Blood of Wolves by Loren Coleman

Author:Loren Coleman
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US

16

CRUAIDH HAD BEEN the largest settlement in Conall’s Valley, spread throughout a wide vale that opened up on the western side toward the Pass of Blood. The pass allowed for the only way into the Broken Leg Lands without traveling far to the south, around the Teeth and the massive rise of Ben Morgh. Because of this, Cruaidh controlled all trade through the valley and most of what went east toward the lake country as well. Merchants passed that way automatically. Nemedian craftsmen and Gunderland trappers. Aquilonian ambassadors. Soldiers.

Raiders.

Kern had never seen the settlement, but it had been described by enough summer travelers that he recognized what was left of it even through the lingering mists. A gentle river cut through the vale, passed over in several places by rough planks set between piles of stone that might have once formed sturdy bridges.

Cruaidh’s tall palisade had been pulled down along one side, burned on two others. Not a complete loss, but close enough. One watchtower had been toppled by chopping a supporting leg out from beneath it. Swinging from the crossbeams of another tower hung several ropes. Kern could easily imagine the bodies that had been left dangling, turning and swaying in the mountain winds. He counted dozens of ruined sheds, and torched homes once large enough to house two families, at least by the standards he knew in Gaud.

A wide field of disturbed earth on the northeast edge of the vale told Kern where the funeral fields had been dug. It looked large enough to plant every man, woman, and child of Gaud three times over. And there were still half a dozen open gravesites. One with mourners gathered around it. Two more with bodies lying nearby, sewn into blankets, waiting their turn.

It made him remember Burok Bear-slayer. He wondered if Cul ever got Bear-slayer north, to the Field of the Chiefs.

Frostpaw had paused a third of the way down the far side of the slope, pacing along the hillside as if held back by an invisible fence. He clearly was not going any farther. When Kern started down, the skittish wolf circled back and behind him, standing a silent vigil, watching the shadows of men and women drift about below.

Dozens, Kern guessed. Maybe a hundred. Not even half the number he expected from the valley’s largest clan holding. He saw tents strung up against the palisade’s remaining side and more staked over the frozen ground near the stream. Enough to house the numbers he could see, barely, until homes could be rebuilt.

The people moved about as if sleepwalking, at least until they noticed him. His white-blond hair drew immediate attention. The wolf sitting on the hill above him drew more. The hairs on the back of Kern’s neck stood up alertly as dark mutterings caught up from behind him. He glanced from side to side, watching carefully for any sign of violence. His amber eyes set people back for a moment, but strength of numbers was on their side.

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