A Time of Dread (Of Blood and Bone #1) - John Gwynne Page 0,118

right, and she had no intention of wandering off alone into the dark. The mound of heads in Oriens had left its mark. And she was glad of Jost’s company, at least it meant he cared whether Riv lived or died. She rolled her shoulders, trying to shift a dull ache in her back, high, between her shoulder blades.

Must’ve pulled a muscle climbing that tree.

They walked past a group of White-Wings gathered around a fire – the paddock guards, part of Lorina’s hundred. Some of them were singing; one invited them over, but Riv walked on.

‘Hold,’ a voice rang out before them; two figures stepped out of the darkness, spears in their fists. Two White-Wings standing guard duty. One of them was Vald. He looked tense, his eyes constantly scanning the gloom and shifting shadows within the forest.

‘Don’t stray so close to the trees,’ the other one said, an older warrior from Garidas’ hundred.

‘They’re all right,’ Vald said.

‘Aye. Of course they are, they’re going to be White-Wings. Won’t stop them being eaten by one of Forn’s hungry mouths, though, or snatched by a Kadoshim, or whatever it was did that to those in the town.’ He looked pointedly at Riv and Jost. ‘Back to the meadow, eh?’

‘As you asked so nicely,’ Riv said, and they started back, soon reaching the road guards. They were still in their cups, songs louder and more slurred.

‘Aren’t they the two fledglings that failed their warrior trial?’ a slurring voice said.

‘Ignore them,’ Jost whispered.

‘Run back to your sister’s apron strings,’ one of them said, pointing at Riv, then he fell over, laughing.

Riv scowled at the warriors, a mixture of young and old. The one who’d fallen over climbed back to his feet, only a few years older than her. Jost was pulling on her arm and she gave a frustrated sigh, stamping down the ever-present rage that had begun to burn again. She turned away with Jost and began to walk away.

‘Fly along, little fledglings,’ another guard said, making a flapping motion. ‘Get back to Big Sister before it’s too late.’ The one who had fallen over laughed so hard it sounded like he was crying.

Riv twisted on her heel and marched towards them, the rage descending like a red mist again.

‘What?’ Jost said. ‘Riv, what’re you doing? Riv, no, come back, Riv. Riv, please.’ He hurried after her, snatched at her arm but she pulled it away.

‘So, which one of you arse-wipes wants to go first?’ Riv asked, glaring at them all.

‘Eh?’

‘Just ignore her,’ Jost said, pulling at Riv’s arm.

‘Listen to your friend,’ one of the other guards, a sharp-nosed man, less in his cups than the others.

‘Aye, listen to that bag of string and run along,’ said another, a woman, a scar running from eye to jaw. ‘No doubt you’ll be a White-Wing soon enough – your sister will make sure of that, even though you don’t deserve it.’ She looked Jost up and down. ‘What is he, anyway? Your guard-stick?’

‘Bag of string? Guard-stick?’ Jost said.

‘You first, then,’ Riv said and leaped at the woman.

She crashed into the warrior, the two of them rolling together, Riv throwing punches and using elbows all the while. Someone grabbed her collar, hoisting her away. A glimpse of Jost punching someone flush on the chin.

He has long arms, as they’re finding out, Riv thought, feeling a rush of joy sweep through her, a grin splitting her face as she let the frustrations in her bubble over into a physical release of violence. She twisted in the grip about her neck, knee lashing out, connecting with something soft. There was a whoosh of air and a gurgled groan and she was no longer being held. People all around her, faces, limbs, all one long, furious, blurred drunken dance. She threw punches and kicks, felt some land, dimly, through her euphoria, saw a flash of a face that looked like Vald.

Couldn’t have been.

And then, abruptly, she was airborne, weightless, legs kicking, the snarl of bodies below her stopping in mid-punch or kick. She saw Jost upon the floor, someone’s arm around his neck, but he had another’s leg in his grip, his mouth open to bite their calf.

The rushing of air about her, a sound. She looked up, saw broad white wings beating, Kol’s grim face looking down at her.

Dawn was close, a grey stain seeping across the horizon, turning the solid black of night into shifting shadows. Riv’s mouth throbbed, pains everywhere clamouring for her attention and she