Woods of the Raven Read Online Mary Calmes

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
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“Yes, my lord Arawn,” Threun responded.

“If you step one foot on Corvus again, ever, I will come for you, wherever you are, and bathe first in the tears of your queen and then your blood.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“All those of the hunt are in my service, and as such I speak for them when I say, we will follow you to the end of all things if you test me.”

“Yes,” Threun rasped.

“Get off my land,” Arawn growled, low, in the back of his throat.

Threun ran, but Draven sent an arrow through the air and into the nothing of the rift after him anyway. We all heard the cry of pain. I knew he wasn’t dead, but the warning had been delivered loud and clear.

Instantly, the roots from the other side of the rift shriveled and turned to dust. The roots Guro and the dogs had unearthed did the same.

I watched as Arawn lifted his head, smelling the air, and then, with a smile on his face, began across the ground toward me and Lorne.

Unlike the others, clad in armor, he was in buckskin, his pants and long-sleeved tunic held by a leather belt at his waist. He was not handsome in a traditional way. Big and barrel chested, he had arms the size of tree trunks, his beard and mustache ran together, and his gray hair, shot through with silver, was long and thick, falling to the middle of his back, held by an ornate strip of hand-tooled leather. Other than his towering height, he could be anyone. But the thing that always held me captivated were his eyes. They were that kind of summer-sky blue you squinted at because it was so bright, and their center glowed gold. The laugh lines in the corners of his eyes, showing how often he smiled, I also loved.

He knelt down on one knee, and still, I had to look up into his face. “When the dogs are here with you, send them to find me. When they are not, call to them. Either will draw my attention.”

I was afraid to ask but had to. “And you’ll come?”

“If there is nothing or no one more pressing.”

I had to smile at his wording even as I fought hard not to pass out. He was a god, after all. His time was far more valuable than mine.

“I will come,” he grumbled at me in that husky, whiskey-thickened rasp of his.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Is this your mate?” He motioned to Lorne.

“Yes, my lord.”

He nodded and put his warm hand on my cheek. It was like electricity flowing through my body, and I sat up, drained, exhausted, but well. He then put his hand on Lorne’s shoulder, and he too jolted under the healing touch of a god.

“You did well with your weapon,” he praised Lorne. “I have restored it so it may serve again. Keep the iron close, as the fae cannot be trusted.”

“Yessir,” he told Arawn, who gave him a nod before turning back to me.

“Be well until we meet again.”

“And you, my lord Arawn.”

“Return to your cottage and rest. Worry not about sanctifying the land because of the spilled blood. I will see to that.”

“My thanks.”

I watched as all the bodies, men, snakes, vargrs, turned to dust and were caught on the breeze.

Arawn rose then and walked back toward Nudd, halfway there kneeling again and pushing his hand into the ground just as I did. He spoke low, his words soft, lulling, but the land heard him and shuddered again, almost moaning in response to his power and the purification.

Normally he thundered across the land, but now he took his time, and the land must have thanked him for his communion because he was grinning as he stood up again. He continued on toward Nudd and, reaching him, climbed easily onto the saddle of his ferocious warhorse who blew a plume of fire into the air like a dragon. Arawn then waited as Guro remounted Skokse, because she always led. When Guro screamed, the sound rent the air, and they were gone in moments, riding hard.

The dogs ran over to me and Lorne, checked us, bumped up against us, and we stroked them quickly before they were gone, chasing after their master.

“Come with me,” I urged Lorne, tugging on his arm, and we ran together toward the meadow. Once there, we fell down into the thick carpet of leaves and soft grass, and I pointed up toward the moon. “Listen.”

He was quiet. “What am I listening for? All I hear are wild geese.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. That’s what they sound like as they fly by when they migrate.”

“I don’t hear geese,” I said, rolling sideways to look at him, and smiled. “I hear dogs baying, leading a hunt.”

He sat up, staring at the sky, seeing just as I did, a large band of riders galloping in front of the moon. Once they were gone from sight, he said, “I’ve never seen that before in my life.”


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