Two Ravens and One Crow: An Iron Druid Chronicles Novella
Language: English
Pages: 0
ISBN: B0097DLVFY
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Atticus O'Sullivan is back in an all-new, action-packed, laugh-out-loud novella from the author of The Iron Druid Chronicles.
Two-thousand-year-old Atticus may have outwitted and outfought everyone from Odin to Bacchus, but in this eBook original, he's about to discover what comes around when you go around messing with gods.
Six years into the training of his beautiful apprentice, Granuaile, a large crow swoops down and transforms into none other than the Morrigan, a goddess who insists that Atticus come with her at once. He must leave his apprentice behind, along with his Irish wolfhound, Oberon - and he must also leave his sword. The Morrigan has always taken extreme pleasure in pronouncing the Druid's mortal danger and imminent doom, so the fact that she won't reveal the purpose of their journey makes him very nervous. Of course, any time the Celtic Chooser of the Slain drops in unannounced, it's never good. When she does let slip that she'll be saving his life in the near future, Atticus is left to wonder...will he soon be giving his legions of enemies something to crow about?
Includes a preview of Kevin Hearne's highly anticipated new novel in The Iron Druid Chronicles, Trapped!
Dresden Files RPG, Volume 1: Your Story (Preorder Edition)
Becoming Alpha (Alpha Girl, Book 1)
A Death Displaced (Lansin Island, Book 1)
hope the fourth course won’t be a chicken dish.” “I don’t think it is.” “Good.” He turned to me and said, “I can see why you prefer to keep that story to yourself. It is a terrible thing to be henpecked.” The fourth course was a veal sirloin stuffed with morel mushrooms and another attractive arrangement of vegetables on the side. I tore into this since I’d never enjoyed a bite of the third course, occupied as I was with the story. The gods enjoyed their wine but didn’t touch the food.
doctored my tats. The problem with that was that, unlike most doctors, the Morrigan didn’t agree with the credo of “First, do no harm.” The rest of the Tuatha Dé Danann thought I was dead—at least, I hoped they did—so I was stuck with the Morrigan as my ink slinger. You have procrastinated long enough. I stopped flapping my wings out of shock and dropped like a stone for a second before I recovered. The Morrigan was not a type A personality who worried about procrastination—hers or anyone
pleasure to meet you, Freyja. It was a proper meeting indeed.” She gave a bloody grin. “I hope we get a chance to meet again.” Freyja did not respond. Odin turned his head to face me. “I cannot begin to express my dismay …” “No need,” I said. “Our agreement holds. Give me a few extra days to heal and arrange the delivery of Gungnir. I will tell your ravens where. And I will be there to help at the end of the world, if the world doesn’t kill me first.” He nodded curtly. “Leave us now, if you
entrances. It seemed like an awful lot of effort had gone into building such a plain room. There wasn’t even a hearth with some questionable stew bubbling in a cauldron. “What is this place?” The Morrigan took her time in answering. Once she had wound down, she said, “It is a place for rituals. For mortals it is a place of mystery and dread. Now, thanks to you, it is a place for laughter.” I chose to ignore that last bit. “I see no thorn bush here.” The tattoos that bound us to the earth had
looked upon with approval. I guess some things will never change. Despite the universe’s refusal to change enduring truths according to my will, lately I’ve been wishing I could train a Druid in a five-minute karate-movie montage rather than the necessary twelve years. After ten seconds of futile effort trying to solve a problem, the initiate would abruptly improve or learn the lesson and her expression would fill with wonder, and I would award said initiate a cookie or a tight nod of approval.
