A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,144

idea to rotate each day, a way of avoiding bad feeling between the Sirak and Cheren about who led and who rode rearguard. Bleda was impressed with Uldin’s straightforward diplomacy, a simple and fair way of avoiding unnecessary conflict. It gave Bleda hope for the future between the two Clans.

If Uldin is this level-headed, perhaps he will be the one to see that my handbinding to Jin is not vital for the Cheren and Sirak to co-exist peacefully.

Then he remembered Uldin’s words to him upon his arrival at Drassil.

Are you worthy of my daughter?

Bleda shifted in his saddle, feeling abruptly uncomfortable. He searched the sky for Riv, saw the silhouettes of Ben-Elim high above, but could not pick out the dapple-grey wings that set Riv apart.

This was their sixth day out from Drassil and, as Kol had ordered, they were riding at a slower pace, sending scouts into the fringes of the forest, making the most of the high branches and navigable ground.

There was a creaking sound ahead, horn blasts from the front of the column and riders were reining in. Bleda guided his horse to the edge of the road so that he had a better view down the column. He saw Erdene sitting tall in her saddle, staring at something ahead.

Then Bleda saw it, too. A huge oak on the forest edge, branches swaying as if it was caught in some solitary wind. The creaking sound grew louder, building into a sharp crack, and then the tree was falling, branches and trunk crashing down onto the road, a cloud of dust erupting around it, settling slowly.

Bleda reached for his bow, in a few heartbeats had it strung. All around him Sirak were doing the same.

Behind him hooves drummed and Jin cantered up along the line.

“What is happening?” she asked him. “Why have we stopped?”

Bleda nodded at the fallen tree. “Ambush. Be ready,” he said.

Jin gave him a curt nod even as she was turning her mount and galloping back down the line.

And then something emerged from the treeline, just in front of the fallen oak, about eight or nine hundred paces before Erdene and the head of the column.

Two auroch, big bulls with huge chests as wide as a wagon and low-curving horns. They were harnessed, behind them was a wain, enormous in its proportions, two shaven-haired men sitting upon the driving bench, reins in hand. Upon the wain was a giant box, or cage.

And then another brace of auroch appeared, pulling another similar-sized wain, two more figures on the driving bench, another massive box upon the wain’s back. It stopped behind the first wain.

A silence settled, the creak of wood as the wains strained under some immense weight, Bleda hearing sounds of movement within the boxes.

Scratching, sniffing.

A growl.

I don’t like this.

Erdene called out an order and her front ranks shifted, Sirak warriors riding out either side of her, forming a long line across the road, thirty riders wide. More ranks formed in disciplined order behind the first. Bows were strung and in hands, all with fists bristling full of arrows.

Ben-Elim flew overhead, Kol appearing, flanked by a dozen more winged warriors, all of them landing in the space between Erdene and the wains, other Ben-Elim remaining in the sky above. They all seemed hesitant to approach the wains.

Bleda remembered the giant Alcyon telling him of the Battle of Varan’s Fall, where the Ben-Elim were ambushed within Forn Forest and suffered serious losses. Alcyon had said that the Ben-Elim had been far more hesitant since then, reluctant to press forward in any situation where they were not certain of victory.

A silhouette flew out from the trees ahead, its wings dark, not white, and Bleda recognized the distinct outline of a Kadoshim.

Fear uncoiled in his belly.

Fear is not the enemy, it is the herald of danger, and that is only wisdom, he reminded himself of the Sirak’s Iron Code. Fear is wisdom, but you must master it, lest it master you.

The creature landed upon the top of one of the cages, feet spread, and looked down at Kol and his Ben-Elim. Something seemed strange about it, different from the Kadoshim Bleda remembered. It looked taller, and a nimbus shadow appeared to edge it, blurring the lines of its movement. Other Kadoshim followed, swirling out from the trees, circling above and behind the wains like a murder of crows, fifty, sixty, a hundred, more joining them as Bleda stared.

“Is that you, Kol?” the Kadoshim upon the cage called out. “I