It's Snippet Sunday, a Weekend Writing Warriors' blog hop!
This is the last snippet from Feillor: God of Lammas, which is now available! Squee!
This is the last snippet from Feillor: God of Lammas, which is now available! Squee!
Last time, Salina had explained to Feillor, god of Lammas, that she had been doing a (naked) ritual when she'd inexplicably shown up in his realm. The pair debated whether her ritual was more vital than the one he'd been doing. We ended with, “Now, do not speak anymore,” he went on, raising his scythe toward the heavens. “I must complete the ritual of first harvest, preferably before winter arrives.”
We pick up a couple sentences later, after he says a quick invocation to begin his ritual...
Feillor’s blade sliced through the
air, cutting through the thick grain. Every stroke sent out shock waves of
supernatural energy, warming the already sun-baked field. Salina stood there
with her mouth open, letting the breeze caress her skin and blow back her hair
while she watched a god perform a harvest ritual. As a pagan, she was
overwhelmed by the honor of being the first human to observe this moment. Not only that, but the god himself was mesmerizing, both with the
skilled, confident swings of the scythe, and the way Feillor’s powerful muscles
flexed and gleamed in the rays of afternoon sun.
She stayed put while he cut a swath
through the field, though not in a straight line as she would have suspected.
He moved diagonally, one way and then the next, the lines created by his
strokes crossing one another at precise, familiar points.
“A pentagram,” she murmured, feeling more in her bones than seeing with her eyes the fact that he had just carved
out the symbol of her faith.
Moved by the power and symbolism of his act, she
picked up a small handful of cut wheat stalks and began a dance offering in thanks for the harvest, moving her body in the same
side-to-side motion as the waving grain. The field responded, the tall wheat
bending more than the current breeze could explain, the amber stalks following
her movements except when she turned herself about in circles.
What do you think?
Feillor is preparing to bring in the first harvest before the celebration of Lammas, a task that has grown more deplorable considering humans no longer show respect for the old ways. He raises his scythe to cut the sacred wheat and nearly "harvests" a woman who appears out of nowhere. Sensing the Fates' meddling hand in the sudden arrival, he demands that they return Salina to earth. The Fates agree on one condition: he must go with her and stay in the mortal realm for three days.
Salina refuses to let a local developer destroy the precious woods where she conducts her most sacred pagan rituals. A prayer for guidance is interrupted when she is sent to the immortal world--almost straight into the blade of a horned god's scythe. She thought her prayers to Herne were being answered, but she learns that Feillor is actually Herne's son--and that he has little interest in the matters of humans. When he is zapped to Earth with her for three days, she decides to convince him that her cause is worth fighting for, and that not all humans deserve his scorn.
Feillor's ideals are challenged during his time with Salina, whose fiery beauty and passion for her cause stirs something he hadn't felt for far too long. Admitting the truth about his view on humans may open his heart to the witch who is quickly enchanting him. But between danger she faces and the Fates returning him to his realm at the exact wrong moment, an epiphany alone won't be enough to see her in his arms at last. He will have to put aside his mortal prejudice and act in the best interests of a race he thought he could no longer abide.
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I'm J. Rose Allister, wife, working mom, and the author of over twenty-five books. Somewhere in between one and the next, I love hanging out here on my blog and over on Twitter. Give me a comment or follow-I love chatting with people!
