Elphame's Choice (6 page)

Just like a normal person,
she thought, unable to contain her smile.

With Cu following close behind, they retraced the path from the ruins of the courtyard back through the gap in the ancient walls to where their party waited.

As Danann had noted, they were a youthful group—most of them younger sons who had been willing to embark upon the adventure of restoring MacCallan Castle because they had the desire to carve their own way in the world. There would be land and opportunity if MacCallan Castle lived again—and that had spelled excitement to their hot blood.

And then there was the young goddess, Elphame. All of Partholon knew that she had been given to them by Epona as a special blessing, but no one quite understood why. Epona’s ways were often mysterious. She was a benevolent Goddess, but She did not often meddle with the day-to-day activities of Her people; instead She chose one woman—someone with whom She had a special bond, and it was through this Chosen One that Epona led Her people. That Elphame had been marked so obviously by Partholon’s deity, especially while her mother still reigned as Goddess Incarnate, had been a source of awe and speculation since Elphame’s birth. Epona had touched Elphame, and now Elphame was determined to restore MacCallan Castle. Surely the honor of accompanying her in her quest would bring them luck that even rumors of the MacCallan curse couldn’t tarnish. Or at least that was what they had told themselves as they joined her. They had even believed it, until they had come face-to-face with the crumbling walls of the war-torn castle.

As Elphame stepped into view the men and centaurs who had been gathered nervously several feet from the entrance fell silent. Most of them were accustomed to the sight of the young goddess, but her appearance still affected them—and that particular morning she looked even more extraordinary
than usual. Her face was alight and her skin seemed to glow. Several of the young men and centaurs found themselves thinking how spectacular she was, and when her full, sensuous lips tilted up in a brilliant smile, many of the gathered males felt an answering response in their blood—but only briefly—until they reminded themselves that they could not lust after a goddess come to earth. No matter how tempting she appeared.

When Elphame spoke her voice carried through the group like a firebrand. “From the blossoms on the branches, to the singing birds and the whispering breeze, to the pillars of this castle—we are being welcomed. The very stones of MacCallan Castle greet us with joy. It will no longer be a ruin.” Elphame raised her hands over her head and shouted, “Rejoice! It will be our home!” Heat tingled through her arms as it had when she communed with the stone and her body felt deliciously on fire.

The group reacted as one, not so much to her words or to the idea of rebuilding MacCallan Castle, instead they responded to her—their spectacular goddess. With one voice they shouted a cheer that caused the ancient walls before them to echo again with the jubilant sounds of the living.

From his hiding place within the trees Lochlan watched the group. Men and centaurs—young and proud. He recognized the fire in their blood as they responded to her. And he recognized her, too. How could he not? He had known that he would find her here. Still, the sight of her jolted him. She looked so much more alive than she had in his dreams, and seeing her in person made him realize that he had never really comprehended the depth of her beauty.

Her body! It radiated passion and otherworldly power. He felt a surge of desire deep within his loins. His blood pumped
hot and strong, and with his arousal he felt his massive wings quiver and begin to become erect. Quickly he forced himself to look away from her so that he could bring his lust under control.

Pain spiked in his temples and radiated throughout his body, carried by the blood that pulsed hard and hot within him. His body fought against his desire for control, but, as always, Lochlan pulled from his well of humanity to conquer his darker impulses. The pounding of his blood quieted. His wings shivered once more before refolding neatly against his back.

He ignored the familiar pain that continued to echo, phantomlike through his mind.

Once more in control, he allowed his eyes to return to her. At that instant she raised her arms over her head and the group shouted in response. He smiled, showing long, dangerous-looking canines. She made him want to shout, too. He had been right to come alone; the others could not possibly understand. But thinking of the others sent a tide of despair through him that threatened to engulf him. He could feel them. He could always feel them—their need, their pain, their belief in him. He shuddered and closed that part of his mind. Not now. He could not think of the others now. Not when everything within him that was honorable and true—everything that was human—wanted to rush to her and tell her that she had filled his dreams and his heart for as long as he could remember.

He took a ragged breath and raked his hand across his face. He couldn’t go to her. Not in the open. Not yet. They would only see him as a Fomorian; they would kill him. He could not fight them all for her. No matter how desperately he ached to.

Remember your promise
. His conscience whispered through his memory in his beloved mother’s voice.
Remember the Prophecy.
It is your destiny to find a way to heal your people and to bring them back to Partholon. It is you who must fulfill Epona’s Prophecy.

Lochlan couldn’t act selfishly. He had to consider the others. He had to end their pain, even if it meant…

Struggling against a crushing sense of loss he wrenched his gaze from her and soundlessly disappeared back into the depths of the forest.

“ARE YOU PURPOSEFULLY
trying to spoil my fun and sentence me to a life of celibacy?” Cuchulainn grumbled at his sister.

Elphame grinned. “I hardly think that assigning you to oversee the outdoors, mostly male workers, while I interview women for staff positions at the castle will in any way affect your overactive love life.”

“Come, boy. I’ll join you and choose which of this sorry young lot might make passable stonemasons,” Danann said, clapping him good-naturedly on his shoulder. “Then you can take the rest of them and begin clearing away the mounds of rubble within, as your sister directed.” The old centaur winked at Elphame. “Keep this in mind—women will be more likely to grace your bed when the walls around it are sturdy and clean.”

“You mean unlike this wreck,” Cu said.

“That is precisely what I mean,” Danann said.

“Hrumph.” Cu snorted as he and the Stonemaster headed out of the main courtyard to return to the workers.

Elphame shook her head at her brother’s retreating figure. His strong voice drifted back to her through the courtyard as he called to order the group of men and centaurs who were outside the castle walls. After she’d greeted the workers, Cu, Danann and Elphame had made a quick sweep of the castle grounds, and it hadn’t taken long for them to realize that they could do little in the way of restoration before they cleared the debris that had accumulated over the course of the past century. So the first order of business was tedious, but necessary. Cleaning.

Hands on her hips, Elphame looked around her. Now that she was alone she relaxed her expression and narrowed her eyes. What a mess. It was true that the basic walls and structures of the castle were still standing, but everything else was a ruin. What The MacCallan’s funeral pyre had missed, time had destroyed. Elphame felt her shoulders slump. It was so much bigger than she had imagined. The castle grounds, ringed by thick stone walls, took up an enormous area. How many people had once lived here? At least as many as currently populated the sleepy little village of Loth Tor. Could she really do it? Could she really restore all of it?

Feeling decidedly overwhelmed, Elphame’s eyes were drawn back to the fire-scarred central column. She rubbed her hands together, remembering the warm sensation of communing with the stone. Magic…she had never Felt even a hint of it before, and today she had suddenly been bombarded with the knowledge that she had an affinity for the spirits of the stones. What did that really mean?

“Why not stay here and take my place…I have had a long, rich reign. I am ready to retire.”

Her mother’s words drifted out of her memory, causing her
stomach to tighten with anxiety. She couldn’t take her mother’s place! Whether she Felt the spirits in the stones or not, she wasn’t ready to lead Partholon; she wasn’t her mother.

“Stop it!” Elphame told herself severely. Her mother was Epona’s Chosen; she was not. She was just feeling daunted by the enormity of the task before them, which was natural. She glanced at the fire-scarred, crumbling walls. “It’s not like you thought it was going to be easy,” she muttered, shaking herself mentally. She just needed to get started. Take things one step at a time. Stay in control.

It was her castle. Her home.

“Elphame!” Cuchulainn’s voice boomed back along the empty courtyard. “The women are here!”

“This is where I begin,” Elphame whispered. She could not lead Partholon—in truth, she had no desire to—but she could make MacCallan Castle live again. She gave the strong central column a parting smile before hurrying to the entrance of the castle.

The women were milling in a small group several feet from the gap in the castle walls. Unnoticed, Elphame watched them from the shadows. They looked young and scared. And they were so few! She quickly counted—just over a dozen. Nearly three times that many men and centaurs had volunteered. And all the women were humans. Not one centaur female had answered her call? Not even a young huntress in training? El allowed herself to feel the disappointment only briefly. She had a job to do and she would simply have to work with what was available to her. Maybe their smaller numbers would give her a chance to get to know them more personally. That would be a nice change.

She didn’t allow herself the luxury of hoping that she might actually make a friend—she could hardly imagine such a thing. But maybe this little group of women could learn to interact
with her as if she were a clan chieftain, or even a high priestess, instead of treating her like an object to be worshipped—goddess, untouchable and beyond mortal emotions.

When Elphame emerged from the ruin, the group curtsied nervously.

Elphame cleared her throat and put on her best welcoming smile. “Good morning. I am pleased to see that so many of you are interested in restoring MacCallan Castle and making it your home. The men—” she gestured over their heads at the groups that were already forming and beginning to clear rubble from around the castle walls “—will take care of most of the heavy work, but that doesn’t mean that your jobs will be any less important. I will need cooks and women who are skilled with weaving and needlepoint.” Without realizing it, Elphame’s smile turned dreamy. “As MacCallan comes alive again I want to fill its walls with beautiful tapestries that will make even my mother jealous.”

Responding to the goddess’s sweet expression, several of the women smiled tentatively back at her. Bolstered by their positive reaction, Elphame continued in a strong, sure voice.

“And I will, of course, need women to help me with the daily care of the castle.” Elphame laughed and looked pointedly at the weeds and refuse that choked the entry to the castle. “Some days it will definitely need more care than others.”

One of the women giggled, and then covered her mouth with her hand and blushed furiously.

Elphame met her eyes. “Don’t ever be afraid to laugh here. I know it doesn’t look like it now, but the stones sing with happiness at our arrival. MacCallan will be a joyous home.”

The girl took her hand from her mouth and smiled shyly at the goddess.

“What is your name?” Elphame asked her.

“Meara,” she said, her voice breaking nervously.

“Meara,” Elphame repeated. “What job is it that you are most skilled at?”

“I—I—” she stammered and then finally finished in a rush. “I am good at keeping things tidy.”

“Then you have come to the right place. There is much tidying awaiting you.” Her gaze traveled over the rest of the small group. “Those of you who are good at cleaning, please give your names to Meara.” Elphame looked back at the girl she had singled out and saw her eyes widen with pride. “Meara, I will ask you to give me a list of your workers at the end of the day. Now,” Elphame began again, “who are my cooks?”

With only a slight hesitation, four young women who had been standing in a little clump close together raised their hands. The one in the middle of the group took a half step forward. She had fiery red hair and lovely jade-colored eyes.

“We heard your call and came from McNamara Castle. The head cook there was…” She paused and looked at her friends for support. They nodded encouragement to her. “She was verra grumpy, and she dinna like young cooks. Aye, she especially dinna not like young cooks with new ideas.” The redhead rolled her words with a soft, western brogue.

Elphame raised her eyebrows. “Well, I can assure you that I do not mind young cooks, and I especially
like
new ideas. I do not think I am grumpy, but Cuchulainn would probably disagree with me.”

At the mention of her handsome brother’s name, the girls tittered and smiled.

“So which among you is the best cook?” Elphame asked.

Three pairs of eyes shifted to the woman who had spoken for them.

“We are all fine cooks, but I admit to having a special talent in the kitchen. My name is Wynne. The lassies who join me
are Ada, Colleen and Ula.” She pointed to each woman in turn as she spoke.

“Wynne, I am pleased to announce that you are my new head cook,” Elphame said. “The first order of business for you will be inspecting what is left of the castle’s kitchens. Take note of what must be repaired in order to get it into working order as quickly as possible. You have many hungry mouths to feed.”

“Aye, Goddess,” Wynne said, curtseying quickly.

Elphame could feel her jaw setting at the title. Goddess. They would never see her as herself—Elphame, a young woman who liked to run and laugh with her family and had a tendency to be a little too fond of long soaks in her mother’s bathing pool—at least they wouldn’t as long as everyone insisted upon seeing her only as a goddess.

Perhaps this new beginning could change that. She made the decision quickly.

“Ladies,” she said, and the chattering that had begun silenced as all eyes turned to her. “I would like to ask a favor of each of you. We are going to be working closely together, and I would prefer it if you would call me by my name instead of by the title of Goddess.”

The women blinked at her, shocked expressions mirrored on each face.

Elphame sighed.

“Or you could call me my Lady. Anything but Goddess,” she said, feeling a little desperate when no one spoke. “Let’s see,” she continued quickly. “What else? I know. Is there anyone here who is skilled at weaving or needlepoint?”

Several hands went up. Elphame caught the eye of one rather plump blonde whose rosy face seemed to have a perpetual glow.

“What is your name?” El asked her.

“Caitlin.”

“Caitlin, can you weave or needlepoint?”

“Both, Godde—my Lady.”

“Excellent. I have several ideas for the new tapestries. Actually, I would like them to reflect a theme for each major room of the castle, beginning with the Great Hall.” Elphame’s voice lit with excitement. “And the theme for the Great Hall will be the castle itself. I want the tapestries to show MacCallan Castle living again in all of its grandeur and beauty.”

Caitlin blinked several times before speaking. “But, Goddess…ur…I mean, my Lady, how will we know what to weave? It—” she pointed helplessly at the hulking structure before them “—it doesn’t look so grand now.”

Elphame frowned. She’d forgotten that everyone didn’t have a picture of the restored castle imprinted upon their minds.

“I suppose I will have to find an artist….” She trailed off, staring at her beloved, tumbledown castle.

“I could sketch it for you, my Lady.”

El’s head snapped around and she searched the women, trying unsuccessfully to see who had spoken.

“Who spoke?” she asked.

The same soft voice answered from the rear of the group. “I am Brenna.”

“Come here, I can’t see you,” Elphame said impatiently.

The group parted to let a petite brunette woman through. Her head was bowed and her face was obscured. Elphame noticed immediately that the rest of the women averted their eyes from her, as if the sight of her made them uncomfortable. Then the small woman lifted her head. Elphame felt an unexpected jolt run through her body as she looked the woman full in the face, and El had to force her expression to remain impassive.

Brenna was young, and had once been pretty, Elphame
could tell that from the left side of her face. The right side of her face was a ruin. A terrible burn scar ran from her neck all the way up to cover the entire right side of her face. It was thick and mottled with the shiny pink and white pigments that distinguished the deepest of burns. The right side of her mouth was missing its lip line, which was all the more horrible when compared to the smooth fullness of the unharmed lips on the other side of her face. Her right eye was clear and appeared unharmed. It was the same doe brown as her left eye, but the scars at the corner of it seemed to pull it down, giving it a droopy appearance.

She stood very still, letting Elphame study her. She met the goddess’s gaze unflinchingly.

“I believe I can draw your castle for you,” she said in a clear, confident voice.

“Are you an artist, Brenna?” Elphame asked.

“I have a small talent for sketching, especially for sketching things that I imagine in my mind.” She smiled a crooked smile that Elphame was surprised to find endearing. “So I think I might be able to sketch things that you imagine, too, if you can describe them to me.”

El nodded enthusiastically, but before she could speak Brenna continued, “But you should know that I do not consider myself an artist. I am a Healer.”

Elphame’s face split into a wide smile. “Then you are most welcome, Brenna. With all these workers lugging this and building that, we are bound to have several mishaps that will require a Healer’s touch. I know my own brother, though an accomplished warrior, is uncommonly prone to cuts and scrapes.”

For an instant Elphame saw Brenna’s expression change, and it was as if a shadow passed over the young woman’s ravaged face. But she responded with no hesitation.

“Of course, my Lady. I am always pleased to be where I am needed.”

“Elphame!” Like a masculine tornado, Cuchulainn strode through the group of women. Eyes sparkling, he nodded to several of the prettiest before he reached his sister’s side. “The supply wagons are bottled up in that mess that was once called the main road to the castle. I have dispatched the centaurs to meet them and to hack a path through to the front walls. When the wagons get here I think it best that we set up tents outside the castle walls, at least until we can make that monster inhabitable again.”