Read Online Ravens of Avalon by Diana L. Paxson, Marion Zimmer Bradley - Free Book Online

more tightly around her shoulders, wincing as the movement jarred muscles she had not known were sore. Then, with the others, she followed the Arch-Druid down the path. In the dim light, the shape of his goosefeather headdress and the stiff folds of his horsehide cape loomed as contorted as the stone outcrops that crouched like monstrous guardians against the brightening sky. A torch flamed in his hand.
    Behind him came the High Priestess, supported by Ardanos and Lhiannon, her frail form swathed in dark draperies from which an occasional glint of silver gleamed. With each movement came a faint shimmer of sound from the silver bells tied to the branch in her hand.
    As they left the campsite, a harsh call split the silence. The ravens were back again, wheeling above like shards of night.
    They remember the feast the kings promised them, thought Boudica. Suddenly the shapes of rock and tree seemed insubstantial, as if they were only a veil that at any moment might be drawn aside to reveal some more luminous reality, and she understood why the sacrifice had to take place at this liminal hour between night and day.
    Halfway down the slope the ground leveled. She could not see what lay beyond it. The kings unloaded the horses, then took them back up the hill, except for the last one, a white stallion that had borne no burden but its own gleaming hide. Him, they tethered to the thorn tree that grew at the edge of the overhang. In the gloom she could just make out three dark shapes among the branches. The ravens. Waiting …
    The High Priestess and Lhiannon stepped forward to face the Arch-Druid at the edge of the cliff. Below it, the waters gleamed black and so still that the surface was etched with smooth spirals by the passage of the gulls that floated there.
    “By heaven that gives us life and breath,” sang Mearan. “By the waters in whose movement all things grow and change; by the solid earth on which we stand … O spirits who dwell in this place, we ask your blessing.”
    “By the fire of life that illuminates the spirit; by the pool from which we draw power, by the tree that links earth and heaven …” Lugovalos held his torch high, “we call the Shining Ones to witness.”
    Lhiannon moved forward. “By all the hopes borne on the wind; by all the memories that lie within the pool; by present knowledge in the fields we know; we call on the wisdom of our fathers and mothers who have gone before.”
    “Hear us! Bless us! Be with us now!” they cried as one. The stallion pulled nervously at its tether and the startled gulls burst yammering into the air.
    The sky had brightened to a translucent pale blue. The sun was still hidden behind the mountains on the mainland, but its coming was proclaimed by a growing radiance. Togodumnos picked up a long sword and the light gleamed on its blade. The Druids taught that there were two kinds of sacrifice: those that were shared to bind men and gods in one community, and those that were broken and put beyond use by humankind. It was the second they meant to offer now.
    “These weapons we won from our foes in battles between the tribes. As I destroy this blade—” he set his heel upon the point of the sword and leaned, and the metal groaned and gave, “—I end the enmity that was between us. Gods of our people, accept this sacrifice!” The sword wheeled outward as he released it, the distorted curve carving the pale sky, and disappeared with a splash into the dark waters below.
    Caratac snapped the shaft of a spear, then broke off the tip against a stone. “Never more shall this spear drink Celtic blood! May the Lady of Ravens accept the sacrifice!”
    If only, thought Boudica, the hatreds between the tribes could be drowned so easily! But perhaps the Roman threat would frighten them into setting old enmities aside. One by one the kings came forward with swords and spears, shields with bosses of bronze sculpted in graceful triple spirals, pieces of horse harness, and