The Blood-Tainted Winter

by T L Greylock

  “And then those men came.” She patted a goat on the head. “Their swords were stained and dark. And they were just as bloodied.”

  “Warriors? Do you know where they went?”

  The woman shrugged. “South like all the rest.”

  Raef thanked her for the water and returned to his search party. He related the word of armed men to Siv and Vakre. “We will push farther south than we have done. If Eirik of Kolhaugen is out there, I mean to find him. I still do not believe he will have passed into Ulfgang, not willingly. We may yet find him by the border.” Though the afternoon sun was already low, Raef did not want to wait another day. Sending one man back to alert the camp that they would not return that night, Raef and the others rode south, crossing open land for the first time. If there were eyes watching them, there was no cover to hide behind.

  By nightfall, they had passed into a world of waterfalls. Hills rose up on all sides and water streamed down the steep cliff faces until it splashed into a swift stream at the base. Following the water, they pressed on into the night, picking their way through trees and over rocky rises, accompanied only by the sound of water.

  The snow cover was thin here and much of the forest floor was bare. Raef dismounted to examine the ground and the sound of a twig cracking under feet came to him as he knelt. Raef froze, trying to hone in on the direction of the noise, but he heard nothing further. His companions were equally still.

  Raef kept his breath steady and slowly rose from the ground, his hand reaching for his sword as he stood. With one swift movement, the blade was free and yet still Raef heard no answering noise from the darkness. The moonlight was feeble and Raef strained to pick out anything that was not tree, root, or twig.

  A single cry split the silence and was answered by a second, opposite the first. Four figures leaped from the trees, bristling with sharp blades. Raef braced for impact and swept the first attacker to the side just as a second swung at his head. Ducking, Raef side stepped but collided with Siv, who had been beaten back by a volley of vicious blows. Tumbling forward, he righted himself in time to deflect a sword aimed for his face and caught his first glimpse of his foe. The wild blonde hair, the distinct beard were not to be missed.

  “Eirik,” Raef called out. Another swing that Raef jumped to evade. “We are not your enemy.” The next strike was checked and Eirik of Kolhaugen peered at Raef with distrustful eyes.

  “Skallagrim?”

  “Yes.”

  The relief on the lord’s face was plain and at once the fighting around them ceased. Eirik and Raef clasped arms.

  “It is good to see you. Good to see a friendly face.” Eirik wiped sweat from his forehead. “How is it that you are here?”

  “We heard the north was in flames and came ahead of the Hammerling to search for you.”

  “And Fengar?”

  “He is my prisoner,” Raef said, though he did not add that an uneasy truce had been established.

  Eirik grinned. “Well done.” He grimaced, then, and put his hand to his side. “A wound from our battle with the Palesword,” he said in response to Raef’s questioning look. “There is not a man with me who is unscratched.” His face grew serious. “There is much to tell.”

  “I know what the Palesword has done. I know about the army he leads. Now you must tell me what you know.”

  Eirik led them to his small camp high in the hills. He pointed along a narrow ridge that led back in the direction Raef had come. “We tracked you along the ridge until you came close enough that we feared you might stumble upon us. We thought you were the Palesword’s men. We have seen small groups roaming the land. Whether they search for us, I do not know.” A cave marked the center of the camp, though the men had spilled outside of it out of necessity. Eirik led them in, where a small fire burned. “It is the only fire we allow ourselves for we know we must remain hidden. Our supplies are dwindling fast but the fresh water is close and those who are able hunt each day.” Eirik looked around at the cave. “It is a good place and it has kept us safe.”

  They sat by the fire and Raef relished the warmth. Eirik directed his men to bring food for Raef’s party. “Tell me of Freyja’s army,” Raef said.

  “Freyja’s?”

  “A story of long ago, but it matters little. How many are they?”

  Eirik looked grim. “I never had the chance to count. Perhaps not as many as you might think. But numbers do not matter when they cannot be killed.” Eirik took a drink of water and looked as though he wished for something stronger. “We watched them for several days before engaging them. The Palesword keeps them close. They do not roam the countryside as the others do.”

  “And your men?”

  “We scattered. For two days after the battle, we scavenged for survivors as best we could but I did not dare linger longer for the Palesword had not yet moved on. We fled here and a few men have found us since then.”

  “We have one. Agmund.”

  “I am glad to hear it.”

  “Do you know where the Palesword was headed?”

  “We captured one of his men as we retreated into Hullbern. Before he died, he told us Torrulf meant to move on to Gornhald.”

  “We had hoped Ver would escape his notice, being so small and so close to his lands. It seems the gods are with us.”

  Eirik nodded. “For now.”

  They spent the night in Eirik’s cave, agreeing that they would move his men to Raef’s camp in the morning. Raef slept better than he had in many days and he dreamed of home. The morning matched Raef’s mood, bright and calm, and they made an early start, trading the haven of the cave for the perils of the road. Eirik’s men were quiet, though, and Raef sensed their courage hung by a thread. He could only hope that time would heal their spirits, for they would need every able body to give every drop of strength if they were to stand a chance against the Palesword.

  Raef and Eirik brought up the rear as they wound their way out of the hills and, when the column came to a halt as they reached a barren hilltop, Raef could not see why. Urging his horse forward he raced to the front, Eirik only a stride behind.

  “There, lord,” said one man, pointing down to the small glen below. Armed men on foot picked their way along the stream Raef had followed the day before.

  The warriors were few in number, but their presence worried Raef. Up on the hill, they had not yet been spotted and both surprise and mounted warriors would give them an advantage. But Raef would rather remain unseen and keep their presence in Ver unknown if he could. Eirik agreed and they dropped back down the side of the hill they had come up and took a new route.

  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 loo
ked 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.