A Time of Dread (Of Blood and Bone #1) - John Gwynne Page 0,162

could remember, all he had thought about was the Sirak. About his kin, his dead brother and sister, his pride-battered mother. Arcona, the Grass Sea, nursing his grudges, he and Jin feeding each other’s flames of hatred, their spite-filled mocking of all things Drassil, their disgust at any who were weak enough to show emotion, their bitter dreams of justice or vengeance, whatever name you gave it.

But now I am worried about something – someone – else. Riv. My friend.

It was a new feeling, having a friend. Caring about someone who had not come from the Clans. Especially when that someone was as wild and emotionally unfettered as an unbroken colt.

But she was his friend, he could as much deny it as deny that water was wet, or the sky was blue. She had done something unprecedented that day when she’d given him his bow. She’d forged a bond with him somehow, across the abyss of his pain and scorn.

So, she is my friend. I care about her welfare.

And that was why he’d rushed after her when he’d seen her carried from the weapons-field, almost a ten-night gone, why he’d hammered on her barrack doors, only to be told to go away, that she was unwell and could not have visitors.

Every day he had returned, everyday been told the same thing, whether by her mam or sister. Sometimes a different White-Wing. Even by the bull-muscled Vald once. He’d called Bleda back as he had turned to leave.

‘Don’t take it personal,’ Vald had said. ‘I’ve not seen her, either. None of us have. Only Aphra and Dalmae. Riv’s got some kind of fever, so they’re saying.’

Somehow that had made Bleda feel slightly better.

Until Jin had spoken to him.

And she’s not happy, either.

Jin had told him in no uncertain terms that he was humiliating her, and himself, with his pathetic fascination for Riv. Jin had called her a bad-tempered barbarian, which had almost made Bleda smile, a twitch of facial muscle that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jin, and had not helped to soothe her mood.

Perhaps Jin’s right. I should be more concerned with my training, earning the right to lead my hundred, and their respect. Certainly Old Ellac had looked at him strangely every time that Bleda marched to Riv’s barrack, for Ellac would accompany him, saying he was sworn to protect him, and Bleda had no reason to order him not to do so.

But as Bleda sat here in the dark, thinking these things through, he had come to a conclusion.

I don’t care. Not about how I should feel, about how I should behave. Riv is my friend.

He sighed with that thought, a release of tension, and sat a little straighter in his chair.

A sound drew his attention, standing out from the wind and rain. He opened his shutters a crack and peered outside. A movement in the street below drew his eyes, a flicker through the swirling eddies of rain.

A person, weaving through the street as if they had drunk too much wine. A woman, fair hair plastered to their face.

Is that … ?

He leaned forwards, pulling the shutters wide.

Riv?

Other forms appeared behind her, following, gaining.

Before he’d realized what he was doing he’d pulled on his boots and was buckling his weapons-belt on, the familiar weight of his bow and quiver feeling like a missing limb returning. He wrapped a cloak about his shoulders and slipped out of his door.

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CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

SIG

‘Come out, Drem, trapper’s son, forger of the Starstone Sword,’ Gulla called out. ‘And you, too, Sig of the Bright Star. I know you are here, somewhere. You cannot think to ride past a town of four hundred people upon your great bear and go unnoticed.’

Laughter hissed and rippled around the clearing.

‘Long have you been a bane to us, a thorn in our flesh, and now you shall be plucked and thrown upon the fire, and we shall feast upon your bones, upon the flesh of your bear and upon the hearts and organs of your sword-brothers.’

As terrified and foolish as Sig felt right now, that made her mad.

There’s a time for stealth, and there’s a time to kill.

‘Come out, come out,’ Gulla chanted, laughing, the acolytes taking up the cry, ringing out as they spread through the clearing, turning, searching. A whisper of wings, and Gulla’s children took to the air. With a victorious cry they spotted Sig and Drem and sped towards them. One was faster, the female. She thrust a spear down at them. Sig pushed Drem