A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,83
himself to do it.
“I can see your mother in you,” Stepor said.
My mother.
It felt strange that others had known her, when Drem remembered so little of her. Her voice, her laugh, but so much else had faded.
“Hope you can fight like her, too, if half of what Rab’s told us is true,” Stepor said.
“Rab tell truth,” the white crow squawked.
“Gulla in the north, acolytes, Feral men. Revenants,” Stepor said, part statement, part question.
“Aye, it’s all true, and more,” Keld said. “It’s the time we’ve been waiting for. And Gunil stood with Gulla.”
Stepor blew out a long whistle. “That’s not going to go down well with old One-Eye.”
“It’s a long walk from Drassil to the Desolation,” Keld said.
“Aye, it would be, if Balur One-Eye was at Drassil,” Stepor said. “But he’s not. He’s about half a league to the south, helping us look for you.”
“Balur One-Eye,” breathed Drem. It was as if heroes of myth were coming to life. Warriors of the Bright Star, giants…
“You’ll meet him soon enough,” Stepor said, glancing up at the sky and the sun. “If we ever stop talking and start walking.” He looked at Hammer. “Sig,” he said, looking from Keld to Cullen, grief washing all of their faces. “I grieve for your loss,” he said to them all. “For all our loss, but you were her crew, were closer to her than any other, except maybe Byrne. Sig was one of the greatest amongst us. Gave me more than a few bruises in her time, but each one taught me something.”
“Aye. Move faster, duck quicker, or better still, just drop your weapon and walk away from Sig,” Cullen said, a faint smile on his face, a tear in his eye.
“Ha,” Stepor barked a laugh. “True enough. Not that you ever walked away, young Cullen. I’ve seen some of the lessons that Sig taught you.” He winked at Keld.
“Never have learned to walk away,” Cullen admitted.
“There’s much to talk on,” Stepor said, “including your new travelling companion.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded at the white bear. “But let’s move out and set you on the path for home.”
Home? Dun Seren. I was born there, and yet I barely remember it.
Drem drew in a deep breath and shouldered his pack.
“Flick, watch our backs while Rab leads us home,” Stepor said, and with that they were moving out. Rab and Flick flapped into the sky, Fen, Grack and Ralla loping ahead and slipping into the shadows, Stepor setting a brisk pace, with Hammer and the white bear shambling after them.
Going home? If Dun Seren is my home, it is only because something of my mother and father abides there, Drem thought. And, he reminded himself, looking over his shoulder at the sky behind:
We are not safe yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
RIV
Riv ducked a sword-swing, felt the air of it whistle over her head, stepped under Kol’s arm and inside his guard, close enough to smell his sweat, and stabbed at his belly.
With a burst of speed she would not have thought possible, he somehow moved, twisting out of the way of her strike, swirling around her in a blur of white wings, and then his sword was resting on the back of her neck.
“You’re dead,” he said calmly.
Riv snarled, a spasm of frustration racking her body. It was not the first time she’d heard that phrase today.
Kol stepped away, a smirk edging his lips; other Ben-Elim were behind him. Amongst them Riv saw Hadran, who had become her permanent guard. A dark bruise stained his eye and forehead from the fight in the field.
Riv took a few paces and deep breaths to calm her simmering anger. They were back in the weapons-field. It looked different from the last time she’d seen it, with bodies wrapped in combat, or sprawled across the ground. Looking back on it, much seemed to have changed since then, when so many had stood for her, even crowds of traders and other ordinary citizens rushing in from beyond the field to defend her.
Or maybe they all just like a good scrap.
Even if there was some truth in that, Riv knew there was more to it. Ever since then, people had treated her differently, walking and talking with her in the street, sitting and eating with her in the feast-hall, treating her more like a wonder than a monstrosity.
There were still the dark looks, the glares and twisted mouths, but they seemed to be in the minority, and Riv found herself caring less.