A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,141
the normal unpleasant predators of Forn.
But Bleda could not stop himself. He had to see her.
And then there was a whisper of movement, soft footfalls, and Tuld was approaching through the trees. He carried something in his arms, and a figure followed behind him.
Riv.
Tuld led her to Bleda, then he put the item in his arms down upon the forest litter.
“Leave us,” Bleda said to Tuld, Ruga and Mirim.
They did not move.
“Guard me, but not so close,” Bleda allowed, and the three guards slipped into the shadows.
And then Riv was in his arms, her lips upon his, her wings enfolding him.
“I have missed you, thought of you every waking moment,” he whispered when they parted.
Riv smiled and caressed his cheek, dappled starlight dancing across her wings.
“There is something about you, Bleda, that calms the storm that is ever raging in my blood,” she breathed.
“There is something about you, Riv, that stirs my blood into a storm,” he replied. Her smile grew wider.
“You have a new coat,” she said.
“Aye. My mother gave it to me,” Bleda said.
“It looks fine on you,” Riv grinned. “And a new haircut.”
Bleda rubbed his shaven head, the skin stubbled in places, smooth in others. The unaccustomed weight of his warrior braid hung across his neck and shoulder. It felt strange.
“It suits you,” Riv said.
Bleda drew in a deep breath. “I have something for you.” He looked down at the chest, bent and unbolted it, then carefully opened the lid. He stood, letting Riv see the Sirak bow within.
Riv bent and picked it up, turning it in her hands. It was unstrung, the layers of wood, horn and tendon shimmering in the starlight.
“Here, let me show you how to string it,” Bleda said, reaching inside his surcoat to pull a wax-rolled string from a pouch. Effortlessly he strung the bow and handed it back to Riv.
“Thank you,” she said. “Did you… make this, for me?”
“I did,” Bleda said. “I would like to test it, but now would not be a good idea.”
“No,” Riv agreed. “Who knows what I would shoot?”
“Exactly,” Bleda said seriously, though Riv was smiling.
“And there is this,” Bleda said, crouching. He lifted a weapons-belt from the chest, a bow-case threaded onto it, and a quiver full of goose-fletched arrows.
Riv had an expression of joy on her face.
Bleda buckled the belt around her waist.
“I have added some straps,” he said, “that buckle around your thigh, to keep the quiver and case in place if you are, you know, flying upside-down, or something. And there is a clip, to hold your arrows in place. Unflick it, like this.”
“You will need to teach me how to use this,” she said.
“I will,” Bleda promised. “Though you are good enough to use it now. Just at big targets. Or close ones. Better if they are standing still and I am standing behind you.”
Riv snorted laughter at that. “Ah, but it is good to see you, Bleda. The world is too dark and serious a place when you are not around.”
A crackle of forest litter and Tuld was appearing, pointing into the woods. A hint of movement, shadows within shadows. Bleda reached for his bow, staring into the darkness, and with a beating of wings Riv was in the air, rising and disappearing into the darkness.
Bleda paced to where he thought he’d seen movement, but there was nothing there, and it was too dark to check the ground for tracks.
Tuld, Mirim and Ruga materialized out of the gloom, shaking their heads, and then Riv was returning, landing in a swirl of leaves.
“Nothing,” she said.
“You should get back to camp,” Mirim said, Ruga and Tuld agreeing fervently.
“We should,” Riv agreed.
She unstrung her bow and slipped it into the bow-case.
“My thanks,” Riv said, leaning forwards and brushing her lips against Bleda’s cheek. “I will treasure this.”
“Only string it for battle,” Bleda said, “or if you think battle is likely.”
“I will,” Riv said, another bright grin from her and then she was taking to wing and merging with the darkness above.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
DREM
“I’m stuck,” Drem said, his voice muffled. He was trying to put on a coat of mail, had seemed to be doing fine when he threaded his arms into it, but now he was having trouble getting it over his shoulders and finding the slit to squeeze his head through. His head and arms were in, but there seemed to be no way forward, just a great claustrophobic weight of steel constricting him.