Elphame's Choice (9 page)

ELPHAME THOUGHT THAT
they smelled like a basil-filled garden after a spring rain. She brushed a damp strand of hair behind her ear, but not before picking a crushed leaf from it, and smiled to herself. The women—as well as the castle—had been cleansed. It had been a nice break, and a wonderful ritual. Elphame glanced up at the sky. The sun seemed to be sinking awfully fast. She stifled a frustrated sigh. She would be glad when the hearths were filled with brightly burning fires, and dusk would signal the lighting of the castle’s brands—then the coming of evening would not call a halt to their work. But it certainly did now. Quickly she prioritized in her mind. The kitchens needed to be attended to, that should come first.

Then a niggling thought brushed at her.
Clear the Main Courtyard. Allow the heart of the castle to beat again
. Elphame felt a little jolt of surprise. Had that been her own thought? No,
thought
wasn’t the right word. Her sudden desire to clear the courtyard felt more like a compulsion that beat in time with her blood.

“My Lady? What is our next task?”

Elphame broke from her inner musings and smiled at Brenna, pleased that the Healer had stopped calling her Goddess. She motioned for the women to gather around her. She searched for and found Wynne.

“Let’s get the kitchen in working order. Rebuilding a home is hungry work.”

Wynne’s smile was bright agreement. “I know exactly where ’tis.”

Elphame, of course, knew where the kitchen was located, too. She had glimpsed it on the quick walk-through she’d done with her brother and the Stonemaster, but she was content to allow her new cook the pleasure of leading them to what would become Wynne’s personal territory.

“Show us,” Elphame said.

And just like that the women surged as one into the castle. No hesitation. No trepidation. No nervous laughter. It was as if the air had been cleared of the emotional cobwebs of the past—now all that waited to be done was to clear its physical refuse so that the future could begin.

Elphame knew that Cuchulainn would tell her she was being an idealistic fool, but she was so happy that it felt like her heart might burst.

The women entered the Main Courtyard as a group, and suddenly their amiable talk was silenced. The great center column of Clan MacCallan stood silent and awe-inspiring, stretching to a majestic height well above their heads. Elphame left the group and approached it. She could still feel the phantom warmth of her commune with the spirits of the stone against her palms. But this time she didn’t rest her hands against the granite surface, instead she faced the group of women.

“This is the center column of MacCallan Castle,” she explained to them. “Always remember that this was once the home of the much-honored Clan MacCallan. They were warriors, but they also were poets and artists. Many of Epona’s Chosen have had MacCallan blood pulsing in their veins. They revered beauty and truth, which is why Epona showed such rage at their slaughter.” She pointed up the column’s length. “If you look closely you can see that beneath the layers of grime and soot, it is decorated with symbols that were important to the MacCallans. Creatures and plants of the surrounding forest, as well as the Clan’s symbol of a rearing mare, have all been intricately carved within the interlinking circular pattern.”

Several of the women nodded and stepped closer, peering with open curiosity at the mighty pillar.

“This should be cleaned so that its original beauty can be seen,” Meara said, with the same no-nonsense tone she had used when she ordered the dirty water containers to be scrubbed.

“It will be,” Elphame assured her. “As will this entire courtyard. Look at the floor.” The women’s eyes drifted to their feet. Without stopping to consider that she might be drawing unwanted attention to her unique body, she pawed forward with one sharp hoof, loosening a small trench in the dirt that covered the floor. “See,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Beneath all of this filth there is a thick layer of fine marble. When it is clean it will shine just as brightly as the pearl-colored halls of Epona’s Temple.”

The women talked together in excited little bursts of conversation as they studied the hidden treasure that lay beneath them.

The heart of the castle
…Elphame’s thoughts kept returning to the words that had seemed to resonate throughout her body. The women’s reactions showed that they, too, were moved by
it. It must live again.
Soon
, she promised herself and the time-scarred column.

“Lead us to your new kitchens, Wynne,” Elphame said.

The cook flushed with pleasure before she strode purposefully from the courtyard through another empty arched doorway which led to an enormous room. There the women paused.

In the Great Hall the ceiling had been built of the same dull gray stone as the walls of the castle, so the fire could not consume it, but the walls were blackened and the huge room looked dark and sad. Mounds of burnt wood testified to the fact that long ago tiers of heavy wooden tables had stood in busy rows overlooking the ruined floor-to-ceiling frame that once was a wall of windows which let the castle occupants dine and hold court with a view of the austere Main Courtyard of the castle.

Now all that was left of it was rubble, but Elphame could still see the solid bones of the castle through what time had covered—and she could tell by the gleam in many of the women’s eyes that they understood the potential there, too.

“There are two entrances to the kitchen from the Great Hall.” Wynne’s voice said she was more than ready to get down to business. “One there, and one there.” She pointed to small arched doorways on opposite sides of the far wall. She talked as she walked toward one of the doorways. “They are connected by a long hall, which opens to the kitchen.” She glanced at her three assistants. “We should designate one door to always be used as an entrance, and one as an exit. There will be fewer accidents that way.”

The assistant cooks nodded in thoughtful response. Elphame had to stop herself from shouting with relief. They were beginning to see it as a living, working castle, too!

Because the kitchen was a part of the Great Hall, its stone roof was still intact, too. But, as in the rest of the castle, the room
was a shambles. Elphame heard the distinctive rustle of birds and the scurrying of other small creatures, and she supposed that a whole tribe of animals had taken up residence in what used to be the castle’s two enormous cooking hearths. Brick ovens lined one wall, and as Wynne peered within one of them a squirrel leaped out and rushed away in a chattering panic, causing the cook to stifle a shriek, which turned into a laugh.

“He probably thought I was a verra big, wet piece of basil,” she said, and the rest of the women laughed with her.

The remaining wall held a large basin and a rusted pump through which fresh water had been available. To either side of the pump, stone cabinets gaped their open, debris-cluttered mouths. In the center of the room was a great marble island on which were piles of leaves and suspicious-looking droppings.

“Well, sister-mine, what’s for dinner?” Cuchulainn’s voice said in her ear.

She jumped and swatted at him. “Your hide if you scare me like that again!”

“His hide would be too tough to chew, Goddess,” came a response from within the crowd of men who waited expectantly behind him.

“Ah, it has been such a short time, but they already appear to know you quite well,” Elphame quipped.

Cu put his hands up in mock surrender. “I come in peace!”

“I hope you come to work,” Elphame said with some asperity.

“That too,” he said. “Command us, my Lady, and your will shall be obeyed.” He bowed dramatically to her, as did the men standing behind him, which made his sister smile.

“Actually, it’s not me who is in command in this particular chamber. It is our cook.”

Cuchulainn’s eyes sparkled as he changed the direction of his bow so that he was facing the buxom, redheaded Wynne.
Elphame noticed that several of the other men shot the young cook appreciative glances, too.

Wynne’s attractively flushed cheeks were the only outward sign she showed that the attention pleased her. Straightening her shoulders and planting her hands firmly on her shapely hips she launched into a tirade of orders in her rolling brogue. “You men can start by clearin’ the cooking hearths, as well as the ovens. Several of ye will have to go up on the roof and be sure that the flues are uncluttered and repair any stones that have come free. Also, I’ll need this pump to be in working order, then we’ll be needin’ buckets and soap and rags and such for the general cleanin’.” The room erupted into action.

Elphame stepped hastily out of the way.

“It’s a good thing that the centaurs cleared the road to the castle and the supply wagons got through. I wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to tell your pretty cook that the cleaning supplies were stranded in the forest.” Cuchulainn had joined his sister in watching from the edge of the room.

“She may be pretty, but I think she might be more than a little feisty,” El said.

“Redheads—they are a temptation,” Cuchulainn observed with the voice of experience.

“Come on, Cu,” she said, grabbing his hand. “I want you to help me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the Main Courtyard. Something tells me it’s important to restore it as soon as possible.”

As they started to leave the room, Elphame noticed the sudden silence. She glanced back to see that the activity had stopped and everyone was looking at her. “Carry on,” she said quickly. “My brother and I are going to begin clearing the courtyard.” Before she could continue walking away, Brenna’s voice stopped her.

“May I come with you, my Lady?”

The Healer had stepped from a shadowy area at the far end of the room, and Elphame saw several of the men cringe and avert their eyes from her face.

“Of course you may, Brenna,” she said quickly.

“I, too, would welcome you,” Cu said. “As my sister has already observed, I am often in need of the services of a skilled Healer.”

Elphame felt a rush of warmth for her brother. His words had caused the men to reassess the scarred woman by showing them that he, as well as his sister, valued and respected her.

Brenna didn’t respond except to bow her head so that her hair concealed most of her face and followed them hurriedly from the room.

“El, you’ll need to have these frames measured and then commission new windows,” Cu observed as they walked back through the Great Hall. “Unless you prefer to have this wall rebuilt without the glass.”

“No, I like the idea of looking out on the courtyard. I imagine it used to be a spectacular view.”

The three of them came to a halt at the edge of the Main Courtyard. They could look up through the burnt ceiling to see that evening was rapidly approaching and the sky was shifting from brilliant blue to oranges and violets. The beauty above them was quite a contrast to the ruin that stood below it. Tree limbs and filth covered the marble floor. Mounds of scorched, rotted roof timbers littered the area, especially the very center of it. As she stood there, Elphame’s eyes felt drawn to that center area. A memory stirred. Something about the central courtyard of the castle…

“Cu, Brenna, let’s see if we can clear some of those old timbers from that middle area.”

Without waiting for them to respond, she rushed to the
largest pile of rubble and set to work. Soon, Elphame pulled free one particularly long piece of wood and the lip of a basin appeared beneath it, looking like the edge of a giant’s dirty bowl that had been discarded a century ago.

“Yes! I knew there was something under all of this mess,” Elphame said with satisfaction.

They redoubled their efforts until, rising from the midst of rot and ruin, a delicate statue took form. It was a life-sized adolescent girl. She was standing in the middle of the basin, holding a large urn that was tipped up at the end as if she was pouring libations from it.

“It’s a fountain!” Brenna exclaimed.

“Look at her, El, there’s something about her….” Cu said, stepping within the basin to get a closer look. With a fold of his kilt he scrubbed at the face of the statue, until he exposed a small area of milk-colored marble which appeared luminous and ghostly. Then he drew in his breath sharply in surprise. “She looks like you.”

ELPHAME STARED AT
the statue. It did look like her. She and the statue shared the same high cheekbones, full lips and fine, arched brows.

“Rhiannon,” Brenna said suddenly. “This fountain must be a statue of Rhiannon when she was a girl. I remember now. Before she became Goddess Incarnate of Epona, she lived here, as the only child of The MacCallan, and she was…”

“My ancestress,” Elphame finished for her.

“She was also a great warrior,” Cu said, still studying the statue carefully. “It was through her leadership that the Fomorians were defeated and driven from Partholon.”

“Let us not forget that Rhiannon did have a little help from her lifemate, the centaur High Shaman, ClanFintan.”

Elphame looked around in surprise, trying to locate the owner of the strong female voice that carried across the courtyard. From the lengthening shadow of the central column
emerged the lithe form of a female centaur. Elphame couldn’t stifle her gasp of surprise. The centaur must be a Huntress to be able to creep up on them so silently; Cuchulainn hadn’t even been aware of her approach. The thought sent a rush of pleasure through Elphame. A centaur Huntress had joined them!

“You are right to correct me, Huntress,” Elphame said formally. “My father would have done the same.”

“I did not mean to correct you, Goddess, only to remind you.”

As she came closer and more fully into the pool of light that illuminated the area surrounding the fountain, Elphame was stunned by her beauty. The equine part of her body was a sleek palomino, shading from cream to a blonde so light that she almost appeared to be silver, and El was suddenly reminded of the bright coat of Epona’s Chosen Mare. She had never seen a centaur with such spectacular coloring. Even her hooves were a unique, snow-white shade. The human part of her body was just as lovely. Her hair matched her coat, and it streamed down her back in a thick, white wave. Her skin was alabaster, and she wore the centaur’s traditional half-open leather vest through which could be glimpsed her full, well-rounded breasts. Her face was a study in classic perfection. Elphame met her eyes, which were an arresting shade of lavender.

The centaur stopped before her and executed a deep, graceful bow.

“I come to offer my services as Huntress to you, Goddess Elphame, and to MacCallan Castle. I am Brighid Dhianna.”

“You are of the Dhianna Herd,” Cu said. His voice was unusually sharp and his expression grim.

“I am of that Herd. I am not of that mind-set.”

And her words suddenly made sense to Elphame. There was a growing sect amidst centaurs that disdained contact with humans. They rarely left the Centaur Plains and they rejected
centaurs that chose to live within human communities as being little better than domesticated animals. She remembered her parents discussing the ramifications of the growth of such an exclusionist belief, and the disgust with which her centaur father viewed the segregationist ideology. And she also remembered him mentioning a particularly militant herd by the name of Dhianna, whose powerful shaman leader was stirring up a disturbing amount of support for her ideology, which explained Cu’s grim expression.

“Brighid Dhianna, if it is a new beginning you seek, then I welcome you to MacCallan Castle, a place of new beginnings,” Elphame said solemnly.

The Huntress met her eyes with a square, strong gaze. “Yes, Goddess, I am in search of a new beginning.”

“Good, then you can start by calling me Elphame,” she said briskly. “This stern-looking warrior is my brother, Cuchulainn.” Cu nodded icily at the Huntress. “And this is our new Healer, Brenna.” Elphame was pleased to note that Brighid did not flinch when Brenna lifted her scarred face at her introduction. “Grab a log, Brighid. It’s getting late and I would like to have this fountain uncovered before we lose all of our light.”

Elphame turned back to the pile of rubble, ignoring the suspicious looks passing between her brother and the Huntress.

“Enough, El! You can begin here tomorrow. Everyone left the kitchen some time ago—even your tyrannical cook and her harpies are on their way back to Loth Tor for a hot meal and a soft bed,” Cuchulainn said, exasperated at his sister’s unlimited store of energy.

He and the Huntress had just dragged another litter loaded with debris from the courtyard to the ever-growing pile outside the castle’s walls. And had he returned to find his sister and Brenna stacking buckets and preparing to leave? No—his ob
stinate sister was filling yet another litter with filth, this time from the rear side of the basin.

“Cu,” she said, barely looking up at him. “Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll just load this last litter and be on my way.” She glanced up through the open roof at the sky that now held only the palest mauve light reflected from the dying sun.

“No. Everyone else is gone. I don’t want you traveling through the forest alone.”

“Oh, please. People have been clomping back and forth from here to Loth Tor all day. I’d be surprised if there are even any squirrels willing to stay through such noise.”

“And she will not be alone. I will return with her,” the Huntress said.

“As will I,” Brenna added.

Elphame cocked one eyebrow at her brother. “Satisfied that I won’t be alone?”

“Hrumph,” he grunted. Then added firmly, “If you are not at the Mare’s Inn by the time the food is being served, I will come and fetch you. And keep this with you.” He unbuckled a thin belt from around his waist. Strapped to it was a small sheath which Elphame knew held one of his lethal throwing daggers. He tossed it to his sister, who caught it deftly. “You know I’ve told you before that you should carry a weapon.” He turned and, mumbling under his breath about hardheaded women, stalked from the courtyard.

“Hey! It’s your safety you had better worry about if Wynne hears you calling her assistants harpies,” she called after his retreating back. “Overpossessive, annoying little brother,” Elphame said in disgust.

“He loves you very much,” Brenna said.

“But he is annoying,” Brighid added.

“You haven’t seen true annoyance yet. If I’m not back by the time he expects me he’ll come charging through the forest,
claymore drawn and ready, scaring the life out of small rodents and helpless songbirds.”

Brenna began laughing. It was a lovely, musical sound, and soon Brighid and Elphame joined her.

As they worked companionably together on clearing the fountain’s basin, Elphame thought how good it felt to have the courtyard filled with the sounds of laughter and life. She didn’t need to press her hand against the central column to Feel that the atmosphere of the castle was changing. From her first glimpse of MacCallan Castle she had felt welcomed, but she also had to acknowledge that it had been a forlorn place filled with lonely waiting. Its history was rich with tradition and honor, as she had explained to the women earlier, but it had also stood silent and abandoned for more than a century. The span of a single day had begun to change that. In the very air surrounding them she could feel life newborn. It was as if each breath she breathed was filled with hope.

“I think that’s enough,” Elphame said, wiping her grimy hands on her skirt. She looked down at herself. “Ugh—I’m looking forward to bathing almost as much as I am to eating a hot meal.”

Brenna nodded quick agreement as she tried to pick something sticky off her arm. Even Brighid’s sleek coat was dusted with smears of soot.

The Huntress grabbed the leather leads that attached to the litter and linked them over her shoulder so that her powerful centaur body had no trouble pulling the weighty load.

“At least you two will actually get to bathe. I can almost promise you that Loth Tor will not have a bathing chamber large enough for me,” she said as she started dragging the litter from the courtyard.

Elphame and Brenna helped balance the pile of rubble so that they didn’t lose any of it on the trip out.

“I never thought about that before,” Brenna said, panting a little as she jogged to keep up with the two more athletic females. “It would be awful if all the bathing chambers were too small for me,” the petite Healer mused.

“Awful if you’re a female,” Brighid said. Then she grinned at Brenna. “If you’re a male centaur, well, you don’t so much mind.”

“Ugh, boys!” Elphame said, remembering how her mother used to have to threaten Cuchulainn and Finegas when they were children to get them into a bathing chamber. “Centaur or human, they can certainly be disgusting.”

The three women wrinkled their noses at each other and laughed.

“Can you believe how much this pile has grown?” Elphame said as they emptied the litter onto the growing mound of rotted timbers and ancient filth that was located a little way from the castle’s outer walls.

“I believe it,” Brenna said, pausing to rub her shoulders and roll her neck. “I hope Loth Tor has a decent mead brewer. We’ll all need something to help relax our muscles tonight—” she glanced back at the hulking form of the castle “—and tomorrow.”

“That’s that.” El clapped her hands together with satisfaction. “Let’s head to Loth Tor and the Mare’s Inn.”

“And dinner,” Brighid added.

“Absolutely,” Elphame said. But they had only taken a few steps down the road when she stopped and slapped her forehead. “I left Cu’s dagger inside. I’ll never hear the end of it if I show up without it. Wait here, this will just take a moment.” She bunched her powerful muscles and sprinted back up the road and through the castle’s entrance.

Where had she left that thing? The light was really failing now, and every pile of leaves and heap of dirt could be mistaken for a casually discarded sheath and belt.

“I should have showed more sense and strapped it to my waist when he gave it to me,” she muttered angrily to herself.

“Is this what ye seek, lassie?”

A cold shiver doused her body. The deep voice came from behind her; it had an odd quality, like it had to drift through a pool of water to reach her. As if moving through a dream, she turned.

He was sitting casually on the lip of the basin that held the fountain. She had no trouble seeing him because his body glowed softly, like candlelight on pearls. She could also clearly see the ruins of the courtyard behind him, as well as directly through his semisubstantial form.

“Oh!” Elphame hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until it released in a rush. She felt her body begin to tremble as she tried to tell her numbed legs to get her away from there.

The specter raised one thick, well-calloused hand.
“Rest easy, Elphame, I mean ye no harm.”

He spoke with a gruff edge to his thick brogue, but the look in his eyes was gentle, and when she didn’t bolt away he smiled at her.
“There, lass.”
He nodded his head toward the belt that hung haphazardly over the lip of the basin not far from where he was sitting.
“Is it not what ye seek?”

Elphame nodded her head woodenly, took a halting step forward, and snatched up the belt. “Th—” she had to clear her throat and swallow before she could get the words out. “Thank you.”

He tipped his head gallantly at her.
“’Tis my pleasure.”
His good-humored gaze slid from Elphame to rest on the fountain that was a statue of a girl. The specter’s smile turned poignant. “
It pleases me ye have finally come, Elphame. Even the dead canna wait forever
.”

“You know me?” Her voice didn’t seem to want to work, and the words came out barely above a whisper.

“Aye, lass, I know ye. And a fine, braw lassie ye are, too.” His eyes danced. “Look at ye! A perfect blending of two. Ye are the right choice.”

“For what? Who are you?” El’s power of reasoning was starting to recover along with her vocal ability.

“Use yer heart and intuition, lass. They will tell ye who I am.”

Elphame took a deep breath and studied the specter carefully. He was well past middle age, but he was still a powerful figure in full western regalia with his blouse-sleeved linen shirt and his well-draped kilt. Even transparent, the bold colors of sapphire-blue and lime-green made a striking contrast on the tartan. Her eyes widened. She knew that plaid—intimately. Her mother had worn it for years whenever she traveled to the west. Elphame owned one herself. And she had every right to; the blood of the Clan MacCallan ran thick in her veins.

“You are The MacCallan.”

His smile widened and he winked at her. “
Aye, lassie, I was. Now that position is held by ye
.” Then his look sobered, and he stood, executing a dashing bow that suddenly reminded her of Cuchulainn. “
Your companions come for ye, and I canna stay. Another time, lass…another time
….”

And he disappeared into nothing more than a thin mist that hung like fairy fog around the fountain.

“My Lady! Is all well?” Brenna’s voice drifted from the direction of the entryway.

“Yes!” Elphame called. She passed a shaky hand over her face. She had told her mother that she didn’t believe that any of MacCallan Castle’s lingering spirits would wish her harm, and she had meant it. But that hadn’t meant that she had ever really considered that there might actually be lingering spirits to deal with. “I certainly never thought I’d meet The Mac-himself.”