A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,165
suddenly the fog was lacerated and broken, swept away to reveal what it had hidden.
A host of men and women, even children amongst them, moving in an unnatural, too-fast gait. Drem saw dark eyes and gleaming teeth.
They came on at Ethlinn. Giants and warriors of the Order rallied about her, a dull thud and echo of screams reverberating down to Drem over the general din of battle as the Revenants and giants came together.
Drem saw Ethlinn stab down with her spear, a flicker of blue light bursting as the spear pierced a Revenant. Ethlinn lifted it high, skewered, and blue veins spread through the creature’s body. It spasmed and jerked on the end of her spear like a stuck fish, then went limp. Ethlinn cast the lifeless form away.
Drem frowned, not understanding what he was seeing, but he felt a glimmer of hope. It was snuffed out quickly as he saw the host of Revenants rolling over giants and warriors around Ethlinn.
What can we do?
He looked about wildly, and then he saw her.
Fritha, amongst the trees. She was staring at him, warriors and… creatures about her.
He didn’t care.
She slew my father.
He pulled on his reins and urged his roan mare up the slope and into the trees.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
FRITHA
Fritha smiled as the dark mist rolled over the battlefield. Ulf was standing behind her, amidst the trees.
The Revenants will win this for us, Fritha thought. Without them, even with my Ferals, I do not think we would have triumphed.
Victory was so close now that she could almost taste it.
She saw a figure riding into the trees, leaping from his horse’s back when the branches became too low, and breaking into a run, straight up the slope towards her.
It was Drem.
Fritha wanted to clap her hands and thank whatever fate was smiling down upon her.
Behind him she glimpsed other figures running into the woodland.
Are the Order of the Bright Star breaking already? Have the Revenants won the day?
Then Drem was crashing into the glade where Fritha was. She saw his eyes flicker to Elise and Wrath, saw the shock register, saw his run falter a moment.
He has changed, she thought. He was dressed in fine war gear, for a start, not in his trapper’s leathers, a mail shirt that was streaked with gore. He looked older, somehow, less childlike, though his face held that same determined set that she had always liked about him.
Once he sets his mind to something, he tries to see it through. Unfortunately, I think this time he has set his mind on killing me.
Let him try. I will take him, bind him in chains and make him into something new, just so he can follow at my heels for the rest of his life.
“Don’t kill him,” Fritha snapped to those about her, “or eat him,” she added to Wrath, who was growling at Drem and licking his lips as if the young man was lunch.
She saw the resolve return in Drem’s eyes, despite the odds, and then he was stepping forwards.
Arn and Fritha’s other guards moved to meet Drem, six of her best.
Drem drew a short axe from his belt, without any hesitation hurled it at Arn.
It spun through the air, Arn leaping away, the axe slamming into the face of the warrior behind him, a crunch like wet wood being split as the axe blade buried itself in her face, the warrior hurled backwards from her feet. Drem drew his seax and another axe at his belt and ran at them.
Arn swung his spear at Drem, the other warriors spreading wide, trying to encircle him, but he was moving so quickly, his axe snaking out, wrapping around Arn’s spear and tugging him off balance. Drem’s momentum carried him on, a slash of his seax at another warrior, a red line across the warrior’s face, a splash of blood, and Drem was backhanding his axe at Arn, who blocked it with his spear shaft and stepped in close, trying to snare Drem’s axe arm.
He’s learned a few things from the Order, Fritha thought dispassionately, but he’s not good enough for Arn and the others yet.
A blow landed across Drem’s back, sent him stumbling into Arn, who put his knee into Drem’s gut, doubling him over. More blows, and Drem dropped to one knee, twisted to the side, slashing with his seax. A scream, another of Fritha’s warriors dropping, clutching his leg, Drem rolling to the side, back onto his feet, crouched, seax and axe ready.