send for reinforcements from the herd, gather the villagers and warn Partholon.”

“Wait…”

“Forgive me, Lady Rhiannon. I did not mean to take charge of your duties. As your mate, I only wish to aid you in preparing for that which Epona has warned you.”

His voice was sincere. But he was a guy, and as usual he was missing the point.

“What about my dad?”

“I am sorry, Lady Rhiannon, but he is dead.” Again, his voice was kind—his honest concern obvious, but he still didn’t get it.

“I remember what I saw.” My voice felt strained and I took a quick drink of tea. “But I didn’t actually see him die.” ClanFintan and Alanna exchanged worried looks. “What if he’s still alive? Suffering…” I took another drink of tea. I was not going to cry. Again.

“Rhiannon—” his deep voice was comforting. “You must realize he could not have survived.”

“I…I understand that. I know he must be dead. But, well, I can’t leave him and those men just lying out there.” I looked into his eyes, as close to pleading as I wanted to come. “You didn’t see how brave they were.”

“Of course, Lady Rhiannon. They were valiant warriors.” He sounded confused. God, he was such a guy.

“Yeah, and I need to bury them.” It was pretty simple. My dad and his men were not going to be crow bait.

Alanna’s hand squeezed my shoulder again. “My Lady, you cannot go to MacCallan Castle.”

“Of course I can. He just said it’s only two days away, and—” here I faltered. She knew I had only been there in spirit. “Well…I’ve been there before.” I was sounding like an idiot.

Alanna and ClanFintan exchanged worried glances.

“Lady Rhiannon, you cannot put yourself in such danger.” He held up his hand to still my protest. “The people look to you for guidance. You are the Beloved of Epona. Especially now, no harm must come to you. At a time when evil is loose upon the world, the people will be looking to Epona for stability and guidance.”

“And the warriors, my Lady, human and centaur alike, will look to you.” Alanna’s worried voice interrupted ClanFintan. “You are Goddess Incarnate of the warriors, too. It will be a hard blow when they realize The MacCallan is dead. If the Beloved of Epona is in danger, it would severely damage the spirits of the warriors.”

Wonderful. I was in charge of the esprit de corps and I wasn’t even Marilyn Monroe. Somehow it didn’t seem fair.

“Think of what it would do to your people if you were injured or captured.” ClanFintan took my hand.

His hand was warm. His grip was firm.

God, he was a big guy/horse. He’d be hell on a football field.

Dad would really like him. The thought almost made me smile.

“Listen to him, my Lady. What if the Fomorians are still at MacCallan Castle? Your father would not want you to put yourself in danger, not even for him.”