A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,17
embossed on huge rectangular shields upon their arms. They were advancing, clashing swords upon shield-rims. Bleda recognized faces amongst them.
White-Wings. Aphra’s hundred.
And Aphra led them.
Another of Bleda’s guards fell, a spear in the belly, blood gushing from his mouth. Bleda nocked another arrow, felt too few feathers left in his quiver, loosed at the approaching wall of White-Wings, his arrow punching into wood. Muttered a curse.
The White-Wings emerged into the glade, tightening their formation as the trees cleared, forming a circle around Bleda and the others, relentlessly marching closer. Bleda saw the gleam of steel, knew that when the White-Wings were close enough their short-swords would end this fight in moments.
“HOLD,” a voice cried out. The White-Wings snapped to a sudden stop, shields a solid wall around Bleda and his companions, separating them from the attacking Ben-Elim.
The Ben-Elim ceased their attack, some spiralling in circles above, others landing on think branches, silent as predatory hawks.
Aphra stepped out of the line, eyes fixed on Riv, who was drenched in blood, hovering above Jost, Vald and Fia. She alighted before her friends, facing Aphra, and Bleda saw a host of emotions sweep across the warrior captain’s face.
“Riv, stop,” Aphra said. “There need be no more bloodshed. Please, lay down your arms.”
“You brought them here, led them to me,” Riv said with a snarl, gesturing up at the Ben-Elim.
“Of course I did,” Aphra said. “This is the Land of the Faithful. The Ben-Elim rule here, and for a thousand leagues in every direction. There’s been a change of leadership, but they still rule. I want you back with me, and that means back with them.”
“They slew Mam,” Riv said, a tremor of emotion shaking her voice. “Kol slew our mam.”
“I know,” Aphra said, “and my heart is broken. But you still live. You and I, we are kin, we are all that each other has to hold onto in this world, and I’d not lose you, too. I’ve lost—” she paused, clenched her jaw for a moment. “We’ve lost too much already. I wanted to find you, bring you home. Please, Riv, come home.”
“Home? To the place where my mother was murdered?”
“She was not murdered. She fell in battle, died a brave death, as all warriors hope for.”
“She needs justice.”
Aphra sucked in a long, shuddering breath, her gaze shifting to take in Riv’s wings, and she exhaled long and slow. “I knew something was happening to you, to your back, but this…”
A ripple ran through Riv’s wings, one dappled feather coming loose, drifting to land at Bleda’s feet.
“Please, Riv, come home.”
A silence stretched, then a beating of wings from above. Bleda looked up to see the Ben-Elim parting, a winged warrior descending from high above. Blond-haired, handsome, gleaming in a coat of mail, a ragged scar stretching from forehead to chin.
Kol.
He landed gently in the space between Riv and Aphra, his eyes fixed on Riv. On her wings.
“This cannot be,” he said hoarsely. “Dalmae, when did she—?”
“Do not speak of my mother,” Riv growled.
“Dalmae, your mother, tried to kill me,” Kol snapped a sharp retort.
“Kol,” Aphra interrupted, “you swore to me, gave me your oath. Riv will not be harmed.”
“Aye,” Kol said, “but I never knew this.” He looked at Riv with disgust. “Elyon’s Lore…”
“Which you have broken a thousandfold already,” Aphra hissed.
“I know, but this, we have spent a hundred years ensuring this did not happen.”
Bleda glanced at the cairns in the glade.
“How did this happen?” Kol continued. “Who did Dalmae—?”
A burst of motion and wings, and suddenly Kol was sprawled upon the ground, Riv standing over him. “I said, DO NOT SPEAK OF MY MOTHER!” she screamed, spittle flying, muscles twitching and spasming in her face and body.
Oh dear.
Bleda had seen that look before: Riv’s face contorted, enveloped within a red rage, when she had saved him from a beating, single-handedly laying waste to half a dozen opponents. It was as if she became someone else.
“You dare,” Kol hissed as his legs lashed out, kicking Riv’s feet from under her, at the same time his wings beating, lifting him gracefully back to his feet.
Riv half fell, but her wings pulsed and she regained her balance.
“You’re not fighting an old woman this time,” Riv yelled as she hurled herself at Kol.
They came together with a concussive crash, muscle, bone and wings slamming into each other, the two winged warriors such a maelstrom of fury and speed that for long moments Bleda was unable to track what was happening.