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It was still afternoon, and Jahdo was scrounging dead wood for an evening’s fire, when Gidro and Baki became restless, throwing up their heads, sniffing and snorting into the rising wind, finally whickering out a greeting. Distantly a horse answered, then another. Jahdo leapt to his feet and grabbed his grandfather’s knife, but Meer sat unmoving, hunkered down by their gear. Hoof-beats sounded, riding fast, riding hard, and straight for them out of the east.

“Meer, Meer! We’ve got to run.”

Slowly the bard raised his head and turned toward the sound.

“You run, Jahdo. Head west and hope you find those horsemen who aided your people once before. I might as well die a slave, so long as I die soon. A man is nothing without a clan, and my future holds no kin to serve the gods in my old age.”

“Stop that! It’s needful you come, too.”

The hoofbeats came louder, tack jingled and rang, men yelled, a wordless high shriek of triumph. Meer rose to his feet, grabbing his staff, but he only leaned upon it as he waited, turned toward the noise.

“Run, Jahdo! Grab that bag of food and run to the forest.”

Jahdo hesitated, and in that moment it was too late. With a whoop and a yell, like men driving cattle, the horsemen swept around the camp and surrounded them….

Days of Blood and Fire

BY KATHARINE KERR

Her novels of Deverry and the Westlands

DAGGERSPELL

DARKSPELL

THE BRISTLING WOOD

THE DRAGON REVENANT

A TIME OF EXILE

A TIME OF OMENS

DAYS OF BLOOD AND FIRE

DAYS OF AIR AND DARKNESS

THE RED WYVERN

THE BLACK RAVEN

THE FIRE DRAGON

Available from Bantam Spectra

For Richard Wilfred Ashton

My grandfather

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I owe special thanks to

Barbara Denz, who taught me ferret lore and took the time to correct my mistakes,

Ken St. Andre, whose comments on an earlier book made me think about dragons in a new way, and

Karen Lofstrom, who climbed a real volcano and told me about it.

CONTENTS

1. PUER

2. AMISSIO

3. PUELLA

4. VIA

5. CARCER

6. CAPUT DRACONIS

APPENDICES

Historical Notes

Pronunciation Notes

Glossary

The Westlands

Summer, 1116

RUBEUS

Of all the figures that give us omens in the element of Earth, this be the most dangerous and dissolute, unless it pertain, thanks to the overall reading of the map, to days of blood and fire. And should it fall into the House of Iron, then the loremaster must destroy the map immediately, proceeding no farther, for naught good will come of peering into such a future.

The Omenbook of Gwarn, Loremaster

1

PUER

Unless this figure fall into the House of Bronze, that is to say, the seventh country on our map, or into the House of Gold, the fifth country where dwell art and song, then it be ill-omened, bringing dissension, injury, and the lust for revenge,

The Omenbook of Gwarn, Loremaster

ROUND CERR CAWNEN THE meadows lay marshy, crossed by a thousand streams, most no more than rivulets, and dotted with pools and bogs. With his face and hands lard-smeared to keep the blackflies from biting, Jahdo picked his way through the high grass to hunt for brooklime and colt’s foot. To the north the mountains that the dwarven folk call the Roof of the World towered out of blue mist, their peaks shining white in the summer sun. To the south the rolling meadows spread out into farmland, dotted with trees, and here and there a plume of smoke from a farm wife’s kitchen rose like a feather on the sky. In his pure boy’s tenor Jahdo sang aloud, swinging his wicker basket in time to the song. He was so entranced with this wide view, in fact, that he stumbled, stepping out into empty air and falling with a yelp some four feet down into a gully carved by a stream.

He landed on soft grass and marshy ground, but the basket went flying, hitting the water with a plop and floating away. He scrambled up, decided that the sandy streambed offered the best footing, and splashed after the basket as it rounded a turn and sailed out of sight — Jahdo broke into a shuffling sort of trot, keeping his feet