A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,126
An old, grey-haired woman drove the first wain, a dark-haired warrior with a hawk nose and the bright star on his chest the second one. Two riders rode beside him, a young red-haired man and a stern, dour-faced woman. The red-haired man was smiling at everyone in the crowd, especially the women.
Last of all strode two giants, Riv recognizing one of them as Alcyon, who had spent much of his time in the service of Ethlinn at Drassil.
The white crow spiralled down from the sky, wings spreading, and it alighted upon the shoulder of Byrne.
“Rab brought them home,” the white crow squawked, “told Keld and Stepor where to go.”
“Well done, Rab,” Byrne said, scratching the crow’s chest.
“And Rab watch over Drem ben Olin, like Byrne ask. Drem brave, fight twisted men, save Utul.”
Riv saw Kol look at the white crow, eyes narrowing, thoughtful.
The three men leading the party dismounted, stablehands running forwards to take their horses. All were dressed as huntsmen, all bearing various cuts and bruises, evidence of recent action. Two of them were dark-haired, the third one older, with iron in his beard. This one strode forward, up the steps to Byrne.
“My lady,” he said, dipping his head. “We found them, though they were under attack when we reached them.”
“You have saved lives, Keld,” Byrne said, “risked your own.” She nodded at the huntsman. “Now, is there more news from the north? What of Dalga—”
“Drem?” Kol interrupted suddenly. “I know that name. Drem.” He rolled it around his tongue, as if stirring up old memories. “Olin?” Then his head snapped round to Byrne. “Olin, husband of Neve?” Byrne returned his stare, said nothing.
Kol turned and marched down the steps, stopped a dozen paces from the two huntsmen. “It cannot be you,” Kol said to one of them, a slim man with a thick black beard. “You are too old.” Kol turned his eyes to the other.
This man was younger, only a stubbled beard on his chin. He was tall and broad at the shoulder, though he had a wiry musculature, not thick, like Vald’s. His dark hair was tied back at the nape, loose strands hanging across his face. A sword and axe hung at his waist, and the biggest knife Riv had ever seen. At first glance she mistook it for one of the White-Wing’s short-swords.
He was covered in a lattice of cuts and bruises, looked as if he’d seen some recent action, wherever he’d come from.
“You are Drem ben Olin, son of Olin and Neve, warriors of the Bright Star?” Kol said.
The man was silent a moment, looking at the ground. Riv saw a hand move to his neck, fingers probing, as if searching for a pulse.
“Course he’s Drem, Olin’s boy,” the old lady driving the wain said. “A fine man, Olin, may his soul rest in peace. What of it?”
Kol stood before Drem, prodded his shoulder with one finger, and Drem met Kol’s eye. They were roughly of a height, which was unusual as Ben-Elim were taller than most men.
“I came here for you over fifteen years ago, because your mother murdered my friend. You are my ward, Drem ben Olin, the blood price for the unlawful slaying of Galzur of the Ben-Elim.” He put a hand on Drem’s shoulder.
“Get away from him,” Byrne said flatly behind Kol. She was striding down the steps.
Ben-Elim were suddenly in the air, those close to Kol stepping up behind their leader, some hovering over the courtyard.
Drem reached up and gripped Kol’s wrist, slowly and forcefully lifting Kol’s hand from his shoulder.
“I am no one’s ward,” Drem said. “I am a free man.”
“You have never been free,” Kol said, “and you are coming with me.”
“You’ll have to fight me first,” a voice cried out, the red-haired warrior urging his horse forwards.
“And me,” Keld the huntsman called, striding back down the stairs.
Kol looked at them all contemptuously.
“I’ll fight you all if you wish. I would have gone to war over this fifteen years ago, and I shall do the same now.”
“You won’t have to fight any of them,” Byrne said, striding down to stand beside Kol. “Stand down,” she ordered her warriors. They met her gaze at first, then slowly stepped away.
She needs the Ben-Elim in the war against Gulla and the Kadoshim, said as much the other night. It is the wise choice, to give up one man.
“The only one you need fight to claim Drem is me,” Byrne said calmly.