The Becoming
- Автор: Робертс Нора
- Серия: The Dragon Heart Legacy #2
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: St. Martin's Press
- ISBN: 978-0-34942-639-6
- Жанр: Фэнтези
Электронная книга - «The Becoming». Краткое содержание книги:
Behind his back, the girl mimed drinking with another eye roll.
Breen struggled not to laugh, tried for sympathetic. “Of course you’re disappointed. I hope—”
“You’ll know disappointment,” he muttered.
Annoyed, she reached out for his arm as he turned. “I’m sure if you—”
She felt it. It poured off him, and for an instant twisted inside her like a snake.
Such hate, such anger. And through it, such dark purpose.
Beside her, Bollocks growled.
“You would lay hands on me, you of tainted blood?”
“Yes.”
With his eyes glinting, he started to shove her. She blocked, and swept his legs out from under him in a move that shocked her as much as him.
Bollocks planted his front paws on the man’s chest. Snarled.
“Stay down,” she ordered as people began to move in. “Harken. I need Harken.”
“I’m here. I’m here. What’s all this now?” Though he moved fast, his tone came easy as a stroll. “Has someone had a few too many pints before a solemn rite? Ah well, it happens,” he added as he crouched down and patted the dog aside.
“I’m sorry! I’ll get my parents.” The girl raced off with elf speed.
“I think he’s unwell.” Breen held the man down with will, murmured into Harken’s ear, “A spy. I think—I feel. If I’m wrong—”
Harken merely smiled and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. And because he had his other on Breen’s, she felt Harken’s quick rage. But his smile never dimmed.
“Sleep,” he murmured, and the man went limp. “Passed out, is all. Now, now, have a heart and move back so you don’t swallow all his air. We’ll just cart him out of the way, let him sleep it off.”
“Ah gods, Lordan.” The woman who raced back with the girl covered her face. “My father’s brother, and a black sheep as ever was. Sure I’m sorry for the trouble. We’ll haul him home.”
“No need,” Harken assured her. “We’ll just let him sleep.” He signaled to another man to help him carry the unconscious man well away from the altar.
“Out he goes in the morning, kin or no,” the woman said. “Your pardon, Breen Siobhan, for his rudeness. My girl said he insulted you.”
“No harm done.”
She glanced back, saw two men now stood on either side of Lordan from the north.
Harken drew her aside when he came back. “You weren’t wrong, and he may not be the only, so we’ll keep it as a drunk passed out until it’s done. And he’ll be taken to the Capital for judgment. Come now, and we’re seven.”
Before she joined him, she bent down, kissed Bollocks’s nose. “What a good dog you are. Go stay with Marco. Right over there with Finola and Seamus and the children. Stay with them.”
Her heart tripped a little as she went to stand beside Marg.
She watched others merge. Sidhe, Elfin, Were, Troll, and in the bay, seven Mers formed their ring.
Tarryn lifted her hands, palms up.
“The wheel turns, and the old year gives way. We come to welcome the new. On Samhain, we honor those who have left this world, and welcome them back.”
“Blessed be,” Breen answered with all the rest.
Each lifted their ritual sword and spoke the words as they walked around the altar three times.
“We cast this circle with sword, with power, with the energy from the Mother who is Earth.”
As they called the Quarters, the Guardians of the East, South, West, North, Breen felt it rise in her, and spread, and bloom. The light that was power, the power that was a gift.
As Marg called to the god of the underworld, the candle flames speared high and straight toward the deepening sky.
Inside herself, outside herself, Breen heard her own call to the goddess. “Great Lady, Mistress of the Moons, give us your blessing. Grant us wisdom, grant us courage to face what comes. We are your children, sons and daughters. Help us reach through the thinning veil to those loved and lost. Blessed be.”
On the altar fire sparked; smoke rose.
When she lifted her arms like the others drawing down the moons, asking for the light to shine into their spirit, she heard her father, heard him as clearly as if he stood beside her.
You’re my heart, my hope, my abiding love. You are everything to me, then, now, always. Be strong, Breen Siobhan, and face what comes, what I failed to spare you from facing.
With her father’s voice inside her, with the others beside her, Breen lit the Samhain fire. She took a candle, gave it her breath, its flame.
For you, Da, she thought as she placed it in the ground.
“Here is the fire,” Tarryn called out. “Here is the light. Here,” she said, laying a hand on Aisling, “is the promise of new life.”
“Lord and Lady, god and goddess, we bring the bread, we bring the wine to honor you and those who came before.” Aisling lifted the chalice, the bread. “Blessed be.”
In silence, in reverence, Aisling passed the bread, the wine, took her own, and left the rest for the ancestors.
“We thank the Great Mother for her blessing,” Harken said. “Ask her for strength in both darkness and light.”
“Blessed be.”
“We thank the Lord of the Sun for his blessing,” Declan said. “Ask him for strength in both darkness and light.”
“Blessed be.”
They called to the Quarters to give thanks, then closed the circle.
“Open now this circle, but broken never.” Tarryn crossed her hands over her heart. “We stand in hope, in light, in love. We hold the memories of those who have left us in hope, in light, in love. Blessings on you, children of the Fey, and all who stand with you.”
Marg laid a hand on Breen’s cheek. “You felt him, as I did.”
“I heard him, Nan.”
“As I did. Such a strong spirit, he is. Such love he has for you.” Now she kissed Breen’s cheeks, one, then the other. “We were blessed this night. Now, in Fey tradition, we share treats with the children.”
“But in the south—it’s starting, must be—in the south.”
“We have faith.”
They needed more than faith, Breen thought. Her father had said strength—to have strength to face what he died fighting.
So she would use her strength and face it. And look.
Even as the children gobbled sugar biscuits and candied fruit, she stepped to the Samhain fire.
Drawing up her power, she looked deep into the flames.
Other fires burned on the beaches in the south as they burned here. And in the hills, as here. In the fields and dooryards.
Circles cast, rings of seven.
Harken stepped beside her.
“I only see the rite, and peace. Maybe the vision was wrong. I was wrong.”
He took her hand, and the jolt of new power shot through her.
“We’ll watch. And if the vision proves true, send our light.”
Marg took her other hand, and more gathered.
“I can’t see anything but a big fire,” Marco said from behind her.
“Do you want to see?” Harken asked him.
“I … Yeah. I’ve got friends there. I don’t have anything to send, but—”
“Oh, there’s light in you, brother. As in all living things. A hand on Breen’s shoulder, and one on mine. We’ll show you what we see.”
With hope, with strength, and with faith, those gathered around the fire saw all.
Deep in the round tower, one of the Pious unlocked the door of the small cell where a child slept. As he approached the girl, three elves slid out of the stone walls.
One held a knife, and her hand trembled with the wish to use the blade. Instead, she used the hilt to knock the robed man to the floor.