A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,112

this war. But if I worked with them a little, made them into something new, I am certain they would be of greater use…”

“Very well, then,” Gulla said. “Work your magic with them.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

DREM

Hooves clattered on stone as Drem rode across the bridge that led away from Dun Seren and back into the Desolation. Beside him was Keld, sitting easily on a dappled mare, Fen loping ahead with Stepor’s wolven-hounds, Grack and Ralla.

“Thank you,” Drem said to the huntsman.

“What for?” Keld frowned.

“Speaking for me.”

When Drem had heard Rab’s news of people being hunted by Ferals he had instinctively volunteered to ride out with Keld. The huntsman had been given the task of putting together a scouting party to try and find them before it was too late. Drem didn’t like the thought of riding into battle and violence, but he knew better than most what the Ferals were capable of and the devastation they could cause.

Byrne had pursed her lips, not happy at Drem riding back into the Desolation.

“You have been here little more than a day,” she had said.

“Drem’d be welcome in my crew,” Keld had replied. “He’s as fine a huntsman as you’ll find.”

Byrne had given Keld a stern look but she had not refused him.

“Meant what I said,” Keld replied. “You are a fine huntsman. But more than that, I trust you with my back.”

Cullen’s laugh rose up behind them, and Drem twisted in his saddle to look back.

The red-haired warrior was riding alongside two of the warriors from Balara in the south, Utul, their captain, and a woman named Shar. Cullen and Utul were laughing about something, the woman stern-faced and unamused. Behind them were five more riders—the man named Cure with four more healers. They were riding to Dalgarth, the traders’ town, as the plague there was rumoured to be worsening.

Last of all, two giants towered at the rear of their small party, Alcyon with his twin axes slung behind his shoulders and Tain the crow master striding beside him.

Drem looked at the bulk of Dun Seren rearing behind them and breathed a sigh of relief to be out in the open again. While he already felt a fond sentiment for the fortress because of his parents and now Byrne, the sheer numbers of those living within its walls were not the easiest thing for him to deal with. Almost all of his life he had lived alone, just his da and the wilderness for company, so Dun Seren was overwhelming.

He turned and set his face to the north, to the rolling terrain and wide blue sky.

“We’ll be leaving you now,” Cure said as Dalgarth came into view. He was a squat, muscled man who looked more suited to the pugil ring than healing, but there was a steady kindness in his gaze that had Drem trusting him almost instantly.

“Ride wide around the town,” Cure said to Keld and Stepor. “Take no risks. I’d not have you on a sickbed when there’s fighting to be done.”

“Nothing out there that’ll keep me from a fight,” Cullen said.

Cure shook his head at Cullen with a wry grin. “Stay safe, Cullen.”

Cullen twisted his face as if Cure had insulted him, or he had caught a bad smell.

“Safe!”

Cure rolled his eyes, then with a click he urged his horse into a canter towards the plague-ridden town, his four healers riding with him.

“Stay safe yourself,” Cullen called out after them.

Cure just raised a hand in farewell.

“So, let’s go find these Ferals, then,” Cullen said, grinning at them all.

“This way, this way,” Rab squawked, flapping into the bright blue.

Moonlight silvered their camp as Cullen leaned forwards and offered Drem a strip of salted pork. He took it and chewed, pulling his cloak tighter about his shoulders. Keld had forbidden a fire because Rab had told them they were close, the crow spying strange movements in the scrubland and ravines only a few leagues ahead.

They had made camp in a sheltered gully beside a stream. Keld and Fen were out standing guard somewhere in the darkness while the rest of them ate or tried to sleep. There was not much of that going round, though, except for Stepor and his two wolven-hounds. All three of them lay curled tightly together, and all of them were snoring.

Alcyon the giant sat with one of his axes across his lap, sharpening it with a whetstone. Drem thought it was more habit than necessity, as Alcyon had performed the same routine every time they had made