Page 44 of Queen of the Shadow

It was a good ambush site. The ancient yews provided excellent cover. Their strange shadows appeared to move only with the evening breeze and not because warriors crouched within them. But their mistake was to attempt to ambush the Queen of Shadow by using the element she manipulated as easily as she breathed.

Scáthach relaxed and expanded her senses as she concentrated on the darkness within the group of yew trees. She drew on the power passed to her at birth through her divine mother, Goddess of the Underworld, and reached out to the thick shadows. The sensation was a lot like how it felt to be dreaming and somehow know she dreamed without waking. Her senses joined with the shadows. With her consciousness joined to shadows Scáthach counted twenty-five armed men. Then she stretched her connection with darkness to glide from the grove, flowing from shadow to shadow to glimpse one more man waiting with a boat beached on the shore.

She saw no sign of the black dragon. As the Queen of Shadow returned to herself, she noted that she did not recognize the strange crescent moons with hidden faces stamped on the ambushers’ shields.

Scáthach petted Leannan, purposefully not looking at the clump of yews filled with waiting warriors. Hardly moving her lips, she spoke to Cuchulainn. “Do you see the pine copse about five cart lengths ahead and to our right?”

“I do,” he said.

“Be subtle about it, meander as if we’re going to eventually return to the road, but veer toward those trees.” She spoke softly and quickly. “As soon as the ambushers realize you’renotgoing to the road they’ll give themselves away. We need to reach the trees well ahead of them.”

His gaze flicked to the pine grove before he whispered, “Looks like there’s room for the cart within the grove, but it’s filled with brambles.”

“Indeed. You might get scratched,” Scáthach said.

“You mean I might get scratchedagain.”He grinned and lifted his shirt so she could see the raised pink scratch that stretched the length of the side of his torso. “Sea monsters.”

Scáthach’s laughter echoed around them. “Sea monsters!” As his laughter followed hers, she whispered, “They number twenty-five. I didn’t see any bows. Just spears, swords, and shields. No horses. They came by boat.”

“Aife?” he asked softly.

“I saw no black dragon.”

“Twenty-five against two.” He nodded. “I like the odds.”

Her smile was fierce. “As do I.”

Chapter 10

Sometimes the berserker came without Sentanta calling him. It always made him feel helpless, even after the creature vanquished his enemies and brought more glory to Cuchulainn’s name.

Still, he hated him—mostly because the berserker was created from the worst of Sentanta. The only feelings he had were base. He could not be defeated, but he also could not be reasoned with—or he couldn’t be reasoned with until he’d met Scáthach. That she could reach the berserker, reason with him, calm him... it would never cease to be a wonderment.

* * *

“Now!” Scáthach told Cuchulainn as they drew closer to the pine grove and farther from the path that would return them to the road and the ambush.

“Hup!” Cuchulainn lashed the reins against the horses’ backs. They shot forward, galloping toward the grove of pine trees as the barrels of mead rattled together and strained against the ropes binding them to the wagon. When they reached the brambles, the horses hesitated, stomping and snorting in front of the hedge of needles.

Scáthach jumped from the cart and ran to their heads. She stood just in front of the horses, between them and the tightly woven brambles, and reached out again with her goddess-gifted power to meld with the shadows under the trees. Ignoring the piercing needles, Scáthach stepped forward until the brambles pressed against her legs. Then she thrust her arms into the darkness and gathered the shadows to her. When she turned to face the horses, she flung her arms out and spoke gently, reverently to the darkness that always watched, waited, and eagerly obeyed her.

“Through my birthright as daughter of the Goddess of the Underworld, I call for you to cloak them, protect them, quiet them.”

Starting at their heads, shadows painted the horses. They moved down their bodies, wrapping gently around them like a familiar blanket, until both horses had calmed and stood quietly. Then Scáthach took their bridles and led them through the brambles and into the heart of the pine grove. With the shadows covering them, the brambles could not touch the horses, though they scratched and pierced through her leather breeches. She petted their necks before she waded through the needle-covered plants to the cart.

“They broke from the yew grove as you led us in here.” Cuchulainn jumped from the cart and then grimaced at the brambles. His eyes widened as he studied the shadow-cloaked horses that were already drowsing quietly. “You shielded them from the brambles?”

“Yes,” she answered and then commanded, “Leannan, stay!” before she reached into the back of the wagon where, between barrels, their shields and swords lay. Only a fool traveled unarmed. Scáthach retrieved the weapons, passing Cuchulainn his shield and sword. “I could have hidden us from the ambushers had they not seen us first.” She took her shield and lifted her sword. “But, as you said, I like the odds.”

Cuchulainn flashed his teeth. “It’ll be good practice. You did give us a seven-day break. Wouldn’t want to get soft.”

Together they trudged through the brambles, hacking at them with their swords until they could see the group of warriors running toward them. There, with several feet of needle-covered plants between them and the clearing outside the pine grove, they stood side by side, raised their shields and swords, and waited.

“Do not call the berserker,” Scáthach said.

Cuchulainn’s brows lifted. “I hadn’t even thought of it.”

She smiled. “Good.”