A Time of Dread (Of Blood and Bone #1) - John Gwynne Page 0,84
captain of the Order, still is, as far as I know. Byrne. A good woman. A fine leader. So you would have made a fine hostage, used to manipulate and control the Order of the Bright Star, which has from its beginning answered to no other authority. I was not about to give you up, and neither was Byrne or the Order. We had many friends …’
He shook his head. There was a pain in his da’s eyes that Drem had never seen before.
‘Byrne and the Order said no, and the Ben-Elim said that they would return and take you by force if they had to. Tensions were high. So, in the dead of night I rose, packed our bags and took you from Dun Seren. I have no love for the Ben-Elim, but to see the Order go to war with them, for us – I could almost hear the Kadoshim laughing. It would have been disastrous for the Banished Lands. Whoever the victor would have been, they would have been greatly weakened, ripe for finishing off by the Kadoshim. So …’ He smiled grimly. ‘Here we are.’
Drem looked at his da; Olin’s face was lined with age and worry, with the weight of his burden. Drem knew his da loved him.
But the choices he made …
And all of a sudden the anger and hurt was gone, melting away, replaced with a wave of sorrow, for his da, for himself, for his mam, for the life they might have had together. His da moved, arms opening; Drem was confused, and then Olin was embracing him, pulling him into a hug that threatened to crack his bones.
‘I am sorry,’ Olin whispered, and then Drem was wrapping his own arms around his da, clinging onto him like a drowning man, both of them silent, but a thousand words spoken in their embrace.
Eventually Olin stepped away, tears staining his cheeks.
Drem felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, as he finally understood. But this new knowledge birthed so many more questions. He blew out a long breath and gave a hesitant smile.
I have so many new questions to ask! But first, I need some answers to the original ones.
Drem focused, trying to rein in his whirling mind.
‘Spells,’ he said, remembering the forge and his da’s voice, the strange language, the hiss of blood sizzling in the dark and fire glow.
‘You learn more than swordcraft at Dun Seren,’ Olin said. ‘If you’re there long enough, and deemed to be trusted. The Order was founded by Corban, a great warrior and leader. You’ve heard of him?’
‘Aye, of course. Though not from you,’ Drem said grudgingly.
‘Well, I’ve avoided the subject. What do you know of Corban?’
‘That he founded the Order at Dun Seren,’ Drem said, sifting through the myriad legends and fireside tales he’d heard through the years. ‘That he had a tame wolven.’
‘She wasn’t tame,’ Olin murmured. ‘Go on.’
Drem shrugged. ‘That he was involved in the war against the Kadoshim, that he was at the Battle of Drassil, helped the Ben-Elim to defeat the Kadoshim. And that the Order of the Bright Star trains the most feared, skilful warriors who walk the land.’
He looked at his da, the weight of that sinking in.
You are one of those warriors.
‘Corban didn’t just fight against the Kadoshim,’ Olin said, unaware of Drem’s gaze upon him. ‘He united the Kadoshim’s enemies – men and women of all nations, giants, Jehar warriors, all rallied to him, fought for him. They loved him.’ Olin shrugged. ‘He was beneath a cairn before I joined the Order, but I spoke to some who knew him. A simple man, they said. Humble, quiet. Fiercely loyal to his kin and loved ones. And not bad with a blade in his hand, I’m told. In large part Corban was the reason the Kadoshim were defeated on that Midwinter’s Day at Drassil, regardless of what the Ben-Elim will tell you. But he didn’t just build a warrior school. It was in memory of two people, two of his most beloved friends who fell in the great battle. A warrior and a healer. Gar and Brina were their names. And Brina was more than a healer. At Dun Seren we are taught that spells are no more evil than a blade is. It is the wielder who makes that choice.’
That made a lot of sense to Drem and he nodded thoughtfully.
‘And Asroth’s head? I thought you had a fever, or were going mad.’