A Time of Dread (Of Blood and Bone #1) - John Gwynne Page 0,45

awash with activity, warriors in the grey and green cloaks of Ardain everywhere, the honour guard of Queen Nara newly arrived from Dun Vaner to the north-west. Word of the Kadoshim coven had spread quickly and there was a sense of menace and tension in the air.

Warriors parted for Sig as she strode across the courtyard, their faces a mixture of unease and admiration. Giants were rare in Ardain, even with the close relationship between Ardain’s Queen Nara and Dun Seren’s Order of the Bright Star, but word of Sig’s Kadoshim-slaying had circulated quickly, and that was a feat respected by all.

Though I didn’t actually kill the beast, Sig thought as she made her way up a stairwell to the walls above Uthandun’s southern gate. A cold wind blew from the north, reminding her of winter’s approach.

Hammer should get the credit for that deed.

Cullen was there, waiting for her, his wounded arm in a sling, but apart from that looking for all the world like the happiest man alive.

‘How is it?’ Sig grunted, jutting her chin at his wounded arm.

‘That, oh, it’s fine. Just a scratch, hardly know it’s there.’

‘The spear pierced your arm and came out the other side,’ Sig said. ‘Even by my judgement, that’s no scratch.’

Cullen shrugged. ‘A tickle, nothing more.’

‘Make a fist,’ Sig said.

Cullen’s eyes pinched as the fingers on his left hand twitched and slowly formed a loose fist. A bead of sweat dripped from his nose.

‘Huh,’ grunted Sig. ‘You’ll not be holding much in that hand for a while. Next time, look before you leap.’

Cullen blinked at that. ‘I took a spear meant for you,’ he said, somewhere between angry and upset.

‘What, you thought I needed saving?’ Sig growled. ‘I would have dealt with the spear, without losing the use of an arm. And you fouled my net throw, which would have ended the battle then and there.’

Cullen withstood Sig’s gaze a moment, then looked away.

‘I—’

‘No,’ Sig snapped. ‘You acted recklessly. Truth and Courage does not mean hurling yourself in front of every thrown spear.’

Cullen was silent.

Sig stared at him, knew that she had hurt his pride and felt a glimmer of sympathy for him.

He is young and reckless. I can remember that feeling. But I would rather have him ride back to Dun Seren beside me with his pride injured, than be carrying his corpse tied to a horse.

‘Give your arm time; rest it properly and it won’t be long before you’re back to risking your neck,’ she said.

Cullen grinned. ‘Can’t wait,’ he said.

Sig rolled her eyes.

‘You didn’t come away bloodless, either,’ Cullen said, looking at the lattice of cuts upon Sig, on her face, forearms, legs. She felt them as she moved, scabs pulling, tight skin itching. A long gash cut across her new tattoo of vines and thorns, added to the one already curling up one arm and down the other, a tale of the lives she’d taken.

‘Aye, but mine are just scratches.’

‘Well, it was a good fight, so it was,’ Cullen declared, ‘and no denying.’

Tell that to Elgin’s dead sword-brothers. Twelve men beneath a pile of stones, now nothing more than cold sacks of meat. He’s like a young pup, feeling invincible and too eager to please.

She didn’t say anything, though. Cullen had fought well, with courage and skill, and acted to save her life without a thought for his own.

‘The Kadoshim is dead, its followers slain,’ Sig said by way of agreement.

‘We for home, now?’ Cullen asked.

‘Hammer needs another day or two.’ Sig shrugged. ‘Should give Keld the time he needs to get back to us.’

‘Thought he’d be back by now. He ever been gone this long before?’ Cullen asked.

Sig didn’t answer, just looked out over the meadow that rolled away from Uthandun’s walls towards a bridge that arched across the river Afren, which flowed slow and sluggish to the sea. On the far banks of the river a wall of trees grew, the fringe of the Darkwood, quickly becoming a sea of green and gold and russet that filled the southern horizon.

Where are you, Keld?

In truth Sig was worried about her huntsman. It had been four nights now since the assault on the Kadoshim coven, four nights since he’d gone in pursuit of the shaven-haired acolyte who had fled on the Kadoshim’s orders.

Four nights since she’d asked Keld to pursue the Kadoshim’s servant.

Keld can look after himself, she reassured herself, burying the worry that stirred within her. And Elgin has sent his own huntsmen out in search of