A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,143

out onto the steps that led down into the courtyard.

All was noise and chaos. Horses, bears and wolven-hounds, giants, men and women, a swirling, milling mass. Keld led them across the courtyard to a huge stable block, stablehands standing and waiting with three bridled horses. Drem took the reins of his mount, a big roan mare. She whickered as he rested his head against hers, gave her half an apple from his belt pouch, which she crunched contentedly, and then he was swinging himself up into the saddle, a moment as he wavered, adjusting to the weight of his chainmail shirt, and then he was settled in the saddle.

A few moments of waiting, cold breath misting in dawn’s chill, Drem patting his horse’s neck, and then horns were blowing again and Byrne was riding into the courtyard, Ethlinn and Balur behind her, mounted upon great bears. Byrne reined in before the statue of Corban, a silence settled; her horse dancing a few paces, sensing the excitement and adrenalin that was crackling through the fortress.

“We are marching to kill Gulla,” Byrne cried out, “to put an end to those that have brought war to our world.” She paused, looked around. “TRUTH AND COURAGE,” she yelled, and Drem added his voice to the roar that answered her.

“TRUTH AND COURAGE,” echoing from the fortress walls, lingering in the air.

And then Byrne was riding out from the courtyard, crows circling in the air above, squawking a cacophony of “Truth and Courage.”

Ethlinn and Balur One-Eye rode behind Byrne, a clattering of hooves and bear claws and iron-shod boots. Two thousand warriors, men, women and giants, a swarm of wolven-hounds loping on their flanks, banners of a white star on a black field rippling in the wind, and the Order of the Bright Star rode forth from Dun Seren.

“Where is everyone?” Drem asked.

They had been riding half a day and had just reached Dalgarth, the bustling traders’ village that Drem had passed through on the way to Dun Seren. It was a very different place, now.

Cure had travelled back to Dun Seren from Dalgarth once since Drem had returned from the Desolation, to tell them that Dalgarth was to be quarantined. He had ridden back the same day, and not been heard from since.

The walls were unmanned, gates hanging open, creaking on a northerly wind, and the streets were empty.

A sense of unease seeped into Drem, and he could see it was affecting them all, warriors ahead and behind looking about, searching for any signs of life. Drem was close to the head of the column and he saw Stepor appear from a side alley, his black and red wolven-hounds with him as he reported to Byrne.

“No one, not a soul,” Drem heard the huntsman say.

“Where have they all gone?” Cullen said, a frown creasing his usual high spirits.

Keld said nothing, but the three of them shared a look. Hildith and the scouts had told tales of the holds and villages in the Desolation laid low by plague and something worse.

Revenants, Drem thought.

He shrugged his shoulders and loosened his sword and seax in their scabbards.

They rode on, through the silent village, even the crows above them ceasing their constant chatter. Slowly the warband emerged from the far side of the village and continued. As they crested a ridge Drem reined in a moment and twisted in his saddle, looking back.

Dalgarth sat like a stain upon the land, unnaturally still and empty, and behind it in the distance Drem could see the dark line of the river Vold, and the walls and tower of Dun Seren beyond.

I have only been there a short while, but Cullen was right, it does feel like home.

He turned, looking forwards, the undulating, cracked landscape of the Desolation before him.

And now we are riding back towards danger, towards Kadoshim and Feral beasts and death. He sighed, feeling the weight of it settling in his soul.

But I am glad to do that, because my father’s killers are out there. Fritha, Gunil and you, Gulla, the puppet-master of these dread days. I will kill you all, if I can. I shall take my father’s sword back, and then I shall fulfil his oath, and slay your king. I will take Asroth’s head.

If I can.

Or die in the trying.

He clicked his horse into a trot, catching up with Cullen and Keld, and they rode on.

Into the Desolation.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

BLEDA

Bleda rode at the centre of their column, his mother riding as vanguard today. It had been Uldin’s