Chapter Twelve

I cursed, slamming my fists at my sides. Whatever enchanted Cuchulainn’s hounds must be the same spell shrouding the bull, protecting it from magical fuckery. I stared at the bull, running my hands through my hair, conjuring up one hackneyed solution after another, only to shoot them all down. I couldn’t send it to sleep because there was no way I was getting that bull back to Maeve’s camp. This wasn’t my first rodeo, but well…

I was so enthralled in my own thoughts, I neglected to hear the camp stirring beside me. There was a flash of light, and a glowing rope fell from the sky at my feet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said, glancing upward. It must have been Bel bestowing a gift. “There’s no way I’m going full cowboy on that thing!”

“You there!” a male voice called behind me.

I whirled around, my heart thundering. The sleep spell had broken, and a hundred angry Ulstermen glared at me, their faces distorted with blood rage. “Ok, rodeo time!” Grabbing the glowing rope, I kicked open the pen, and the bull bolted.

The rope already had a knot twisted into it. All I had to do was stay on long enough and not get gored or trampled. The bull charged, its powerful hooves thundering toward me. I closed my eyes and traveled onto its back, grabbing onto a roll of pure muscle. The Donn Cúailnge bucked wildly, crazed and bellowing. My thighs gripped the sweaty animal tight, but I shifted to the side, the ground perilously close. With a whispered prayer, I threw the rope and it landed with a quick snick around one of its horns. The bull stilled, quiet as a kitten under the power of the rope. I righted myself, kicking in my heels.

“Let’s go!” I cried.

The beast bolted out of the pen, obliterating the door in a rain of splintering wood. The Ulster soldiers shouted and screamed around me as they gathered their weapons to attack. One quick-thinking archer sent an arrow whistling past my ear, and I dug my heels into the bull’s sides, urging it to gallop faster. Soldiers tried to block us, but the bull tore through the camp like a juggernaut, scattering men and trampling anyone foolish enough to stand in our way. More arrows rained down and the beast bellowed as one pierced its side. Once. And then again. I winced, hurting for the poor animal. A searing pain exploded in my shoulder. My leg burned with white-hot flames. I didn’t need to look to see I had been hit.

The narrow pass lay just a few feet away, but one burly Ulsterman stood at its entrance, waving a giant ax. I lowered my head just in time, but the bull gored the soldier, lifting the three hundred-pound man into the air then throwing him like he weighed next to nothing.

We raced through the tunnel, Ulstermen charging at our heels. Cuchulainn must have wandered off into one of the many tunnels, because only a trail of blood gave any sign of him. Blinding light greeted me on the other side, and I blinked, letting out a loud whoop as Maeve’s soldiers swarmed the valley, mowing down the Ulsterman through the bottleneck.

My vision started to fade, a deep fatigue overwhelming me. From far outside of myself, I remembered something I needed to do and unplugged my canteen, pouring it free of water. I set the canteen below Donn Cúailnge’s gushing arrow wound, watching it stream into the container in a bright red line. I plugged it and hid it inside a spare pocket.

I guided the bull up the narrow trail to the hill above. My strength drained out of me, and I could barely hold onto the rope as we made our ascent. A battle waged below, the cries of dying men ringing hollow in my ears, but all I could see were Maeve and Scáthach at the crest of the hill, their hands intertwined as their hair whipped around their heads. Red and gold. Like fire.

My hands trembled, a deep chill invading my limbs, and I slipped off the bull as soon as I reached the summit. The bull snorted and bowed beside me, but otherwise stood as placid as an old milking cow.

I slipped the ropes in Maeve’s hand. “Here’s your bloody bull. Now bring me to Bel.”

And with that, my consciousness went dark.

A hand shook me awake, and my eyes snapped open.

“Elizabeth!” Scáthach’s voice hissed in the darkness. “Easy. You’ll mess with your bandages.”

I leaned back against soft pillows, licking my dry lips. “Water,” I croaked.

Scáthach pressed a goblet to my lips, and I sat up, gulping down the cool liquid. Her face came into focus in the dim light of the tent, her clear eyes studying my face.

“I’m glad you’re awake. I think the fever broke,” she said. “Your wounds nearly did you in, despite Bel’s protection.”

I nodded. “How long was I asleep?”

“Almost three days.”

I let out a long exhale. “I need to talk with Maeve.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “You need rest.”

“I’ve rested for three days. I’m running out of time. We need to go now.” I glanced around. “Where are my things?”

Scáthach pointed to a neatly folded pile of clothes. My Tree of Life necklace lay on top, but the canteen with the bull’s blood was gone. My heart sank. Someone had thrown it out, discarded it in the chaos of the day. I placed my head in my hands, shaking and trembling, staring out through my fingers.

“There was a bottle, a canteen,” I said. “Did someone find it?”

Scáthach gave me a pointed look and opened up her cloak, revealing the canteen attached to her belt. “You mean this?”

My heartbeat raced, and my chest tightened. “Scáthach…”

“Why did you take this blood?” she demanded. “Why did you steal what was not yours?”

I swallowed hard, reaching out for the bottle. “I need it. Please…”

“Why?” she hissed, drawing away, her face growing red.

“It’s just a little bit,” I said. “What does it matter to you?”

“Tell me the truth!”

I raised my hands. “Fine. It’s… It’s for a spell.”

She squinted at me. “Sorcery?”

I nodded. “It’s why I need to find Bel. Why I need to return home.”

“And where is home? Don’t lie to me.”

I let out a long exhale, staring into her eyes, black and dilated with suspicion. “Far away from here,” I said. “In another time.”

She sat back on her haunches, crossing her arms.

“I know it sounds crazy,” I blurted. “But there will come a time when the gods are once again at war and the only thing that can save us is what’s in that bottle there. I’m begging you, Scáthach.”

She took hold of the canteen, untying it from her belt and eyeing the small container. “There is more power in this bottle than most men could ever dream of possessing. Power of a thousand armies. It is life and death. Birth and rebirth. You could create a universe out of what is inside. The blood of a goddess. It is nothing to trifle with.”

“I know,” I said. “I would not have taken it if I’d had another choice. I wouldn’t even be here, if I didn’t think I could make a difference.”

She folded the bottle into my hands. “Keep it safe. Use it for good. But know this.” She pulled me close, my nose in her hair. “If you use it against my Queen, I will slay you myself.”

“I understand,” I said, exhaling with relief. “When do we leave?”

“I will lead you to Bel,” Scáthach said. “But it’s a long march back to Connaught, and we’ll need to find a small band of soldiers to—”

“I can get us to Connaught. Right now,” I interrupted. “We’ll be there in a blink of an eye.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” an imperious voice said behind me. I whirled around to find Queen Maeve standing in the doorway of the tent, her full body clad in gleaming armor. Maeve narrowed her eyes at me. “We have our own war to fight here, sorceress. We—”

“You made a promise! The bull for Bel.” A wave of emotion surged through me, my voice high and hysterical. “I need to get home.”

Maeve’s eyes flashed, her jaw clenched tight.

Scáthach cleared her throat. “Your Highness, we’ve seen how the sorceress can travel. We can place you back in your fortress in Connaught, away from Conchobar’s army. We may have the bull, but their soldiers are closing in on us. Sneaking you off to home might be the best chance of survival.”

Maeve stood still. Outside, the sounds of shouting, galloping horses, and clinking metal echoed through the camp. Instinctively, I could sense the tension in the air. I didn’t remember every single detail about the aftermath of Maeve taking control of the bull, but I knew it wasn’t all roses and lollipops. She might have the power of all of Ireland, but greater forces were aligning against her; she would lose everything once that bull faced its rival.

“Very well,” she said. “Let’s prepare for a journey.”

She marched to her private section of the tent and began filling a rucksack.

“Get dressed,” Scáthach said. “I’ll get you a new staff and pack for the journey.”

I threw on the faded wool tunic and leggings in silence, Scáthach and Maeve scurrying around the tent and stuffing supplies into their packs. My body ached with every movement; even the soft wool of my tunic was painful against my hot wounds. Finally, Scáthach set a pack down next to me, placing a gentle hand between my shoulder blades.

“It’s light,” she said. “You really shouldn’t carry anything, but it will have to do.”

I shrugged the pack over my shoulders and stuffed my knife into my belt. The pain from my side and my thigh burned through me, but when I studied the wounds, there was no sign of infection. Just dark purple bruises, the pain telling me at least I was still alive. The wounds appeared clean with no lasting damage. They just hurt like hell.

Seeing me wince on my left leg, Scáthach shoved a staff into my hands. “Not just for protection. Lean on that as much as possible.”

I nodded, clutching the staff with a grateful smile. “Are you ready?”

Scáthach and Maeve looked at each other, sharing a nervous glance.

“You can really travel that far?” Maeve asked. “All the way to Connaught?”

I shrugged. “I can take you anywhere. But Connaught is where we’re going today.”

Maeve let out a long exhale. “Very well, sorceress. Take me home.”

I closed my eyes, gathering their energy close to my own, and in seconds I spirited us across Ireland until we landed on the craggy hill of Finn’s ancestral home—or what would someday be his home. I opened my eyes, and instead of sublime ruins, only a lonely hill facing the sea greeted us.

A small squeal escaped Maeve’s lips, and she jumped in front of me, clapping her hands. “How is this possible?” she said in a breathless voice.

I smiled. “Magic, Your Highness.”

Scáthach snorted, frowning and scouting out the hill. The sun had risen through the trees, casting long shadows across her lithe form.

“I know this place,” she called to us. “It’s a gateway outpost to the Veil.”

I stopped short. “An outpost?”

She turned around and stared at me like I had grown two heads. “For the Fae to communicate to us through the Veil? To travel freely?”

“You mean the Fae used to travel freely through the Veil?” I asked.

Her eyes narrowed on me. “What do you mean, ‘used to’?”

Maeve walked up to Scáthach, matching her wary scowl.

“I mean, just…” I stammered. “Everything I’ve heard is that the Fae were banished. The Veil was created to keep them out of this world.”

Maeve and Scáthach glanced at each other and then burst out laughing.

Maeve recovered and stepped up to me, cupping my face in her delicate hand. “The Fae are everywhere. They’re in the water, in the air, in the sea. The Druids on both sides created the Veil to keep some order to things, but they’re here. You’re here.”

“Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “But…you mean…the Druids on both sides created the Veil? It wasn’t just the Celts?”

Scáthach shook her head. “It’s been ages past, but it is known, sorceress. Everyone agreed to it. The Fae may roam freely in our realm, and sometimes we mortals slip into their world, although it is rare.”

I let out a long exhale, glancing at the forest, the boulders strewn across the hill. Somehow through the centuries Trinity had twisted the story. Amergin always made it seemed like the Veil was his idea, but there must have been a time when the bard had little power over Ireland.

Maeve turned away, nodding to the dark horizon. “We have a ways to go before nightfall. Let’s get moving.”

We marched in grim silence for several hours, over craggy cliffs and quiet meadows, never confronting another soul. We entered an ancient forest, the ground and towering trees covered in a blanket of bright green moss. Finally, we arrived at a giant oak tree, its gnarled roots twisting and turning in and out of the ground.

Maeve turned to me. “Are you sure you wish to find Bel? Sometimes the answers we need are not the ones we seek.”

I looked up at the enormous branches casting a thick canopy over our heads. Bands of sunlight pierced through the leaves, and a light breeze blew Maeve’s hair across her face. Scáthach edged toward her, studying me, her shoulder muscles tensing.

“Is Bel here?” I asked.

Maeve pointed to the tree. “He’s through there.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Through the tree?”

“Not through it,” she replied, “but as sovereign I can seek out the gods when I choose. Such is my right as queen of this land.” She pressed her hand to the rough bark, tracing her fingers around its knots and crevices. “This is no mere tree, sorceress.”

With her jaw set, she pressed her palm firmly against the bark. Closing her eyes, Maeve murmured a few indistinguishable words. The pattern of the bark swirled and shifted apart. I gasped as a face emerged in the tree—a long pointed nose, a frowning, wizened mouth, and a pair of closed eyes.

The eyes opened, revealing a dark gaze, its pupils darting side to side. “Who calls me?”

My heart pounded, and I edged away, taking in the Ent-looking creature peering out from the bark of the oak.

Maeve threw back her shoulders, lifting her haughty nose in the air. “I am Queen Maeve of Connaught, and I request the aid of The Green Man as is my right as sovereign.”

The oak scowled and let out a low, throaty chuckle, peering down at Maeve as if she were a particularly chatty and annoying squirrel. “You may request it, but it does not mean I will aid you.”

“My request is not for me, but for the sorceress Elizabeth Tanner.” She waved to me, and The Green Man flashed me a bored stare.

“That is no sorceress,” the tree grumbled.

Maeve kept her face blank, but the muscles in her jaw tensed. “She seeks Bel.”

The bark between its wide wooden eyes knotted together. “Such a request comes at a price.”

“I don’t care what the price is,” I said. “I need to find Bel.”

“Your life for passage,” The Green Man said.

“What?” I squawked, spluttering and throwing down my walking staff. “He came to me.” I clasped my sweaty hands together, drawing them to my chest. “He told me to find him.”

“To seek a god such as Bel is to seek death,” it said. “There is no other way.”

The man in the tree gave me a blank stare, and I shifted my feet, my stomach dropping to the forest floor. I understood now: the path to saving the world meant a sacrifice. A human sacrifice.

I could find Bel, and perhaps the god would pass on the essence to Morven, but I would die. My journey would end. A pulse of rage fired through me. Rage at Morven, at the ghost of Bel who had visited me. All of that—to die alone on the other side. I glanced back at Maeve and Scáthach, the two of them huddled close together. I wondered if I might stay with them, find another way home through some other astral path I hadn’t discovered yet. Morven said I had the ability. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the circle he had drawn back in his tent. I placed all my emotions and all my strength into that one moment, but when I opened my eyes, I let out a small cry of exhaustion. I still remained lost in time.

Maeve shook her head, her usually implacable face filled with emotion. “I am sorry. The gods are cruel sometimes.”

I covered my eyes with my palms, shutting out the light, my fingers trembling.

I had to make this sacrifice. A black hole threatened to destroy everyone, all of the people I loved. Regardless of what I wanted, I needed to save them, and I had to follow this path where it led me. With a deep breath, I lowered my hands, scrubbed my face, and straightened my spine. “I need to find Bel, whatever it takes, even if it means forsaking my own life.”

Scáthach let out a long breath. “Are you sure?”

I gave her a long, hard stare, taking in her blond braids, her piercing eyes, her strong arms. She had been a good teacher, and now I had to face the fight, figure out a way to save the world or what was left of it in the future.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said. “I’m sure as the blood running through my veins. I must do this.”

The Green Man rumbled, and the trunk of the tree shook as the roots began to twist and turn through the black earth, revealing a dark hole at the base of the oak. I stared into it, my gaze lost to the murky depths. With a deep breath, I took a step forward.

“Wait!” Scáthach grabbed my arm and pulled me in for a close embrace.

She took my canteen, the one with the blood of the bull inside. Leaning in, she whispered faintly in my ear, “Drink it, and it may save you from The Green Man’s price. But not for long.” She stepped back and gave me a rare smile, calling after me. “Make sure to drink enough water!”

I nodded to her and waved at Maeve. The Green Man peered down at me with a frown, and gathering up every shred of courage I had, I stepped inside the tunnel.