Of Blood And Fire Ryan Cahill (nice books to read .txt) 📖

“Yes, Father. We can walk. It is not far.”

“Good, let’s be off. The quicker we move, the sooner we will have food in our bellies.” Aeson gave a slight tap of his heel into his horse’s ribs, urging it into a slow walk.

Erik elbowed Calen in the ribs to get his attention, a mischievous grin on his face. “Now you’ve fought Uraks twice.”

Calen frowned. He wasn’t sure how Erik was laughing after what had just happened. It took all the strength Calen had to not empty the contents of his stomach. His heart still pounded in his chest. And his mind flitted between the monstrous Uraks and the look on the soldier’s face as he died, the way the light in his eyes had faded. They continued in silence.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, Calen saw the warm, orange-red glow of a fire, flickering shadows through the gaps in the trees. As they got closer, he heard voices, one male and one female, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

The trees opened into a small clearing. A large fire burned at its centre, with a massive cast iron pot suspended over it and four large logs arranged about its perimeter.

Calen, Rist, and Dann all stopped in their tracks when they saw the owners of the voices. They were both the same height as Asius, with skin just as pale. Just as icy blue. Though, unlike Asius, they were not bare-chested. They wore matching leather jerkins, well-made, with steel toggles. The others walked straight into the campsite without a second thought, leaving the boys standing there, gawking.

“Larion, Senas, it is fantastic to see you again!” Aeson’s voice rang with sincerity. He clasped them both on the forearm, his smile extending from ear to ear.

“As it is you, Aeson Virandr,” Senas replied, her voice soft and warm. It almost didn’t suit her massive frame. “And who are these fine young men? Not all your children. No, but these two are. They have your eyes.” She was looking over towards Erik and Dahlen as she spoke. Calen could see a kindness in her eyes.

“You are correct, Senas, as always. These are my children, Erik and Dahlen. The other three are new companions of ours. To be honest, I haven’t properly been introduced. It was Erik who brought them onto our path.”

All eyes were suddenly on Calen, Dann, and Rist. A swift elbow from Dann hinted that it was Calen who would have to do the talking. “I am Calen Bryer. This is Dann Pimm and Rist Havel. We are from The Glade. We’re not quite sure how we ended up here either, but it is our pleasure to meet you.”

“Well met, Calen Bryer, Dann Pimm, and Rist Havel of The Glade. It is a pleasure to share our fire with you this night. I am Senas, daughter of Iliria, and this is Larion, son of Olin. Come, all of you, sit. You must be hungry. We have a soup here and some warm blankets.”

Except for Aeson and their new companions, the conversation was non-existent while they ate. Calen was not sure he had ever seen Dann eat that fast in his life.

“Would you like some more?” Senas asked, laughing. She stood up to stir the soup in the pot with a long cast iron ladle. Calen tried not to stare. She was handsome, in a way. Her eyes were a deep green that stood stark against her pale whitish-blue skin, and her silvery-blonde hair was tied up at the back of her head. All three of them – Asius, Senas and Larion – were like nothing Calen had ever seen before.

“Yes, please. It is delicious,” Dann said. He joined her by the pot, holding his bowl out to be filled. He looked like a small child next to her.

“So, Aeson, tell us of your journey so far, and of Milltown. Were you successful?”

Calen had not heard Larion speak until then. His voice was deep and measured, as if he pondered each syllable with the utmost of care. Aeson gave a quick sideways glance towards Calen, Rist, and Dann before answering the question. “Yes, my friend. We were successful.”

Aeson gestured towards Dahlen, who reluctantly handed over the large satchel he had been cradling for most of the night. Larion took it into his hands with the caution of a mother handling a newborn babe. His eyes lit up when he peeled back the opening and gazed upon whatever was inside.

“It was truly quite amazing,” Aeson said, a glimmer of excitement on his face. “We waited for three days and three nights and almost froze to death in that icy wasteland, but then, on the fourth day, just as we had given up hope, they returned. The journey back was a bit choppy. We ran into some issues with the empire, but we managed to get away, by the luck of the gods. We arrived at the dock in Milltown yesterday afternoon, though not without complications.”

“I see. And have any of you heard it?” Asius asked, his head stooping down.

Aeson shook his head, letting a sigh escape. They spent the next while discussing the events in Milltown; the soldiers approaching them, and the fighting, right up until Asius had found them in the woods. More questions floated through Calen’s mind than he knew what to do with, or how to approach. Where did he start?

“Asius, do you mind if I ask… what are you?” Rist had been quiet, but Calen recognised the look on his face. He had been chewing on that question for a while now. A deep laugh emanated from both Asius and Senas. Larion just frowned for a moment, then peered back inside the satchel, running his hand along the outside with what seemed like affection.

“Well, little one,” Asius said when the laughter subsided, “your kind have always called us giants. But to our own, we are Jotnar. Do