A Path of Oak and Ash
Page 32
Understanding truly painted things in a different light, made Carrick want to take back every snide word he'd ever said to him.
Quin looked up, catching Carrick staring in their direction from the walkway. With a friendly smile he waived. As Carrick waived back he acknowledged he could not change his past deeds, but going forward he was definitely going to give the guy a break.
Speaking of, his father would likely break him if he didn't get a move on. Carrick hurried across the carved bridge, looking up at the statues of the prior elders before his father. His grandfather Osin, with his furrowed brow and hallow cheeks, his great grandfather Elfine a man with a square jaw and hooked nose. As he passed each he knew and many he did not, he wondered if one day he may too grace the side of the great bridge. He hoped they would have been proud of him, for their victory had been bitter sweet. The Leabhar Fìrinn had been destroyed, yet its spells remained, hastily copied into a fifty cent notebook from a gas station. Now however, it was back in Dre'ien, safely in the hands of the whisperers with Lorcan none the wiser.
Lorcan, that bastard had absconded with his mother without a trace. With what remained of the whisperer's, Aurelian had managed to decimate the company Lorcan was using as a front. The reported 'terrible accident' of the oil rigs had halted construction indefinitely, Stergen Industries liable for millions in damages to the supposed families of the workers who perished in the explosion, Carrick wondered how many of them knew their relatives were no longer human. Aurelian assured him that they would ferret him out eventually, to be patient. Still his mother had been right in front of him. He had been so close and yet, he worried she would be forever lost to him.
With a heavy heart he entered the seat, marveling at the grandeur of the grand oak that spread its branches carved into the circular throne and council, the gilded walkway before it in the wide hall. Carrick walked down the center and took his place at the right of his father, smiling at the people of Dre'ien. In the crowd he saw Aodhan, Quin, Conall, Bethany and her new father Aurelian, the serpent sisters, even Parth and Hagan. All aspects of the druidic people, his people.
Brannon stepped forward from his throne, lighting the large circular flame before him with a left of his left hand. As he returned to the seat, his wide palm dipped down and patted Isfearr on the head. The massive black and grey Fenrir let out a low rumble, mirroring the grief felt by his druid.
Families of the dead came forward, pieces of wood carved with the names of the fallen Niomar were placed into the Pyre, then Tadhg's mother, placing her son’s memoria into the flame. As one they chanted, "Go easy unto otherworld, let the water's carry you across the blessed isles to where your loved ones await."
They would celebrate their lives this night, when the dawn came they would sing, a sapling planted for each in the nymph wood, names carved into the temple on the shore. In the days that followed they would begin their search for Lorcan and Narine, who had evaded capture at the battle of Lesji. Now though, now was a time for remembrance.
Brannon stood, stepping forward from his massive throne, his arms spread wide as his thunderous voice filled the great hall. "Each of us has lost one beloved, our very way of life again threatened by the fallen who turned from the truth, one who wished to topple the balance. I wish this was the last time, the only time, we had to burn this fire but we all know otherwise. These were not our first to give their lives against the dark one, nor will they be the last. As we celebrate the life and deeds of our beloved, do not weep. For those we have lost, at peace in otherworld, shall rise in new life. In their memory we shall rebuild, we shall persevere, together. That, my dear friends, is why he will never win, why we will always be victorious, for ours is a realm built on love. Love of each other, of Dre’ien, of the blessings of Awen.”
In the applause of the crowd he felt a pride he had yearned for as long as he could remember, the serene complacency of belonging.
He was home.
Other Books by M.P Reeves
Legacy of the Dreamer
Winds of Fate
To Bleed a King
Uncaged Flame (Dec 2016)
The Blood Bargain Saga
The Blood Bargain
Breach
Midnight Accession
Reformation (Oct 2016)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Macaela lives in the rocky mountains with her husband, dog and many children. When she’s not writing, Macaela enjoys gaming, cooking and building furniture.