A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,128

his sword hilt.

Byrne flicked her wrist and blood was leaking down Kol’s neck.

“Do you yield?” Byrne snarled. “I will not ask you a third time.”

“I yield,” Kol grunted.

Byrne stood there a long, lingering moment, still in the grip of the battle joy.

She’s going to kill him!

Byrne blew out a deep breath, something shifting in the set of her shoulders.

“Then the matter is settled. Let us put it behind us,” Byrne said, taking her sword-tip from Kol’s throat. She offered him her hand instead.

Kol looked up at her, then took her grip and climbed to his feet.

The crowd erupted in cheering.

Riv swept down out of a dive and landed in an open space before the weapons-field. A large stone dominated the clearing, twice as tall as Riv, and as wide as her with her wings spread.

It was the day after Kol and Byrne’s duel, soon after dawn. A constant stream of people were walking past her, making their way into the weapons-field.

Finally, I will get to see Dun Seren’s weapons-field and judge how they would fare against Drassil’s White-Wings. I hope they don’t all fight like Byrne.

Though I like her style.

Riv had risen early after a restless night. She’d thought after Kol’s public defeat that he would have left Dun Seren immediately, but to his credit he had stayed. He told Riv later that night that he and Byrne had to agree on their tactics for the attack on Gulla, that there was nothing more important than that, even his pride. She had felt a brief moment of respect for him then.

A solitary figure was standing before the stone, staring at it. She knew him immediately. Drem, the man the duel had been over. His hand was reaching out, fingertips brushing the rock. Riv stepped closer, wondering what he was staring at. He started a little when he realized she was there, one hand going to his eye, rubbing it.

Is he crying?

Then she realized what Drem was looking at.

Names were carved into the stone, lit like gold as the rising sun bathed them in rosy light. Hundreds of names. A thousand. Maybe more.

This is the Stone of Heroes that Byrne spoke of.

She read the first names carved into the stone, high and faded by time and weather, but still clear.

“Garisan ben Tukul,” she whispered. “Brina ap Fyrn.”

“Gar and Brina,” Drem said.

“What?” She frowned.

“They are Gar and Brina. Corban’s two greatest friends, the people he dedicated Dun Seren and the Order of the Bright Star to. Brina was a healer, Gar a warrior.”

“Ah,” Riv said, though she had never heard the two names before. “I thought I had learned all that needed to be known of our history,” she muttered, “but it seems I was mistaken.”

Drem snorted a laugh. “I can relate to that,” he said. He was serious-faced, almost a childlike innocence to the set of his features.

“Come on, Drem,” a voice called out, and they both turned to see a red-haired man, a broad grin on his face. It was one of the warriors who had tried to fight for Drem yesterday. “Let’s see how many new bruises we can earn today.”

Drem looked at Riv and touched his temple.

“I love Cullen like a brother,” he said. “But he’s totally mad. He doesn’t just like fighting, which is bad enough—he likes getting hit.” He shook his head and walked off, following the red-haired warrior into the weapons-field.

Riv turned back to the stone, marvelling at the names. She looked where Drem had been standing and saw where he had reached out to, where he had touched the stone.

Two new names, freshly carved, dust still remaining from the stone mason’s chiselling.

“Sig ap Tyr,” she whispered. “Olin ben Adros.”

Stone crunched behind Riv, a tremor in the ground, and she turned to see Balur One-Eye striding past her, other giants with him. Alcyon was there, his hair shaven to stubble, apart from a thick wedge down the middle of his head, bound into a warrior braid that hung down his back. There were other giants about them that she didn’t recognize, including the one who had been in the first meeting with Byrne. Craf was not upon his shoulder now.

“Come, lassie, and raise a sweat with us on this cold morning,” Balur said, blowing on his big slabs of hands. He didn’t have to ask Riv twice. She followed them into the field.

Balur and a handful of giants stomped to a rack, full of all manner of weapons, some giant-size, some human. Riv saw that