A Time of Dread (Of Blood and Bone #1) - John Gwynne Page 0,105
the fact that there were men not so far away with a blood feud against him. That wasn’t going to go away, either. And, as much as he felt like his heart was broken, that all of the colour of life had just drained away, the thought of being skewered upon the end of Burg’s or Wispy’s blades was still not an appealing one.
And he’d been thinking on other things, too. Things that he needed to sift through first, before he fully faced up to Asger’s offer. He’d been thinking on his da’s last words. His cry of Truth and Courage, how that had still been so much a part of him, even after sixteen years of living a new life with Drem, that it had burst from his lips at such a telling moment.
A life-or-death moment.
And then, when he was dying, when he knew he was dying, he’d asked for his sword. The Starstone Sword.
Drem had not been able to search for it as he’d sat with his da, not while his da still had breath in his body, and every breath and moment had been precious. But after, Drem had searched everywhere, all the more desperate to find it because his da had asked for it.
But Drem had not found it.
Maybe I just missed it. It was dark. I was wounded and grief-stricken.
No. He knew how methodical he was, even in anxious, stressful times.
Then where is the sword?
He moved to his da’s very last words.
I was wrong.
What did he mean?
It could have meant so many things. Wrong to walk away from the Order of the Bright Star. Wrong to think he could protect Drem. Wrong to go after the bear. Wrong to give in to Drem’s desire to find Fritha, even when they both knew she was most likely dead and that they were wasting their best opportunity of leaving without being noticed.
But none of those options rang true with Drem.
I was wrong.
There’s more, I know it. Think back further.
Fritha’s cabin. Da was concerned, then.
Drem closed his eyes, seeing the cabin, the destruction and bodies. He remembered his da crouching by the hound, then moving on to Hask’s body, lifting a piece of timber.
Part of the door.
Maybe he wasn’t as concerned by the need to leave as he was about what he saw in the cabin.
And that wasn’t the first time da had been troubled lately. Think back, further.
He remembered their night at Calder’s forge, sifted through their snatches of conversation over or between the din of hammer blows.
We spoke of Bodil, how we were both troubled by the death-scene. No tracks. And the strap-marks torn into his wrist, like an animal caught in a snare. And Da said that Calder’s corpse bore a knife-wound.
Drem stored this information away, a nagging voice telling him he was missing something. He felt as if he was sitting at a loom, staring at the threads of a tapestry but not quite seeing the picture.
And then, finally, he forced himself to think of the scene in the woods, amidst twilight and snow, where his da had died. A shivering breath threatened to overwhelm him again, a blur of tears and pain in his chest, but he took a few long moments and breathed deep as his da had taught him when he was worried or anxious, and slowly the sensation subsided. Not gone, but it became a calm sea of grief, not a great wave.
The white bear, sounds of it fading. A conversation – what to do.
He realized he was standing, physically re-enacting the moments and steps with his da.
Pursue. Stay. Go. That’s what we talked about. I said it was time to leave. If only I’d said that before the bear had been brought to bay. Da would still be here.
The ocean of his grief threatened to rise up at that, and for a while Drem stood there with fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. After a while he gave a shuddering sigh and wiped them away. Forced his mind to return to the scene of his da’s death.
The bear. We both heard it. To our right.
He turned, staring to his right, eyes screwed shut as he remembered.
How did it flank us so quietly, when it had been crashing through the forest so recently?
No answer would come for that, so he moved on.
Da telling me to run. Me falling. Snatched glimpses. Da’s battle-cry.
He was on the ground in his yard now, the snow cold, exhilarating.