A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,163

shield wall were reaching the pits now, the shield wall breaking apart as they navigated the narrow channels between each hole. Drem saw Alcyon the giant upon the back of Sig’s bear, Hammer. The giant was close to Balur, chopping at the enemy with his two axes in his fists. On the right flank more giants and riders of the Order were circling the pits and curving in to strike on the enemy’s flank and come to Balur’s aid. He saw the dark silhouette of the half-breed swirling in the sky above, swooping and diving as she flew low, stabbing and slashing with a sword, then rising high to wheel and dip low again.

On the left flank a host of Ferals hundreds strong was tearing into warriors of the Order, riders amongst them, but mostly the huntsmen and wolven-hounds.

He felt he should be there, where the battle raged hottest, and where the huntsmen that he identified most with were being torn apart. He gripped his reins and guided his horse back down the slope, Cullen shrieking in his ear, imploring him to turn and ride back into the battle on the ridge. Drem ignored him.

He dug his heels into his mount and dragged on her reins, guiding her out of the tight-packed press that was piling up against the Ferals and urged her south, back down the slope into more open ground, and then he was cantering, looping around the edge of the Ferals as they ploughed into the Order of the Bright Star, aligning himself for a charge at the Ferals’ flank and rear. He heard the drum of hooves behind him, saw Keld burst from the press and follow him. Drem slowed for a moment to let Keld join him.

“What are you doing, Drem?” Cullen yelled. Keld’s eyes were wide with confusion. Drem realized they thought he must have been running away.

Drem pointed at the rear of the Ferals. “No point waiting in a mass to get at them,” Drem said. “Thought it made more sense to ride around the back and give them a sharp-iron surprise.”

Cullen blew out a long breath, shared a look with Keld.

“Have to admit, I like your thinking, lad,” Keld said.

The huntsman put two fingers to his lips and whistled, and Fen came bounding out of the woodland to their left.

Cullen slipped from Drem’s saddle and grabbed the reins of a riderless horse that came cantering down the slope. Favouring his uninjured leg, Cullen swung himself into the saddle.

“Let’s go kill us some Ferals,” Keld snarled, and then they were spurring their horses forwards. They broke into a canter, a hundred paces from the Ferals now.

“These nets you use for Kadoshim and half-breeds,” Drem called out, unclipping the folded net at his belt, “you think they’ll work as well on Ferals?”

“Only one way to find out,” Cullen grinned, unclipping his own net and snapping it free.

The rabid creatures heard the beat of their hooves, turned snarling to face them. Five of them at least broke away from the main pack and began to run at the three riders.

Drem flicked his wrist, as Cullen had shown him, setting the weighted balls free, then he lifted the net over his head, holding it by its centre-point, and swung, felt the lead weights swirl around his head, felt their rhythm, conscious of not swinging too fast or too slow, trying not to let the fact that snarling death was hurtling towards him break his concentration, and then he was releasing, not up as he had practised, at an imaginary Kadoshim, but almost straight forwards, just a slight upwards angle to his cast.

His net spread wide and Drem’s chosen Feral all but ran into it, the weighted balls snapping around the animal as the net enfolded its arms, torso and one leg, sending it crashing to the ground. It struggled, tearing and biting at its bonds, gaps opening up in the net, one clawed hand ripping through, and then Drem’s horse was trampling the creature, hooves crashing down, snapping bones, crushing its ribcage. Drem leaned over, chopping into the Feral’s head with a hand-axe.

The creature died in an explosion of blood and bone.

Drem sat tall in his saddle, breathing heavily, saw that Keld and Cullen had snared their Ferals and were dispatching them with sword and spear, and close by, Fen the wolven-hound was rolling with two Ferals, arcs of blood trailing through the air. Drem spurred his horse at them, chopped into the skull of one