Divine by Mistake (44 page)

“Really, it’s okay. I’d like to stretch my legs.”

“I said no!” he snapped.

I just sat there, not sure if I should smack his butt and tell him not to yell at me, jump off his back and tell him I’ll damn sure do what I want or just sit there and cry. Confusion won, so I shut my mouth and sat there in a tight ball of emotions.

Soon he came to a halt and wiped the sweat from his brow wearily with the back of his hand.

“Forgive me, love,” he said with a voice that sounded like it came from a grave. “I shame myself by taking my exhaustion out on you.”

I leaned forward, carefully wrapping my arms around his chest. I rested my chin on his shoulder. “You’re forgiven.”

“When the water becomes a little more shallow you may walk, if you would like.”

“I would like.” I kissed his neck. He lay his arms over mine briefly, then took a deep breath and forced his hooves out of the soggy ground. The horrible sucking sound made me want to cringe. We continued to move slowly forward.

When the water had subsided to his knees he halted again.

“How about if I walk for a little while?”

He nodded, and helped me to dismount. My booted feet sank down in the mucky ground until I was standing in water up to my thighs.

“Yuck, this stuff is seriously gross.” I took his hand and we started walking.

“Seriously gross?” he asked.

“Yeah, like that log that was filled with snakes.”

“Oh.” He nodded tired understanding.

We struggled on. After we had only gone a short way, I was breathing heavily. It amazed me that he had been traveling in this mud all day—with me on his back and a butt that was all torn up.

“It can’t be much farther,” I said between breaths.

He didn’t reply. It seemed that he was focusing all of his energy on continuing to move forward.

Soon the water level had noticeably subsided, which would have been wonderful, except that the level of the mud increased. The water came only to my knees, but every time I put a foot down, I sank to mid-calf in mud. In the dwindling light we didn’t see the grass until it was right before us. It was an incredible sight; much of it even towered over ClanFintan.

We stopped, both of us breathing heavily.

“Didn’t Vic say a field of tall grass came right before the edge of the swamp?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes, and she said it was sharp. You should remount me so that I can shield you from its cuts.”

“No, let me try walking through it.” I could see he wanted to argue, so I rested my hand on his arm and said, “If it’s too sharp, I’ll climb back aboard.”

He agreed reluctantly, and we stepped into the forest grass.

As usual, Vic had been right; the grass cut. And now that I thought about it, I remembered seeing red slashes across her skin, but we were all so mud spattered and insect bitten that I had given it little thought.

Well, now that I was walking through the stuff, I gave it lots of thought. I put my arms up to try and shield my face from the worst of the grass. Soon I could feel warm blood trickling down my forearms from the scratches on scratches as the razor-edged grass sliced across my skin like a giant paper cut.

“Rhea, stop. You must ride now.”

“Just a little farther, then I will.” I had managed to draw a small distance ahead of him, and I didn’t even pause to look back, afraid he’d see the blood on my arms. The mud still sucked at my feet, and I knew he didn’t need the burden of my added weight.

I pulled one foot up, and put it out in front of me, set it down—

And my foot continued to sink down, down, without stopping. I cried out and struggled to pull it back, but I fell off balance and floundered, suddenly finding myself up to my waist in a soft, sandy mixture. The more violently I struggled, the more it sucked me into it.

“Rhea!” ClanFintan yelled, and with a ferocious strength he grabbed my arm and yanked me backward, almost causing my shoulder to be wrenched out of its socket.

ClanFintan went down, and I fell back into his arms, where we stayed for a moment—happy that what was beneath us was just mud. My husband’s hands were traveling over my body, like he was checking to make sure everything was still there.

“Did something grab you? Are you hurt?” His voice was shaking.

“No, I’m okay.” I laid my head against him, breathing deeply. “It didn’t have a bottom. It felt like it was sucking me down. Ugh—it must be quicksand.”

“Yes.” He sounded calmer now that he knew I was in one piece. “I have heard of the sinking sand.” He attempted a smile. “It is one reason centaurs stay out of swampy land.”

“Well, it’s a damn good reason.”

He surged to his feet, lifting me with him.

“We must go around it.” He started working his way to the south, stepping carefully. “And now you cannot ride me.”

He didn’t need to say what we both knew. He could pull me out of quicksand, but there would be no way I could do the same for him. We kept moving, and I sent a silent prayer to my Goddess, begging for help.

Eventually, we traveled far enough south so that we skirted the quicksand, and were able, once again, to turn to the east. The cutting grass felt as if it was ripping the flesh from my arms, and my footsteps became slower and slower.

“Rhea, let me walk ahead.” He had stopped. “Rub some salve on your arms and walk behind me, give them a chance to rest,” he coaxed. “After a time we can change positions again.”

“But what if you step into some quicksand?”

“I will be careful.”

“Okay.” I gave in with something that sounded very much like a sob, and stumbled back to him. He took the pouch from my shoulder, and I wished we had some wine left, but the four of us had finished that off before midday. I held out my arms, flinching as his gentle fingers applied the sticky ointment. Almost immediately the burning stopped, and I breathed a long sigh of relief.

“That feels good.” I noticed the scratches on his arms and chest. “Here, I’ll put some on you, too.”

“They are just small scrapes—my skin is not soft, like yours.” He touched my cheek.

“I’ll just put a little on you. I know how badly they sting.”

He smiled indulgently at me while I doctored the scratches. Then I put the jar away and moved reluctantly behind him.

“Be careful!” I called.

“I will.” He started out, and we began our timeless struggle forward again.

Just as I thought the field of grass would never end, ClanFintan called over his shoulder excitedly, “I can see the tree line ahead!” He surged forward with renewed vigor.

And right into a bed of quicksand.

His equine body floundered, struggling against the sucking sand. His arms flailed out, trying to grab something, anything, that he could use to pull himself to safety.

“Stay back!” he yelled as I tried to go to him. “I am too far in—you cannot reach me.”

“What can I do?” I yelled, feeling panic rise in my throat.

He looked frantically around. “If you can make it to the trees, find a long branch and bring it back here.”

I nodded, and started searching for a way around the quicksand, but I knew I would never make it in time. I couldn’t even see the stand of trees, and I couldn’t run in the marsh’s sucking mud.

I knew he was going to die—and all I could do was watch him.

He must call The Change.
The thought burst loud and clear through my panicked mind. I rushed to the edge of the quicksand. He had sunk to midway up his human torso.

“Stay back…” His breathing was ragged.

“Listen!” I dropped to my knees and crawled around the side of the pit. “You must shape-shift.” I stretched out my arms to him. “See, if you reach out, I can grab you. Try!”

He did, and our fingers touched.

“Now, shape-shift. I can pull out a man—but not a centaur.”

I saw understanding flash through his eyes. Then he closed them and bowed his head. His body became very still as he began the chant, raising his arms and head synchronistically. The shimmer started. Before I had to close my eyes to the brilliance of the light, I watched his face twist in unimaginable agony.

Then the light extinguished. Immediately, I stretched forward.

“Help me! Reach!” I yelled at him.

With weary determination he reached for me, and our fingers touched. Then our hands grasped one another’s. I dug my heels into the murky ground and pulled with everything within me. Inch by inch I won ground over the deadly sand, until ClanFintan’s torso lay on the wet ground and he was able to help me pull the rest of him free.

He rolled over on his side, and for a long time we lay there against each other. Our only movement was to breathe.

“Thank you, Epona,” I said aloud.

“Your Goddess is good to you.” I was reassured by the normal sound of his deep voice.

I brushed some of the clinging sand from his face, then kissed the spot I had cleaned.

“Can you walk yet?”

He nodded and stood with painful, stiff movements. As he turned, I was afforded a glimpse of the rear of his body. The gashes were huge, horribly flapping wounds, tacked together obscenely with dark sutures. They ran from just above his buttocks, all the way down to the back of his thighs, and oozed fluid, which mixed with the sand and water of the pit.

“Oh, God!” I couldn’t stop the exclamation. “Change back!”

“I think—” his slow answer was painful to hear “—I should stay in human form until we have crossed the river. Remember, they are not looking for a human man and woman. They search for Epona’s Chosen and her centaur mate.”

“But your wounds.” Just looking at them made me ache.

“Put more salve on them and it will be tolerable.”

I didn’t want to touch those horrid gashes in his flesh. I was petrified I would hurt him more than he hurt already.

He reached for the bag and drew out the half-empty jar.

“I can do it,” he said when he noticed my reticence.

I dipped my fingers into the jar.

“I’ll do it.” I gritted my teeth and forced myself to smear the ointment over and into the gashes. He didn’t move, and he didn’t speak. He also didn’t breathe until I was finished.

“Better?” I asked, wiping my fingers across the slashes on his forearms to rid them of the lingering ointment.

“Yes.” He made a great show of acting brave, but his skin had taken on a sickly pale hue. “I saw the tree line just over there.” He pointed. “It is not much farther.”

We started out, careful to pick our way around the pit of quicksand. I gave his naked body a sideways glance.

“You want to borrow my thong, or something?”

His bark of laughter made him flinch with the pain it caused his wounds, but his eyes sparkled as he looked down at me.

“I think not. If we were captured by the Fomorians, think of the stories they would tell.”

“I can see the headlines now, Cross-dressing High Shaman of the Centaurs Finally Captured.”

“Headlines?”

“Gossip that everyone reads about.”

“Yes, that would be embarrassing.”

“It certainly would.”

“Perhaps we should talk about what we can do with your thong at a later time.”

I was heartened to hear a sexy tease in his voice.

“Save your energy, big boy. Who do you think you are, John Wayne?”

I knew he was going to ask.

“John Wayne?”

Now here’s a subject I could pontificate on for hours. I cleared my throat and assumed my teacher-lecture mode.

“John Wayne, real name Marion Michael Morrison, born in Winterset, Iowa. He was what we called a Great American Icon in my old world. Personally, I think of him as a patriot and a hero.”

He gave me a curious glance, which was all the encouragement I needed. “Let me tell you about him…”

I was in the middle of retelling the plot of
The Cowboys,
and choking myself up, when ClanFintan put his hand out, stopping me.

“Shh,” he said. “The end of the grass.” He pointed, and I saw that, sure enough, the field of cutting grass ended just a few feet ahead of us as abruptly as it had begun.

I peered around in the fading light. A line of trees began on the other side of the grass field. Not a pretty grove with a carpet of dried leaves, like we had traveled through on the opposite side of the river. Here the trees were wild and thick, an impenetrable jungle of cypress, willow and hackberry, interspersed with huge, red-tipped elephant ear and something that looked like mutant hibiscus.

But, as we stood there silently, a delicious sound came to our ears. We realized what it was at the same time, and our eyes lit up as we smiled at each other.

“The river,” ClanFintan said in a low voice.

“Thank you, Goddess! Finally!”

“Shh.” He put his arm around me and spoke into my ear, “If we can hear the river, that means the creatures are somewhere between here—” he nodded his head back at the marsh behind us “—and the bank.”

“How do we get past them?” I asked quietly.

“They are expecting a centaur to crash through the underbrush with his mate riding boldly astride his back, not two humans who can duck and dodge through the trees stealthily.”

“And what two humans can do that?”

He squeezed my shoulders and kissed the top of my head.

“We can.”

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.”

“That is why you married me—so that I could remind you of things you have almost forgotten.”

I was glad to see a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“And I thought I just married you for your great foot rubs.”

“That, too.” His expression sobered. “We must move like our Huntress friend, slowly and soundlessly. Try to disturb no brush. Place your feet softly on the dampest part of the ground. Avoid twigs and dry leaves.”

I listened intently, psyching myself up for the task before me.

“What if we are seen?”

He took me by the shoulders and turned me so that he could look intently into my eyes. “You run for the river. Do not stop. Do not worry about me. Just get to the river and swim across it.”

“But—”

“No! Listen to me. They will not recognize me. They will think I am only a human male. I can buy you the time it will take for you to cross the river. When you are safe I will call The Change to me and join you.”

It sounded like a line of crap to me. I started to tell him so, but his fingers dug into my shoulders.

“If they catch you, think of what they will do to you. I could not bear it.” The pain reflected in his eyes was palpable. “All they can do is kill me—they can do much more to you.”

“Okay, I’ll get to the river.”

His expression relaxed, as did his grip on my shoulders. He bent and kissed me gently.

“Now let us get out of this marsh. Step only where I step.”

“Okay, you’re in charge.”

He gave me a huge grin.

“For now,” I added.

We started forward slowly, leaving the grass behind and entering a world of primeval trees and dense underbrush. In a way, it was worse than the mud and the grass. At least amidst the grass we could blunder ahead, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Here it was different. ClanFintan moved in slow motion, and I mimicked him. We couldn’t travel in a straight easterly line. We had to zig and zag our way through the brush, avoiding piles of dried leaves and mounds of twigs. It seemed for every step we were able to take forward we had to take two to each side. And, to make an already difficult situation worse, dusk was falling, making it difficult to see the next clump of noisy dry foliage.

From my position behind him, I was afforded an excellent view of his naked backside. Each step he took caused his wounds to seep bloody fluid. His back was covered with a film of sweat. I watched the muscles in his back twitch and shake as he slowly shifted his weight from side to side.

Every moment I expected something winged and snarling to leap at us, but we kept moving, with only the sound of our own breath and the noise of the river as companions.

Then ClanFintan’s hand went up, and he froze. In front of us was the river, powerful and gray in the fading light. Between the tree line where we were standing and the bank was a rocky area, probably twenty or thirty yards wide.

And in that area between the river and us crouched three winged creatures.

They were a little way upriver from where we stood. Their backs were to us—actually, they were hunkered around a blazing campfire. As we watched, one of them fed it more dried branches. They didn’t speak, but once in a while one of them would look at the river and hiss.

ClanFintan motioned for me to move up beside him, and I did so carefully.

“When I give you the word, I want you to run to the river. Do not look at me. Do not wait for me,” he said with quiet intensity.

I opened my mouth and he put a warm finger against my lips.

“Trust me,” he whispered.

I swallowed my complaints and nodded reluctantly.

He bent and searched the ground around us. Finally satisfied, he grasped a fallen branch that lay close to his feet. He looked at me.

“Ready?” He mouthed the words.

I nodded.

He reached his arm back, and hurled the green branch to our left, toward the line of trees directly behind the creatures.

“Go!” he whispered.

I shot from the trees, fear and adrenaline giving me a jolt of unaccustomed speed. I heard ClanFintan following close behind me.

And I heard the creatures. They were snarling and spitting. I glanced over my shoulder in time to see them bounding for the trees behind them.

“Don’t look, run!” ClanFintan said between breaths.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who heard him.

“There!” one of the creatures hissed, pointing at us.

The rocks crunched as he rushed after us, with the other two following close behind him.

“Faster!” ClanFintan yelled.

I reached the bank as one of the creatures caught ClanFintan. I heard an awful tearing sound as his claws raked my husband’s shoulder.

ClanFintan pivoted, putting his body between the Fomorians and me. He ducked another slashing attack from the creature, and landed a blow of his own on its jaw. I heard it crunch—the thing backed off a few paces to recollect itself, ready to attack ClanFintan again.

“Jump! I’ll join you as soon as I can!” he yelled over his shoulder at me.

I looked down at the surging water, and back at my husband and the three creatures that were getting ready to hurl themselves at him.

“Not without you!” Before he could answer I ducked under his arm and ran straight toward the surprised creatures. My arms were raised over my head and I waved my hands wildly, shrieking, “Get the fuck back, you slimy, perverted bastards!”

The Fomorians skittered backward, away from me, looking justifiably confused. I mean, really, how many human women actually run
to
them? And I was a human woman covered in swamp yuck, with wild red hair sticking out in matted hunks and arms flailing like a demented Bride of Frankenstein.
I’d
run from me. Before they could recover, I turned and faced my husband.

“If I jump, you jump!” I yelled. Remembering everything I’d ever heard Dad tell his football players about blocking, I ran forward and tackled ClanFintan with my shoulder, low and hard, knocking us both over the bank and into the swirling water.