Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Take us, it answered.
The land loved me as much as I loved it, and when I felt Lorne beside me, wrapping me in his arms, I burst into tears, overwhelmed with my blessings.
“This is mine,” Threun proclaimed as two more vargrs, much bigger than the others, came through the rift and strode out in front of him.
“Never,” I howled back.
“When I have claimed this land, I will strip your flesh from—”
His threat went unfinished as the vargr to his right was struck hard, flung up in the air, and then landed in a gory heap, cleaved in half.
Gwyn stalked in front of him, washed in blood, glowing in the moonlight.
I exhaled and slumped against Lorne, seeing Dar rushing the other vargrs, herding them toward Osko, who ripped off their back legs or their heads, whichever he caught in his jaws first, the massacre was thorough, like they were machines instead of dogs.
A knight faced the Cŵn Annwn, but an enormous spear came from the sky and went through the man, punching him to the ground, impaling him with enough power that a cloud of dirt and leaves rose. He twitched for only a moment before he died.
“No!” Gaeidhel shrieked as a great ax whistled through the air and struck the roots. It was both enormous and ancient.
I heard it then, hoofbeats, and saw Skokse as he never was—visible, his coat like liquid onyx, his mane like silk blowing in the breeze, his rider, Guro, a Valkyrie, resplendent in her armor, her gorgeous flaxen hair braided in a long plait, leading the wild hunt, as always.
I had my answer then to where the dogs had been. They’d gone to their master, to the god whose hunt it was, who rode across the sky with his companions, then landed and raced over Corvus as he did every year, sanctifying all, blessing it. Once, when I was ten, he saw me and got off his fire-breathing stallion, walked over and put a gentle hand on my shoulder and then my back. I thought I was going to die, burning from the inside out, the brand on my bones, in my blood, boiling me alive until…it stopped. I looked up into his eyes, as blue as the sky on a cloudless day.
“You are mine,” the god said.
“Yes,” I answered. “Always.”
He was Arawn, lord of the hunt, king of Annwn, some said of the underworld and death, but my grandmother said no. He led the hunt to find evil left behind on the earth and for demons who’d escaped hell and needed to be returned.
Guro dismounted and walked toward the ax embedded in the roots, and when two of Threun’s knights charged her, she drew an enormous broadsword, quickly, as if it were light as a feather, and beheaded both in an instant.
“Holy shit,” Lorne breathed out.
She then wiped the blade on the fur cloak of the last man to fall, sheathed it, reached for the ax, and began to chop away at the roots. More knights went to attack her, but she didn’t even lift her head as another of Arawn’s riders, Draven, put arrows that had to be over six feet long through three of them faster than I could track with my eyes.
Arawn was there then, astride his red stallion, Nudd, who waited patiently as his lord dismounted. When Arawn’s feet hit the ground, I felt it shake, and everywhere he stepped, edelweiss bloomed.
Except for Guro, who was still hacking away at the roots, everyone froze, making Threun and Gaeidhel retreat closer to the rift. Guro then called the dogs to her, and they locked their jaws on the roots and, along with her, pulled. Her action was clear. She was going to unearth the plant.
Arawn strode to the edge of the rift, looking at Threun and Gaeidhel, and when he lifted his hand, one of the knights flew through the air, was caught in his grip, and was drained of life, decaying in an instant, bone one second, dust the next. With the dust in his hand, he blew it at the queen, who screamed and was thrown back through the rift, gone from sight.
“Hear me,” he said quietly to Threun. “I am Arawn, and this land,” he said, extending his arm, hand open to include everything as far as the eye could see, “is mine.” He then pointed at me. “I ride through this rift that is kept safe by that witch, there, who was branded and belongs to me as well.”
Threun shuddered.
I had no idea a god could shudder.
“I care for this realm,” Arawn told him. “But not for all I have seen, and there are many. I bid you find another rift, step through and claim all that is there.”
Threun was silent, only staring.
“Hear me when I say that on this land, and near my servant, you are not welcome.”