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Heat rose to his face, and Angus felt foolish. If Cathbad was as powerful as legends portrayed him, he would’ve dreamed their arrival. He settled next to Arianrhod and took her hand between one of his. “How long do we wait before—”
“Hush.” She squeezed his hand before returning to her hair. “Ye canna plan everything. Some things require faith.”
The sun was well on its way to the midpoint in the sky, and Angus had shucked his heavy coat, before the sound of horse hooves brought him to his feet. A man rode into sight astride a huge, black destrier. He reined the animal to a halt, and it blew and stamped. Maybe it wanted to run some more.
The man jumped from the horse in an easy movement. Long dark hair framed his sharp-boned face. It hung loose in front, but the back portion was braided close against his skull. Dozens of braids trailed down his back. He was taller than Angus and broad shouldered. Leather garments embellished with red and blue dye clung to his frame like a second skin, and boots laced to just below his knees. A war axe hung from a sheath by his side, and a broadsword was attached to his back by a scabbard with thongs that wrapped around his body. Still more weapons draped from artfully crafted bits of rawhide. He could’ve been anywhere from thirty to sixty—or much older than that. His face held the same ageless quality that marked the Celtic gods.
He half-bowed toward Arianrhod. “Ye’ll excuse us, my lady.”
She inclined her head in return and replied, “Of course,” before turning away to provide the illusion of privacy.
Angus drew himself tall. It felt important the stranger not find him wanting—in any way. The man approached, staring hard out of eyes the exact shade as Angus’s own. Angus felt the man take his measure. He wanted to ask a thousand questions, but remained silent, letting Cathbad set the dynamics for their meeting.
The man raised a hand and placed it on Angus’s shoulder. A jolt of something hot and jagged shot through him, and the air took on the tangy scent of the Irish Sea that had to be close.
“I willna apologize for the discomfort.” The man tossed his head back and continued to skewer Angus with his hawk-like gaze. “I had to be certain ’twas you returned after all this time.”
Angus opened his mouth, but the man shook his head.
“Now isna the time for ye to talk. ’Tis the time for ye to listen.”
Angus nodded. The heat running through him from the man’s touch intensified, and words rang inside his head.
“As ye surmised, I am Cathbad. Ye are one of my grandsons. Once there was a place for you in Ulster, but ye’ve been gone a long time.”
Angus started to protest that only twenty-five years had passed.
“Twenty-five years for you, but ’tisn’t the span of time that’s important,”Cathbad went on smoothly, obviously tuned into Angus’s thoughts.“Ye have tasks ye must take on in the time where the gods delivered you. ’Tis why ye’re there.”He paused and narrowed his eyes, as if considering his next words.“Ye will return to me, but not for many years.”
Angus couldn’t help himself. “Did you know Arawn would hold me in the future?”
Cathbad smiled.“Aye, laddie. There’s little I doona know. Now if ye’re asking if he had my blessing to make off with you permanently, the answer is more complicated. In my visions, ye were free to travel betwixt this time and the one where ye find yourself.”A wry chuckle.“Apparently the Celts werena convinced ye’d welcome their hospitality, so they took a different tack. One which kept you far from me. Ye’ve been in my vision states, yet I couldna communicate with you that way.”
“Will we be able to meet in the dream world now?”
“Aye. Ye seeking me out dismantled part of the Celts’ meddling. She”—he glanced at Arianrhod—“accomplished the rest of it.”
The conversation held a disjointed feel, so Angus asked questions as they popped into his head. “You haven’t exactly said how long it’s been since I left here, only that I’ll return at some point. How long will you live? For that fact, how long will I?”
“A verra long time.”
Angus squared his shoulders. Talking with Cathbad felt very much like consulting an oracle since his answers were far from clear. “What tasks await me?”
“One has already been accomplished, but ’tisn’t my place to tell you. Ye must figure it out—and forge a path forward—on your own.”
“Surely there’s more you can reveal.”
Amber eyes bored into him, and Cathbad tightened his grip on Angus’s shoulder.“Much like you, I dream many possibilities. Some come to pass. Others doona. The Celts had one use for you, but mine was far more important. One might say we traded. They used your skills, and I bided my time while ye grew into the role I dreamed for you.”
Angus waited, but Cathbad didn’t offer anything further. After a time, he dropped his hand to clasp Angus’s. He used a Viking-style grip where his fingers clutched Angus’s forearm. Angus copied him. Touching Cathbad healed broken places within him, places where’d he’d felt incomplete, empty.
When Cathbad spoke next, he switched to normal speech. “’Tis essential for a man to know from whence he sprang. ’Tis also important, though not essential, for him to accept the will of the gods. Ye’ve been angry with the Celts, yet they honed skills ye’d not have gathered had ye remained here.”
“That may be, but I don’t think I’ll ever move past my ill will toward them, no matter what you think they’ve done for me. Can I ever return here to stay?”
“I already told you that ye’d return, but likely not to remain.” He paused. “’Twas wrong for Arawn to hide your origins from you. ’Twasn’t part of the bargain I struck, and ’tis why ye feel taken advantage of.”
“Thank you. I appreciate you being honest with me.”
