Page 111 of Woods of the Raven

Lorne fell down beside me, loading the gun, turning it on Threun, but in the next instant Gaeidhel was there, her long hands turned to talons on his throat, cutting off his air.

My head fell back as I called on my power, on all that was left.

Lorne was wrenched from her hand, she was thrown back as if punched, and he was heaving for breath.

“Oh, baby,” he moaned, moving to me, taking my face in his hands, and when his skin touched mine, I realized I was freezing. I wanted him to wrap me in his arms and hold me tight. “You have to wait for me from now on. Next time, you don’t go without me.”

Next time. I loved that. Always hopeful, Lorne. “I promise,” I whispered as he pulled me to him, hand in my hair, so gentle with me, tucking my head under his chin for a moment, both of us seeing the crumpled piece of metal the shotgun now was.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, kissing my temple. “Don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me.”

The jolt of power was a surprise.

When he clutched me against him, I felt the warmth surround me.

Oh…I had no idea.

Much like earth magic, our joining had bound us together, was alive between us, living and breathing, and because of that, Lorne became part of me, part of the magical, sacred loop that flowed out of me and into him and then right back again. There was an unbroken circle, and because of that, now some of my power lived in him continually, a reserve I could tap into because he was something I never imagined he would be—my mate.

I lifted my hands and pushed. Through the wards, through my connection to the land, through the joining with Lorne, I shoved everything at the knights, and they were flung off their feet, high into the air, lost to sight before they were yanked down like magnets to steel and sucked into the ground. Gaeidhel was caught in a funnel of wind that smashed her against the monstrous roots of whatever she’d planted long ago. I watched as she coughed up blood.

“Enough!” Threun bellowed, and Lorne and I were thrown back, twisting and bouncing as though falling down a steep hill, rolling over, until we both hit the roots I’d lifted from the ground earlier.

I’d heard the cracking as I rolled, knew things were broken, and felt it deep inside, that I was more than simply hurt. Struggling to sit up, worried I was too damaged to fight on, I watched as more vargrs came through the rift, ten at least, more knights, and then the worst—Threun took Gaeidhel’s hand and she instantly healed, standing again, tall and strong. He lifted his sword then, high in the air.

“I claim this land in the name of Threun the blood bringer. It is mine and shall die like all else in my path.”

He was going to bury the broadsword to the hilt in the ground, and I lifted, barely, knowing I’d reached my end, but needing to protect Corvus with all that was left, all that I knew I could give. And my last would save Lorne as well because the land knew what he was to me.

My left arm was fractured, useless to me, so I shoved my right hand into the earth.

Take me, I begged.

I needed the land to use me to heal itself, to stay strong, to not fall to Threun. I was prepared to die, to be drawn down into the earth. As a guardian I always had to be ready to trade my life for the land, as so many of my line had. That was the great secret of the bond, that it was forged from the blood and bones of my ancestors.

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.