A Time Of Dread (Of Blood and Bone #1)

‘I thought things were not good between us and Dun Seren,’ Riv said.

‘Oh, there has always been a tension,’ Israfil said with a wave of his hand. ‘Their founder, Corban, took issue with our tactics from the very first day. Overly emotional and sentimental, I always thought him. Unable to see the greater good. Always obsessed with notions of kin and friendship and loyalty. Leaders must act for the greater good.’ He shrugged. ‘But they are the enemy of the Kadoshim, as are we. And of a time we will share information. I only think of them now because Balur and Alcyon speak of their training with much respect.’

‘I train hard, none harder,’ Riv said, ‘and no warriors train harder than the White-Wings.’

‘So quick to judge, when you have not seen,’ Israfil said, raising an eyebrow.

That is a fair point.

‘I understand, you are defending the pride and honour of your people, the White-Wings,’ Israfil said. ‘But do not let that sentiment cloud your vision, or your understanding. A warrior sees to the heart of his enemy, sees strengths and weaknesses honestly, dispassionately. And casts the same gaze upon himself. Or herself. That is purity of mind, what the Lore demands we strive for. Removing the ego.’ He paused, a slight smile. ‘My apologies, this was not supposed to be a lesson on the philosophies of combat.’

‘I like it,’ Riv said with a shrug.

‘Another time, then. As for your sister, do not be so hard with her. She did tell me of your misdemeanour at Oriens. She also told me that it was you who first saw through the Kadoshim ruse; that Oriens was a lure.’

Oh. There is some pleasantness left in her still, then.

‘Now, on to the other matter I wished to speak of with you. It is a grave matter, and its possible consequences far-reaching.’

‘If I can help in any way, Lord Protector, I will.’

‘Adonai and Estel,’ Israfil said, and suddenly Riv’s head was full of blood and feathers, of Estel’s White-Wings insignia torn and stamped upon on the flagstoned floor. ‘You know of what I speak.’

It was not a question.

‘Improper relations,’ Riv murmured, remembering Israfil’s words in the Great Hall.

‘Yes. I am hearing rumours. That this behaviour . . .’ He paused, face twisting with uncommon passion. ‘This sin is more widespread than I would have hoped. That Adonai was not the only Ben-Elim, Estel not the only mortal engaged in these . . . practices.’

Riv felt a heat flush through her, as if she were racked with guilt.

But I have done nothing wrong.

And then she thought of Kol, on that moonlit night beyond Oriens. His smile, the touch of his fingertips against her lips. The shiver it had stirred in her.

‘Do you know of any such conduct?’ Israfil asked her.

She gulped. ‘Me, I, no. No, Lord Protector.’

He regarded her a long moment, then nodded slowly.

‘It may be that I am wrong. But, if it is happening, it must be stamped out, quickly and ruthlessly, before it spreads. It is wrong, and it would destroy us.’

Riv nodded, though again she got the feeling that Israfil was talking to himself more than to her.

‘I am gathering a small group about me,’ Israfil said, definitely talking to Riv now, as he pinned her with his gaze. ‘A few that I trust. You are one of them, Riv, because I see your passion and dedication to the cause, despite your, issues. I am placing my trust in you, even talking to you of this. But I would ask more. I would ask you to be my eyes and ears.’

He is asking me to spy on my own. But he is the Lord Protector, the highest power in my world. How can I refuse him?

‘Of course, Lord Protector,’ she heard herself say.

There was a knock at the door, making Riv jump.

Israfil took a long moment, eyes fixed on Riv. ‘My thanks,’ he said to her. Then. ‘Enter.’

Ethlinn walked in, Balur One-Eye at her shoulder.

‘We’ve had news from our scouts tracking the Kadoshim,’ Ethlinn said. She saw Riv sitting before Israfil, raised an eyebrow, but continued.

‘Has one of my Ben-Elim returned?’ Israfil asked.

‘No,’ a croaking voice came from the unshuttered window, and a big black crow flew into the room, flying around and then landing on the arm of Riv’s chair. It looked up at her with one beady eye.

‘Our friends from Dun Seren have sent help,’ Ethlinn said, a twitch of a smile on her lips.

‘Flick,’ the bird croaked.

Riv had heard of the talking crows of Dun Seren, but never seen one in the flesh. She’d always thought it would be amusing to meet one, but now that it was sitting a handspan from her and regarding her with all too much intelligence, the whole experience felt far more like unnerving, rather than amusing.

‘Is Flick your name?’ Riv said, feeling strangely uncomfortable.

‘Yes. You?’

‘My name is Riv,’ Riv said.

‘Well met,’ the crow rasped.

‘Yes, this is all very polite,’ Israfil interrupted. ‘But do you have news of the Kadoshim force that attacked Drassil?’

‘They scattered, fled in many directions, lost in Forn,’ the crow squawked, its talons clenching alarmingly with each syllable. One group, largest, went to Varan’s Fall. Grinding Sea.’

Israfil looked to Ethlinn. ‘What do you make of that?’

‘There is nothing there, only sea.’

‘Boats,’ Flick croaked.

‘The ground is marked with boats that had been moored on the shore,’ Balur said, his voice a deep growl. ‘They rowed away.’

‘Where to?’ Israfil mused. ‘It is a clever move, making them untrackable. What options are there for their destination?’

‘The coast runs west to east. East is a few hundred leagues of Forn Forest, then mountains, then Arcona.’

‘So, unlikely they would go that way. West?’

‘Is Dun Seren and the Desolation.’

‘Dun Seren is as unlikely a destination as I can think of,’ Balur rumbled. Riv realized that he was laughing.

‘And north?’ Israfil asked.

‘The Grinding Sea,’ Ethlinn said, open handed.

Riv had felt uncomfortable, initially, as if she wasn’t supposed to be involved in this meeting, and not enjoying the way the crow seemed to be sidling its way closer to her arm. But now she was engrossed in the conversation.

‘So,’ Israfil said. ‘Unless there is some hidden location in the Grinding Sea, the logical conclusion is that our enemy have fled to the Desolation.’





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE





DREM


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