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

‘Three Kadoshim together,’ Sig muttered. ‘And what if each of their covens are with them? That is the most Kadoshim sighted together since the Battle of Varan’s Fall. Where your mother fell.’ She nodded to Drem.

‘Da told me only a little of it,’ Drem said.

‘I will tell you of it. Of her. Songs are sung of her that day.’

‘I would like to hear that,’ Drem said quietly.

‘How many acolytes?’ Sig asked him.

‘Acolytes?’

‘The shaven-haired warriors.’

‘Many,’ Drem said. ‘Two boatloads, and others already at the compound.’

‘And these creatures, these Ferals?’

‘In cages. It could be ten, could be fifty. A hundred. I’m guessing at much of this, you understand?’ Drem said. ‘It was dark. I was terrified.’

‘Poor Drem,’ Rab cawed from above them.

‘Aye. Approximate numbers, but the result is the same. A lot. Too many, and at least three Kadoshim. One Kadoshim is hard enough to kill.’ She looked at Keld and Cullen. ‘I’ve much faith in you two, in Hammer and Fen. And my own sword arm. But—’

‘And me. And Drem,’ Rab squawked.

‘Aye, even you, Rab,’ Sig said. ‘And Drem, but we’ve no right to ask him to go into any battle with us, let alone one where we are so heavily outnumbered. And Byrne needs to know of this. We should go back to Dun Seren, come back with a few hundred swords.’

‘Ach, we didn’t come all this way for nothing,’ Cullen said.

‘We’ve achieved much already,’ Sig said, frowning at him. ‘We’ve saved our long-lost brother, for one. And his information is more valuable than gold, for two.’ Even so, Drem could see it pained her even to consider walking away from this fight. But it was the logical thing to do.

‘You said I was your brother, your kin?’ Drem said.

‘Aye, that you are, Drem,’ Sig said. ‘I have told you, you are kin to me. As much a part of us as Olin was, and know this: if you have need, I – we – will be there, at your side. We are bonded, we few of the Order of the Bright Star, a bond of blood and friendship, unto death.’

She held his gaze a long moment, giving her words time to settle into him.

‘Then I shall go where you go. Fight or freedom, either way.’ he shrugged. ‘Though freedom is the logical choice.’

Sig smiled at him.

‘To ask you to walk back to that hell-hole, quite possibly to fight and die.’ She thought about that and shrugged. ‘Probably, not possibly. No, I will not ask you to do that. We came to help you, not march you to your grave.’

‘I could scout this mine out, with Fen,’ Keld said. ‘Don’t doubt Drem’s account, but some eyes on the place in daylight would give us a better idea, more solid ground for Byrne to make a decision on.’

Sig looked at him thoughtfully.

‘I could send Drem back with Cullen and Rab,’ Sig said, ‘and come with you.’

‘You’ll not get to have all the fun while I walk back to Dun Seren,’ Cullen muttered sullenly.

That mine is not what I call fun.

There was the sound of hooves in the yard, all of them standing, reaching for weapons, then a strangled cry, high-pitched, a woman.

Drem burst onto the porch behind Sig and Keld, saw a woman upon a dun horse. She was as pale as death, staring wide-eyed at the bear Hammer as it lumbered out of the trees to the north.

‘Dear Elyon above, it’s going to eat us!’ the woman shrieked.

‘Hold, Hammer,’ Sig shouted and the bear stopped.

Drem ran forwards, recognizing the woman as Tyna, Ulf the tanner’s wife. She looked as if she was going to faint at the sight of Sig.

‘What is it, Tyna?’ Drem asked. ‘What’s wrong?’ Why are you here?’

‘I’m worried about my Ulf,’ she said. ‘Listening to you and your talk of Kadoshim, I told him he should have a look at that mine, just for some piece of mind.’

‘He didn’t go, did he?’ Drem asked.

‘Of course he did, and he took my three boys with him, amongst a dozen others. Went off yesterday morning, and he’s still not back.’

Drem shared a look with Sig, Keld and Cullen.

More fodder for the Kadoshim to mutilate and transform. Not Ulf.

‘We’ll go and take a look.’ Sig nodded.

‘Well, it would have been a shame to come such a long way for just one little fight,’ Cullen said.





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE





RIV


‘Water,’ Riv whispered, breath like a rasp in her throat, scraping her flesh raw. It was dark, the sound of rain, pounding and hissing against stone, a torch flaring bright, though she could just about manage to keep her eyes open now without the sensation of sharp, sliver-thin knives stabbing into the back of her brain and scraping upon the inside of her skull.

That’s progress.

Fractured memories slipped through her mind. Sparring with Kol on the weapons-field. His arm tight around her, his breath on her neck. Collapsing, a kaleidoscope of images in this room. Aphra, her mam, Kol. A whispered meeting in the dark.

There was a dark shape over her, a hand behind her head, helping her sit. Water, oh blessed, sweet, heaven-sent water, a trickle on her lips, over her swollen tongue and down her redraw throat.

‘Slowly,’ Aphra said as Riv tried to tip more water into her mouth.

‘Where am I?’ Riv croaked, looking around. The room was circular, one long window starting from the floor and ending with an arched top, tall and wide enough for a giant to walk through. Darkness, wind and rain leaked in, pressing upon the torchlight, making it swirl and hiss. Something about the way the wind whistled through the window whispered to Riv of height.

‘A tower room,’ Aphra said, ‘above our barrack.’

Never knew this was here!

‘It’s my solitude room,’ Aphra said with a sad smile. ‘How do you feel?’

Riv wasn’t sure. She felt as if her body had been put through a mangle, aching and entirely lacking in anything resembling energy. Keeping her eyes open and looking around seemed to be taxing enough.

‘Weak,’ she breathed. ‘Cold.’ She shivered, trying to shrug the woollen blanket tighter around her. She frowned at the open window.

A shutter would help.

‘Your fever is returning,’ Aphra said with a frown, her hand on Riv’s brow. ‘This is the third time. Twice I thought it had broken and you were healing.’

‘How long?’

‘Half a ten-night.’

‘What! Is that how long I’ve been . . . ?’ She didn’t know what to call it. ‘Unwell?’

‘Aye.’ Aphra nodded. ‘Since you collapsed on the weapons-field.’

Riv drank some more water, managed to blink and roll her neck without feeling as if she’d spent a morning in the shield wall. Her back ached, a dull throb of pain, pulsing out from her shoulder blades.

‘Back,’ she said, trying to roll her shoulders. She felt different, somehow. As if she’d grown. ‘It hurts.’ She shifted, feeling muscle move that hadn’t been there when last she checked.

‘Your back. Well, I’m not surprised it’s hurting.’

‘Why?’ Riv said, not liking the sound of that, or the look on Aphra’s face. Not just worry. Something more. Something far greater than worry.

Aphra held up a strip of something that looked like parchment, crinkled and opaque.

‘What’s that?’ Riv pulled a face.

‘Your skin. It’s been peeling from your back for half a ten-night.’

‘Ugh!’

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