A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,117

and you will still have the greatest honour. But you must fulfil your task first,” he growled. “If you fail it, you will be dead.”

“What is this task, then?” Fritha asked.

“To destroy the Order of the Bright Star.”

“But we were to leave together, I must be at the great battle.”

“Now Dun Seren knows we are here they will send their scouts out, their damned crows and their sharp eyes. If the mine is still and silent and the land is empty, then the Order of the Bright Star will not march north.”

He cupped her chin, tilted her head up to hold her gaze.

“The Order must march north, must be occupied and led into the Desolation, else they will be a danger on my flank. If they did not know we were here, were unaware of our strength, then it would be different—you would be travelling at my side. But they know.”

He shrugged. “You must stay here, or be seen somewhere in the Desolation.”

Fritha acknowledged the logic and knew that she had played a part by allowing Drem and the others to escape.

But face the Order of the Bright Star? She felt a rush of fear, and also of excitement. The most difficult of tasks, yes, but what if she succeeded? Her battle fame would live on for a thousand years.

The Order marching north, into the Desolation, away from their high walls and defences, where they will be vulnerable. Not weak. Never weak. But vulnerable.

Did you plan this all along, Gulla?

“And you will have more than your Ferals at your side. I sent word south, and more acolytes have come to us, you saw many when you arrived. I will not take all of them with me. And most of all, I am leaving Ulf with you, and with him comes his brood of Revenants, all that he or his disciples have turned. His blood is spreading, infecting the Desolation.”

Fritha nodded, already thinking through strategies, terrain, deployment.

“It is dangerous, with no guarantee that you will succeed, and this is why you must give me the Sword,” Gulla said. “If you are victorious and are at the appointed place on the appointed day, then the great honour will still be yours, and all the greater for your victory. But if you are not there…”

I will do this. I will lay the Order of the Bright Star low.

She unbuckled her weapons-belt and slipped the scabbarded sword from it, held it for a moment in her hands, turning it. The leather-bound hilt was simple, unadorned, the dark metal of the pommel and cross-guard almost coal black. She half-drew the blade, the steel dull as night, seeming to suck in the light around it, a dark cloud halo pulsing, emanating from the blade.

Then she slid the sword home and handed it to Gulla.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

RIV

Riv felt a thrill of excitement as she saw the grey fortress of Dun Seren upon a hill in the distance, meadows of rich pasture rolling around it. It was past highsun, the sun dipping towards the horizon, silhouetting the tower and keep.

I have heard so much of the Order of the Bright Star but only seen a few of their huntsmen in the flesh. This will be an education.

She was high in the sky amidst tattered wisps of cloud, Kol and a score of Ben-Elim around her. Her arms were goosefleshed with cold, and Riv resolved to make herself a fur-lined jerkin as soon as she possibly could. She had never flown so far or for such a prolonged time before. Five full days, from dusk until dawn, and now the muscles in her back were aching, dull and deep, but nevertheless it was glorious. She loved to fly, to feel free, all the cares of the world somehow left below her, insignificant as ants.

Only one memory from her life below had kept her company through the long days of flight, all else blurring.

Bleda.

If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the sensation of his lips pressed against hers, the tangle of their bodies. Just the thought of him sent moth wings fluttering in her belly. She wanted to see him, now.

A shout from her right, a glance to see Kol signalling, and they began their long, sweeping descent towards Dun Seren, clouds whipping past them, the fortress growing larger. Soon Riv was speeding over outlying paddocks, herds of horses beneath them.

There must be thousands.

Horns rang out from the fortress, deep and resonant, and then they were flying over Dun