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

“A History of Magii? You spend your time mocking me for believing the legends and fairy tales… and then you buy a book about Magii?”

Rist hesitated. Again, he folded over the corner of the page to mark where he had stopped reading, closed the book, and pushed it to the side. “I was curious – you know, after our conversation in the woods. Then I saw the book at the markets and figured that it would be an interesting read.”

Calen only half-heard Rist’s reply as the serving girl returned with his tankard of mead. He passed her two copper marks for the drink and turned his attention back towards his friend. “Sorry, Rist. I’ve just been thirsting for this ever since I walked in.”

Calen took a strong mouthful of mead, then let out a satisfied sigh. He sat back in his chair to take a proper look around the busy inn.

Three men sat in the corner of the room. Their calm and introverted behaviour painted a stark contrast to the surrounding revelry. All wore thick black mantles that covered most of their garb, but the glow from a nearby candle caught a glint of metal on a blackened studded leather cuirass on one of the men.

“Who are those guys in the corner?” Calen asked. “They don’t look like merchants – or soldiers.” Calen turned his eyes back to Rist to make sure he didn’t draw any more unwanted attention. Not twice in one night.

“Aye, they do not. They were here when I arrived earlier. Haven’t moved much either. They just ate some food and have been sitting there, muttering to each other. None of my business – or yours.” Rist stooped his head down to look Calen in the eyes.

Calen rolled his eyes, letting out a mocking sigh. “Yes, Father. Thank you for your wise words.”

Rist responded with unimpressed silence, then returned to his book.

Calen stewed in the silence for a moment, then took a drink of his mead. “I’m going to go see how Dann is getting on. That axe throwing game seems like fun. Sure you don’t fancy joining?”

Rist raised his eyes from the book for a moment. “I think I will pass on this one. For the gods, Calen, will you two please try not to cause any trouble? He’s already had four meads.”

Calen shrugged as he stood up, puffing his cheeks in resignation. “If he’s already had four meads, you and I both know that there is no way I’m stopping trouble if he chooses to cause it.” Calen slapped his hand down on Rist’s shoulder as he passed his chair. Rist rolled his eyes and beckoned over the serving girl for another mead.

There was absolute silence coming from the group of travellers as Calen approached, which worried him a little. Some people should be feared when they are loud, and others when they are silent. This group seemed like the latter.

Without warning, an axe flew out of the middle of the group, soaring through the air in a series of acrobatic flips. It nestled in the target with a thunk, slightly to the left of an axe that had already made its home there, about an inch closer to the centre. The group erupted in a chorus of cheers and shouts.

“Having fun?” Calen asked as he tapped Dann on the shoulder.

Dann turned around, his eyes growing wide. “Calen!” He threw his arms around Calen, pulling him into a tight, slightly painful embrace. “I was beginning to think you had wandered off onto a ship and gotten lost at sea. What took you so long? I’ve made some friends. They have come all the way from Drifaien to sell furs and drink. In fact, I think they might just be here to drink – and throw axes.” He pondered on his words for a moment, scrunching up his lips in thought. “Yes, I’m pretty sure they are here just to drink and throw axes. Mead?”

Calen was sure that Rist had missed a few meads when he was counting. This sounded like six mead Dann.

Dann raised his tankard up in the air, clinked it off Calen’s own tankard, then took a deep draught.

“Come, I will introduce you.” Dann threw his arm around Calen’s shoulder, directing him towards the heart of the group. “Friends! Let me introduce to you my companion and brother at heart.” Calen rolled his eyes; they always seemed to require a lot of rolling when Dann had been drinking. “This is Calen Bryer! Calen, this is Audun, Baird, Destin, Fell, Kettil, Leif, and Alleron.”

Calen held his breath as he tried to match the names to each man. Which was easier said than done. All of them looked almost identical – strong, rugged, and slightly dirty. With thick beards that covered most of their faces, their only distinguishing features were the colours of their eyes and hair. There was not the slightest chance that he would remember their names for longer than five minutes.

Each man responded to Dann’s introduction with a hearty, “well met,” clasping Calen’s hand with their own, which Calen repeated in kind. Calen had only met a Drifaienin man once before, a few summers back, but he had dressed as they did, and his accent was the same. Thick and gruff, though with a slight lilt to it.

One of them stepped forward – the one Dann had called Alleron. He was a solidly built young man, no older than Calen. His ice-blue eyes stood in contrast to his dark brown, shoulder-length hair, and full beard. He held an axe by the flat, at the back of the blade, the handle extended towards Calen. It was just short of two feet in length, with a smooth ash wood handle and a single hatchet blade. It was fine craftsmanship.

“Would you like to try? Dann here has taken to it like a duck takes to water.” He smiled. At least, Calen thought he