A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,150
substance. Bleda ripped his sword free and continued to hack at the corpse as it slumped to the ground, where it twitched and spasmed on the forest litter, fading to tremors, a shudder, and was then still.
“What in the Otherworld was that?” Riv snarled.
“I don’t know,” Bleda said, breathing heavily. “But it came from there.” He pointed with his sword at the black cloud that was rolling closer, filling the forest.
“Quickly,” Riv said. “Your mother needs you.”
“What?” Bleda hissed, a knife blade of worry twisting inside his belly.
More figures emerged from the dark, the same hollow eyes, thin lips and unpleasant-looking teeth. Five, ten, a score, more shapes shifting into focus behind them. They saw Bleda, Ellac and Riv and moved towards them, breaking into a run, frighteningly fast.
“RUN,” Ellac yelled, guiding his horse in front of Bleda. He raised his sword and buckler at the rush of creatures swarming towards them.
Riv swept Bleda up into her arms and kicked the rump of Ellac’s horse, sending it bolting.
“Get back to the road,” she yelled at Ellac as she leaped and beat her wings. “Gather all you can—Erdene needs you.” And then Bleda was being carried through the air, Riv twisting and turning, weaving through the trees and speeding towards the light that was growing somewhere ahead.
And more importantly, away from those things behind us.
They burst out into daylight, Bleda blinking.
The roadside was littered with the dead, the acolytes that Bleda had repelled. A handful of Sirak horses were grazing on the roadside, riderless. Bleda looked up and saw the skies above were worryingly clear. The aerial war between Ben-Elim and Kadoshim had drifted a long way down the road, back towards Drassil.
The sounds of battle banished any more thoughts.
To Bleda’s right he could see the backs of a host of Ferals.
“What’s going on?” Bleda said.
“I’ll show you,” Riv said, hoisting him into the air.
The road spread out beneath him. The Ferals he’d seen released from their cages were now only paces away from Erdene’s warband. The Sirak had formed into a stationary circle, arrows launching out, because their path of retreat along the road had been blocked by another wain and cage. Its gate had been opened, another swarm of Ferals rampaging along the road towards Erdene.
She is finished. Ferals attacking from east and west, north and south blocked by the forest. And there is no escape beneath the trees, not after what I’ve just seen in there.
Even as he looked, the Ferals that had been released first were slamming into Erdene’s warband, a deafening crash as they ploughed through men and horses, the Ferals snarling, biting, clawing in a frenzy as they finally caught up with their prey.
A raucous cheering from the skies drew Bleda’s gaze into the distance. To his horror he saw that the Ben-Elim were breaking, wheeling away and trying to disengage from the Kadoshim and their half-breeds. Through the chaos he glimpsed white wings speeding westwards, those that could, Kadoshim jeering and whooping their victory.
They are abandoning us.
Cold rage at the Ben-Elim’s betrayal and a deeper fear for his mother filled him.
There will be no help from the Ben-Elim, the cowards.
The only hope is to punch through the Ferals to the west and retreat towards Drassil.
“Riv, put me down,” Bleda said, and she dropped to the earth. Bleda ran for one of the Sirak horses and vaulted into the high-fronted saddle, tugging on the reins and guiding it towards his mother.
Ellac burst from the trees, scores of Bleda’s guard at his back.
Bleda grinned to see them. He spurred his horse onto the road, Ellac and the others falling in behind him, spreading to either side, and as one they broke into a gallop towards Erdene. Towards a sea of Ferals.
Bleda took his bow from its case, reached for arrows from his quiver and then he was leaning into the high front of his saddle for balance, loosing arrow after arrow after arrow into the backs of the Ferals, Riv swooping above, her bow in her hand, loosing at large knots of Ferals. They howled and screamed, reaching, tearing at the pain in their backs. Some dropped to the ground, pierced countless times, others turned, enraged, and ran at Bleda and his remaining guard.
One Feral sped ahead of the rest, running low to the ground, almost on all fours, its distended long arms raking at the road. And then it was leaping into the air, its wide jaws a red maw, claws reaching for Bleda’s throat.