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

own songs of the home I dream of.”
    “I gave you my word,” Raef repeated, firmly this time. “If I cannot help us both, let me at least help you.”
    Finnoul frowned. “You speak as though something is lost to you, as though time is slipping through your fingers.”
    Raef shook his head, trying to take back the words he had let loose. “I meant nothing by it.”
    “Tell me.” There was no question in Finnoul’s voice and the faded blue eyes demanded the truth.
    Raef was uncertain where to begin but the words began to flow from him. “I have seen dead men walk, I have burned a frozen lake, and I have looked into the eyes of a Valkyrie and seen my death reflected there, but all this does not compare to what is coming. Shining Balder is dead, Finnoul. The events that lead to the end have been set in motion. The wolf-age is coming.”
    Finnoul was still for a long moment, her eyes not leaving Raef’s. “You are certain?”
    “Have I heard it from the mouth of Odin? From the crones sitting at the roots of Yggdrasil? No. But I know it in my heart.” And Raef told Finnoul of Loki, of Freyja’s army woken by Torrulf Palesword, and of the storm that showed him Thor’s raging grief. “No man can know how much time is left to us.”
    “If what you say is true, your time is better spent in Midgard, not wasted here.”
    “I do not count it wasted. I have but one desire that I wish to see fulfilled before the sea swallows the earth. But even that is far out of reach and I know not where to begin. Perhaps this is where I am meant to make my end.”
    “What is this desire you speak of?”
    The words caught in Raef’s throat, as if disuse made them more difficult to say. “Justice. Vengeance for my murdered father. But I have only ghosts to chase. The man responsible is faceless and nameless.”
    “If our time is short, you ought to be with your people.”
    “If I go back on my word, I will regret it. I will stay.”
    Finnoul accepted this with a nod. “We will visit the kin again tomorrow. It is time you flew.”

    The rocky ridge was deserted when Finnoul and Raef returned at sunset the next day. The red sun warmed the rocks but the sky was free of winged shadows.
    “Strange,” Finnoul said. “Only in storms have I seen them give up their favorite place to sun bathe.”
    “Are we early?”
    “No. The sun has nearly set. Perhaps they are hunting.” Finnoul shrugged her shoulders. “Come. I will show you the way to the barren land so you might be familiar with it when the time comes.” They remounted Finnoul’s orange dragon-kin and headed south. A stiff, relentless breeze assailed them from the west as they flew over green woodland. Small lakes pocked the land but it was not long before Raef could see that ahead lay a very different landscape. The trees ended abruptly, cut off by dry ground that rose and fell in small, ragged peaks and then tumbled down into deep, twisting crevices where the sunlight would not reach. There was no water in sight. The kin slowed and hovered high above the barren waste.
    “Does it end?”
    “Yes. Far to the south lies a great canyon with a rushing river and beyond that the world is green again.”
    “What happened here?”
    Raef could not see Finnoul’s face but he could hear the pain in it. “A battle was fought here. Long ago.”
    “Fire?” It did not make sense, for the wounded land would have recovered over time, but Raef could not see what else might do such damage.
    “Giants.”
    Raef looked again and saw the scarred earth with new eyes.
    “Do you see that plateau?” Finnoul pointed ahead of them. It was hard to miss, being the only level surface in sight. “The sacrifice will happen there. We will take them before they leave the trees. The Guardians will be on the ground. They will be defended, of course, but the greatest protection will be up here. Lorcan will be able to see any attack that comes from the skies and we will give him one. Thannor will lead it.