A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,160

“GULLA, GULLA.”

Behind him Drem heard warriors roaring battle-cries as they saw what they thought was the Lord of their ancient foe, and then more warriors were galloping up the hill.

To his right Drem glimpsed Balur One-Eye yelling and then joining them in their charge up the slope, or maybe he was trying to stop Cullen. Either way, in a few heartbeats scores of giants were surging after him like water smashing through a dam.

The half-breed swept low down the slope, wheeled high and then stooped into a dive.

Straight at Cullen.

Her arm drew back and she hurled her spear.

Cullen didn’t even see it coming.

It struck his horse in the neck, a scream, blood spurting, and the animal’s legs gave way, Cullen going down in an explosion of turf and dirt. Drem lost sight of him as others surged past or over him, Drem could not tell.

Keld yelled something, spurred his mount faster, Drem leaning low in his saddle and doing the same. All was dirt and thunder, pounding hooves and warriors yelling.

Then Keld was leaping from his saddle, running to a fallen horse. Drem dragged on his reins, turning his mount to stand between Keld and the riders galloping up the field behind them, waving his arms in an attempt to force them around him.

He heard Keld grunting and heard Cullen’s voice shouting, risked a glimpse and saw Cullen had a leg trapped beneath his dead horse, Keld dragging him free.

The riders thinned around Drem, now, and he saw that there was an open space, then Byrne leading the shield walls and those riders close to her who had refrained from the charge.

“Give me a horse,” Cullen yelled behind Drem, and he turned to see the red-haired warrior on his feet, limping towards Drem, frantically searching for a mount that he could use.

“Hold, lad,” Keld was shouting at him.

There were no riderless mounts to be had.

“Here,” Drem called out, offering Cullen his hand. Cullen limped over and Drem pulled him up behind him.

“Go on, Drem, ride on,” Cullen urged as Keld remounted.

Drem paused a moment to stare ahead.

Balur’s bear had surged into the lead, twenty or thirty paces clear of the tide of warriors charging up the slope.

Gunil grinned and brandished his war-hammer at Balur, yelling insults.

Balur’s bear rushed up the incline, ploughing through red fern between crags and out onto an open space beyond, forty or fifty more bears powering close behind them, the giants bellowing war-cries, the bears roaring their own wordless fury. The ground trembled with their charge, the sound like a hundred thunder storms rolled into one.

Balur was close, now, only a hundred or so paces from Gunil, the bears behind Balur gaining.

And then the ground beneath Balur’s feet just seemed to… disappear, opening up into a deep pit.

The giant and his bear fell, crashing out of view, the bears behind him following in a tumble of limbs and fur, other riders bellowing commands, reining their mounts in, but more were falling, disappearing into huge pits that spread across the incline.

A great cloud of dust exploded from the pits the bears had fallen into, expanding and rolling down the slope, closely followed by the screams of giants and bears.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

FRITHA

“My thanks, Drem, for another gift you’ve given me,” Fritha said, looking at and listening to the destruction her staked pits were wreaking upon the giants and their bears.

She stood in a knot of woodland on the far right of her line, Arn and a handful of her Red Right Hand with her, along with Elise and Wrath. The draig was fixated on the bears charging up the slope, rumbling low growls and snapping his jaws.

“Your plan is a successsss,” Elise hissed beside her.

“The battle’s not won yet,” Fritha said.

There were still giants upon their bears tumbling into the pits, as more ran into them from behind, ramming them forwards and over the edges of the pits. But there were still far too many bears and giants left on the slope for Fritha’s liking. Perhaps fifty or sixty had been swallowed into the enormous holes, but that still left hundreds of giants moving rapidly closer to them.

“It’s a good start, though,” Fritha murmured to Elise.

The death of my Feral in Drem’s elk pit does not seem like such a grievous loss now. Every defeat is a lesson learned.

The dust began to settle, screams of pain from bear and giant alike echoed out from the staked pits. Gunil slung his war-hammer back over his shoulder and guided his bear