A Time of Dread (Of Blood and Bone #1) - John Gwynne Page 0,120

see the sudden fury in her eyes. ‘No,’ she repeated, some of that fury leaking into her voice.

Kol smiled at Aphra as he stood, stretched luxuriously. With a beat of his wings he was airborne, a silhouette against the rising sun.

Aphra stared at Riv, her mouth twitching, though nothing came out.

Horns sounded, announcing the change of guard and the coming of morning.

It’s Midwinter’s Day, Riv realized.

Trees blotted out the day as Riv entered Forn. It was close to highsun, and she was marching in formation with the other fledglings of Aphra’s hundred, all of them equipped with shield and spear.

Scouts had worked through Oriens and out onto the surrounding area as soon as dawn had arrived and, not long after, evidence of a trail had been discovered on the north-eastern side of the town, leading into Forn Forest. Kol had sent two score White-Wings in to scout the path while the rest of the three contingents prepared to march.

As they did, Kol had alighted on the wall of Oriens and addressed them all, a stirring speech of justice for the slain, of Elyon’s judgement upon the murderers. He quoted from the Book of the Faithful again, more about the iniquities of the Fallen catching up with them, of justice and blood. Then he ordered that the fledglings be equipped for battle and accompany the search into Forn. Riv had seen Aphra’s frown, but not known whether it was from worry for Riv’s safety, or for some other reason.

And now they were marching into Forn, shadow and leaf all about.

Has Kol done this for me? Is this what he meant, when he said he would try to make my dream come true?

It was like a dream, a thrill coursing through her as she’d stepped into line and lifted her shield, Jost beside her. To her left there was a loud crack as a branch snapped, a giant appearing between trees. They were spread to either side of the White-Wings’ ragged column, impossible to keep tightly regimented in this terrain.

And on they marched, deeper into Forn.

Something changed about them. Riv was at first unsure what the change was. Then she realized.

It had become silent.

No birdsong, no insects. And with it, a tension in the air, thick and stifling.

A horn blast, the front of the column halting, the rest rippling to a stop behind.

‘What’s happening?’ Jost said, peering along the line.

‘You’re taller than me,’ Riv said. ‘All I can see is someone’s back. And Jost, I wanted to give you my thanks, for last night.’

‘You’re my sword-kin, what are friends for, eh?’ he said, smiling, one eye half-closed, a purple bruise circling it.

‘Your poor eye,’ she said.

‘Ah, it’s not so bad. I’d rather that than wake up this morning with teeth marks in my ankle, like one of their lot has had to do.’

They both laughed at that, receiving strict looks from a White-Wing in the ranks ahead.

Another horn blast and then the column was moving on again. Suddenly, Riv saw what had caused them to stop.

They had found the bodies of the townsfolk. From an overhanging tree branch hung a body. A noose about one ankle, it was headless, skinned and gutted like a boar ready for the spit. Riv had to force herself to look away as they marched beneath it and on into the forest.

As they pushed on, more bodies were visible, hanging from branches, swaying, dangling, chewed upon by things that flew or climbed.

They are like markers showing the way.

Which is worrying. Is this an ambush? Are we marching to our slaughter?

Riv felt fear tingling through her veins, but also excitement, the thought that she might finally fight the Kadoshim. She felt as if she were born to do that. The one thing that she existed to do.

And then they found them.

Bodies in a small clearing, hundreds upon hundreds heaped upon each other in a tangled, stinking pile. Crows and flies rose in a buzzing, croaking cloud, the stench of rot rolling out from the dead like a wave. Jost was not the only one to empty his guts into a bush.

Orders were barked, Balur One-Eye appearing out of the gloom. All were mindful of an ambush, eyeing the trees suspiciously, horns blowing and the White-Wings splitting, some moving to help Balur and his giants as they went about setting up a perimeter, giants hacking at thinner trees, White-Wings using machetes and axes to chop at vine and brush, pushing the forest back a little, clearing a defensible space.