The Hills of Home (The Song of the Ash Tree Book 2) by T L Greylock Page A

the First said. “You should be honored.” Taking his hand from Raef’s chin, he wiped the blood in Raef’s hair and then stood straight, his face disappearing from Raef’s view. “Get him up. It is time.”
    Hands tugged Raef to his knees and he was dragged across the plateau. Then he was lifted and laid flat on a raised rock. The rock’s surface was smooth but for a narrow channel that extended from the middle, right at the height of Raef’s neck, to the edge. Twisting but held down by strong arms, Raef could only watch as the Guardians gathered. A dish was held to the edge of the rock where the channel dropped off and Raef knew it was meant to catch the blood that would pour from his throat. The First drew a knife from within the folds of his robes. The blade gleamed in the sun and he held it aloft.
    “Freyr, best of all the gods, long have you waited for a gift. Take it and take joy of it.” The knife descended and Raef, straining against the hands that held him, let loose a roar of useless defiance.
    As his scream rose to the sky, a new sound followed in its wake, terrible and fierce, and the First hesitated, the knife suspended over Raef’s exposed throat.
    The dragon-kin dove out of the sky, a streak of smoke in the blue, and slammed into the First. The knife spun out of his hand as he hit the ground and the kin twisted in the air and landed on the smooth rock next to Raef, who had scrambled to his feet the moment the grips of the warriors had relaxed.
    The smoke-colored kin screamed again, daring any to approach, but Raef saw only shock on the faces of the alfar. The First lay flat, gasping for air, but Raef could see he would never stand again. His back was broken. The kin swung her neck around and looked at Raef, her sunset eyes boring into his, and though it was but an instant, it seemed like a lifetime. She blinked and Raef climbed onto her back. The ground dropped away beneath them and he was free.
    For a moment, there was peace. Raef closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the wind pull at every part of him as though it could wash away the coating of dust and blood. The great expanse of blue called to him but it would have to wait. Finnoul needed his help.
    The dragon-kin did not need to be asked to join the fight. Angling back to the north and the edge of the forest, her wings took them to the fray with all speed. It was a battle of both land and sky, Raef saw. Kin and their riders dueled in the air while the ground below heaved with warriors intent on savagery. Among them Raef could see Finnoul. Spiraling to the ground, the kin found a place to land and Raef, though unarmed, leaped from her back.
    His presence in the chaos did not go unnoticed for long and Raef had just enough time to snatch a long, slender knife from the grip of a fallen warrior before he was set upon by one of Lorcan’s followers. The alf was severely wounded, his left arm hanging useless at his side, and his movement was clumsy. Raef evaded a wild swing and answered with a quick stab that found soft flesh. Twisting the blade, Raef wrenched it from his opponent’s chest and moved on, his eyes searching for Finnoul or Lorcan even as a new attacker approached. This one Raef recognized from his capture the day before. The warrior’s blade was long and his face spattered with blood.
    “You would deny the gods, Midgardian?”
    “No, only you.”
    The alf lunged, his long sword eating up the distance between them. Raef ducked at the last moment and lashed out with his knife, slicing at the back of the elf’s thigh as he went by. Unfazed, the warrior attacked again, forcing Raef to retreat and deflect with his shorter blade until Raef was pinned up against a boulder. The sword bore down on Raef, barely kept at bay by the knife, until the alf’s free hand drew a small knife and made to stab down into Raef’s shoulder, but not before Raef thrust the fingers of his right hand into the alf’s eyes, causing him to scream and