The Blood-Tainted Winter

by T L Greylock

  “Yes, you could call it free, I suppose. I go where I wish. I can defend myself. I live as I see fit. You are right. There is freedom there.” Her voice grew bitter. “Do you not think I have ties that bind me as well? We have forged them on ourselves. It is our nature. But you can choose how tight they are.” She turned to go.

  Raef called after her. “Siv, forgive me.” Siv looked over her shoulder. “You have been nothing but a friend, and I have treated you ill of late.”

  “Ill, no. But you have ignored me, and this is worse.” Her mouth hinted at a grin and Raef felt relief. Siv approached again, closer this time. “A truce, then.”

  Raef’s smile was rueful. “Agreed.”

  Siv watched smoke rise up to meet the stars. “What do you think we will find in the north?”

  “The only thing I am certain of is blood and battle. If the Palesword’s host is as strong as they say, he will have eyes everywhere, from Danewyll and Darfallow to Norfaem and Hullbern. I fear we have left Eirik of Kolhaugen alone too long.”

  “Do not doubt him until we know the truth.” It was said with the certainty that comes with first-hand knowledge.

  “You know him?”

  “I have fought beside him. He is shrewder than he appears,” Siv said.

  “Shrewd enough to know when he is outmatched? Shrewd enough to know when he should hide and conserve his strength?”

  Siv grinned. “I did not say subtle. Hiding would not appeal to him. But we will see.”

  Raef was going to respond, but a shout drew his attention away from Siv.

  “Riders, lord!” A mounted warrior burst into the fire’s light, his breath coming hard and fast after racing in from the perimeter watch Raef had set. “From the south.” The men who had remained outside scrambled to their feet, reaching for shields and swords. One pounded on the farmhouse door and another went to the barn. Soon the warriors within flooded into the night. The horses, responding to the sudden commotion, stamped their feet and snorted hot breath into the air. Raef shouted for a wall to form and took his place within the bristling spears and short swords, Siv next to him.

  Raef peered into the darkness but could see little. The hooves that raced toward them slowed slightly and then stopped entirely. Raef called out, “A name, or your blood will flow and your bones will break upon this ground.”

  “It is Finnolf, lord.” The voice was weak and weary. Raef broke out of the shield wall and ran forward. Finnolf could barely cling to the horse and Raef helped him to the ground. The captain bled from several wounds and the men who had come with him were little better off.

  Raef held Finnolf by the shoulders and asked the necessary question. “Have you been followed?”

  Finnolf shook his head. “No, lord.” By then, other men had come forward and the battle-weary men were helped inside the farmhouse. Finnolf sagged against Raef and nearly fell to the ground before Raef and Siv scooped him up and carried him through the threshold. Space was cleared and the injured men were given what comfort there was to offer. Finnolf seemed the worst off and, though Raef wished to know what had transpired, he held off from asking as Finnolf’s wounds were cleaned and wrapped with supplies taken from the village in Ruderk. Finnolf, after downing several swallows of ale, drifted to sleep and Raef left him to rest. There would be time for questions later.

  Raef rejoined Siv at the outdoor fire and she passed him a skin of mead. No sooner had he taken a drink then a warrior nearly collided with him. Raef recognized one of his Vannheim men. His eyes were wild.

  “Lord, the prisoner is gone.”

  Cursing, Raef ran to the smallest of the farm’s building, where he had placed Fengar under guard. It was empty. “Leifnar,” Raef said, for he had not seen the captain since word of the riders had come. Grabbing the nearest horse, Raef pulled himself onto its bare back. Siv followed suit. Hauk of Ruderk, his face registering what had happened, made to do the same, but Raef, already headed south, shouted back at him.

  “Send out riders in all directions. He must be caught.” Raef urged the horse to its highest speed. Its mane whipped in the wind and stung his face. Siv raced along next to him.

  “Will he have gone south?” She shouted but still her voice barely reached Raef’s ears. “It is the obvious way.”

  “He does not have time to elude us by taking a longer route,” Raef called back. “He will keep Fengar tied to his horse and it will slow him.”

  Raef thanked the gods for a clear sky. Clouds would have made their task impossible. As it was, the darkness hid any sign of Leifnar from view, even though they rode on open land. Raef had only his instincts and his memory of the terrain they had crossed that day. Recalling some low hills that had sat to their east as they approached the farm, Raef angled his horse that direction. Though treeless like the plains, the hills could offer Leifnar some cover.

  As the ground began to roll and rise, Raef pulled his horse up, dismounted, and scanned the ground for any sign of hooves amid the patches of snow.

  “Here, Raef,” Siv called from her hands and knees. The tracks were unmistakable and Raef jumped on his horse again. Their pace slowed just enough to keep the tracks visible underneath them. Deep into the hills they went. The horses, though blowing hard, remained eager to run.

  They descended into a narrow glen and Raef spotted two horses at the far end of it. Asking his mount for a final burst of speed, Raef closed the gap, approaching Leifnar’s left side. Sensing the pursuit, Leifnar looked back, but Raef, reaching out, grabbed hold of his shoulder and yanked hard. The Hammerling’s captain spun out of the saddle and fell hard on the ground. He rolled but sprang to his feet, his sword coming free of its scabbard. Siv, just a step behind Raef, took hold of Fengar’s horse to prevent further escape.

  Wheeling his horse, Raef turned back on Leifnar and charged, his own sword now ready to strike. Leifnar braced himself and at the last moment ducked and jumped out of the way. Prepared for just that, Raef flung himself from his horse’s back, tackling Leifnar’s legs as he fell to the ground. The impact took his breath and both men lost hold of their swords, but Raef held tight to Leifnar’s legs as the other man tried to wriggle away. Clawing his way from ankle to knee to torso, Raef held Leifnar to the ground and pounded his fist into Leifnar’s ribs.

  “I do not wish to fight you, Leifnar.”

  The captain struggled but Raef held tight. “Then let me go, Skallagrim.”

  “You know I will not.” Raef sent another punch into the unprotected organs below Leifnar’s ribcage.

  Gasping for air, Leifnar bucked his hips, throwing Raef off balance just long enough for Leifnar to slip his legs free. Rolling away, Leifnar found his sword and tried to get to his knees but Raef was quicker. Drawing the small axe from his belt, Raef threw himself at the captain and buried the axe in his chest.

  The captain’s body convulsed for a moment and then was still, his eyes wide and staring. Raef wrenched his axe from bone and flesh and, anger heating every fiber of his body, turned on Fengar. Dragging the prisoner from the horse, Raef flung Fengar to the ground.

  “Look what I have done for you!” Raef spat into Fengar’s face. “A good captain dead because of you. I ought to rip your guts from your belly and string them up for the crows.” Raef planted his boot on Fengar’s chest and drove him into the dirt and snow, then forced himself to look away before he delivered a more deadly blow.

  Taking deep breaths in an effort to push his rage down into the pit of his stomach, Raef turned back. Fengar was curled on his side and made no move to defend himself as Raef grabbed his hair and pulled him to his feet. “Get on that horse.”

  With Siv’s assistance, Fengar climbed into the saddle. Raef collared Leifnar’s horse and removed the rope that had bound both animals to each other. After checking to see that the ropes holding Fengar’s hands were still tight, he tied the spare rope to Fengar’s reins and kept hold of the free end. Mounting his horse again, Raef began to retrace the route back to the farm. Siv followed
and the riderless horse fell in behind them.

  When they reached the farm, Raef had the watch sound a horn to call back any other pursuers if they were in hearing distance. Hauk took Fengar back to his temporary prison and set a new guard. Raef, ignoring questions about Leifnar’s fate, emptied Siv’s skin of mead and tossed it back to her.

  The murmurs around him grew as it became clear that Leifnar would not return. Raef heard anger in some voices and felt his own return.

  “Silence!” Raef’s shout carried over all else and the men grew quiet. “Leifnar is dead by my hand.” Raef let that sink in. “He betrayed my command and I will do the same to any man who makes the same mistake. Remember this.” Turning his back on the assembled men, Raef walked away from the fire and into the darkness.

  When Siv found him, Raef was sitting on the bank of a small stream. The water was black and starlit, like liquid night. Siv sat down at his side.

  “He brought it on himself,” she said.

  “Should I have kept him alive? Brought him back a prisoner to throw at the Hammerling’s feet alongside Fengar?”

  “Perhaps. But you made your choice and it is done.”

  “A choice in the heat of battle is not much of a choice. He was a good captain.”

  “And you are a good war-leader. You cannot please all men, Raef.”

  “I do not wish to. But neither can I only please myself.”

  Twenty-Five

  The dawn had the Hammerling’s men on the move again. Raef kept Fengar tied to his own horse and Siv rode close at all times. Raef did not think there would be another escape attempt. But he did not trust that all the men would quietly accept Leifnar’s death. When he sent another rider south to the Hammerling, he made no mention of the loss of the captain in his message. The warrior delivering the message could choose to reveal it and Raef could not stop him. But any explanation he might put to paper seemed pale and weak, a poor substitute for Leifnar’s courage and devotion to the Hammerling.

  In Leifnar’s place, Raef appointed one of his men, Erling by name, as first among captains. “Bring me word of any trouble. Even the smallest thing,” Raef told him. Erling, a man of few words, nodded in response. Raef noticed throughout that day of riding that there were no fewer than eight Vannheim men around him. They were not hostile or aggressive to the other men, but their presence was a clear signal to all that disobedience would be not be overlooked.

  Deep into Freywyn they traveled. At midday, a farmer told them the Palesword was ravaging Gornhald. As the sun set, spilling pink clouds across the sky, they passed a pair of travelers coming from the northeast, a father and son leading three goats behind them. The father said the Palesword was burning Hullbern and that the people fled before him in great numbers. Raef spoke of these conflicting reports to Hauk, Erling, and Siv that night.

  “He might be anywhere,” Raef said. “We must learn the whereabouts of Eirik of Kolhaugen. Or his fate if he is dead. But the stories we hear speak only of the Palesword, never his opponents.” Raef sighed and posed a question to his listeners. “If you were Eirik, and the Palesword’s massive host was carving a path of destruction through the north, where would you go?”

  Silence. Hauk and Erling looked at each other, each wondering if the other might have an answer. They rested near a river that night, their fires scattered among the trees as men sought comfortable ground. Night birds called out to their mates and Raef heard an owl in the distance.

  Siv spoke at last. “I would go where the Palesword would not look for me.”

  “And where is that?” Hauk asked.

  “We know he has been in Gornhald and Hullbern, perhaps is still within the borders of one. Norfaem is rich and not likely to escape his attention. If he has not marched across those lands already, he will. Between those three is Skolldain. A small prize but not one he would pass up given its location. If he has taken the other three, he will have taken Skolldain as well.” Siv looked at the three men. “In this corner of the world, that leaves only one place. Ver.”

  Hauk snorted. “Ver borders on Ulfgang. The Palesword will not have bypassed his neighbor.”

  Siv persisted. “By all accounts, the Palesword has been away from Ulfgang for a long time. His numbers have swelled only recently. It is possible he has not passed close enough to Ver to give it a second thought. There is not much in Ver worth taking.” Siv looked at Raef. “I told you Eirik was shrewd. What better place to stay out of sight than on the giant’s doorstep?”

  Raef considered for a moment. Siv’s reasoning was valid but hardly flawless. “We will start our search there.” Hauk of Ruderk looked as though he wanted to protest but Raef met his eyes. “If there is no better suggestion.” Hauk opened his mouth but then closed it and shook his head.

  “We turn east in the morning, then, and head for the gap of Alfvaldr. The winter is young, the passage should still be open to us. Once on the other side, we turn north, but we must keep close to the mountains and away from villages in Ulfgang. The Palesword has been away from home, but he will not have left it defenseless. There will be no more fires at night.” It was a hard thing to take away the promise of hot food and a warm fire at the end of a long day and Raef knew the men would grumble. But all the warriors were well-versed enough in war to know even the smallest flame in the dark would draw unwanted eyes. It was a chance they could not take.

  In addition to his other precautions, for the next two days Raef sent out three scouting groups to lead the way and take them on a safe path through the eastern side of Freywyn lands. Three times reports came back to him of sightings of armed men in the distance and three times, after ascertaining the warriors were not with Eirik of Kolhaugen, they altered their course to stay well clear. As a result, it took them twice as long to reach the mountain pass.

  A stranger to these lands, Raef relied upon the knowledge of Ruderk and Norfaem men. Of all the Hammerling’s allies, their homelands were closest to Ver and Ulfgang and some of them had traversed the gap of Alfvaldr in summer. Even so, they disagreed over which approach to take, but at last the warriors climbed the ancient path beneath the shadows of peaks that stretched to the roof of the world, summiting the pass by midday without incident, and coming down the other side into the Palesword’s territory through thick snow drifts as twilight fell. They pushed onward, well after the sun was swallowed behind the mountains, for there was no safe haven here, even if Siv had supposed correctly.

  They clung to the mountains for more than a day, until a warrior from Norfaem was sure that turning east would take them into Ver, not Ulfgang. Whether the man was right or not, their presence seemed to go unseen as they worked their way through the deep forests. When Raef called a halt for the night, the last scouts had returned, riding hard and bringing a stranger with them. The man was marked by wounds that looked to be more than seven days old and his hair had been shorn unevenly. He was parched and needed a drink of water before he could speak. As he gulped icy water from a borrowed skin, one of the scouts spoke in Raef’s ear.

  “He bears a banner of Kolhaugen, lord,” the man said. “He hardly spoke and did not seem to care if he lived or died, but the banner stayed our blades.”

  Raef went to the warrior, who had emptied the skin and now stared at the men surrounding him. His eyes showed fear.

  “Come, friend,” Raef said, keeping his voice quiet. “Tell me your name.” He gestured behind his back and Erling understood. The captain began to turn the onlookers away.

  The warrior touched a string around his neck. If it had borne a hammer, as Raef’s did, the amulet had been torn off and his fingers grasped at air. The stranger found his voice and it was stronger than Raef expected.

  “I am Agmund.” His eyes met Raef’s for the first time. “I know your face.”

  Raef nodded. “I am Raef Skallagrim, ally of the Hammerling. Is Eirik of Kolhaugen your lord?”

  “He is.”

  “Does he live?”

  “To say yes or no would be a
lie, for I do not know, lord.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Three others traveled with me. The last one died yesterday.” Agmund spoke the simple fact without emotion.

  Raef scanned Agmund’s wounds and determined the warrior was not in desperate need of care. He could answer more questions.

  “What happened?”

  “We were all going to die.”

  The near echo of the Deepminded’s words sent a spark up Raef’s spine. It had been long since he had thought of that mountain cavern. He would not have thought her words would come to him so clearly still and yet they penetrated deep into his mind. It should not have made him uneasy, but it did. Forcing himself to focus on Agmund, Raef looked the warrior in the eye.

  “What do you mean?”

  Rather than looking away as he recalled what had happened, Agmund’s gaze seemed to burrow deeper into Raef’s face. “They came to us like a whisper on the wind, swift and silent as the wings of a bird, but with fire in their eyes and death in their hands.” Agmund blinked. “We broke. I am not ashamed to say so. The screams of my brothers followed me, but still I ran until my legs would go no farther and then I crawled until my hands bled.”

  “What made you run? The Palesword’s army?” Raef asked.

  Agmund lay a hand on Raef’s forearm and drew him close. “I saw my cousin drive his sword through a warrior’s heart. It might as well have been the bite of an insect for all the damage it did. The warrior put his hand on the hilt and drew the blade out of his chest. And then he cut off my cousin’s head with his own sword.”

  Raef heard a laugh behind him and turned to see Hauk of Ruderk, a wide smile on his face. “A madman. He speaks nonsense.”

  Raef, his own mind churning at Agmund’s words, said nothing and looked back at the Kolhaugen warrior.

  “I speak the truth,” Agmund said, his eyes now on Hauk. He did not challenge, did not cry out, did not act as a madman might. He looked back at Raef. “Another man buried his axe in a warrior’s neck. He did not bleed, did not even stumble.”