A Sword from Red Ice

He led her to the wolfskin tent where he had already laid out blan-kets and furs in a single pile. Light came from the fire; muted and reds arid golds that flickered on Ash's skin. She stepped out of her cloak, unbuckled her belt, and pulled her dress over her head. She could smell her sweat, sahy and darkly sweet. Her stomach felt hollow and when Lan touched it muscles quivered. His hand pushed under her breast, forcing it out so he could close his mouth around the small hard nipple. His other hand slid between her legs. Ash gasped. Losing her footing she stumbled backward and Lan grabbed her hips and guided her down to the floor. As she lay on the furs he pulled off her boots. He was naked and his sex stood out from his body. When he had removed both her boots he lowered his head between her thighs and kissed her sex. Ash tensed, surprised. Slowly she relaxed as warm liquid heat rolled over belly and thighs. His tongue slid back and forth, wet and soft. Soon the gentle pressure was no longer enough and she pushed herself against Lan's face. His tongue stiffened in response. She could foiBrdly believing anything could feel this good.

She wondered why she kept seeing the shadow beast tearing between the trees. Lan's tongue was moving along folds of tender skin and she stopped breathing as its rhythm grew more insistent. A single arrow to the hearfclSuch a small, compact head and it had stopped something larger and more densely muscled than a horse.

Ash grabbed at the furs as his tongue entered her. Urgent pressure built in her belly. She did not want him to stop.

Do not wake, the voice called from the darkness.

As muscles contracted in her thighs and stomach, she realized she had not seen the first arrow go in.

THIRTY-THREE The Field of Graves and Swords

Vaylo Bludd rode his borrowed horse north to the Field of Graves and Swords. Mogo Salt, second son of Cawdo, and Hammie Faa were behind him. The wind was up and ragging, pushing high and low clouds across the sky. An overnight frost had crisped the receding snow and it cracked pleasingly when punctured. Vaylo's horse was a fiery stallion, jet black, with a long, sculpted head. When he dug in his heels and loosened the reins, the animal raced up the valley slope at full gallop.

Gods, but it was good not to think. Just ride and be damned as your ears chilled to freezing and your tailbone took a hammering against the cantle. He'd been shut up for too long in the furry black walls of the hillfort. Too much damp, too many whisperings, too much fear of what was to come. A hundred and seventy Bluddsmen were garrisoned there. When had they turned into frightened girls? We are Bludd, Vaylo wanted to shout out at the morning. We are not built to sit and wait.

Arriving at the headland that topped the valley, Vaylo reined in his horse. The Field of Graves and Swords lay directly ahead of him and he felt the pressure that had been building in his chest ease. Dead clansmen lay here. Respect was due. He walked the horse forward through the dried out heather stalks, rye grass and snow. The stallion's neck steamed. Vaylo smelled horse sweat and frozen mud. When he drew close enough to see the canker on the nearest blade, he disjointed. His feet punched perfect impressions in the snow.

Deciding to trust the stallion, the Dog Lord let the horse stand free. Mayhap it would nose something tasty from the snow. Behind him he was aware of Hammie and Mogo slowing their mounts. Behind them, the wolf dog was high-trotting through the white.