Divine by Mistake (16 page)

“Connor, join him.” The strawberry roan backed into the pines and was gone.

Then ClanFintan addressed me over his shoulder. “Rhiannon, you said that that night you felt you were in the presence of evil before you actually saw the creatures. Are you sensing any evil now?”

I stared at the castle and tried to still the pounding of my heart.

“No, I don’t feel anything like I did that night.”

“Are you certain, my Lady?”

I closed my eyes and concentrated, forcing myself to remember that night, to remember the tangible evil that had seeped out of the forest and slithered into the castle like a poisonous mist.

“I’m certain. The feeling is unmistakable, and it is definitely not here now.” My hands were still resting on his shoulders and he reached up and gave one of them a quick squeeze.

“Good.” Then he turned to face Dougal and Connor as they rejoined us. “Report.”

“Except for the carrion birds, there is no movement. And we could detect no sign or scent of fire.” Dougal’s voice was businesslike and calm.

“Lady Rhiannon can sense nothing of the creatures’ presence. I believe it is safe to enter the castle.” Then he addressed me again. “My Lady, you do not have to come into the castle. If you wait here, I will bring you word of your father. You can trust me to care for his remains with the honor he deserves.”

“I do trust you, it’s not that. I just…I just have to do this.” My mouth felt incredibly dry. “It won’t be real for me until I see for myself.”

He nodded slowly and I felt him sigh. “Very well, we go. All of us. Centaurs, stay close. Be alert.”

ClanFintan began trotting toward the castle, four centaurs on either side of him. I held his shoulders tightly and kept playing the words
you can do this you can do this you can do this
over and over in my mind.

As we approached the castle, the wind began to carry more of the sticky smell to us. At first it was just a teasing sourness, like when you open the door to the refrigerator and something doesn’t smell quite right. Then the teasing changed. The smell hung in the air and surrounded us. I gagged and suddenly my dry mouth was flooded with bile.

“Try to breathe through your mouth. It helps.” ClanFintan’s voice was sympathetic. I wondered how he knew so much about the way death smelled. “Where did you say you last saw your father in your vision?”

“At the foot of the stairs that led to the barracks.”

He stopped and his guard halted with us. “Rhiannon, let me look at the corpses. I will recognize your father and tell you when we have found him. You just hold tight. Close your eyes if you need to.”

“I’ll be okay. Let’s get this over with.” I tried to sound brave, but my voice was weak and shaky.

We started forward again. Soon we came to the first of the bodies. As we approached, dark birds lifted in a flurry of wings. I made myself look away from what they held in their pointed beaks. The bodies were clumped together, several in one area, then a few yards away several more. Amidst the horror it was somehow comforting that they weren’t alone. I tried not to look at them, but my eyes wouldn’t obey my mind—or maybe they obeyed my heart instead. It ached for these brave men and I felt that if I looked at them, acknowledged their sacrifice by keeping a visual reckoning rather than looking away, maybe their lingering souls would feel my respect and appreciation for their heroism and be comforted.

I glanced at the centaurs that walked at our side. Their faces were set in expressionless masks I tried to emulate. They checked each man, meticulously making sure none lived. We moved slowly around the southern wall to the front entrance of the castle. The huge iron doors were open; silent bodies and feeding birds littered the entryway.

“To the barracks.” ClanFintan’s emotionless voice echoed eerily off the dead walls as we walked through the gates, then passed through a smaller, arched inner-wall entrance, which led into a huge courtyard.

It was like a scene from a Dali nightmare painting. Men lay in dark, congealed pools, their bodies twisted and frozen at grotesque angles. But in spite of the carnage, I glimpsed snatches of lingering beauty in the thick, graceful columns that lined the courtyard and the fountain that still bubbled musically with oily reddened water. Something about that fountain held my gaze, and I realized with a sense of detached shock that the marble girl who was pouring water from a beautifully painted urn was a young version of myself. And the urn. That damn pot. It depicted a familiar scene, now tinged pink by the scarlet of the water. The seated priestess had her back to me, with her red-gold hair and her outstretched arm visible as she accepted homage from her supplicants. I knew if I looked closer I would see a scar on her hand, the same scar that suddenly blurred as I looked down at my own hand…

“Rhiannon!” ClanFintan swiveled at the waist and caught me before I could fall.

“I can do this I can do this I can do this.” My body was shaking.

“Shall I take you out of here?”

“No! I can’t quit now. Just give me a second.” I recovered my balance and straightened my spine. ClanFintan hesitantly let loose his grip on my arm. “Let’s find him.”

He grunted a wordless reply and moved off to the left. The other centaurs slowly followed us, meticulously completing their gruesome task of checking each body. We walked between pillars and through a wide, breezy hallway lined with doors and large floor-to-ceiling windows. The centaurs’ hooves clicked on the stone floor. That and the birds were the only sounds I could hear over the beating of my heart. ClanFintan moved purposefully through the hallway past a room that was furnished with long wooden tables and the bodies of men, turned to his left again and walked through another door, which led to a much smaller interior courtyard. This courtyard had several entrances, one of which was a steep flight of stone stairs that led up to a large, low room connected to the roof of the castle and its balustraded walls. The barracks the men had poured from that dreadful night.

Even if I hadn’t recognized it from my midnight visit, the half-dressed bodies that littered the stairs and the yard before us gave testament to where we were. And in the far corner, near the bottom of the stairs, was a single body. This man was not joined in death by a comrade who died protecting his back. He slept alone in a bed of his own blood. The circled area around him was empty.

“He’s over there.” I pointed to the lone body and was surprised that my hand did not shake.

ClanFintan nodded in acknowledgment and walked to where I pointed.

It was my father. He lay on his back with his torso twisted toward the ground. His left arm was beneath him, his right one was shredded and his wrist bone jutted through the dangling skin, but it still clutched his sword. His kilt was black and stiff with the blood that pooled beneath and around him. His kilt was torn and it did nothing to hide the deep gouges in his back and chest. I could see that he had been disemboweled. I tore my eyes away from his gaping wounds and my gaze found his face. It rested on the ground, half turned away from me. His eyes were closed and already death had sunken them and heightened the ridge of his cheekbones. His skin was rigid-looking and had the pale grayness of death, but his lips weren’t contorted and tortured. Instead, his shadowed face looked at peace, restful, as if he had finished a difficult job and lay down for a well-earned sleep.

“Why did he die here alone?” ClanFintan’s voice mirrored my sorrow.

“He wasn’t alone. The men fought all around him, but he was still fighting after they had been killed.” I remembered his heroism as he challenged the creatures. “He took many of those things with him—that’s why he’s over here with a ring around him empty of everything except blood—their blood. They must have carried off their dead.”

“Can I take you out of here now?”

“Yes.” And suddenly I knew what must be done. “Burn them.” ClanFintan looked over his shoulder at me. “Build a giant pyre in the courtyard and burn them all. Cleanse this place with fire.” I smiled sadly at what remained of the man who had been a mirror image of my father and whispered, “Set them free.”

“It will be as you say, Rhiannon.”

ClanFintan bowed once to my father’s still form, then turned and headed quickly for the front of the castle. I kept him in view for as long as I was able. I barely heard the commands ClanFintan gave the centaurs that would carry out my wishes. I was looking for a last time at the men around me—acknowledging each death in my mind, wanting to remember each act of bravery…

Then the thought hit me and the breath rushed from my body. ClanFintan twisted around, thinking I was falling again. I clasped his arm and looked intently into his eyes.

“The women! Where are the bodies of the women?” I thought I was yelling, but my voice sounded like a choked whisper.

He froze.

“Dougal!” The palomino centaur appeared quickly, his face pale—his eyes shadowed.

“Have you found any women’s bodies?”

Dougal blinked in confusion, then his eyes widened in understanding.

“No. I have seen no women or girls. Only men and boy children.”

“Call the others. Search for them. I am going to take Lady Rhiannon out of here. Come report to me at the place where we first left the pines.”

Dougal spun away and began calling for the other centaurs.

“Hold tightly to me.”

I reached forward and wrapped my arms around his body, burying my face in the back of his shoulder and breathing deeply, letting his warm, heady scent block out the cloying smell of death. I shut my eyes and felt his muscles bunch and release, bunch and release. The wind whistled past us and I knew each long stride was taking us farther away from the dead. When we reached the forest’s edge he came to a smooth halt. He put his arms over mine where they crossed his chest. Neither of us spoke.

Finally, I was able to loosen my grip and he removed his arms from mine. He turned and gently lifted me. This time he didn’t let go when my feet touched the ground, which was just as well because I couldn’t make myself step out of the comfort of his embrace. The top of my head came only to his lower chest, and I lay the side of my cheek against him, letting his warmth seep into me. I realized I was shaking and my teeth were chattering, and I wondered suddenly if I would ever feel really warm again.

“You were brave. The MacCallan would have been proud of you.” His voice rumbled low in his chest.

“I was scared shitless. I almost fainted.”

“But you did not faint.”

“No, but in the middle of all that I almost fell off you.” My body shuddered at the thought.

“I would have caught you.”

“Thank you.” I tightened my arms around his waist and felt him lean slowly down until his lips rested, for just a moment, against the top of my head.

I tilted my head back and looked into his dark eyes. I didn’t know what to make of this man-horse to whom I was committed for a year of marriage. That he interested me was obvious. He was, after all, like no one else I had ever met. Let’s face it, there aren’t a lot of centaurs running around Oklahoma—at least not in Tulsa (you never know what goes on in the Panhandle). One thing I did suddenly have to admit to myself was that I simply felt better whenever I was touching him. And that had never happened to me before.

Without stopping to contemplate the consequences or my motives, I reached one hand up until it rested on the front of his soft vest. Then I hooked my fingers over the open edge of it and tugged once. He was no dummy and didn’t need any further prompting. I was surprised by the feel of his lips as they met mine—they were warmer than a man’s lips would have been. And, damn, he was big. His arms circled me and I felt the world around us dissolve into his kiss. For a moment I forgot everything except his arms and his lips and the heat of his mouth as his tongue found mine.

And then the beating hooves of a quickly approaching centaur broke our trance. ClanFintan released me—reluctantly, I like to think—as we turned to hear Dougal’s report.

“We could find the remains of none of the women, my Lord.” The young centaur looked as if he had aged a decade in one evening. “But we found tracks leading into the northern forest. Amidst the creatures’ footprints were smaller ones—soft, smoothed-toed sandals like those worn by—” His voice broke.

“Women and girl children,” ClanFintan finished for him.

“Yes, my Lord. They made no attempt to hide their trail. It is as if they wanted all to know what they had done and where they could be found.”

“They are through hiding.” He spoke with such surety that I glanced up at him in surprise.

“How do you know that?”

He looked at me and smiled an apology. “I will explain later.”

He sure as hell would.

Turning back to Dougal, he continued, “Stay here with Lady Rhiannon while I return and we finish what must be done at the castle.” I started to protest, but his finger on my lips silenced me. “We will be able to move more quickly if you wait here. I do not want to be here after dark.”

I had to agree with him on that.

“Watch over her,” he ordered Dougal, gave my hand a quick kiss, then spun around and headed back to the castle. I didn’t envy the task before him.

“My Lady…” Dougal’s young voice sounded shy and hesitant. “May I offer you some wine?” He held out a wineskin that had been strapped to his back.

“Yes, thank you.” I took a deep drink and stared back toward the castle. I could see the centaurs dragging corpses inside the walls. They had disrupted the feeding of the dark birds, which were now circling the castle fretfully. Their greedy cawing carried on the wind. Crows have always made my skin crawl—now I knew why. I took another drink and let the wine wash away the taste of death. Blinking, I forced my eyes away from the gruesome scene and let my vision focus instead on the whitecapped sea. Craggy rocks jutted dramatically up near the edge of the cliff and I had a sudden desire to climb up and let the salty breeze wash the smell of death from my clothes.

I had only taken a couple steps when I heard Dougal’s hooves thud behind me. I spoke over my shoulder to him.