Divine by Mistake (13 page)

Scrambling up the bank, I kept my eyes peeled for a nice-size bush and a soft-leafed plant. I hate camping. Wading off the path and into the indigenous foliage, I began testing plant leaves, grading them on texture and durability, like an insane Mrs. Whipple.

And, shazam! I bumble into a little slice of heaven. Grapes! Big, dark, ripe grapes! Rushing through my toilette (Note to self: remember to wash your hands), I (delicately) crammed several of the wonderful pieces of fruit into my salivating mouth. Yummy.

Yanking as many of the clusters off their vines as I could carry, I hurried back to where I left Epi.

“Hey, Epi! Look what I found.” She looked unimpressed, but at least she wasn’t restless or pawing. She went back to grazing. I put my stash of grapes down by the saddle blanket, went to the river to reclaim my discarded boots and wash my hands. Then, finally, I plopped my tired and flattened behind down, resting my back against the saddle, and I set to work feasting upon nature’s aphrodisiac. (Michelle told me once that grapes are nature’s aphrodisiac. And she should know.)

The grapes were delicious, and I don’t think it was just because I was starving. It sure felt nice to have a full tummy. And I didn’t notice any unusual side effects from dining entirely on an aphrodisiac. At least not yet. But I did notice my eyelids felt verrrry heavvvvy.

Dragging my tired and sore behind up—God, my thighs felt like I’d been riding the entire Dallas Cowboy defensive line—I gimped my way over to the sleepy mare.

“Let me see this hoof.” She roused herself long enough for me to take a look at the bruised frog. It didn’t look any worse, and it didn’t feel quite as hot as before, which must be a good sign. I patted her neck and gave her a tired hug. “To quote John Wayne as Rooster Cogburn—‘Here. We camp here.’ Forgive me if I don’t make that quote more realistic by falling off you and onto the ground.” She didn’t even blink at my attempt at humor. Guess she was getting used to me. “Let’s just take a little nap. Wake me if I sleep past time for school.”

Gingerly, I returned to the saddle and let my body slowly come back in contact with the ground. How a rocky shore and a horsey saddle blanket could feel so good I didn’t know, but I was grateful for whatever I could get. Not grateful enough to reconsider my aversion to camping, but grateful. As my eyes closed I mentally set the alarm clock in my mind to go off in “a while.”

The first time I woke up it was dusk. It was like the setting sun had called open my eyes. The warmth of the day had been replaced by a pleasantly cool breeze scented with the clean, watery fragrance of the river. I stretched and shifted a little, reaching under my left butt cheek to remove a particularly uncomfortable rock. And heaved the sigh of the disgruntled. I had to pee. Getting to my feet was no fun. I was stiff and groggy and sleep clung to me like an annoying two-year-old.

Not too far from my makeshift bed, Epi was sleeping, horsestyle, on her feet—which is an ability I’ve always coveted. I tried it once, on a particularly long flight overseas when my leg cramps just wouldn’t go away. Leaning near the emergency exit situated over one wing, I had tried to doze, with little success. Every time I began to relax, my head would flop around, and to complete the failed experiment, I found that standing sleep woke in me an unfortunate propensity to drool. But Epi sure seemed comfortable. Her right front leg was still cocked, but she wasn’t fretful and I decided she didn’t need me obsessively checking her hoof. When she woke up I’d try and get her to soak it in the river again, but right now I was too tired to come up with any more poetry or depressing ballads.

I just wanted to pee and then go back to sleep.

Waking up was sudden and unpleasant the next time. I flailed around, trying to find my alarm-clock button. Despite the darkness I was sure I’d overslept for school. You know the feeling—that heart-pounding knowledge that you’re late. And then the disorientation hit. Even my groggy brain recognized that I wasn’t in my antique oak bed curled up under my down comforter. Sitting up, I blinked hard, trying to accustom my vision to such absolute darkness.

And the sound of water rippling on rock brought me totally into the present.

“Epi?” Relief helped my heart to slow as her muzzle brushed the side of my face. Gradually, I began to distinguish the mare as a light blob in the darkness. She was lying close to my left side. Her sleepy breath smelled sweet and grassy as she explored my face and hair.

“Feeling better, pretty girl?” Not wanting to stand yet, I scooted over to her and ran my hands down her neck and over her back. He legs were tucked up under her body, so I couldn’t reach the sore hoof, but she didn’t feel overly hot, and she sure wasn’t acting like she was in pain.

“Wonder if the moon will come up soon.” I leaned against her soft body, very aware that the cool of the night had not helped my sore, overused muscles. “Man, I could use a hot, soaking bath.”

My stomach rumbled.

“Guess we can’t do anything until it gets lighter.” Epi’s light, horsey snore answered me.

And what the hell did I think we were going to do, anyway? I had no idea how badly Epi had been bruised, but she couldn’t be ridden, that much was obvious. Now what? Using my crappy sense of time and distance, I estimated that we had traveled for ten, maybe twelve hours. We’d been asleep for, I don’t know, maybe eight hours. So, if we were lucky, we were at about the halfway point. And hungry. And tired. And hurt.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax, think, forget about my stomach and keep warm.

Taking Epi back to the temple was the only reasonable solution. It would be slow going. Maybe one of those little cottages would be willing to feed Epona and Her Chosen. Goddess Incarnate–hood ought to be good for something. Several days of eating just grapes was bound to do something to my system—the visual images coming to mind weren’t pretty. I could see it now—I’d turn into some kind of pathetic nymphomaniac with violent diarrhea. And no toilet paper.

So, we’d get started at first light. I’d try and get Epi to soak her hoof again, then we’d head back the way we came. Until then I’d better follow Epi’s example and get some sleep—it would be a long next several days. Snuggling as close to the mare as I could get, I shared her body heat. Feeling warmer and sleepy again, I imagined her as a big, silver horsey heater…

At first I didn’t notice the sound. Almost. It was a vague rustling. Not like the too-cool breeze through the tree leaves. And not like the water over rocks. Different.

A twig cracked. I froze and tried to stay still so that I didn’t draw attention to us. But, swallowing around the dryness in my mouth, I was sure the sound of my pounding heart telegraphed “Here they are!” out into the night.

Another twig cracked. This time I felt Epi stir. I could feel her head raise and turn to face the forest.

And I remembered the things. Man-creature things. And how they had made the forest seem to breathe and pulse with their movements. How could I have forgotten?

This wasn’t my world. There were forces loose here that I didn’t begin to understand. While I had been busy Scarlett O’Hara–ing, I had totally overlooked the entire damn reason behind why I had to go to MacCallan Castle. Man-creatures had slaughtered a castle full of people. Strong, courageous men hadn’t been able to stop them. And here I was, meandering around the countryside with my silly modern woman head all in the clouds and my ridiculous modern woman “you go, girl!” attitude.

Burying Dad was a good idea. Making sure he was dead was even better. But getting this mare and myself killed while attempting to be The Good Daughter was decidedly Too Stupid To Breathe. And Dad would be the first in line to tell me so.

The brush crackled again. Something heavy was heading this way. In my mind I could see the creatures, wings spread and taut with air, running with their fluid gliding strides. The moments between noises became prophetic. The pauses in sound were simply time between one hovering stride and another. God I was a moron. Not only was I not going to get to bury my dad, but I might very well be coming to a tragic end that would make those gross bodies on
CSI
look tame.

Clearly I should have thought this whole thing out.

Epi shivered and surged to her feet. I stood close to her, stroking her neck and murmuring shushing sounds. My mind struggled to come up with A Plan. Neither college nor past experience had prepared me for this kind of numbing fear. So, as Epi and I watched dark shapes detach from the forest and descend down the eroded bank toward us, I did what I always hoped I wouldn’t do in time of emergency. I froze. Like a deer waiting for an eighteen-wheeler to smush it across the highway, I stood there overwhelmed by my fate. I was proud of Epi’s courage. She faced the intruders, ears pricked forward, blowing softly through her muzzle. She showed no fear. Horses are just damn brave animals. I was honored to have her by my side as our death approached us and—

“Lady Rhiannon?” The voice was deep and familiar. For a moment I was surprised into not responding. The gross creature things had voices like ClanFintan?

Epi’s soft nicker of recognition broke my spell of stupidity. At least for the moment.

“ClanFintan?”

“She is here!” he called over his shoulder, and suddenly the rocky bank was alive with dark shapes that looked vaguely horsey. “Get a fire built, it is black as the Underworld this night.”

I could hear brush and rocks being moved, and perhaps even flint striking. All sight was blocked not just by the night, but by a large horse shape directly in front of Epi and me. It spoke. And it sounded pissed.

“Are you injured, Rhiannon?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s Epi, she’s bruised her hoof.”

“Epi?”

“Oh, um, I mean Epona’s mare.” At least I hoped that was what I meant.

Fire flared to life a few yards downstream, and as the centaurs fed it to flame my vision returned. ClanFintan was standing in front of us, arms on his waist (his, uh, human waist), forehead furrowed into a frown.

“Which hoof?” He sounded brisk and businesslike.

“Right front.” I stepped under Epi’s neck, squatted and ran my hands down her leg. “It doesn’t feel swollen or hot, so I think it’s just a bruised frog.” (I peeked up at him—he seemed to understand. Oh, yeah, he should. He’s part horse.) “Take a look.” Epi obediently lifted her hoof and he bent to study it. His strong hands prodded the same spots my smaller ones had examined hours before. Epi gave a soft grunt when he hit the sore spot, and he immediately stopped pressing and stroked her neck, speaking soothing words to her that I couldn’t understand, which sounded musical and lilting, a little like Gaelic. Epi relaxed and sighed as I set her hoof down.

“A bad bruise.” He sounded accusatory. “How did it happen?”

I straightened and took a step closer to Epi, hating the guilt he made me feel.

“Downriver the bank gave way as we were climbing it. Her hoof must have come down too hard on a pointed rock.”

“She could have broken her leg.”

“I know that! I feel bad enough. I don’t need you blaming me, too.” I felt stupidly close to tears. Epi bumped me with her muzzle and I turned my face into her neck.

“She will recover.” His voice had gentled.

“I know!” Well, I did now.

“Come over by the fire. You look chilled.”

He took my elbow and spoke softly to Epi. We walked with him toward the fire like errant children. Propelling me to a semicomfortable rock (at least it was warm from the newly made fire) he began issuing orders to his men/horses/whatever. And out of seemingly nowhere a blanket was draped over my shoulders. A couple of the centaurs were busy rubbing down Epi, and she stood quietly, obviously enjoying the attention. Another centaur was busy building a fire a few yards from this first one, and I was excited to see him unloading saddlebags filled with—be still my heart—food. ClanFintan handed me a floppy sacklike thing, and when I stared stupidly at it he uncapped it for me.

“Drink, my Lady. It will help to restore your strength.” Something in his tone made me think what he really meant was it might help to restore my common sense, but I was too close to agreeing with him to argue the point.

The wine was rich, red and scrumptious.

Glancing over to where Epi stood, I was delighted to see that one of the centaurs had attached a feed bag over her head and she was munching contentedly. The frying scent of something wonderful made my mouth fill with water, and as I took another swig of wine my stomach let out a roar that couldn’t have been much more embarrassing.

“You did not think to bring provisions with you?” ClanFintan looked down at me with an expression that could be only described as incredulous. Trust me on this one—English teachers know incredulous when it looks them in the face.

“No. I, well, uh. No, I did not.” Now I sounded as stupid as I felt.

“Hmmph.” He turned and walked away from me and made like he was oh so busy at the other fire.

Feeling miserably stupid and inept, I hunkered down under my blanket, clutching my wineskin (trying not to think about what kind of skin my wine was in—yuck).

He returned shortly with a hunk of hard bread, kind of like a big dinner roll, that had a piece of wonderful-smelling meat stuck in the middle of it. And a slice of fragrant yellow cheese. I had never smelled anything so delicious in my life.

“Here. You must be hungry.”

“Thanks.” I tried not to take off any of his fingers as I snatched at the food.

Chewing enthusiastically I watched as he settled across the fire from me. I noticed that the other centaurs—I counted ten of them—were grouped around the other campfire, and their good-natured conversation was a comfortable accompaniment to the whispered noise of the river.

“Why did you leave?” His voice brought my attention back to my own campfire.

I swallowed a piece of cheese and took a quick drink of wine. “I had to see about my dad.”

“Then why did you not ask me to escort you?”

“I—well, I—”

“I have understood from the beginning that you did not want our union.” He raised a hand to stop me when I tried again to speak. “And I know you do not have a mate’s feelings for me, but I swore to protect and respect you. To honor you above all others.” He looked away from me and out toward the river. “Running from me was an insult I did not deserve.”

Uh-oh, I hadn’t even thought about that. Guys and their egos. Jeesh.

“I wasn’t running from you.”

“Then what name do you give it?” He still wouldn’t look at me.

“I was doing what I thought I had to do. I didn’t think you would take me.” His eyes swung back to mine. He looked shocked.

“You are Epona’s Beloved and my mate. Of course I would escort you.”

“Well, you didn’t want me to go. Neither did Alanna.” I added for good measure.

“Rhiannon, of course we did not wish for you to undertake such a painful and dangerous journey, but you are Epona’s High Priestess. Has anything ever been denied you?” He sounded puzzled, and I realized what a faux pas I had made.

I lowered my eyes and plucked at a loose thread on my blanket. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wanted to take care of my dad.” Looking up at him I saw the lines around his mouth relax a little. “I’m sorry. I should have come to you.”

He blinked in surprise. Rhiannon the Great obviously didn’t apologize very often.

“You are forgiven. I am pleased that we found you and that you are safe.”

My eyes were drawn to Epi, who was munching happily on her grain a little way to my right. “Is she really going to be okay?”

“Yes, my Lady. She needs rest and soon she will be able to carry you on any escape you can plan.”

“But, I didn—” He was smiling. Oh, that was his idea of a joke. I’ll give him this one. “I didn’t really plan anything. At least not very well.”

“Exactly.” He looked smug. But it was a cute kind of smug.

“I am sorry for the trouble I caused.”

“It is forgotten.” His eyes glistened in the firelight and the flickering flames did delicious things to the glimpses of his chest I could manage to see whenever he moved a little and that wonderfully skimpy leather vest fell open.

Damn, I must be hungry for more than food. Maybe Rhiannon was rubbing off on me. I busied myself eating my sandwich, trying to pretend that ClanFintan wasn’t studying me from across the fire. No, I was pretty sure I didn’t feel like leaping up and humping the first guy (or horse) that happened to cross my path. It was
this
guy (or horse) in particular that I was feeling, well, sluttish about. Or maybe it was all those damn grapes.