A Time of Dread (Of Blood and Bone #1) - John Gwynne Page 0,59
of the time. But not all of the time. Like the other day. Sometimes the only answer is blood and steel.’ He sucked in a long, deep breath, back straightening, as if setting his mind to a task. ‘I’ve taught you how to use your fists, if you’ve needed to, some spear-work, and how to use a knife and axe to defend yourself. But it’s time for something more, now. In case that tide that I’ve kept us running from catches up with us. I’ve thought we could find peace, you and me. That I could keep us separate from the darkness of this world.’ He sighed, rubbing his eyes. ‘Looking back on it, I should have taught you a long time ago.’
‘What do you mean, Da?’
‘This,’ his da said. He stood up and strode down the creaking timber steps into their courtyard, the ground frozen hard. Drem followed him and his da turned and threw something to him, Drem instinctively catching it.
It was a wooden sword, long and heavy, and Drem saw his da was holding one, too.
His da had taught him some rudiments with a sword, but it was not a weapon that a trapper required in the same way as axe, knife and spear, so it felt awkward and strange in Drem’s hand.
What is it that I need to fight with a sword? Why won’t he just tell me?
‘Time to learn some real swordcraft,’ Olin said, setting his feet and raising his own wooden sword two-handed over his head. ‘This is called stooping falcon. It is the first form of the sword dance. A good position for strike and defence. Now, set your feet like mine.’
The sound of hooves, a rumble like distant thunder. Drem’s da paused, holding up a hand, head turning, and Drem lowered his practice sword, sweat dripping from his nose. He felt as if every muscle in his body was burning, or weeping. Or begging for mercy. Or all three.
His da strode towards their cabin, held a hand out and Drem threw him his practice sword, then followed. They reached the wooden porch, Olin leaned the swords against a wall and was resting a hand upon the short axe at his belt when riders appeared, cantering on their path and into the courtyard. Ten or twelve men, Ulf the tanner and Calder the smith at their head.
Is this about the fight?
Then Drem saw Fritha amongst them. She was dressed like the rest of them, furs and skins, fur-trimmed boots and woollen breeches. She nodded a greeting to him.
Olin just waited for them to speak.
‘Did you see that fire, up in the Bonefells?’ Ulf said.
‘I did,’ Olin replied.
‘We’re going to have a closer look,’ Calder said. ‘Thought you might want to come along.’
Drem shared a look with his da.
‘Good of you to ask,’ Olin said. ‘We’ve missed the Bonefells.’
‘Ha, what did I tell you?’ Ulf barked a laugh, slapping Calder across his slab of a shoulder. ‘Go saddle a horse, then – we’ve a lot of ground to travel and not a lot of day to do it in. Don’t fancy spending a night out in them hills.’
Mountains, Drem corrected silently, his new strategy to keep his da happy, though he agreed with the principle wholeheartedly. He ran to saddle their horses.
This is not the best way to recover from a beating, Drem concluded to himself. No matter how he shifted in his saddle, there was always an outcry from various parts of his body. Right now the pain was coming from his thighs, which pulsed their throbbing discomfort with every step his horse made.
His da was up ahead, riding with Ulf and Calder, picking a sloping path through rock and pine. The rest of their group, a mix of townsmen and trappers, rode in a loose column. Some spoke in murmured conversation, but Drem kept silent. He was comfortable with his da, but around other people he mostly felt awkward. Never knew what to say, or what he was supposed to say.
Harness jangled behind and Fritha rode up beside him. A couple of knives at her belt. Her jaw still boasted a bruise, mottled and purple as a berry-stain.
‘Why are you here?’ Drem asked, worried for Fritha, thinking it was too dangerous, the weather threatening winter, the Wild looming close.
‘This is my home, now. Where I come from, we help look after one another. Saw Ulf and Calder, thought an extra spear is never a bad thing.’