The Blood-Tainted Winter (27 page)

Their progress slowed, for the terrain grew rough and more difficult for the horses. As they passed through a narrow split between two hills, Raef grew uneasy with their vulnerable position. No sooner had he urged a faster pace then the arrows flew from the trees to their left. The man in front of Raef took an arrow in the throat and slumped against his horse’s neck. Two others took shots to the leg. Instinct emerged and the men jumped from their horses and grouped together, shields up. Another volley made contact but this time the arrows found only wood instead of flesh.

With a cry, the attackers abandoned the trees and the battle began in earnest. How many foes they faced, Raef had no time to determine for the fighting was thick and close in the ravine. Raef downed his first attacker with ease and turned to the next, a man who stood a head above him. The warrior’s sword swung down from high above Raef, but he slipped to the side and slashed at the warrior’s shoulders. His blade found flesh and the giant howled in pain and rounded on Raef with new fury. His blows came hard but he lacked speed and Raef, after blocking several strikes, found a chance to press forward and his blade soon stabbed into the warrior’s belly. The man dropped to his knees but kept swinging and Raef, unable to pull out his sword in time, had to leap back to avoid the singing steel. Reaching for his axe, Raef stepped to the right and, with a backhanded blow, split the warrior’s neck open. The man swayed and then crashed to the ground, his blood turning the snow red.

Dropping his shield and pulling out a knife with his right hand, Raef was already on his next opponent, who was trading blows with Eirik. A quick stab between the shoulders and he, too, fell. But before Raef could move again, a heavy body crashed into him and pinned him to the earth. Gasping for air after the impact, Raef wasted no time in using both axe and knife to pierce the struggling warrior over and over. The body lay still and, with a yell, Raef threw the dead weight to the side. Rising to his knees, Raef hacked at the legs of the closest foe, felling him to the ground where the axe carved his face in two. Coming to his feet, the space around Raef had cleared enough for him to see that men were dying all around him.

Stepping over a pair of bodies, Raef lunged back into the fray, coated now in the blood of his opponents. A few quick moves and two more men were down and then Raef found himself fighting side by side with Vakre and Eirik. Of Siv there was no sign. Together, the three men pushed through three opponents and then another two. At last Siv came into view and Raef’s heart jumped for she was pinned against the steepest part of the hill and beset by a warrior twice her size.

Raef grabbed a warrior who was reeling from a blow by Vakre and sliced his knife through the man’s throat. Then he ran, heedless of danger to himself, slipping through warriors, ducking under a sword meant for another man, until he plowed into the warrior who pressed Siv.

They hit the ground hard and rolled but Raef was first to regain his balance. Pinning the warrior beneath him, his knee keeping the man’s sword hand from moving, Raef put his face close, the battle-joy filling his chest, mind, and heart.

“You will not touch her again,” he snarled. “Look for me in Valhalla, maggot-mouth.” The man bared his teeth but Raef buried his knife between his ribs and his face slackened in death. Raef stood and caught Siv’s eye. She bled from a cut on her arm, but appeared to be otherwise unhurt. Her gaze flickered to a spot over Raef’s shoulder and he whirled to face whatever was there. Siv’s knife beat him and lodged into the forehead of a warrior ready to strike at Raef. He blinked once and collapsed. Raef freed the knife and, grinning, tossed it back to Siv. She caught it and they fought their way to Vakre and Eirik, who were still in the thick of things.

The enemy had dwindled, their initial surprise outmatched by Raef’s numbers. Within moments, there were only three opponents remaining. Two tried to run and were taken down by spears. The third held his ground and grit his teeth, but defeat was in his eyes.

“You come from the Palesword, yes?” Raef asked. The warrior nodded, his sword out as though he might keep them at bay. “Your purpose here?”

The man’s gaze shifted to focus on Eirik’s face. “To find him.”

“Does the Palesword know he is in Ver? Or does he search a wider area?”

The man’s face grew stubborn and he did not answer.

“Speak and receive a quick, clean death. Hold your tongue and I will cut you a thousand times and a thousand times again.”

“He does not know. He sent search parties in all directions.”

“And his own direction?”

“Last I knew, he meant to lay siege to the fortress of Gornhald.”

“How many other search parties are in Ver?”

“Just one.”

Raef frowned. “Are they close?”

“No. They were meant to keep to the northern side.”

Raef’s mind was on the small group of men they had seen just before the battle. If they were not the Palesword’s, perhaps they belonged to Fengar. Raef looked to Eirik to see if he had any further questions. Eirik gave a slight shake of the head and Raef looked back to the captive.

“You have answered well. How would you like to die?”

The warrior swallowed but kept his head held high. “As you see fit, lord, only let me keep my head.”

Raef nodded. “As you wish.”

The warrior dropped his shield and lowered his sword so the tip brushed the snow but kept his grip on the weapon. He closed his eyes to show he was ready. Raef tucked his axe back into his belt and switched the knife to his left hand. He stepped close and plunged the blade into the man’s heart. It was as quick as he had promised.

Cleaning his knife, Raef surveyed the scene. The attackers had numbered near forty. Foolish, perhaps, to attack a group of more than one hundred, but they had killed fourteen of Eirik’s men and wounded many more. Raef retrieved his shield and sword from where he had abandoned them. He cleaned all his weapons in the snow and allowed the men a few moments to claim anything of value from the dead. Then they continued on their way, more carefully than before.

They reached the forest camp before midday and Eirik settled his men among the others. Raef asked Erling about the state of their supplies.

“We will find plenty in the forest to live off of, but the wounded need things we do not have. Clean cloth for bandages. Certain plants that do not grow in the deep forest, especially in winter.”

“Tomorrow, you will take three men and head east to Andrik’s stronghold. Stay out of sight but see what there is to see. We know the Palesword has another search party in the northern part of Ver but we saw other armed men much closer. Discover who they are if you can. And I would know if Andrik himself is at home or what he may have left in his stead. We do not yet know which side he fights for, if he has chosen. There is likely a large village near his walls. Buy what you need.” Raef handed Erling a pouch of silver.

Commotion at the other end of the camp drew Raef’s attention and he looked to see a rider returning from the perimeter watch. Raef ran to meet him.

“Lord, the Hammerling draws near.” The rider took a breath. “He comes with near two hundred men, the rest follow but are some days behind.”

Raef cursed under his breath. “The fool will draw all eyes to us.” The sound of horses grew in Raef’s ears and it was not long before the Hammerling appeared. The Hammerling pulled his horse to a stop in front of Raef. There was strength in his every movement and a fire in his eyes.

“Where is Fengar? Where is my prisoner?” Behind the Hammerling, the trees filled with men. Raef saw Eira mounted on a black horse. She sat proud in the saddle and her eyes, when they met Raef’s, were unreadable.

Before Raef could answer, Fengar stepped into view and Raef cursed again when he saw that the man was no longer bound.

The Hammerling kicked his horse and the animal leaped forward until its snorting nose was but a finger’s length from Fengar’s face. Fengar did not flinch as the Hammerling stared down at him.

“We are friends, Brandulf,” Fengar said, his mouth curving in the hint of a smile. “Had you not heard?”

“You are the last man I would call friend.” The Hammerling jumped to the ground and took Fengar’s collar in his fist.

“Lord.” Hauk of Ruderk was at the Hammerling’s side. “I have offered the lord of Solheim his freedom if he will fight the Palesword with us. He has agreed.”

The Hammerling released Fengar and rounded on Hauk so quickly Raef was sure a violent blow would follow. The Hammerling showed restraint, but his voice trembled with anger when he spoke.

“You had no right to make that offer. His life is mine.” Brandulf’s gaze darted to Raef. “You. What part do you have in all this?”

Raef grit his teeth. “It is not so simple as that. There is much to explain.”

The Hammerling’s frown deepened. “Choose your words well, Skallagrim. Or they will be your last.”

Raef began with the story of Freyja’s army as the Far-Traveled had told him. The Hammerling did nothing to hide his impatience but Raef persisted, not knowing where else to start if not at the beginning. When he came to Vakre’s part in the story, Brandulf had ceased to interrupt and his anger had given way to disquiet.

When Raef finished, the Hammerling was still for a moment. “They cannot be killed?”

“So it seems. All reports indicate that.”

Brandulf looked to Erling, Hauk, Eirik, Vakre, and Siv in turn. “What of Leifnar? I do not see him here.”

“Leifnar is dead. By my hand.” The Hammerling’s eyes narrowed at Raef’s admission. Raef continued. “He refused to heed my command and tried to escape with Fengar to bring him to you, rather than keep him close. I did not want Leifnar dead, but I would make the same choice again.” The Hammerling stared hard at Raef, his hands clenched and close to his sword, his eyes dark and deep. Raef held his ground, wondering how many more clashes he and the Hammerling would have before one of them ended up dead. “You told me once you thought I would make a better ally than corpse. Do you still think so? Here I am. Is this not what you wanted? Or do you wish now you had sent me to Valhalla when you had the chance?”

“I still have the chance.”

Raef drew his sword. The motion was calm and slow. “Then take it if you will.” Raef’s heart was steady in his chest and his mind clear. In his heart he knew his own actions mattered little. The only way they could move forward was if the Hammerling made the choice to do so. Either way, Raef was prepared.

Raef could see the temptation on the Hammerling’s face. He longed to draw his own weapon and then Raef’s blood. The struggle was visible in his eyes. The men around them were quiet and Raef was glad of it. At long last, the Hammerling smiled and let out a laugh. Raef heard fury and unease in it, but he knew others would be fooled. The Hammerling strode forward and clapped Raef on the shoulder, hard.

“You would not make a good corpse, Skallagrim, that is true.” The Hammerling laughed again and a few others joined in. Raef sheathed his sword and watched as the Hammerling moved away to speak to other men. Vakre came to stand beside Raef.

“Take care you do not wake the sleeping malice.”

Raef met Vakre’s eyes. “He should do the same.”

The Hammerling’s two hundred soon overran the camp and Raef lost sight of Eira. He spoke to Erling to ensure the perimeter was yet intact. “Take more men and make it larger,” Raef said. “With so many men, I do not know how we can remain undetected here much longer.”

“Do I still travel tomorrow lord? To Andrik’s stronghold?”

“Yes.” Raef turned to go then caught Erling’s arm. “The Hammerling may give you orders.” He did not have to continue.

“You will know every word, lord.” The captain bowed his head and then began to shout the names of Vannheim men to do as Raef had bidden. For a time, those from Vannheim had outnumbered all others, but no longer. The Hammerling’s arrival had changed that, though Raef knew his remaining warriors would arrive on foot with the rest of the Hammerling’s host. Only then would the balance of power be known.

With the darkness of night came a flowing of ale. The Hammerling was well supplied and generous with the men, especially those who had survived with Eirik of Kolhaugen. He called them great heroes and promised the spoils of the Palesword’s defeat would be theirs. Raef watched men drink, their faces bright in the light of the fires the Hammerling had demanded with no thought to caution, but he felt none of the cheer that had spread across the camp. Finishing his ale, he turned to leave the drunken revels behind but came face to face with Eira.

Her face was dark, the firelight blocked by Raef’s body, but he did not need light to know the line of her jaw, the hollow in her throat, the shape of her waist. Instinct told him to reach for her, but instinct also held him back.

“Where is Cilla? I left her in your care.”

Eira shrugged. “She wished to stay.

Raef frowned. “Your arm?”

“It is better.”

“Can you fight?”

“My fingers can grasp a shield. And if they grow tired, my blade will do the work alone.” Her confidence was admirable but Raef wondered how much strength she could have regained in her shield arm in such a short time. The last words they had spoken to each other hung in Raef’s mind and he knew not what would follow.