Chapter Eleven

On the walk to the pass, Scáthach drilled me on Cuchulainn’s weaknesses, his signature moves, tricks I needed to watch for. But I barely heard her as we marched through the high grass. The sun shone so bright and the sky stretched above in a searing shade of blue, clear and endless. Rumor had swept through the camp of Maeve’s new champion and her fiery spear, and hundreds of soldiers followed us, beating on their shields as they marched in a raucous line in our wake. All the terror from the night before, all the worry and the anxiety, the endless questions and the pain and anguish, all had vanished. The warm energy from Bel had replaced the paralyzing anxiety that had left me breathless and alone. I didn’t feel confident, necessarily. Not cocky or arrogant. The great light embraced me, and I felt safe inside it. Untouchable, relentless as a fire, as endless as a beam of light.

We reached the pass, and Cuchulainn looked up at us, readying the Gae Bolg at his side. I made to climb down to the valley, but Scáthach grabbed my arm and pulled me into a tight embrace. I tensed, shocked at the sudden gesture.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she whispered in my ear. “Move in and out swiftly and keep away from that spear. And just…don’t be an idiot.”

I nodded, clapping her arm. “You’re a great teacher, Scáthach. I won’t forget you.”

I turned away before she could catch me again, hopping from stone to stone with the bright sun on my shoulders. With every jump down into the valley, the sunlight continued to infuse me with energy, and by the time my feet slammed to the bottom, I practically pirouetted. What was fighting but another dance? I stared across the valley to my dance partner. My opponent. And yet, with the light bouncing off his steel helmet, the buckles on his breastplate, I wondered how different things would be in any other circumstances.

“My name is Elizabeth Tanner,” I called across the narrow valley. “I am Maeve’s champion.”

Loud cheers erupted from the cliffs above, the guttural cries of her army bouncing off the craggy hills.

Cuchulainn rolled his spear across his body. The legends didn’t lie. He was a giant, taller than Finn, even. Dark hair flecked with red trailed down his massive shoulders, and his arms were thick globes, as big as my thighs. Tattoos decorated his bronze skin, and he sneered, his dark gaze traveling from my boots to the crown of my head. His eyes lingered at my fiery spear, studying it, but then he burst into a fit of laughter.

“Maeve insults me by offering you,” he bellowed across the valley. “I will give you a moment to turn back now, little girl. And tell Maeve to find a champion worthy of me.”

I smiled, bowing to him. “I won’t turn back, Cuchulainn. But allow me to take the Donn Cúailnge. I have no quarrel with you.”

Hesitation passed over his eyes for a moment, but he let out another barking laugh. “I admire your boldness, but this is not a child’s game.”

“Good. For I am not a child.” Using my mind, I lifted a dozen boulders into the air. A strange hush swept across the valley as the stones lingered there, turning and turning like tiny planets. “I am Elizabeth Tanner, the last Aisling of her time, ruler of the Fae Resistance. I have come to your age to retrieve this bull, and nothing in this world or the next will deter me.”

Cuchulainn frowned at the spinning stones, but with a shake of his head, he barreled forward, his spear flashing and hungry for blood.

My blood.

I unleashed the stones, and one hit Cuchulainn square in his knee. He howled, staggering to the ground with a horrible snarl. Another one smashed into his shoulder. He tumbled to the ground, and far above, Maeve’s army hollered and screamed.

“Yield to me,” I shouted across the valley. “And I will take the bull.”

He leaped to his feet, brandishing his spear with a war cry.

I lifted up my hand, using my Aisling energy to push him back. He landed against the rock face with a sharp crack and crashed to his knees.

“This is the last time I will ask.” I walked closer, but not in reach of his deadly spear. I knew what that weapon could do, and I wouldn’t ignore Scáthach’s advice. Stay out of the way.

“I will take the bull,” I demanded.

Cuchulainn opened one eye and let out another dark peal of laughter. “I would rather die.”

“Very well,” I whispered.

I struck straight for his chest, but Cuchulainn rolled out of the way. He feinted low, but then sliced his spear through the air, aiming for my neck. Just like I had with Scáthach, I slowed down time, the spearhead moving at jerky, incremental motions, allowing me to sidestep easily. Time sped up again, and I traveled to the other side of Cuchulainn, jabbing my spear into his side. His body arched, and he let out a short gasp of pain. Not missing a beat, he pivoted sharply, the Gae Bolg passing by my gut with just a hairsbreadth of space. I traveled again, to the other side, and jabbed. Cuchulainn twisted, locking his spear against mine before I could pull away.

His face was inches away from mine. Sweat seeped from his pores, dirt and grit smeared against his cheek. He snarled and, with one swift movement head-butted me so hard my ears rang. I didn’t let go of my spear, but I staggered back, stunned. My fiery spear let loose from his skin with a sickening squelch, and I only had a second to travel out of there before Cuchulainn pierced through my vital organs.

I couldn’t even catch my breath before he charged me again, swinging his spear in a great arc. I blocked his attack, the force of it reverberating through my limbs and settling deep in my belly. My muscles took over, and without thinking I ran through the forms Scáthach taught me. Up, down. Up, down. Side. Side. Whirl. Whirl. Up, down. Cuchulainn met me count for count, but I managed to graze his jaw as he settled into the fighting pattern with me. Welts broke out from the flames, blood pouring from his side, but the warrior was relentless, his strength unwavering.

He feinted left, and I made to block, but he whirled, the Gae Bolg twisting deep in my side. Pain burst through my body, but I recovered quickly, turning to parry his spear away. He whirled his spear low, trying to slice through my ankles, but I jumped at the last minute, traveling out of range to assess my wounds.

He must have anticipated my move, because as soon as I materialized at the other end of the valley, a knife twisted through the air. I slowed down time again, the knife sailing in slow motion, allowing me enough time to slide to the left. When I glanced up at Cuchulainn again, his eyes were closed, a low chanting echoing through the valley. When he opened them again, a pair of giant hounds materialized beside him, snarling and bellowing.

Maeve’s soldiers quieted above, and blood roared in my ears as the hounds lunged toward me, their white teeth glinting razor sharp in their gaping maws.

I reached out a hand, trying to push them back with my Aisling energy. But that didn’t work, nor could I bend time to stop them. Each time I did, the rest of the world paused, but they kept galloping toward me, magically protected.

Shit.

I brandished my spear, the pale flames creating wild tracers in the air, but the hounds leaped forward. I managed to wound one with my spear, but the other one tackled me, its teeth locking on my neck and dragging me across the valley and forcing my spear from my hands.

I couldn’t scream. Blood filled my throat, my lungs. Bel’s spell healed me, but the hound was vicious, its razor-sharp teeth tearing and biting the freshly healed skin. The beast dragged me to the foot of Cuchulainn, forcing me down with its enormous weight. I tried to push Cuchulainn back with my Aisling powers, but the hound created some sort of magical barrier between its master and my abilities. I struggled for air, darkness closing in.

Cuchulainn hovered over me. “Yield,” he demanded.

Yield. Yes. I needed to yield. It would mean losing the bull forever and a way back home, but I could find some other path. I couldn’t do that if I were dead.

I opened my mouth, prepared to give in, but just as the words collected on my lips, a great flash of light appeared in the sky.

A twisting, glowing snake fell through the air. No. Not a snake. An eel! The giant creature landed at Cuchulainn’s feet and twisted around his legs, tripping him. The hound, sensing a new enemy, raised itself up from my neck and nipped at the eel as it sent volts of electricity through the warrior. I scrambled to my feet and summoned my flaming spear into my hands. Who had summoned that eel? A Druid? Bel? The Morrígan? It didn’t matter. I marched over to Cuchulainn, but a thundering sound made me pause. I glanced down the length of the valley, and I had to blink, my eyes not registering the great stampede heading right for us. A white calf with strange red eyes led the charge, and my stomach dropped to the ground.

It was her. I recalled it from the story. The Morrígan. She had interfered to save the day, to keep me alive for some reason not known to me then, but shit if I wouldn’t let her stomp Cuchulainn to death. Gathering my Aisling energy, I pushed him into the pass, no more than a crevice allowing two men to walk through it. The massive beasts charged around us, the dust clouding my vision. The eel disappeared around his feet, and the great warrior laid there, electricity still rattling through his body. His hound whined, its wet nose pressing against his cheek, glancing at me and back to his master, not sure what to do.

I pointed my flaming spear at Cuchulainn’s head. “I saved your life. I’m taking that bull, okay? You’re going to be all right, but watch the Morrígan. The eel that tripped you? That was her. She’s after you.”

Cuchulainn struggled to lift his head, waving my spear away, and passing out with exhaustion.

I skirted around the hound and Cuchulainn’s prostrate body. Panting and sweating, I raced through the cave feeling more and more fatigued with every step. By the time I had reached the end, my energy had completely depleted, each movement an agony of effort. I released my spear as pale flames ran down the staff, incinerating it. It vanished in a puff of smoke, and I leaned against the wall, blinking hard and shaking my head.

“So much for that,” I said beneath my breath.

Bel had aided me through my battle with Cuchulainn, but clearly, I was on my own now.

I peeked out of the narrow pass and gasped at the sight before me. I wasn’t prepared to see the masses of bodies up close, still in their armor and clutching their weapons. I stepped lightly around the slumbering men, seeking out the Donn Cúailnge. I picked up a leather canteen and gulped down long draughts of sweet, fresh water, tying the rest to my belt. I checked that my knife, vials, and the sleeping draught were still in my pocket before continuing on.

I finally found the bull on the other side of the camp, standing in the middle of a highly fortified pen. Its tail switched back and forth, and its massive horned head bowed and snorted. Magic hummed from its muscled body, its slick black fur shining with unnatural light. I let out a long exhale and smiled. Finally, after everything, I had come to face to face with the beast. I took out the draught and the vials, and closing my eyes, I sought out the bull’s energy, preparing myself to travel out of the camp and back to Maeve. But instead of a glowing orb of power, I found—nothing.