Chapter 75: Guilt

  Upthog kept gazing back over her shoulder. It was dark, but the moonlight kept the Bull’s Head silhouetted against the night sky, clearly marking the entrance to Tech Duinn. She was unable to stop the echoes of Bren’s last cry for help ringing between her ears.

  What will Ma make of it? she wondered.

  Beeeee Chuilllllle! It sounded like it was echoing from the tunnel, but Bee knew it was in her head. And with each echo, she checked again that the Bull’s Head was still visible. The horns still pointing into the night sky as if waving an admonishing fingers at her.

  You were powerless, she chided herself.

  Without access to draíocht—to earth power, she could have done nothing against Dhuosnos’s disciples. That knowledge, though, didn’t ease her sense of guilt. The Horse Warrior questioning her motives didn’t do much to help, either.

  “So, what do we do now?” Volt asked, his eyes fixed to the skyline.

  She could hear the rancour in his tone and felt anger starting in the pit of her gut. After everything that had happened, the thing she needed least was to be tied to a human incapable of hiding his emotions.

  He’s also too weak to confront his fears.

  She glared at him, willing the Horse Warrior to face her and his contention rather than pretending it didn’t exist. If this man was to fulfil his destiny, he needed to accept it and recognise it for what it was. Instead, he’d been unable to make eye contact since she refused to help her brother.

  He thinks me a monster like those in the Arena.

  But what did the warrior know? He didn’t spend hundreds of summers rescuing Bren from disaster after disaster. He didn’t know how many times she’d risked her life for her twin, usually at their mother’s insistence. Putting the number of times aside, her brother’s latest venture had been madness. If she’d known his intent sooner, she would have stopped him, which was the reason for her guilt: his death was her fault because she knew the effects of long-term shape-changing.

  His sanity had to have been in doubt.

  But she hadn’t only failed her brother, she’d also failed Dagda. After the disaster of the dagger and the compass, it had taken many summers for them to be talking again. Eventually, with Rhiannon acting as mediator, they’d resumed their erstwhile relationship. Bee the High Priestess and Dagda her liege. It was in that role that Bee became Upthog the recluse.

  He sent me to keep an eye on Bren—stop him if necessary—and I failed him.

  She had no excuse.

  Showing herself to Bren would have stopped his scheming as surely as the cliffs of Camas Clochaí stopped the Narrow Sea’s tide. As his more powerful sister, Brenos had always feared her and done as she’d demanded. Upthog could have confronted him when she rode Rosie into Caer Scál the day Scamp arrived in her clearing. Instead, she went back to her roundhouse to get the dailtín moving on his unwanted quest, fulfilling her more important task—the main reason she was in the Five Kingdoms.

  Duty before blood. What have I become?

  As the night’s stars started to twinkle, she wondered about when her brother had become so ambitious. It had always been schemes of little import; schemes requiring little intelligence that annoyed but did no real harm. Taking on Dhuosnos—even in a weakened state—was beyond madness.

  “Upthog?” the Horse Warrior prompted.

  He’s pushy, this Volt.

  “Me name’s Bee. Upthog was me mother. Now, we have to find Whitehead,” she said, hoping to satisfy him while she considered her options. May Darkness take her black soul.

  “Why? Wouldn’t we be better going to North Kingdom?”

  As far away from here as we can get, she heard in his tone, raising her doubts about Cassandra’s foretelling anew. How this human, afraid of his own shadow, was supposed to be humankind’s saviour was beyond her understanding.

  “Ye can run, Horse Warrior. I’m Tuatha. It’s my lot to halt the Scourge.” This time, as she spoke, Bee kept her eyes on the stars. They hadn’t been together for long enough for her to be sure, but she suspected this man was all she despised in humans. His next words did nothing to change that suspicion.

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  “Your lot to halt it?” he said with a laugh. “You just helped to ensure it happens.”

  What is that in his tone?

  “Also my lot. However, it’s yet to begin.”

  “I know. Scamp has to learn how to summon the Lord of Darkness because it’s harder than summoning a mere demon. You already said so.”

  “Run if ye must, Horse Warrior.”

  “I’ve no intention of running, Upth… Bee. It was a genuine question. With the Narrow Sea between us and the demon army, would we not be likelier to succeed?”

  “In my experience, running never brought success,” she said.

  The man frowned at her, and she wanted to ask him what gave him the right. She studied him riding, his posture easy. He seemed like a competent horseman, but would that make him a competent leader?

  Sighing, Bee wondered how she could explain what needed to happen. But more than that, she asked herself if he would be capable of facing down the challenge.

  He can’t even face me. What hope does he have of confronting his destiny. Will I even be capable? This won’t be the usual demon war.

  Brenos, with his hunger for recognition, had changed everything. Killing The Coven and cutting off Dhuosnos’s source of draíocht meant the Lord of Darkness had to find another. Bee could think of only one. Balor and his Fomorii hiding in their labyrinth under the Fiery Mountain in The Western Wall. Legends said that Balor and his people had no time for the Tuatha or Dhuosnos. However, they hated humans for forcing them into the caves and would probably give Dhuosnos whatever he craved, including a horde of the undead and access to their draíocht. And with a horde and Dhuosnos’s demons, would Neit’s Maidens be able to prevent a collapse into an age of darkness? Or was that the meaning of Cassandra’s foretelling? Was the seeress implying the rancorous Horse Warrior would be the one to stop it?

  Doubtful at best. All he does is whine like a starving puppy.

  Looking at him, she wondered—not for the first time—if she could rely on the prediction. At the time of telling, Cassandra told her she wouldn’t believe, and she hadn’t. But the seeress foretold the sacking of Ruirech’s forest hideaway, and it had come to pass. She’d also foretold of Bee’s life as a smuggler on Eoin’s ship, the Sea Wolf. So, now, she was beginning to believe.

  Only took a thousand summers to see the light.

  “Upthog,” Volt said, interrupting her. She nodded, having heard the horses several moments before he had. Six riders were coming at a gallop.

  “Name’s Bee,” she repeated as she reined in and crossed her hands over her pommel to wait, not caring if the Horse Warrior followed her lead. She didn’t think there was any need to worry. It was too soon for Balor to have unleashed his horde. The Fomorii hadn’t ventured out of their caves for hundreds of summers, and even though she knew they would come, she thought it would be later. Much later. There was no threat from the north other than Whitehead, who would probably wait for Bee to come to her.

  Does she still bear a grudge?

  When a Leathdhosaen pulled up before them, she grinned and said, “Sainreth, what are ye doing so far from the Great Forest?”

  The warrior scratching his beard and grinning like an amadán was visible in the moonlight. “Unlikely though it might seem, Bairrfind sent me to assist you.”

  Really? Yer scratching yer beard, Sainreth. A certain giveaway.

  “Unlikely is not the word I’d have used, no.” Sainreth shrugged and patted his mount’s neck. “That aside, I’m pretty sure I don’t need assistance.”

  “Howsoever that might be, here I am.”

  “Just to offer me aid?”

  “No. I’ve a full troop at Donn’s Needle keeping an eye out for the Scourge. Well, a full troop minus these gaimbíní,” he said, indicating the riders behind.

  At mention of the Needle, Bee felt a shiver run up her spine. Memories of that stinking tower did nothing to improve her mood. Masking it, she said, “Two hundred horse to guard a headland. Impressive.”

  She grinned as the warrior continued to scratch his beard while he talked—a sure sign he was being less than honest. She knew him well from their previous time together. Sainreth had been the reason for Whitehead’s threat ten summers before. The latest reason. Over the millennia, there had been many. Mistakenly convinced he was her man, the captain took umbrage when she discovered Bee and the warrior were lovers. As a witch, Bee could protect herself and often those around her. Even so, as one of Neit’s Maidens, Whitehead would make a formidable foe. She shivered at the thought of Bairrfind’s axe—anyone with sense would avoid that weapon. The Tuatha captain also liked to stir the cauldron whenever possible, usually in the opposite direction from what was considered normal.

  Sainreth is here to keep an eye on me. Damned sow’s still playing her mind games.

  The irony of the situation didn’t escape her. She glanced at Volt wondering if he was paying attention. Instead, he seemed lost in his thoughts, staring into the night with a scowl, knuckles white from the grip on his reins.

  Better hope the wind don’t change, Horse Warrior.

  “It’s a bit early, Sainreth,” she said. “Dhuosnos’s weak, and the boy needs training. It’ll be several moons until they’re ready, no.”

  “Bairrfind has ordered us to keep watch, you and me, from the tower.”

  Ye and me and two hundred horse.

  Bee snorted and then laughed. Bairrfind might be the commander of Neit’s army—the one responsible for ensuring the Scourge was forced back into Tartarus before it destroyed everything, issuing in an age of darkness—but Bee was Dagda’s right hand. She answered only to her master.

  “Whitehead has no authority over me, no.”

  “That’s not how she reckons it. Ordered me to keep you close, so she did.”

  “And how exactly will ye manage that?” Bee asked, cocking her head to the side. It was a bluff because she had no power, and Sainreth and his Leathdhosaen could easily take her. However, she hoped he was unaware of the lack and wary of her.

  “Please,” he begged, taking the bluff. “You know Bairrfind. She’ll have my magairlí for earrings.”

  Grinning, Bee shook her head and said, “Ye waste all the time ye want, Sainreth, waiting for an army of demons that ain’t coming. Me and the Horse Warrior are going to Balor’s Canyon to keep an eye open for the real threat.”