A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,121
harbour cranes to winch the cages into the air. With a squeal of iron and wood, the cages were swung over the boats and lowered into the hulls of the moored vessels. Gunil manned one winch himself, stripped to the waist and sweating as he wound the pulley and treadmill.
“Farewell, my lovelies,” Fritha breathed, blowing a kiss to the cacophony of howls and growls that reverberated from the cages. Hundreds of her Ferals were contained within those cages, the ones she had determined were beyond obedience to her in the coming conflict.
But Gulla found a use for all of her creations, even the disobedient ones.
Crews of acolytes manned the boats, tightening leather straps about the cages and attaching them to an array of iron hooks sunk deep into timber decks.
Fritha looked to her left, where the prow of a ship emerged from one of the boat sheds, a sleeker vessel than the ones the Ferals had been loaded upon. A spume of water exploded into the air as the ship’s prow cut into the lake, and Fritha saw more boats emerging from a row of boat sheds along the lakeshore, seven, eight, ten, more of them, all shallow-draughted, oars appearing and dipping into the water, rowing slowly towards the piers.
Gulla strode from the mine towards her, his wings folded and arched like a great cloak. Behind him a shadow-swarm followed, like a dark cloud, a multitude of shambling Revenants marching, their limbs strangely stiff and jerking, their skin pale and stretched, many of them gnashing their too-many teeth as they walked.
Gulla snapped a command and one of the Revenants peeled away from Gulla’s side—Ulf, coming to stand close to Fritha. He did not look at her.
Gulla and his dark host passed Fritha in unsettling silence as they moved from the piers into the boats like a dark mist, filling the vessels with shadow.
Gulla took to flight, his wings snapping wide, rising high above the lake, and then he was gliding down to Fritha, alighting before her and Morn.
Gunil stomped his way back along a pier to join them.
“Farewell, my daughter,” Gulla said, reaching down and cupping Morn’s face in his hands. He leaned forwards and kissed her brow.
She is consumed by the need to avenge her brother still.
Morn had begged to remain with Fritha once she had been told of the plan, knowing that Drem was sure to be found with the Order of the Bright Star.
“I will avenge your son,” Morn said.
Gulla turned to Fritha.
“Ulf is yours to command,” Gulla said to her.
She looked at Ulf, unsure that he even heard Gulla’s words, giving no sign that he had. She seriously doubted that he would acknowledge her existence, let alone follow her orders.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Give Ulf an order,” Gulla said.
Fritha shrugged. “Tear out your left eye,” she said to the grey-skinned Revenant.
Without hesitation Ulf lifted a hand up to his face, a taloned finger reaching for his eyeball.
Fritha opened her mouth to yell Stop, but it was too late. With a sucking pop Ulf’s eyeball flopped onto his cheek. He grabbed it in his fist and tore it free of its socket, then held it out on the flat of his palm for Fritha. She felt revulsion and shock, but also a thrill at such unwavering loyalty.
That is the loyalty I want.
“Much rests on your victory,” Gulla said to her. Fritha knew what was left unsaid.
Do not fail.
“I will see you on Midsummer’s Day,” she said to Gulla.
He flashed a smile at her, not as charming as it had once been now that his mouth was filled with jagged rows of needle-sharp teeth.
“Gunil, watch over Fritha and my daughter, and let no harm come to Ulf.”
Gunil grunted a nod.
“Victory or death,” Gulla said to Fritha, and then he was leaping into the air, his wings driving him higher, into a climbing spiral, then swooping and dropping low over his ships.
“WE ARE FOR WAR,” he bellowed, his crew of acolytes answering with a cheer. Then Gulla’s small fleet of Ferals and Revenants set sail. Fritha watched as they rowed east, sails unfurling as they headed towards the Grinding Sea.
“With me,” Fritha said and turned on her heel, crunching up the slope towards the mine.
Fritha marched through the tunnels, her followers gathering behind her, until she had over three hundred men in her wake. She strode into the clearing before the caves, saw all that she had ordered had been done, an array of cages set about her great table.