They waited for the patrol to happen along their path. One of the outriders already saw them.

Falan saw the man as well.

They held eyes for a moment before the outrider wheeled his horse to report to his captain.

Falan made sure only a few men were visible; himself, Serin, Brassen, Yeisel and three guardsmen. The rest were stationed behind the trees on either side of their flank, just in case things went badly.

Serin stirred in his saddle. “Why did you tell the mage?”

Falan scratched at the three days growth on his face. “She would have discovered it eventually. Better she find out on our terms.” Most likely the mage would have had their throats cut in the night. Whatever her mission, he thought, it seems clandestine enough to warrant such things.

“The shores of Valamor are sounding like music to my ears right now,” Serin said.

Brassen spit. “With whores and wine to your hearts content! You’ll grow soft—you will, livin’ like that. Fat as pigs” he cackled, hefting his sword. It was notched from heavy use.

A figure on horseback finally appeared through the haze. More shapes materialized behind him until there were near ten mounted men. Two of them booted their horses forward, as did Falan and Serin. “Let’s hope this goes smoothly,” Falan muttered.

The two riders stopped several paces away. Heavy cavalry. One of the men wore chain mail, breastplate and an open half helm tied with a red band. “I am Captain Kalin Seswal,” he said in a rough voice. “On behalf of the High Lord Nightkar and my Liege Lord, Walis Birtran, I demand to know why you and your company have removed yourselves from the highway.”

The man beside Seswal held a spear tipped banner of house Vorkal with armor similar to his captain. Falan eyed Serin askance, straightened in his saddle a little, not that it was very much, he always held himself high. “And I am Lord Falan Nogal, Serafe to the High Lord Malkar, Captain.”

Captain Kalin Seswal cocked his head, eyes going wide.

Did he know?

Abruptly Seswal wheeled his mount. “Attack!” he shouted, frantically booting his horse. “Attack!”

How had the word gotten out so quickly? It had only been a few weeks! He drew his sword, booting his mount after the man in an attempt to kill the captain on the outset to demoralize his men.

Seswal’s cavalry were already charging forward.

Falan reigned in, wheeled his mount in retreat exactly as the captain had. Brassen and Yeisel moved forward on the right flank as Serin moved left. Falan booted his horse to join Serin as the three guardsmen accompanying them advanced forward, pikes raised.

Swords clashed, and Falan removed the first man from his path after slashing across the man’s half helm with a metal on metal scrape, dehorning him.

“Left flank!” Seswal bellowed. “Advance!” At least ten more cavalrymen came charging from the trees, swords raised. They were now outnumbered more than two to one as horse and rider moved about slashing and parrying blows.

Falan parried a slash from another rider, then drove his sword through mail into ribs.

Serin bashed an unarmored head with the hilt of his sword, sending another rider to the ground.

Two of the men-at-arms were down.

Only one left—he would not last long without help.

Falan booted his mount toward the pikeman thrusting viciously, trying to keep mounted men from taking off his head. He neared the guardsmen, parried a sword slash that would have cleaved the pikeman’s arm off and kicked the rider from his saddle. The pikeman dashed, thrust his weapon into the confounded rider.

Abruptly a new beat of hooves came from the left flank, except they came to help. Falan had ordered Gorkis Sek, Eagan Hornwal and five other cavalrymen and ten men-at-arms with pikes and crossbows to hold, down behind the trees. It had been luck that Seswal’s flanking force had not discovered them as they prepared their ambush.

We have this! The skirmish was on an even footing with Seswal’s cavalry, except Falan’s force had crossbows. Very effective, even against barded cavalry.

Whinnies erupted.

Falan parried a sword, kicked a rider from his mount.

Suddenly Seswal came at Falan with a grunt of effort as he slashed for his ribs. Blades met and their mounts clashed, teeth gnashing.

Seswal fought well, almost too well for his class, but Falan managed to angle their locked blades downward, then bashed into Seswal’s face with a blow that glanced off his red-sashed helm. He lost balance, seized Falan’s arm in an attempt to stay upright.

Both men hit the icy ground.

Snarling, Seswal was abruptly on top of him, dagger in hand. “Die, oath breaker!”

Falan tried to get a boot under Seswal’s cuirass when the captain cried out, rolling off him.

Seswal staggered to his feet, clutching a bloody calf where an arrow protruded. He was fortunate to catch hold of a passing mount without a rider. He booted the animal with his good leg. “Retreat!” He called. “Fall back!”

Falan had fought his share of battles, but the fray still felt like it lasted much longer than it had. Eight men lay dead in the blood-splashed snow, five of them Falan’s responsibility.

Serin shook his head after realizing Seswal only lost three men, and only four mounts. “We have to get back! They could return with reinforcements.”

“Leave the dead,” Falan said as he mounted his horse. Some of their number had been wounded. They could still carry on. Fortunately.

Eagan Hornwal’s arrow could be the reason Falan was still standing. He nodded to the man. “I think it likely the good captain will ride back to his camp for reinforcements. Could be five or even ten miles. We have some time.”

The only reason Seswal had retreated was because of his leg wound. The kid’s a good shot, Falan told himself wryly. He stifled mirth. Men had died here this night...