A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,154

warrior braid. With a contemptuous shrug, Gerel threw the head at Bleda’s feet. It rolled, stopped, eyes staring at Bleda.

It was Mirim, his honour guard.

I sent her to ask Uldin to guard the right flank. Never noticed that she did not return.

He thought of standing in his chamber as Mirim, Tuld and Ruga had dressed him for war, thought of the words he had said to them, and to all of his hundred, before they had ridden out to war.

.?.?. I swear to you all, I will not let you down, I will lead you to the best of my abilities.

Are they all dead, my hundred?

Shame swept him.

And what of Riv?

He remembered her flying overhead, guarding his back as he strove through the sea of Ferals.

The thought of Riv lying dead upon the road, combined with his complete and utter failure to keep his oath to his honour guard, tore at his heart. He felt a deep despair open within him, a bottomless hole draining his strength.

Uldin walked around the fire-pit and squatted before Erdene. One eye was closed tight, swollen and bruised, but her other eye fixed on Uldin fiercely.

“We are old adversaries, you and I,” Uldin said. “My son slew your husband. You slew my son. Our war should have decided things between us, but the Ben-Elim intervened.” He shifted his weight, twisted his neck and cracked it.

“Ah, I am old, I feel it in my bones. But today I feel young again, Erdene. Six years since that day. Six years it has taken to best my foe. I want you to know that I respect you, Erdene, for your strength, for your wisdom. How you fought those Ferals upon the road, it was a joy to see. Your battle fame only makes my victory greater and more glorious.” He smiled, a slow, languorous thing upon his face, showing Erdene that there was no reason for him to hide his emotions, because his victory was total.

“Do not think this is over, Uldin,” Erdene said, her voice slurred through her pulped, swollen lips. “Just because I am in a tight spot right now. All can change on the edge of a knife’s blade.” Her open eye flickered for a heartbeat to Bleda.

Tight spot. Knife’s blade.

“This is no tight spot,” Uldin said. “This is your end. Your warband is slaughtered or scattered. You are two hundred leagues from Arcona and your homeland. There is no walking away from this.”

A turbulence in the air above them, all within the light of the fire-pit looking up. Dark shapes dropped out of the sky.

Kadoshim. Seven of them, the whisper of wings in the air above hinting at more.

They were tall, elegant, handsome in much the same way as the Ben-Elim, clean-shaven and fine-boned, though there was something oddly reptilian or raptor-like about them, in the set of their eyes and the way their heads moved, from absolute stillness to abruptly sharp, economical speed. They wore coats of dark mail, their leathery wings furled, arching behind their shoulders like high-backed cloaks.

And then there was one more. Bleda recognized him as the one who had set the Ferals free. He was taller than the others, his limbs longer, and his face was drawn, the angles of his features more extreme, all sharp planes, ridges and hollows, shadows shifting across his face as the firelight flickered. One of his eyes was missing, just a shadowed hole, but Bleda’s eyes were drawn to his mouth, which seemed too big for his face, and filled with too many teeth. There was a black edge to him, as if he were etched in shadow that even the firelight could not penetrate.

“You have done well, Uldin,” the tallest Kadoshim said, his voice a scratching hiss that seemed to echo inside Bleda’s skull.

“Thank you, my Lord Gulla,” Uldin said, bowing his head.

This is Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim.

“Kol and his Ben-Elim are broken, routed. They will flee for Drassil, but they only saw the Ferals. They know nothing of my Revenants, or that you are with me. You did well to hold your attack until they were fleeing, their backs to us. They know nothing of your betrayal.”

“All is as you planned it, then,” Uldin said.

“It is. One hundred and thirty years in the making, and all the sweeter for it.” Gulla allowed a smile to flicker across his face. He looked at Bleda then, and Bleda felt as if a weight had pushed him to the ground and was