A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,125

head of his warriors, another four or five hundred bows, hawk banners snapping above them, and Jin at his side. She was dressed in a leather jerkin over a long coat of mail that was split to cover both legs, still allowing her to ride. Her eyes sought out Bleda and she nodded to him, raising a fist.

She feels it, too, Bleda thought. There was an excitement flooding through him, and a faint fear as well, at the memory of the Kadoshim and their Feral beast-men. But right now, surrounded by the might of his Clan, he felt invincible.

Shadows skimmed over the courtyard and Bleda looked up, seeing rank upon rank of Ben-Elim take to the sky, hundreds of them, more, sunlight glinting upon steel and bright feathers. A handful of them swept down towards the courtyard, swooping low, Hadran alighting above the gate arch and facing them.

“Onwards,” he cried, “death to the Kadoshim.” And he was leaping back into the air, great beats of his wings lifting him higher. Horns blasted out, the gates of Drassil opened, and then Erdene led the Sirak out, Bleda riding at her side, a wave of horseflesh thundering through the gate tower and out onto the field of cairns beyond Drassil’s walls.

Towards the Kadoshim.

CHAPTER FORTY

RIV

Riv beat her wings and flew. She climbed high, brushing the clouds, and then checked her wings, hovering as she watched the sun claw its way over the eastern rim of the world.

A few days had passed since she had arrived at Dun Seren. She’d been desperate to spend time in the weapons-field, to watch and see how her White-Wings surpassed these warriors of the Order of the Bright Star, but Kol had kept her by his side whilst he debated with Byrne about the best way to deal with the threat of Gulla and the Kadoshim. Riv had found it hard to concentrate, her mind dwelling on the first meeting between Kol and Byrne. It was troubling her, and she had decided that taking to the skies was the answer.

So much of what I have been raised to believe, so much of what I’ve considered the truth, is now just quicksand, sinking and shifting beneath my feet. All my life I’ve thought the Ben-Elim to be the heroes who saved us from the Kadoshim, but what Byrne and Ethlinn said… about the Ben-Elim scheming to bring the Kadoshim into this world, about Corban saving mankind from the Kadoshim, not the Ben-Elim. Is that the truth? Or is it as twisted and warped a version as Kol’s?

Horn blasts brought her out of her reverie. Gazing around from her vantage point, she looked for some explanation for the horns blowing. Dun Seren spilt down a gentle hill, buildings lined in tiers within the inner wall. Beyond it were a snarl of wharves, barns, boathouses, piers and the river Vold, wide and languid in its last few leagues to the sea. A forest of masts sat upon the river, bobbing at their docks. A stone-arched bridge crossed the river, beyond it open plains, a road leading north. In the distance a smudge on the land hinted at a town.

There were figures on the bridge, twenty or thirty. Riv saw giants striding amongst them, the flitting movement of wolven-hounds, a mix of riders and wains.

A white crow flew above them.

Riv heard the hissing of air that heralded the beating of wings and looked around to see Kol flying towards her, a handful of Ben-Elim with him.

“Another pleasant meeting with stiff-necked Byrne,” he said with a roll of his eyes as he drew level with her. “She left because of these horns. What’s happening?”

Riv pointed to the group. They had crossed the bridge and were making their way around a fork in the road that wound around Dun Seren’s hill towards the gate tower and keep.

“Let’s go and see what all the fuss is about,” Kol said, and they turned in the air and winged their way to the courtyard before the keep.

Crowds were gathering there, Byrne already waiting on the steps, Ethlinn at her side. Kol flew and landed beside her. Riv alighted further down the steps, and to the side.

The group from the bridge arrived, the white crow circling above them, calling out in a far-too-human voice, proclaiming the return of Dun Seren’s huntsmen. Three men in hunting leathers passed through the gates, three wolven-hounds loping around them. Behind the riders rolled two wains filled with the injured. Men, women, children.