A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,15

him carved into a thousand pieces. That should have counted for something.

“Ulfang will be avenged,” Gulla continued. Something shifted across Morn’s face, part snarl, part smile, and she flexed her wings and bent her knees as if to take to the air and begin the hunt that very moment.

Fritha snorted. Grief has clouded her wits. It will take more than one half-breed Kadoshim to put the heads of Drem and his companions in a sack.

“But not alone,” Gulla said, a hand snaking out to grip Morn’s shoulder. “Gunil and his bear will accompany you, and Fritha will lead.” The Kadoshim’s eyes shifted to her. “Fritha, gather your followers, gather your Red Right Hand.” He paused, a twitch at the corners of his mouth hinting at a smile. It was the name Fritha had given to those acolytes and Ferals that she had led into Drassil, who had fought for her and helped her to cut Asroth’s iron-encased hand from his frozen arm.

Morn glared at Gulla, mouth spasming, but Gulla held her gaze.

“I share your pain, daughter,” Gulla said, “but you cannot accomplish this alone, and I would not lose you also. Fritha will command. Together you shall hunt them, and together you shall end them.”

Morn’s mouth twisted, a growling sound leaking from her throat, but she dipped her head in submission.

“Will you not lead us, my Lord?” Fritha asked.

“Me? No,” Gulla said. He looked at the seven Revenants surrounding him, his firstborn. “I am for Kergard; I have an army to build.”

CHAPTER FOUR

BLEDA

Bleda reached for his bow as Ben-Elim swept down from above, great winged silhouettes blotting out the sky, too many to count. Fia had disappeared inside the cabin, Jost and Vald were stumbling to their feet and running to Riv, who stood frozen, staring at Aphra. Ellac was standing, shouting orders, a curved sword in his one hand, and then a group of Bleda’s honour guard were running into the glade and arrows were hissing from the shadows, up at the Ben-Elim.

There was a cry of pain and one of the winged warriors crashed through branches and plummeted to the ground, landing in an explosion of twigs. The Ben-Elim staggered to one knee, an arrow lodged deep in the meat between neck and shoulder. Before Bleda could blink, Ellac was there, sword rising and falling, the Ben-Elim collapsing back to the ground, blood staining the gravestones red.

A hiss from above and Bleda was diving at Ellac, smashing into him and sending them both sprawling as a Ben-Elim’s spear thrummed in the ground where Ellac had been standing. Bleda scrambled to his feet, pulled Ellac up and drew his bow from its leather case. In a heartbeat he had it strung with an arrow drawn, searching for a target.

The Ben-Elim who had cast a spear at Ellac made that easy for Bleda. A dark-haired warrior, white wings and chainmail shirt gleaming in winter sun that shone in splintered shafts through leafless branches. He landed gently, a pulse of his great wings checking his descent. On one arm he carried a long shield, and with his other hand he was drawing a sword from his hip and striding towards them.

Bleda loosed without thinking, straight at the Ben-Elim’s heart, but with a shrug of the Ben-Elim’s shield arm the arrow thumped into linden-wood, the Ben-Elim not breaking his stride. Bleda blinked, surprise and shock mingled, drew another arrow, loosed. Again, the Ben-Elim caught it on his shield, though the impact rocked him back a step.

A dozen paces separated them now. Bleda felt a worm of panic threading through his veins. Drew and loosed, aiming low this time, in the same heartbeat Ellac was rushing with a wordless battle-cry, sword raised. Bleda’s arrow punched into the Ben-Elim’s calf, dragging a grunt from the warrior and causing him to stumble, lowering his shield. Ellac swung, the Ben-Elim deflecting the blow, a clash of steel, sparks as they traded blows, then another arrow from Bleda plunged into the Ben-Elim’s throat. He stumbled back, choking and spluttering, blood jetting. Ellac’s sword chopped into his skull and he collapsed bonelessly.

An impact in Bleda’s back sent him flying, crunching to the ground, his bow spinning away. He tasted leaves and dirt, rolled to look up at a Ben-Elim standing over him, wings furled, a spear raised high, then he thrust, driving straight for Bleda’s chest.

MOVE. For a moment he was frozen, unable to do anything except watch the bright steel of the Ben-Elim’s spear speed towards his