A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,51

his past. In the end Olin had, and Drem understood now why it had been such a closely guarded secret. He wished that he’d had more time to spend with Olin after he had heard the truth from his father’s lips. If anything, it had made them closer, Drem hearing how Olin’s whole life had been dedicated to keeping Drem safe.

He blinked, banishing tears that threatened to rise.

He looked at Cullen, so young, only eighteen summers old, and yet he had seen so much, was so skilled with a blade.

Though that is hardly surprising, given his lineage. Cullen was the great-grandson of Corban, greatest hero of the Banished Lands.

“Do you remember my mam and da?” Drem asked Cullen.

“Ach, no,” Cullen said. “I was barely two summers old when the Battle of Varan’s Fall and all that happened with the Ben-Elim occurred.” He shrugged. “I felt as if I knew them, though, for all the tales that are told about them. Fine warriors, the both of them, but your mam, she was a terror, if Sig spoke true—and Sig always spoke true, even when the truth would cut like a blade.” He smiled, a weight of memory behind the expression.

“I only know what anyone at the Order knows,” Cullen continued. “That the Ben-Elim wanted you as a ward, because your mam was sister to Byrne, our high captain. Olin stole you away from the Order, both to save you and to prevent a war between the Order and the Ben-Elim. A brave man, your da, that’s what Sig said.”

“He was.” Drem sighed, thinking of how Olin had kept him safe, moving, living a solitary life.

Da wasn’t just my kin, he was my only friend.

“What of Byrne, my aunt?” Drem asked. It felt strange saying that out loud. For all of his life Drem had not known of any kin related to him beyond his father and his dead mother. And Byrne was High Captain of the Order of the Bright Star, descended from Cywen, Corban’s sister.

“Ah, now there’s a warrior. Not to look at, not like Sig, where you just knew crossing blades with her would end badly. Byrne, though, she looks…” He paused and thought, tapping a tooth. “Ordinary. She’s not, though. I’ve had more bruises from Byrne in the weapons-field than from anyone else, including Sig. Byrne’s adder-fast, and she uses this.” He tapped his forehead. “She’s got a sharp tongue on her as well, doesn’t suffer fools gladly.” Cullen grimaced, and Drem could tell there was a weight of memory and experience behind that expression, too.

Beyond their shelter, Hammer growled.

In a heartbeat Cullen was on his feet and striding out of their shelter into the night, sword hissing into his fist. Drem was a moment behind him, ignoring the pain from his complaining wounds. He drew his seax and stood next to Cullen, staring into the night-black, silvered by starlight.

Hammer’s head was up and she was snuffling the air in great snorts.

“Hold your breath, Hammer, I’m trying to listen,” Cullen muttered, eyes scanning the darkness.

Drem moved away from the shelter and the soft fire-glow that leaked from the hide entrance, slipping into the tree-dark. He looked up, knew that their shelter was shielded from eyes above by the combination of thick canopy and hide tent. He’d reconnoitred all three of the paths that led away from this spot, knew that only one of them twisted roughly north, in the direction of their last encounter with Fritha.

If they’ve found us, that will be where they come from.

Drem had set a few traps, more as a chance of early warning than in any hope of defeating Fritha and her horrific crew. But as he listened to the coal-black woods he heard nothing.

Then…

More a whisper of sound, the hint of a footfall. He strained, trying to hear, to cut through the darkness with eyes and ears. Nothing, and then there it was, again but louder, like a shuffling gait. His eyes snapped towards the sound. A deeper darkness in the gloom formed, the suggestion of movement. Growing larger, closer.

Drem crouched, Seax held ready, and Cullen took a step into the darkness, sword gilded in starlight.

A whine.

Then Cullen was running forwards and Fen the wolven- hound was limping out of the murk.

Drem was only a footstep behind as Cullen dropped to his knees and hugged the wolven-hound, wrapping his arms around the beast’s thick neck.

Drem felt such a sense of relief that a grin split his face, the weight of their circumstances