The Crossing (Immortals) Read Online Free Page B

twigs formed a perfect unity with the forest
behind. A low peat wall ringed the village and marked the
placement of the strongest perimeter wardings.
    Mac, of course, had no trouble at all seeing past the
glamour. He steeled himself for the village's tears and grief, but as he crossed the field in Gilraen's wake, he became aware of... laughter?

    He blinked. What the bloody hell-?
    A buzz of elation filled the air. The entire population, it
seemed, circled and dove above the roofs like a flock of
happily crazed hummingbirds. Spotting their approach,
several of the faeries detached themselves from the group
and darted toward them, calling greetings as they flew.
Mac recognized the lead flyer as Gilraen's plump wife, Arianne. Her round, pretty face was flushed with joy. "Such
fine news! Such blessing! Oh, Mac Lit, 'tis too wonderful.
Thank ye, thank ye!
    He stared at Arianne, nonplussed. "Thank you for
what?"
    "Why, for healing our wee lass, of course. Tamika is
well!"
    A cheer arose from the circling faeries. Several executed
graceful, midair tumbles in tribute. Mac smiled at them
briefly, struggling to make sense of this startling turnabout.
    A half dozen faeries swarmed about his head, the females tossing him kisses. Arianne dove at him, arms open,
careening headfirst into his chest, nearly tipping him over.
Mac grasped her shoulders, holding her at arm's length,
wings buzzing.
    "Arianne," Gilraen said, dazedly, buzzing in the air beside his wife. "Can it be true? Wee Tamika is truly well?"
    "Aye, thanks to Mac Lir."
    "I had nothing to do with it," Mac said.
    Arianne beamed. "So modest. As a prince should be. I
knew ye would put things right. I told Gilraen as much.
`Mac Lir will save the young one,' I told him. And ye have!
Just as I said ye would."
    "I intended to do just that, but I can't claim credit. I
haven't had a chance to do anything. Tamika's recovery
isn't my doing."
    "Where is the lass?" Gilraen put in.

    "There," his wife said, pointing behind her. "Laina,"
she called, "bring the wee one here!"
    A dainty faerie swooped low, cradling a squirming, cooing bundle in her slender arms. The tiny child's cheeks
were rosy, her eyes bright. Gossamer wings-too young
yet for flight-fluttered with vibrant energy. She waved a
small fist in Mac's face. He touched her cheek. She responded with a wide, toothless grin. Clearly, she was in
perfect health.
    Mac exchanged a perplexed glance with Gilraen, who
looked just as puzzled. "When did she recover?" he asked
Arianne.
    "Why, just a few moments past, not long after Gilraen
went out to meet ye. 'Tis why I thought-"
    "It wasn't me," Mac repeated. "Perhaps your healers...?"
    Arianne shook her head. "'Twasn't any spell of ours.
We tried every spell we knew, and still the lass weakened."
    "Are you sure Tamika was so close to death? Perhaps
you mistook the severity of her illness."
    "Nay." Arianne's voice trembled. "I wouldna mistake
such a thing. Tamika's life essence was all but gone. If her
recovery was nay your doing, Mac Lit, 'twas a gift from
the gods. From your own father, perhaps."
    "Perhaps," Mac murmured, but he knew it wasn't true.
The Council of Celtic Gods had strict procedures governing miracles. First, a formal petition for Divine Intervention had to be made by the hopeful party. Once the plea
arrived in Annwyn, debates were scheduled, which had to
be attended by a two-thirds quorum of the Celtic Gods
and Goddesses. Who did not have a long tradition of
agreeing on anything. More often than not, arguments
raged interminably, the opportunity for Intervention passing long before any Divine Action was recommended or
denied. Even in those rare instances when debates ended
quickly, Intervention was seldom approved. Such heavy handed divine action tended to upset the balance of
magic, to the detriment of both life - and death-magic
creatures.

    Whatever had happened here, it had not been an act of
a god.
    The faeries, however,