Of Blood And Fire by Ryan Cahill (best classic books of all time .txt) 📕

The packed common room was filled with chatter, and dimly lit by candles of white and red wax that were scattered about so haphazardly that it could only have been done on purpose. The only pieces of furniture were large, red leather chairs arranged around small wooden tables in sets of twos and threes. Dann couldn’t help but feel as though he were getting drunk in some lord’s lounging area. He didn’t mind though; that was his sole intention anyway – to get drunk.

He had managed to nab himself a comfortable chair beside one of the two hearths that sat at either end of the room. The fire never seemed to go past a smoulder, which gave off little light but provided that extra bit of heat he had been looking for, and incensed the room with the familiar scent of burning wood.

Dann leaned back into the softened leather chair, swirling his wine around in his cup. He’d never tasted wine until he got to Belduar, which he quickly decided was time lost. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a mouthful of the deep red liquid. He sighed out his nose in satisfaction as the fruity flavours coated his tongue and drifted into his nostrils. Lord Arnell had given him a purse full of coin and told him to enjoy the city, and that was fully what he intended on doing.

“Mind if I join you?” Dann looked up from his wine to find Dahlen looking down at him. Droplets of water dripped onto the floor from the ends of his coat, and his hair was matted to his face.

“Sure.” Dann pushed himself up into a seated position. He caught the attention of the serving girl who had brought him the wine earlier. Elaiya was the name she had given him; he had made sure to ask – people always remembered you when you asked for their names. He gestured for her to bring a second cup. “Wine?”

“Please,” Dahlen said. He draped his sopping wet cloak over a cast iron rail near the fire and dropped down into the chair opposite Dann. “You got left behind too?”

“Thank you,” Dann said as he took the second cup off Elaiya and proceeded to fill it with wine from his jug. It wasn’t his coin, and it would be a long time before the purse was empty. Why not share? Though, Dahlen’s question left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Left behind?” he replied with a raised eyebrow. He handed Dahlen the overflowing cup of wine. Dahlen nodded his appreciation, sipping from the top of the cup immediately to stop it spilling over.

“Sorry.” Dahlen placed the cup down on the table and ran his hands through his saturated hair. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just—”

“It’s okay,” Dann interrupted. He sank back into his chair and took another mouthful of his wine. “It might be the wine talking, but you’re right. I would rather be down there with him.”

“You two are close.”

“Like brothers. Until we get Rist back, he’s all I have out here.”

Dahlen flinched at the mention of Rist’s name. Dann didn’t blame him like Calen did. But it was clear that Dahlen blamed himself.

Dann refilled the wine in his cup and gestured for Elaiya to bring a new jug. “Keep it,” he said when she tried to give him his change. Four silver marks. He would have run naked through the streets for that kind of money in The Glade. It wasn’t his, anyway. It was better she had it.

“Sir, I can’t possibly. This is far too—”

“I’m no sir. Please, keep it.”

Elaiya’s smile spread from ear to ear as she thanked him profusely. At the very least, Dann was sure that he would be getting the best wine at the inn for the rest of the night. He wrapped his fingers around the handle of the fresh jug and gestured towards Dahlen before realising that his first cup was still full.

“That was kind,” Dahlen said. He lifted his cup to his mouth, emptying it in one go, and extended it towards Dann to refill, a smirk on his face.

I knew there was a reason I liked him.

Dann realised that the last time he had sat down and had a drink with Dahlen was in the Traveller’s Rest back in Camylin – the night they lost Rist. They hadn’t stopped looking over their shoulders since then. The thought made him even more appreciative of the wine in his cup and the coin in his purse, but it set a sense of longing in him for his friend. “Where is your brother? Does he not enjoying drinking away his sorrows as well?”

Dahlen laughed as he pushed himself back into his red leather chair. “Erik enjoys getting drunk as much as the rest of us. But no, not tonight. We deal with frustration in different ways. I drink, he practices.”

“I think I’ll stick with drinking.”

“I will drink to that,” Dahlen said, laughing. He raised his cup and tipped it off Dann’s. They both emptied their cups. “I’m sorry about Rist.”

A silence followed Dahlen’s words. Dann was sure that he had been chewing on those words since he sat down. Dann leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He took a long draught of his wine and let out a sigh. “It was not your fault. I don’t fool myself thinking that it would have been any different if I had been there.”

Dahlen gave a weak nod and refilled both of their cups. A silence held the air for a moment. The din of conversation around them faded into the background.

“I’m sorry about Calen. He can be—”

“Arrogant? Self-centred?”

Dann put his cup down on the table and held Dahlen’s gaze. He stilled the anger in his stomach. He came here to get drunk, not to argue. “I was going to say passionate.”

I was going to say stubborn, but I’m not giving you that.

Dahlen smiled awkwardly and called