Blood and Honor (Forest Kingdom Novels) by Simon R. Green Page A

baron, with lesser responsibilities and burdens, he might have done quite well. But he never had the strength of character or purpose to be a successful prince of Redhart. He lacks the pragmatic, ruthless nature that such a position demands. Of all the three princes, Viktor is undoubtably the most human. He’s made fewer enemies than anyone else at Court, but then he’s also achieved the least. He’s brave enough, when he has to be, and I’ve taught him everything I know about the sword and the ax. He’s killed seven men in duels, and I’ve never once known him to back down from a quarrel.”
    Jordan shook his head. “Weak, easily led, lacking strength of character … and this is the man you want to make king?”
    Gawaine shrugged. “The way things are, he’ll either be king or he’ll be dead, and all his followers with him. And as king, he should be … better advised.”
    Jordan looked at him narrowly. “You’re being very careful with your words, Gawaine, but you’re still not telling me what I need to know. Do you like him, Gawaine?”
    “I’m his friend, I suppose. He listens to me sometimes. He has a good side, a noble side; I try to encourage it, when I can. I swore to his father that I would protect Viktor as best I could, for the rest of my life.”
    “Why?” said Jordan. “What made you swear such an oath to King Malcolm?”
    Gawaine looked at him steadily. “You ask too many questions, actor.”
    “Yeah, I know. One of these days it’ll get me into trouble.” Jordan grinned at him easily. “Just doing my job, Gawaine. If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll change the subject. What do you know about that barrow over there? Are there any local legends about it?”
    Gawaine studied Jordan for a disturbingly long moment. There was a cold calculation in his eyes, and Jordan carefully kept his smile open and disarming. Gawaine finally turned away to look at the barrow, and Jordan breathed a silent sigh of relief. For whatever reason, it was clear the knight wasn’t prepared to talk about his oath, or the reasons behind it. It was also clear to Jordan that if he’d tried to press the point, Gawaine would almost certainly have knocked him down. He casually moved a step farther away from Gawaine, and turned his attention to the great mound of earth that marked the barrow.
    “Barrowmeer,” said Gawaine slowly. “It’s very old. Some histories claim it was here even before Castle Midnight was built on Brimstone Hill. Barrowmeer got its name from the time there was a great lake here. That’s long gone now, together with quite a few other landmarks; wiped out during a sorcerers’ war in the time of the Shadow.” His left hand made an instinctive warding sign against evil. “The barrow is a grave, of course, but it’s no ordinary grave. That mound of earth you’re looking at was built to hold something evil. Originally there was a ring of standing stones around the barrow, to keep the sleeper quiet. But one by one they disappeared over the centuries. Stone for building has always been scarce in this part of the world. Now there’s just the barrow itself left to hold Bloody Bones.”
    “Who the hell’s Bloody Bones?” said Jordan. “He sounds like a pirate in a bad mummer’s play.”
    Gawaine looked at Jordan, and the smile faded quickly from the actor’s lips. Gawaine nodded sternly. “Believe me, Jordan, there’s nothing funny about Bloody Bones. Not if half the stories I’ve heard are true. Bloody Bones is one of the old creatures, the Transient Beings. They say he was here long before the coming of man, stalking across the moors in search of prey, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him. He had no need for meat, but he lived on blood. When he walked the moors, the sun hid behind the clouds and the air was full of the stench of the grave. No one knows who finally put him down and bound him in the earth, but he’s lain in that barrow for God knows how many centuries—held there