The Legends That Remain Page 3

  - Bat, the goddess who is going to come back and beat ALL of you up

  Bat,

  Ummm… know what? I am afraid you are going to have to be more specific.

  - Bastet, the goddess who has no idea what you are talking about

  BAT

  “Farking bollix.” Ailis breathed the words out as her gaze darted from the new man, to Dub and then to where Bat still knelt near the bomen. The small immortal had shifted, putting itself between Bat and the new guardi. Killer had also adjusted his attention, lowering his head and growling at the bearded man.

  Flash. The blond man, with a full head of hair, wielded a sword over a meter long. He faced another with dark hair and bright blue eyes. A feminine cry rang out as the swords clashed, and the dark-haired warrior twisted his head, distracted. The blond struck again, and the dark one was late defending. He kept the blade from piercing his brain, but couldn’t save his eye.

  Bat blinked. She didn’t know this newcomer’s name, but she now knew who he was. He was the one who took her giant’s eye. If Killer, or the bomen, decided he should be attacked, she wouldn’t stop them. But he also wore a guardi uniform, and was accompanied by a raven. An attack could become complicated for her and the brothers. Maybe it was best to hold off.

  “You.” Dub’s knuckles were white, and his expression fierce.

  Finn sighed. “And this is what I was trying to tell you all, before the other distractions entered into the equation.”

  Mell stepped in front of his brother, blocking him. “Oh, look, it’s Cuchi. The mighty warrior.” He gave a mocking bow, the bowl of milk still balanced in his hand.

  A sucked in breath from the bar had Bat’s gaze shooting to meet that of the tourist. “I think we should go back to the kitchen.” She rose and waved her hand in the general direction of the bar and David. “I still have a sandwich to make, and we should get this little one something to eat as well.” She smiled down at the bomen.

  Light wavered and the picture of a small child strengthened. It smiled back, sharp teeth in an innocent face. “The food would be welcome, goddess. There is much to discuss.” The low words were in a slow and careful English, the accent heavy. Then it added something in a rattle of Irish. Dub snorted, Mell grinned, and even Finn’s lips twitched.

  Bat let it go and rose. She walked directly for the bald man, daring him or the raven to bar her way. At the last moment they moved, allowing her just enough room to brush by. Killer and Shar were on her heels and the bomen right behind that. As the little creature passed this new guardi, there was a grunt and a sucked-in breath, followed by another snort.

  She had a feeling one of the mysteries presented to her a couple months ago was about to be solved—or at least explained. Cuchi…

  A nearly forgotten snippet of conversation returned to her. Cuchi was what Mell had called the warrior who stole away with Dub’s intended. Who fought them for the girl Derbforgaill, and who that same girl betrayed them for.

  Ignoring the instinctive resentment—both for Dub and of him—that balled in her chest at the reminder he’d once loved someone else enough to want to bind his life to hers, Bat headed directly for the fridge and started pulling out sandwich ingredients. Though she was currently swimming in secrets and mysteries, she still needed to feed the tourist—they definitely didn’t want him coming back here in search of food. Bat paused and tilted her head at the bomen, who had climbed onto one of the stools at the island. “Would you like something?”

  Its eyes widened even farther, so that they took up nearly all of its face. It nodded, the movement slow and deliberate.

  “All right. I will make two then.” She slid open the door on the bread bin and pulled out a loaf that had been delivered that very morning.

  Her mind wandered to a thought that should have been the least of her worries. Dub had loved before, enough to seek the woman in marriage. She’d known that. She just hadn’t thought about it. Was it bad that part of her was relieved his joining with this woman had been prevented, no matter the means? Guilt twisted and she pinched it off, shoving the thoughts from her mind.

  It was a seed of chaos, and she could not afford to allow it to sprout.

  No, she would not be glad for Dub’s past misfortune, but she would be glad that he had escaped someone who so obviously hadn’t been suited for him. For the woman to be lured away by the bald man… incomprehensible, really. This guardi was handsome, yes, but there was a lack in the substance of his soul…

  “Not going to offer me anything?” The object of her musings crowded in next to her before Finn or Dub could block him.

  Well, she didn’t need the not-men to handle an annoying male. She kept her attention on arranging the ingredients on the counter before her. “And what will you give me, immortal?” Was he really going to importune a goddess in such a way? And for a sandwich? She could not imagine the Morrigan allowing such impertinence. Bat glanced at Cuchi from the corner of her eye as she pulled a knife from the block and began slicing the tomato.

  “For a… BLT?” He eyed the ingredients laid out. “Not very traditional of ya, to be serving that in a pub. What about a nice coddle, or even a stew? You’ve got one going, don’t ya?” He leaned over her and sent her what she was sure was supposed to be a charming smile.

  It was not. Even if he had not been the one to maim her giant or steal Dub’s love, she would not have cared for this man. There was something so… entitled about his demeanor. That’s what the unattractive aspect is, entitlement. “Do you know what my favorite traditional Egyptian dish is? The koldala.” She pasted on a dreamy expression. “It’s very good, but fell out of popularity many years ago when the gods noted that the local worshippers protested too much the use of the ingredients.” She held up the knife and examined the edge, afternoon light flashing off the metal. Then she cut her gaze back to the guardi. “I will make you a deal, immortal. If you offer me the ingredients I need for the koldala, I will make you a special stew. One just for you. I think that would be fair, do you not?”

  His brows drew together and a muffled snort came from Mell’s direction. Ailis, Finn and the brothers had backed away and gathered near the bomen, giving Bat space to handle the arrogant immortal, though the brothers appeared ready to intercede at any moment. Dub’s scowl was firmly directed at Cuchi’s back, promising pain and blood if given the chance. Ailis stared with wide and sparkling eyes, and a small smile tipped up the corners of Finn’s lips.

  “What are these ingredients?” the bald man asked, pulling her attention to him once more.

  Bat waved the hand still clutching the knife, skimming the blade close to the newcomer’s chest. “Let’s see. Two pints of blood, the pinky finger of your left hand—it has the most tender meat—and one eye, for texture, of course,” she finished with a bright smile.

  He stepped back. “Now, no need to be like that,” he said. “It’s only polite to offer a guest something to eat, ya know.”

  She twisted to keep him in sight and in reach of the blade. “You are correct. And no one has offered me koldala until now. It is so kind of you, really. There is not much about this place that reminds me of my home, so the thought is quite comforting. Ireland’s hospitality, except for a few exceptions, has been quite lacking until now.” She pushed the knife forward until it rested against the bald man’s chest and he went still, his eyes wide. She’d put some power behind those last words, wanting him to know that though she was diminished, she was still a goddess, and should be treated with at least a modicum of respect.

  Ca-ca-ca-ca-ca.

  The raven had hopped onto the island. It laughed, the beak wide open.

  That will stop him for a bit, sister. I should apologize for him, but I do so enjoy him being put in his place. Unfortunately, he never stays there.

  Bat tilted her head. The voice was a familiar one, though she’d only heard it a few times. “Morrigan?”

  The raven bobbed its head. I am sending you a messenger, and a representativ
e. I suspect you may need her in the days to come. Einin is a clever girl, and will help you well. The annoying sidhe warrior is also very capable, if, well, annoying. He has been instructed to offer assistance.

  “What is going on?” Bat asked.

  “That’s what I want to know,” muttered Ailis.

  The raven twisted its head, first one way, then the other, eying the strips of bacon on the counter behind Bat. There was no answer from the other goddess.

  Mother sky, I hope I’m not that frustratingly cryptic. Bat had a feeling that at times she was, though. Waving her knife at the island, she said to Cuchi, “Stand over there while I finish these. Then we will all discuss what is going on.”

  Dub indicated the far wall, his lips twisted into a sneer. “No room now at the island. Ya can go stand over there, Cuchi.”

  The bald man’s hands curled into fists and he stepped toward her grumpy not-man.

  “Ah, ah. Koldala, remember? There will be no violence in my kitchen. Unless I sanction it, of course.” A bit more power went into this, and Cuchi was propelled back into the wall Dub had indicated. Maybe it was an injudicious use of her carefully gathered strength, but… she didn’t like this immortal.

  She busied herself with the sandwiches, which, yes, were BLTs. Not traditional fare, but they were simple, and quick. She finished the first and handed the plate to Ailis. “Could you take this one out to the tourist? He was at the bar, near the door. Mike is keeping him company.”

  Ailis’s brows rose, but she didn’t comment on the wisp’s companionship. She took the plate then pointed at Bat. “I’ll be right back. Don’t start without me.”

  Bat finished up the other sandwich and placed it before the bomen. “We have crisps as well, if you would like some.”

  Cuchi shifted and opened his mouth, and Bat glared. He raised his hands and leaned against the wall.

  The bomen tilted his head, much as Bat liked to do. “I would like that.” This time he spoke in a rough and ancient Egyptian.

  A smile spread across Bat’s face as she once more heard words familiar and dear to her. She crossed to the pantry, pulled out a large bag of crisps and shook a few onto his plate. “There,” she said as she set the bag on the counter. “Now, we will let you eat, and you can tell me what brought you here.” One thing at a time. First the bomen, then Cuchi, then the brothers.

  She was aware that putting the bothers last on the list was her way of avoiding a discussion she wasn’t sure she wanted to have. Her hand went once more to her necklace as she gathered her scattered emotions. This pub was her refuge, and the brothers her companions. They would not have kept those secrets unless they thought it necessary, nor would they hurt her deliberately.

  Deliberate or not, it still hurts. The hollow spot filled, but it was with nothing good. She needed to solve this, and soon. Maybe she should move it up the list.

  The bomen opened its mouth, his jaw hinging wide, so his face was all teeth and eyes and mouth, and then the sandwich was gone. Two seconds later the crisps were as well, and the bomen stared down at an empty plate.

  All of them stared at the empty plate.

  “Do you need another?” Bat asked.

  It shook its head. “No, goddess. Your hospitality has been more than enough.”

  Ailis chose that moment to enter the kitchen once again, and she resumed her place at the island. “What did I miss?”

  “A demonstration on why you don’t anger the bomen,” Mell said, expression blank.

  The little creature crossed his arms. “It is not bomen,” it said in ancient Egyptian. “They have been getting that wrong for centuries. It is ba. We are the men of ba.” It focused its red eyes on her. “And now you are here, and our wait is over.”

  What did that mean? “I do not—”

  “English, please, a stor.” Shar edged closer to her, hovering in a way that was much more appealing than the way the bald not-man had done it.

  “Well, you all have been calling them the wrong thing. They are the ba men, the men of ba, and they have been waiting for me.” She stared into the red eyes of the creature. “And they speak my native language, which has been lost to all but the gods for centuries. These things are all very strange, I would say. Unless they are somehow from my land.” The last she added for the benefit of getting answers. She had no doubts they were from Egypt. How they had ended up here in Ireland was another matter, and what she wanted to find out.

  The brothers shifted and Shar somehow hovered even more without drawing closer.

  Her gaze fell to the invitation still on the table, then went to the bald guardi, the raven, and back to the ba man.

  Flash. A stone cauldron, dark with age and use, stood nearly as tall as Shar. Around it gathered the sidhe, and around them were sun-dappled forest and rustling branches. Light rippled, and from the cauldron climbed a man, gray of skin and blank-faced. Another emerged after the first, and still another after that, until the forest filled with bodies possessed by the kas of those long dead. They were incomplete, though. The other half of the spirit was still missing.

  Flash. A spear, the head shining golden even in partial dusk. A dark-haired man who stood with his back to her clasped it. Beneath him, a ship’s deck swayed and around him, men scurried, while gray-green clouds gathered on the horizon. To either side more ships gathered, heading into that storm.

  Flash. A blade, about a meter in length. The pommel bore a stone of deepest green, swirling with an opalescent light. From its tip poured shadow.

  Flash. A harp—her harp—cradled in a pair of hands, brown and gnarled. They extended, holding the instrument out to someone.

  “You see,” the ba man said in rough English. “Come now, fix cauldron. Broken.”

  The raven twisted its head to stare at the ba man, and Cuchi straightened away from his wall. “The cauldron?” Something close to greed entered his expression.

  The ba man—I need to learn his name—twisted and bared his teeth at the guardi. “Is not for you, sidhe.” It pointed at each of the men in turn. “The Fomoiri and sidhe broke it. Goddess fix it.” It slid from the stool. “We go now.”

  “Wait.” There was too much happening at once, and Bat swam in both her visions and the swirl of questions these new encounters had stirred. “Wait, please. I— how?”

  The ba man sighed, nodded, and hopped back to his stool. “We were forgotten. Puchi suspected.”

  Shar wrapped his hand around her upper arm and tugged her toward the end of the island, shouldering aside Dub and Finn. “A stor. Sit. I will fix tea. This could… take a while.”

  Cuchi stepped forward. “These creatures have the cauldron, and you want to make tea?”

  Though she’d used the word in her own thoughts, Bat didn’t like the way Cuchi said “creature.” There was no affection, no wonder, only contempt. “Go back to your wall, Cuchi,” she said.

  “My name is Cu Chulainn.” His chest puffed out. “You will have heard of me, of course.”

  “Yes, in the idiot book.” She didn’t explain, and only just suppressed her grin at his slack expression. “And I will call you whatever I care to call you, arrogant not-man. Go back to your wall.”

  He stepped back, then shuddered. “The Morrigan sent me.”

  “I know. She said you could be of some use, but so far I have not seen it. Unless you have something to add to this conversation besides blustering and posturing, please stay by the wall.” She emphasized her words with a finger pointed toward his place.

  The raven cawed, as if agreeing with her. She turned away and focused once more on the ba man. “What is your name?”

  It straightened. “I am Ari, eldest son of our band, and chief guard of Vessel of Creation.”

  “Well, Ari, I am Bat, and I am very pleased to meet you.” Finally, a bit of order had been brought to this situation with the traditions of greeting.

  Ari ducked its head. “You were no’ there when we left.”

  “Left where?” She kept h
er voice gentle, coaxing. It was better if these things were said aloud instead of hinted and guessed at.

  Dub made an aborted motion toward her, and Mell held up a hand. Something passed between the brothers and Dub sighed, frowning in resignation.

  “The red lands,” Ari said. “Seth asked us to go with vessel, to guard it. We travelled with the sea men. They, too, once served our lord of the thunder.” He waved at the Fomoiri brothers.

  His words at once confirmed her earlier assumptions, and broke a thin thread of trust she’d been holding onto. Her hand curled into a fist and her heart gave two sharp beats of anger before she reined in her emotions. This was definitely something she should have long ago been told. And not just by her not-men.

  How could she not know these things? Immortals once lived in Egypt? The Fomoiri had lived there? Had the brothers known? It took one look at their averted gazes and hunched shoulders to tell her the answer. Yes.

  She sucked in a breath and blew it out, slowly. There were yet more questions to be asked and answered. Patience. She would get there.

  Ari peeked up at her, his red eyes glinting. “How is he?”

  Who? Oh. “Seth?”

  The ba man nodded, the movement hesitant, almost shy.

  She looked down. “Not the same god you probably remember.”

  “We heard some of the stories. The pixies chatter. But we didn’t believe them.” Ari bared his teeth. “Our Seth is a warrior, but he is also a guardian. He would never do the things he has been accused of.”

  Bat didn’t know exactly what they had heard, and she wasn’t comfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. Seth very well could have done whatever the rumors claimed. “When did you leave?”

  “I do not know how many years it has been. Before the flood.”

  She knew the time he spoke of, though it was before she had come into existence. “And, you came with the… sea men?”