I remembered their horrible, ground-eating strides and had to agree with him.

Carolan continued, “The people of Partholon met and decided it would be an abomination to allow them to die in the flames, or to die of famine after the fire burned itself out. So an enormous bridge was constructed over the Geal River, one that was fashioned of timbers layered with soil, then more timbers and more soil. Actually, the remains of that bridge can be found not far from here.” We just stared at him until he took a gulp of wine and spoke again. “The Fomorians crossed over and our two races attempted to live in peace together.”

“I have only heard that the Fomorians were stories made up to frighten small children.” ClanFintan interrupted Carolan’s lecture. “Why is it not known that the people of Partholon aided them to come here?”

“There were very few written records of the Fomorians. Only scribes would know that the stories even exist, and most of the records are so ancient they are difficult to decipher, so few scribes bother to study the crumbling tomes.”

ClanFintan’s look told me scribes must be celibate—or girls (or nerds) or something.

As if reading my mind, Carolan chuckled. “Unless someone with scribe training happens to be a historian with too much free time and curiosity.”

Alanna squeezed his hand and they smiled sweetly at each other.

He continued, “So, you see, the only legends that survived as oral tales for the bards to tell were those that originated after the war.”

All three of us looked surprised. It was a relief not to be the only clueless one this time.

“Yes, the oral legends only tell about what happened after the Fomorians crossed the Geal River.”

I thought about how things worked in my old world and decided that it all made sense. I mean, please, there were numerous politicians who would have thought life would be much easier if most of the people couldn’t read or write (or hire lawyers and get on 60 Minutes).

“So what do the oral legends tell us?” I piped in.

“The Fomorians were weakened, and their numbers were few, but their true nature was soon known. It is written that they were a race of demons, generally monstrous and hideous, who dabbled in dark powers.” He held up his hand and counted off items on his fingers. “They liked to drink the blood of humans. They were physically discomforted if they walked about in the sunlight. They could not cross running water. They thought themselves beyond all laws of nature and Epona.” He grimaced.

I thought they sounded a lot like Fidel Castro, but that comparison would take a seriously long time to explain, so I kept quiet.

“Legends say a war ensued. The Fomorians were small in number. They were defeated, forced through the pass in the Trier Mountains, and banished to the far north. Then Guardian Castle was erected to stand as sentinel of the pass. It has blocked the pass for generations.”

“Not anymore,” I said.

“The northland should have destroyed them,” Carolan replied. “It is too cold and desolate there. The sun shines brightly, but it gives off no heat. They should have disappeared into the bad dreams of children.”

“Well, they’re back.” I said it with the Poltergeist inference. It was pretty safe to assume they hadn’t seen the movie—but they understood the implication.

“How can they be killed?” ClanFintan’s voice cut the air between us.

“Unfortunately, they are remarkably resilient. Cut off their heads. Burn them. That will kill them.” He looked apologetically at the centaur. “Legend says they are difficult to kill.”

“Did the legends say anything about them mating with humans?” I thought I should inquire.

“No!” Carolan looked shocked. “There were not many of them, but they had females of their own kind.”

“Well, they still have females,” I said, remembering the winged things that had grabbed the fetus out of that poor woman’s womb. “But it doesn’t look like they’re making babies with them. They’re making babies with human girls and letting the, uh, fetal things rip out of the mothers’ wombs.”

Carolan paled.

“That is what is happening to the women.” ClanFintan’s statement was like a death knell.

“Then they are multiplying,” Carolan said quietly.

That sounded bad.

“Yes,” ClanFintan answered. “Before Ian died he reported that there were many of them.”

“You have to stop them.” Alanna’s voice was verging on shrill.

Carolan put his arm around her in a gesture that was so familiar to me that, for an instant, I could almost believe I was back in my condo, and Gene and Suz had stopped in for brunch. It was an eerie feeling, this blending of two worlds, and it made me disconcertingly dizzy. I had to avert my eyes…and my gaze was caught by the rear end of my husband—who was most definitely half horse. Which gave me a very decisive reality check. This world didn’t play by the same rules I was used to. No cars. No planes. No TV (thank God) where violence was relegated to the realm of what happened only to other people.

For a moment I was overwhelmed by the reality of the situation. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and I had been thrust into a position of authority at a time when these people really needed someone who knew what the hell she was doing. I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead, a sure sign I was getting a tension headache.

And my husband’s strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me securely back against his warmth. I felt the tension begin to drain from me as I remembered that I was not alone. I opened my eyes and smiled up at him.

“They were defeated once before,” he said with finality. “They will be defeated again.”

“And this time Partholon is allied with the mighty centaur warriors,” Carolan reminded us.

ClanFintan bowed his head in acknowledgment of Carolan’s compliment and gave me a rakish leer. “Aye, there are few things a centaur and a human together cannot accomplish.”

Alanna giggled and I think I blushed. But I got his point. We needed to work together to get rid of the Fomorians. I could either sit here and worry, letting other people (and half animals) think for me, or I could act. I have always been a firm believer in facing problems. Experience teaches that there are very few bad things that will simply go away if they’re ignored (a concept teenagers have a difficult time grasping). Quite frankly, I’d rather do something and be wrong than sit around and grow moss (which really couldn’t be very attractive anyway).

“So they just attacked Laragon Castle,” I said. “If I remember from my one look at the map of Partholon, the only things close to Laragon Castle are a big lake, and—” I cut myself off as I remembered what was on the other side of the lake.

“The Temple of the Muse!” Alanna’s voice held the horror I was feeling.

“Ohmygod, aren’t they just a bunch of women?” I asked Alanna.

Carolan answered me. “Yes. There are nine Incarnate Goddesses. Each is a mistress of her particular craft.” His tone was sober and he sounded worried as he explained, “Each of them also has many attendants and neophytes. The Temple of the Muse is where the most beautiful and talented young women of Partholon are schooled in the arts of dance, poetry, music, the sciences, etcetera. Women who successfully complete their training are respected for their intelligence and education, as well as their grace and beauty.” Then he added, “Rhiannon was trained by the Muses.”

“But don’t they have guards like I have here?” This was looking really bad.

“No. Epona is a goddess of warriors. It is only logical that guards should surround Her Chosen. The Muses are not warriors; they are teachers of art and beauty and science. They have no need of guards.”

“They do now.” My stomach felt sick. An image of my wedding celebration flashed through my mind, and with it came a mental picture of the woman who was a mirror image of my friend, Michelle. As Muse of the Dance she had been exquisite—beautiful and alluring. I didn’t want to think about what the creatures would do to a temple filled with gorgeous women like her.

“Come on.” I stood up. “Let’s go in there and look at that map.” I gestured to the door that led to the library room. “We have to figure out some way to stop them from getting any more women.”

PART III

1

Alanna rolled the map down and I stood close enough to see it without actually touching it. Our eyes traced a path from Guardian to Laragon Castle. Laragon was a huge structure situated south of the Trier Mountains. The northerly tip of Loch Selkie jutted up to almost divide the land that stretched the distance between Laragon and the Temple of the Muse. The Temple of the Muse had been built on the western bank of the thick Calman River. Following the river south after it joined with the Geal River brought my eyes back to the elaborate structure marked Epona’s Temple. Ufasach Marsh filled most of the area between the Muse and Epona, as did the large Loch Selkie.

“Can we assume the Fomorians are still at Laragon Castle?” Carolan asked.

“If they follow the same plan they used after the destruction of MacCallan Castle, they will have left Laragon and returned to Guardian Castle.” ClanFintan stepped closer to the map and studied it silently before he continued, “But that is, perhaps, because MacCallan Castle was built in such a distant location. It might not have been convenient to their invasion plans for them to use it as a base from which to operate. I have visited Laragon. It is well located, and though it is not as easily defended as this temple, it could be used as a secondary site from which to launch an invasion.”

That didn’t sound good for our side.

ClanFintan motioned to the western side of the map, where MacCallan Castle stood its lonely watch over the B’an Sea.

“By neutralizing MacCallan Castle, they have wiped out the only concentrated threat from the northwest. Very convenient for them, whether they return to Guardian or remain at Laragon.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So, even if they did not remain at Laragon, it was still an excellent strategy to first destroy MacCallan.”

I could tell by the briefing-like tone of his voice that he was trying to take the emotion out of the situation and look at it with objective eyes.

I stepped a little closer, without touching the map.

“Is this map accurate?”

“Yes, the placement of structures and natural landmarks is accurate. But, of course, things appear much closer on the map than in actuality, and the castles and temples are not to scale.” Carolan smiled. “It is a lovely map, but the weaver took artistic license when it came to the structures.”

Personally, I thought it was beautifully done and couldn’t see what difference dressing up the buildings made. Then I remembered that Gene had always been a stickler for detail. Guess borderline obsessive-compulsive tendencies stay consistent in mirror images.

It made me wonder about my mirror image and my own tendencies. (Note to self: think about being less sarcastic. Later.)

I refocused on the map. After the Geal River looped around beneath Epona’s Temple, and continued to the west, it widened into something that looked as if it could rival the Mississippi. South of the river was forestland, and I noticed a structure labeled Woulff Castle nestled amidst the forest, which eventually gave way to more of the sweeping Centaur Plains.

Following the river west, there was a small area labeled the Blue Tors, and then I encountered a huge structure named McNamara Castle situated in the far southwest corner of the map. Like MacCallan, it was near the coast, but it had the added benefit of being smack in the middle of where the Geal River resplit, with one branch renamed Clare, before it dumped into the sea. So, for all technical purposes, McNamara Castle was isolated by water.

“I guess the Fomorians wouldn’t be interested in that castle.” I gestured toward the water-locked structure. “Or probably that one, either.” I pointed at Woulff Castle.

“The forest men of Woulff Castle are mighty archers,” Carolan said thoughtfully.

ClanFintan nodded his agreement.

“And how about that other castle?” I asked.

ClanFintan snorted. “Old McNamara is almost as cantankerous as the wilderness over which he is Chieftain.”

Carolan looked as if he agreed. “He certainly is a land unto his own.”

“Makes an excellent brew of whiskey, though.” ClanFintan sounded appreciative.

“Well, that’s certainly in his favor,” I added.

Alanna looked surprised. “Rhiannon could not tolerate the taste of whiskey. She said it was a common drink.”

“I adore a good single malt.” Ha! All of us looked pleased that my tastes didn’t always run parallel to Rhiannon’s. And I felt my psyche relax a little.

“I take it we don’t have to worry about Fomorians targeting either of those castles.”

They shook their heads.

“Would they send us some warriors?”

Carolan and ClanFintan exchanged glances.

“Woulff can probably be counted on for aid,” ClanFintan said, and Carolan seemed to agree.

“McNamara?” I asked.

ClanFintan shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps, if we made it worth the old Chieftain’s while.”

“How about letting him know he would be helping to save lives?” I realized I sounded disgruntled.

“We can send him word.” ClanFintan didn’t sound very sure of the outcome of the request.

I had a sudden inspiration. “Hey, with that word, be sure to make it clear that the Fomorians are stealing human women, and that they’ve already had a taste of West Coast girls. And they like them. A lot.”

“That would anger him.” ClanFintan smiled.

“Good,” I said. “Just don’t mention the little detail about their aversion to water. And it wouldn’t hurt to emphasize the woman-stealing-raping-and-impregnating point to Woulff, too.”

The four of us smiled at each other in full agreement.

Before we could turn our attention back to the map, two sharp raps sounded on the door to my outer chamber.

“I will see to it,” Alanna said. She kissed Carolan softly on the lips before leaving the room. His eyes followed her hungrily.

Watching them I suddenly felt like I was being a little too voyeuristic, so I turned my attention back to the map.

“I realize I know next to nothing about any of this war stuff, but it seems to me that we need to try and box them in someplace.”

“Guardian Castle could hold off a siege indefinitely. It was built to be self-sufficient and to withstand attack.” ClanFintan studied the map as he spoke.

“I’d like to know how the hell they broke through the castle to begin with,” I mumbled to myself. “Okay, from this map Laragon Castle is very close to the northern end of Loch Selkie. Right?”

“Yes,” Carolan answered.

“How far are the mountains from the castle? They look like they are close.” I felt an idea forming.

“Very near. The southern part of the range ends at the edge of the castle’s grounds.” Carolan’s voice sounded wistful. “It is a beautiful castle, built in a valley filled with green clover and wildflowers. Laragon is where we get our dyes and perfumes. All along the base of the mountains stretch field after field filled with flowers and berries.”