A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,102

she murmured.

“Aye, so I’ve been told,” Drem nodded.

It felt strange to Drem, hearing himself spoken of like this. It was only recently that his da had told him of his past, of how the Ben-Elim had insisted on Drem being given to them as a ward, because of a supposed crime committed by his mother, Neve.

Byrne had refused to hand Drem over, and the Ben-Elim had threatened to take him by force. So, Olin had sneaked Drem away in the night, both to save Drem and to avert a war. Drem had been five years old, and ever since then his life had been a solitary, nomadic existence with his father.

Until we dug up that lump of starstone and started finding mutilated bodies in the forest.

“Drem is my kin, my sister’s son,” Byrne said.

“Aye, the lad you almost went to war with the Ben-Elim over.”

“Yes,” Byrne said simply. She looked at Drem. “I grieve for Olin. He was a good man. A great man, and while I wish dearly that he had not left with you, I respect him for it. He put his son first, but also the Order, walking away from all that he had known, both to save you and to save us from a war that would have damaged all who fought in it.”

“He was my father.” Drem shrugged. “The greatest man I’ve known.” He felt a swell of emotion at his words, taking him by surprise, and he took a long, measured breath to contain them.

“I know it will hurt you, but tell me how your father died,” Byrne asked, a sadness in her eyes. “Olin was a member of the Order of the Bright Star, and his life and death must be remembered, written down.”

“He was slain by Fritha and the giant, Gunil, and his bear.”

“Gunil,” Ethlinn said, a hint of ice in her voice.

“Rab told you Gunil there,” Craf squawked.

“It is a shock to us all, Craf,” Byrne said. “We thought that Gunil fell at the Battle of Varan’s Fall.”

“I never did like him,” Balur said, knuckles popping as he made a fist. “Always whining, complaining of some slight to his vanity. But Varan loved him, always spoke for him.”

“Sig loved him, too,” Ethlinn said quietly.

“The heart cannot be ruled, but it can be fooled,” Byrne said. She fixed her eyes back on Drem. “How did this happen, Drem?”

A pause as Drem thought on it.

“Because I did not listen to him. Because I was enamoured of Fritha and wanted to find her. Olin is dead because of me.”

A lump in his chest, then, sudden and violent, stealing his breath and bringing hot tears to his eyes. He waited a moment, blinked the tears away.

“This is hard for you, Drem Olin’s-son,” Ethlinn said, “but these are momentous times, and I feel much of what you know is of great importance to us, and to the war against the Kadoshim.”

“Rab already told you,” Craf squawked.

“Aye, he has, which we are grateful for,” Tain said patiently, scratching Craf’s chest. “But we all need to hear the tale again. Everyone sees something different, Craf, and we need all of the information we can get. This is Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim that we are talking about. These details could mean victory or defeat.”

“Craf trust Rab,” the crow muttered, ruffling what feathers he had left and tucking his beak into his wing.

“Please, Drem, if it is not too painful, tell us what you can,” Byrne said.

So Drem took a deep breath and told them all he could remember. He started with the finding of the starstone rock in his elk pit, going on to talk about the beacons and those they found dead, that Drem now knew had been sacrificed; told them about Olin’s forging of the Starstone Sword, of his plan to slay Asroth with the sword, of his da finally telling him who he was, about the Order of the Bright Star, and then of how Olin had died, in the woods as they had searched for Fritha.

“They took the Starstone Sword,” Drem said. “I tracked them back to the mine at Starstone Lake and sneaked in.” He paused, remembering the bloodstained table and cages. “I found… terrible things. Experiments on people and beasts.”

“Feral men,” Cullen said. “We fought them, too. I slew many, of course.”

“Let Drem tell his tale,” Byrne said quietly.

“I escaped, tried to warn the town, but they wouldn’t listen. They thought I was mad. So I went home, to my hold.