Нора Робертс - The Becoming

But more came, and more, and even in her rage and fury she knew she wouldn’t be enough.

Roars sounded from above. Dragons and riders streaked across the sky from the west, and faeries flew in like a storm cloud behind them. Wings spread, Morena leaped off from behind Harken and, sword slashing, landed beside Breen.

“Alone?” She snarled it as she impaled an elf.

“There wasn’t time. Oh my God, Marco!”

She saw him riding with Brian as the dragon spewed a line of fire over the enemy.

“We have to drive them back!” Morena shouted. “Back through the portal.”

The battle raged in the air as it did on the ground. Wings burned, and the wounded and dead dropped like stones from the sky.

“I don’t know where it is. You have to lead the way. Harken can deal with this. He’ll drive them back,” Morena said, “and so will we.”

So they fought their way back, through the smoke and the stench, over the bodies and the blood. Breen sensed Bollocks—always close. And alive. She called Lonrach so he’d join the other dragons, and with Morena and fresh warriors, drove the enemy back.

Some ran back through or dived or flew, others crawled, howling from wounds. From the other side where the dark pulsed, she heard screams, but she ignored them.

Marg stood, alive, whole, with Tarryn, hands clasped as they worked to spread light, to close the portal, to seal the cracks.

Once again she wanted to weep, just weep, but she ran to them, gripped Marg’s hand, and joined power.

And that merged power flexed its muscles. Fighting still whirled around them as more and more of the enemy broke ranks to rush back through, but the three women stood focused and unwavering.

Bollocks charged, dragging a wounded dog back and finishing him, and Breen pulled up light, spread it.

It burned, like dragon breath, so some went to flame in the retreat. Where the dark had swallowed the light, now light pulsed, a thousand hearts to close off the dark.

She heard Sedric call out. “We’ve broken them. You, you, you, guard the three. The rest, go after the stragglers.”

Alive, she thought. Alive. Yseult was made of lies.

She wouldn’t think of Keegan yet, couldn’t.

She still needed the rage—cold now, deliberate now—to find more, to find enough to close the portal and the dark beyond it.

All we are, she thought, all we have. And gave a last hard push.

The portal snapped shut, cutting the demon who tried to climb through in two.

“Closed,” Tarryn said. “It must be sealed.”

“My father’s blood closed it, Odran said, and mine opened it. But … he had to pull some part of me to the other side to use it.”

She looked down at her palm. She’d healed it so she could use the sword. “Can I seal it from this side?” She looked to Marg.

“Aye. In the light, and given freely.”

Breen held out her hands. “You should do it. My blood and my power come down from you.”

“ Mo stór. ” Marg took Breen’s hands, kissed them. Then, taking the athame from her belt, scored both palms. Then both of her own.

“From mine to his, from his to yours.” She pressed her palms to Breen’s. “A gift clean and bright.”

Breen took it, stepped to the tree, pressed her palms against it. “The light given me outshines the dark. Upon this door I place my mark. What my blood opened it closes tight, it seals with light. Through the power given me, as I will, so mote it be.”

She felt it pass through her, and felt with her hands on the portal, with her blood seeping into it, the black rage on the other side.

“Beat your fists,” she muttered. “Do your worst. You won’t use me again.”

Then it drained, it all drained, and she turned to throw her arms around Marg. “She told me she’d killed you. Yseult. You and Sedric and Keegan. I thought you were all dead.”

“Oh, no, no, my sweet girl. She lied to hurt you, to weaken you.”

“She hurt me, but made me stronger.” She held tight. Tighter. “I hurt her, Nan. But I didn’t kill her. I swore I’d end her, and I will. I heard Sedric after, so I know he’s alive. Keegan?”

She looked over Marg’s shoulder to Tarryn.

“He called Cróga only moments before you arrived to join the other dragons and riders. To join his brother. They’ll hunt down any who lived and remain in Talamh. So.”

She took Breen’s hands, gently healed the cuts. “While they do their work, we’ll finish ours.” Then she drew Breen in, held her. “Your father is proud of you today.”

“You loved him,” Breen stated. “I feel it.”

“I did. Now.” She drew back. “We cast the circle, we salt the earth, and this evil thing will never hide what it is again.”

It left her shaken. She trembled inside, as she’d learned what she would do, could do. Take lives, and more, with a terrible fury. She trembled inside, knowing she’d do it again when she had to.

So when she came out of the forest with Bollocks at last, started to cross the ground still blood-soaked and scorched, and saw Marco standing beside the dragon with Brian, the weeping she’d held off burst free.

He rushed to her, folded her in, rocked, swayed, and just said her name over and over.

“You were supposed to stay at the cottage.” She pressed her face against his shoulder. “I told you to stay at the cottage.”

“Hey, you’re not the boss of me. Well, you sort of are, but not about everything. Not about taking care of my best girl.”

“You rode on a dragon.”

“Yeah, and that’s not something I want to do again anytime soon.”

“Ah now, you’ll learn to love it.” Brian clapped Marco on the shoulder as he kissed the top of Breen’s head. “He wouldn’t stay behind, and if I’d left him there, how could he ever forgive me? And how could I ask him to?”

“You came.” She turned her head on Marco’s shoulder to meet Brian’s eyes. “You and all the others from the valley.”

“Marco went straight to Harken, and between him and Morena, they gathered enough of us, left enough behind to keep the valley secured if needed. Now we think we’ve dealt with all the stragglers, but I’m to do another pass.”

“Good luck with that,” Marco told him, and shifted Breen to draw Brian in for a kiss. “I’m staying down here on solid ground.”

“You’ll learn to love it,” Brian said again, and mounted. Then flew.

“I love you, Marco, and enough I’d put you in a happy trance so we could fly home, but as much as I want to be there, I don’t think I can leave yet. I need to talk to Keegan. Need to see him. And I want the longest, hottest shower in the history of long, hot showers. Maybe a gallon of wine just to dull the images in my head right now. I killed, Marco. I know they were evil, and it’s war, but I killed.”

“So did I.” Emotion that mirrored hers swam into his eyes. “Three Sidhe. One was a girl. I mean female. I never thought I could, but I did. I’m not sorry, but I feel a little sick inside.”

“Let’s go sit down somewhere and just breathe. And let Bollocks swim. He—he killed, too. The sweetest dog in the world—in any world—killed to protect me and others. And—and they hurt him.” Tears welled up again. “He had cuts and gouges.”

“Oh man.” Marco crouched to stroke his hands over Bollocks. “Is he okay? I don’t see anything.”

“I fixed it, and I took him to a stream so he could wash off the blood. I couldn’t stand seeing the blood on him. And you, you weren’t hurt?”

“Not a scratch. Were you?”

“Nothing much. Let’s just sit down somewhere quiet for a minute.”

“Breen.” He took her shoulders. “I need to tell you about Morena.”

“Oh God, no, is she hurt?”