The Blood-Tainted Winter by T L Greylock

was rekindling their night fire, he began to skewer the fish onto sticks for a morning meal.
    “We are not alone,” he said quietly.
    Vakre’s gaze immediately jerked around their surroundings then, narrowing, came to rest on the rider on the cliff. “Just one?”
    “For now.” Raef propped the sticks against a piece of driftwood so the fish could cook over the now burning fire.
    “Any sign of who he is or where he comes from?”
    Raef shook his head. “By my estimate, we are on Danewyll lands now, but that does not mean he is Rikar’s man.”
    “And if he is? Is Rikar of Danewyll a man you know?”
    “Not well. I remember him visiting Vannheim twice when I was young. He might know me by name, but that is all.”
    “If he is even at home,” Vakre said.
    “Even if he is not, someone knows we are here and is having us watched.” Raef turned the fish over the fire. More men around them were awake now and Raef glanced discreetly to see that the watcher was still there. Someone else was bound to notice.
    It was one of Brandulf Hammerling’s men who sounded the alarm and in a moment, the whole party was scrambling for weapons, though Raef tried to calm them. A few shouted insults and then the watcher turned his horse and disappeared. Instantly, voices clamored to chase him down, each man eager for the job. Siv stayed quiet, a look of amusement on her face, and Vakre was trying to get them to stop talking, but Eira was just as insistent as the rest.
    Raef shouted for silence. “We do not know who he was,” he began.
    “All the more reason to hunt him down, lord,” said one of the Hammerling’s men.
    “We are no threat to him or his lord,” Raef said, louder and harsher this time. “I will not start a fight when none is required.”
    “It might be required now.” Siv said this quietly, her eyes on the cliff. Raef followed her gaze and saw that where one man had been, there were now a dozen or more.
    “We will not engage them,” Raef said. “Reaching the Deepminded is our task. Break camp, then we will ride. If they follow, let them. If they attack, kill them.” Though some men grumbled that they should attack now, most seemed appeased by this and the party was soon ready to continue north.
    The rocky riverbed gave way to even ground, so they traveled upstream rather than backtrack in order to climb to the cliff top. They were exposed, Raef knew, down by the river, and the mounted strangers followed along their cliff, keeping pace but maintaining distance.
    The sun had climbed into the sky by the time the river curled west and the cliffs had been left behind. Raef led his men away from the water so as to continue north. A flat, bleak expanse of land opened up before them, and a short sprint on a horse would close the gap between the two groups. It was here at last that the watchers made their move. Fanning out, they increased their pace until they were spread in a half-circle just to the rear of Raef’s men. Raef slowed his horse and doubled back to face them, then came to a halt. The watchers halted as well.
    “Why do you stalk us?” Raef called out. “We seek only to pass through to the north.” They gave no answer. “Are these the lands of Danewyll?” Again, no answer, but the silence was suddenly ripped open by a war cry and then a death scream. Eira, spurring her horse forward, had struck at the man closest to her, but his horse, lurching sideways in fright, got the blow instead. It stumbled and fell, blood pulsing from its neck and its rider trapped by its weight. Eira leaped from her horse and put her blade to the man’s throat as swords, axes, and spears all came to life around her.
    Raef raised his sword arm to deflect the first blow and felt a searing pain in his shoulder. Screaming through his teeth in an effort to counter the pain, Raef slashed brutally at his opponent to off balance him, then knocked him from his horse. Raef jumped to the ground and plunged his sword into the man’s