The Blood-Tainted Winter (16 page)

The rearmost archer was an easy target for none of his companions could see him. Raef did not even draw a weapon, but instead seized the other man and wrapped an arm around his throat. The warrior struggled, but surprise had given Raef every advantage and his hold was too tight. Soon the warrior slumped to the ground and Raef moved on to the next. This time he drew one of his knives and plunged it into the archer’s spine. This one, too, fell without a sound. The third was tricky. He had climbed onto a low tree branch, leaving only his ankles within Raef’s reach. Raef grabbed one foot and pulled. The archer fell straight down, his head snapping back as his chin struck the branch. Raef did not need to look to know he was dead.

Raef reached the fourth and final warrior in three strides. The man was about to release an arrow, but he froze when the edge of Raef’s sword slid on to his neck.

“Drop it.” The warrior complied. “Now walk.” Encouraged by Raef’s blade, they soon returned to the path where the Hammerling’s men, no longer harried by arrows, had abandoned their shield wall. Raef gave one of his men custody of the archer. The children, he noticed, were out of sight. Cilla had listened, but there was no telling where they were now. It would have to wait.

Raef began to clean his knife. “Whom do you serve?”

The archer’s face was stubborn.

“Would you like me to remove an ear? Then you would have no trouble hearing me.”

The archer swallowed hard. “I answer to Harald of Ervard.”

“And Harald?”

“Supports the Palesword.”

“Good. Where are your friends?”

The man looked back into the trees. “You killed them.”

“Do not lie. We have followed you since midday. I know there are more.”

The stubborn look returned and Raef walked toward him. The knife, clean and bright now, came to rest on the man’s cheek. His breath came harder now but his mouth stayed closed.

Raef leaned in close. “Do you think they will come when they hear your screams?”

The sudden smell of urine was sharp and Raef wrinkled his nose. A flood of words followed. “We thought we heard pursuers, so we split, trying to draw you off. They were to circle and delay, then rejoin us from the north and crush you in the middle.”

“Answer one last question and I will spare your life and the lives of your companions if it is not too late already. Where is the Palesword now?”

There was no hesitation this time. “Less than a day’s ride east. He sent us out two days ago to scout his western flank as he traveled.”

Raef nodded and sheathed his knife. “Take his weapons.” Raef remounted his horse. “Stay with him,” he said to the warrior who was removing the archer’s arrow bag, knives, and short sword. “The rest of you with me.”

They rode quickly now, silence no longer necessary as they searched for the rest of the Ervard men as well as Ulrik’s party. The sounds of steel on steel soon reached them and then Raef’s horse was upon them. The two shield walls broke apart and Ulrik’s greater numbers were beginning to have effect as the six Ervard men were soon surrounded. Raef circled the fighting on his horse. There was no need to join them for already three men were down. The others fought to the end, but it came quickly and Ulrik shouted his triumph.

Raef released his captive, as promised, but kept the horse and set him on a western path that would take him far from the Palesword. Raef could see Ulrik’s displeasure, but the captain said nothing. It was only when Raef turned his men east to search out the Palesword’s host that he remembered the children. They had not been seen since the fighting began.

Raef knew they could not wait. If they hoped to catch the Palesword the next day, they need to make good progress before nightfall. Raef tried to tell himself that they might survive. Cilla was stronger than she looked, after all, in both mind and body. But he knew their chances were slim.

He turned his horse east, only to see Cilla in front of him. She was not alone. A warrior held her close to him, an axe at her throat. Her eyes were filled with fear, but she did not cry out or weep.

“This belong to you?”

“Let her go.”

“I want a horse.”

“Let her go and you will have one.”

The warrior’s glance darted around and he backed away, keeping Cilla close.

“Cilla,” Raef said, “where are your brother and sister?”

She answered with her eyes, looking to her left.

“Are they safe?”

Her nod was barely visible. Raef, without taking his eyes from the Ervard warrior, said, “Sigvard, find them.” Sigvard scrambled into the trees. Raef took a step toward Cilla and the warrior. “I will count to ten. If you have not released her by the time I reach ten, they will shoot.” He indicated his own trio of archers, who already had arrows trained on the man.

“One.” Raef took another step. “Two.” Another. “Three.” He could see the man’s grip begin to slacken. “Four.” The warrior flung Cilla to the side and ran, but he had gone only two strides before crashing into Sigvard, who was returning with the younger children, one in each arm. All four fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Raef dove for them, reaching them at the same time as Cilla. Sigvard and the Ervard warrior drew their short swords, though both were still in the snow. Raef seized the youngest child and threw her to the side, then reached in for the boy’s leg. The Ervard warrior, on his knees now, began to swing wildly. Raef felt a slash on his arm but kept his grip on the boy’s foot and dragged him away. Sigvard threw himself at the other man and they fell back to the ground. They grappled for a moment and then Raef saw Sigvard’s blade flash in between them. A quick stab and the Ervard warrior lay still. Sigvard rose to his feet, bleeding from his nose, but otherwise unharmed.

A roar from behind him made Raef spin around. Ulrik, sword out, was lunging for Cilla but Raef got there first. He put himself between Ulrik and the girl and Ulrik pulled up short, seething with fury.

“Those mongrels almost got one of my men killed. I will see them dead.”

“You will not touch them.” Raef drew his sword.

Ulrik roared again and charged, but it was not Raef’s sword that blocked his swing. Sigvard, grunting with effort, threw Ulrik back and planted himself firmly next to Raef. Ulrik looked from one to the other and then at the rest of the men.

“Am I not captain here?” His shout found no answer but the snow. Ulrik let his sword fall to his side, but there was no defeat in his face, only vehemence. He looked squarely at Raef. “I will rip out your heart one day.”

Raef had Sigvard bind Ulrik’s hands before ensuring the children were unharmed. He put Cilla and the younger girl on one of the horses they had acquired in the skirmish and let the boy ride the mare by himself. It was a solemn group that rode east and they shared meat and ale in near silence around the campfire after dark. Raef could tell his grip on the men was tenuous. If given the chance, some might choose Ulrik. He set those he trusted most on watches with those he was unsure of and slept little himself.

Sigvard shared his sleeplessness and sat close to the children. Raef found him there while pacing around the fire. The warrior was watching them sleep, a slight smile on his face. He looked up at Raef’s approach.

“My own sister is of an age with her,” Sigvard said, touching Cilla’s hair. “Do you have any siblings, lord?”

Raef knelt and tucked the boy’s arm under a blanket. “No. My mother died just days after I was born. My father never took another wife.”

“When we return to the Hammerling, I will send them to my mother. She will look after them.”

Raef nodded his thanks and then returned to his blanket. He watched the snow fall until dawn came.

Eighteen

T
he Palesword’s banners
were many. They rippled in the wind, bright spots of color flying between white snow and blue sky. Raef guessed that the Palesword’s force was half again the size it was when he had parted from it.

They watched the Palesword’s progress from a hilltop, concealed in the trees. The host below them marched at a slow pace, for many were on foot.

“We are but one and thirty, lord,” Sigvard said. “What can we do against so many spears?”

“Where many men could not pass, a few might go unnoticed. Stealth will be our friend. And the moonless sky we will walk under this night. But first we must know where the prisoners are being kept.”

A moment later, one of the Hammerling’s men spotted a group of men walking without armor or weapons. “There, lord. Prisoners.”

He was right and Raef scanned the distant faces for those he sought. They were too far to make out to be sure that Eira, Siv, and Vakre were among them. “We must get closer.” Raef sent Sigvard and two other men to find a better vantage point. “Look for two shieldmaidens, one dark of hair, the other with a braid of red and gold.” Raef and the rest of the men waited at the top of the hill and though the scouts were not gone long, it seemed an age to Raef.

“There are no women there, lord,” Sigvard said.

“You are certain?”

“Yes, lord.”

Raef turned away, his fists clenched at his side, and looked down at the warriors. “The Palesword may be keeping them close. We will trail them until they stop for the night.” The men prepared to follow the column of warriors. “Ride in small groups. Keep to the trees. Be on your guard. The Palesword is not likely to travel without sending out scouts. Avoid them if you can. Kill them if you must.”

The Hammerling’s men split up and filtered into the trees, some to ride ahead, others to linger and follow the Palesword’s column. Raef sent Ulrik, still bound, with Sigvard and his group. Raef took his group forward, matching pace with the head of the Palesword’s host. Through the trees, Raef caught a glimpse of Torrulf, riding tall astride his horse, but then the leaves grew thick and from then on they followed the sound of hooves more than the sight of banners and spears.

When he had the chance, Raef sought viewpoints from which to examine those closest to the Palesword. Once he thought he saw Siv’s hair, but the host shifted as it descended from a knoll and he lost it.

When darkness crept across the earth and the stars shone overhead in a cloudless sky, Torrulf chose the best ground he could, halting his warriors on a subtle rise in the midst of an open plain. Though hardly a hill, the higher ground would give his watchmen an advantage over anyone who might approach. And yet, Raef, as he eyed the site in the dying light, knew there was one weakness.

A river rushed alongside Torrulf’s chosen campsite and Raef could see that it was lined with tall grasses. The Palesword’s numbers meant his host would overwhelm the small rise and spread out around it, except where the river and the rise met, joined by a steep, though short, bank. It was there that Raef could see a chance to penetrate the Palesword’s camp.

The Hammerling’s men regrouped a safe distance away as the Palesword’s men lit fires, their talk and laughter floating across the open air. The men settled in to wait. Raef checked his weapons out of habit. They were all sharp, all ready to spill blood.

“Lord.” The Hammerling warrior approached Raef with uncertainty. Raef gestured for him to come closer. “Those women you spoke of, I may have seen them.”

“Where?”

“With the Palesword himself when they first stopped upon the rise.”

Raef touched the hammer that hung from his neck. “Luck may be with us.” The closer to the river Vakre, Eira, and Siv were, the better their chances of success.

The fires had been low and untouched for some time before Raef decided it was time. He would take only five men with him, trusting that speed and stealth would prevail. “We do not speak,” he told them. “We crawl to the river and then swim the rest of the way.”

Leaving behind bulkier weapons that would only hinder them, the men armed themselves with small axes and knives and then began the long crawl to the river’s edge. Raef led the way, peeking his head up only to be sure they stayed on course. His arms were aching by the time they reached the water, but he did not stop to rest. Sliding in, his breath caught for the water was cold and deeper than he had thought it would be. Once the others had joined him in the river, they swam only a little, letting the current do most of the work and carry them. When they reached the rise, Raef dragged himself out of the water but indicated for the men to hold their position. Using only his arms, Raef dragged himself up the bank, through reeds and tall grass, until he could see firelight ahead. Keeping low, Raef waited and watched.

The men closest to him were asleep. Their chests rose and fell evenly. A small tent was just beyond them. Raef wondered if the Palesword slept in it. A fire glowed just outside the tent’s flap and a single guard was posted there, facing away from where Raef hid. To the left, perhaps twenty paces from the tent, another fire smoldered and Raef could see four warriors standing over it, talking quietly among themselves. On his right, more sleeping bodies lay still, breath rising in pale clouds above their heads.

Raef crawled to his right to search for his friends among those who slept. His cover dwindled away to nothing, but he persisted, his soaking clothes icing over as he slid through the snow. Here and there, a body moved in sleep and once Raef’s foot slipped on muddy snow and his boot narrowly missed a man’s head. When one of the sleepers sat up, Raef froze and clung to the ground, the darkness his only hope. A long moment passed and Raef was about to look up when he sensed footsteps. He tensed and reached for his knife, but the feet were in front of him already. Scrambling to his feet, blade poised to strike, Raef went still. The eyes he was looking into were familiar. It was Siv, and her smile was brighter than the stars above.

They crouched down and Siv pointed to two sleeping forms, answering Raef’s unspoken question with a nod. Putting a finger to her lips, she crept over and placed a hand on Vakre’s shoulder, then did the same to Eira. They woke quickly and Siv whispered something to them. They gathered up their belongings and crawled to join Raef.

They exchanged no words, but Raef directed them to the river, letting them go first while he watched their backs. Once they had to pause and wait while the four guards at the fire dispersed. Raef held his breath, but the men each took only a few steps, casting cursory glances about them, and he knew their vision would be compromised by the flames.

Reaching the river, Raef slid back into the water, his clothes so frozen that he did not notice the chill. The trek upriver was harder and the current seemed stronger now that they moved against it. But the knowledge that Vakre, Siv, and Eira were safe made it easy to bear. The Hammerling’s men were waiting and helped them from the water. There was no time to speak, only a moment to exchange their wet shirts for dry ones and warm furs. The horses were ready and waiting, three spares saddled for the newcomers, and they mounted and rode into the night, eager to put distance between them and the Palesword before their absence was discovered. Raef turned them west. If any land was safe, it would be there, close to Finngale and the Hammerling’s source of strength.

They rode hard through the dawn, through the morning hours of mist, and did not stop until the sun was high in the sky. Only then did they take rest on the shore of a narrow lake, letting the horses drink. Raef splashed water on his face while Vakre dunked his entire head in. Raef had not spoken a single word to Vakre, and yet it seemed he did not need to. They had resumed their friendship with ease and Raef was grateful that whatever essence of the Deepminded remained a part of him, it had not flared up since reuniting with those who had brought out such anger.

Siv was still all quiet watchfulness and quick grins. Raef watched her wring water from her hair, then re-braid it with deft fingers, her gaze in constant motion as she observed her surroundings, her companions, and everything in between.

It was Eira who seemed a stranger to him as he watched her drink from her cupped hands, her hair spilling over her shoulder. Her dark loveliness was as enticing as ever, but whatever small thing beyond attraction that had sprung up between them seemed now to have withered away, cut off before finding any form that Raef could put a name to. He did not know if it would resurface.

Vakre came to stand near Raef, his eyes on the calm lake surface. “The Palesword was true to his word. We were well looked after. But I do not think he will suffer our escape. I expect retribution to follow.”

“Retribution of some kind, yes, but he will not pursue us now. He does not yet know that I played a part in your flight. He will still expect me to return. But he will not follow.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“There are other things demanding his attention. The loss of prisoners, even those held as leverage, is insignificant when measured against what he strives for.”

Vakre looked at Raef, his eyebrows raised. “Which is?”

“He spoke of me as a tool. You heard it. If I am the chisel, the Far-Traveled is the hammer and Torrulf means to use him to tip the scales in his favor in a way that would threaten all the world. I could not let that happen.”

“This was not from the Palesword’s mouth. That can only mean you found Finndar Urdson.”

Raef nodded and picked up a flat, smooth stone. He turned it between his fingers and then flung it across the surface of the lake. “I did.” The rock skipped six times before sinking.

“And you chose to let him stay free.”

“I did. The Palesword’s men know nothing of it. They only know that I fled in the night.”

“What is the Palesword’s purpose in seeking the Far-Traveled?”

Raef skipped another stone and then related what Finndar Urdson had told him about the army buried in the heart of a mountain. Vakre listened in silence until Raef finished.

“And you trust his words?” There was no accusation in Vakre’s question.

“I do.”

Vakre nodded. “Then Torrulf Palesword must be damned in the eyes of all men and gods. It is a shame. He would make a good king.”

“He would.”

“We go to rejoin the Hammerling?”

“Yes. I must tell him all I have learned,” Raef said.

“Where do we find him?”

“Sigvard says he sits on the border of Finngale and Axsellund. These men were raiding Kelgard lands when I found them. I expect he has raided elsewhere as well.”

“Have Vannheim’s spears been bloodied?”

Raef shrugged. “I do not know.”

“Do not, or do not wish to?”

“What do you mean?”

Vakre held Raef’s eyes for a moment and then looked back out to the lake. “Lord of Vannheim you are, but you have not been on your lands or among your people since acquiring that title. Your spears are pledged to another man, yet you have not led them in battle nor even do you know where they are. Do not tell me this is the path you saw before you when you watched your father burn on the pyre.”

Raef clenched his fists. “Whatever path I am on, it has bought you your life.”

“For which I thank you. But if you ever hope to avenge your father, you must first take his place in more than name.”

“Why? So I can continue to fail him?” The question burst from Raef’s lips before he knew what he was saying and, once released, the words flowed unchecked. “On the day of his death, he saw me as a boy, willful, petty, undisciplined, and he was right to do so. I dreamed a selfish dream of the sea road and resented him for keeping me from the waves. I brought dishonor to Vannheim when I fought with Erlaug at the gathering, letting my boyhood quarrel rule my mind when I should have been an asset to my father. In my haste to avenge him, I chained Vannheim to a king I do not trust, a king my father might not have chosen. And now my warriors, his warriors, will die fighting for other men.” The tirade, begun with ferocity, had wilted under the shadow of grief and shame and Raef found he could not look at Vakre any longer.

Turning from the lake, Raef gave the order to mount, taking refuge in their need to press on. As they snaked along between the lake and the steep hills that rose up on all sides, Raef focused on the stones that lined the shore, the birds in the trees, the slender waterfalls that raced down the rocks, the curve of Eira’s back as she rode beside him, anything but the doubts Vakre had raised.

When they made camp long after dark, Raef said nothing to Vakre and little to anyone else, but he found Eira and, taking her where none but the pines might witness, spoke to her by other means.