Snow crunched under their boots as Arno led Lysander through the frozen trail. The trees stood tall and bare, their branches coated in white. The sky was gray. Cold wind bit at their faces.
Lysander kept close behind. His coat was thick, but it didn't stop the chill from seeping in.
"How much longer?" Lysander asked.
"Two hours if the weather holds," Arno replied.
Then he stopped. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. "Stay alert."
Lysander froze. "What is it?"
"Trouble."
Three shapes stepped out from behind the trees ahead. Each wore dark clothing and white masks. Their movements were smooth. Trained. One had a long knife. The others held short swords.
They didn't speak.
Arno stepped forward, drawing his blade with a sharp sound. "Stay behind me," he told Lysander.
One of the masked men charged. Arno met him halfway. Their blades clashed. Arno deflected the first strike, then sidestepped a second and countered with a slash to the side. The attacker fell back, holding his arm.
The second man ran in. Arno ducked under the first swing and kicked out the enemy's leg. As the attacker stumbled, Arno slashed across the chest. The man fell to the snow.
The third masked figure stayed back, observing.
Arno didn't wait. He turned, ran at the third man, and swung hard. The man blocked, but the force pushed him back several steps. Arno followed up with a fast combo of slashes. The enemy parried most, but one cut slipped through and left a shallow line across his shoulder.
The first attacker was back up. He attacked from behind.
Arno spun. His sword cut low. The blade sliced through the attacker's leg. The man dropped.
The third attacker went for Lysander.
Arno saw it. He pushed off the ground, wind gathering at his feet. In a burst of speed, he moved between them and blocked the incoming strike. The attacker tried again. Arno met each blow, matching speed for speed.
He whispered, "Second stance."
Wind wrapped around his arms.
Arno's next strike broke through the man's guard. The attacker flew backward into a tree. He didn't get up.
Lysander stayed still, his eyes wide. "You're fast," he said.
Arno didn't answer. He looked down at the attacker with the leg wound. The man groaned.
Arno raised his blade and ended it.
The one with the chest wound tried to crawl away. Arno walked over and struck him down with a clean, quick stab.
Only one attacker remained. The one who had been knocked into the tree.
He stood up slowly, holding his sword in a shaky grip.
"You're not ready for this," Arno said.
The man screamed and charged. Arno didn't move. He waited.
Then, when the enemy was close, Arno stepped left, ducked under the slash, and drove his sword straight through the man's side. The blade came out the other end.
The enemy choked once and went still.
Arno pulled his sword out and wiped it clean in the snow.
Lysander stared at the bodies. "Are they dead?"
"Yes," Arno said.
"Who were they?"
"Killers. Possibly mercenaries. Sent to stop us."
"Because of me?"
"Because of who you are," Arno replied. "And because of what you're connected to."
Lysander didn't ask more. He looked at the blood on the snow and turned away.
Arno checked the surroundings. No other movement.
He looked north. "We move. There could be more."
They continued walking. The snow fell harder now, covering the tracks behind them.
Lysander stayed close. He kept glancing back, half-expecting more attackers to appear. But none came.
"You fight like a trained knight," Lysander said.
"I was one," Arno replied. "Now I just protect."
They didn't speak after that.
The path ahead narrowed, winding between sharp rocks. The trees here were twisted and thin. The air felt heavier.
"We'll rest at the next clearing," Arno said.
Lysander nodded. He kept his eyes on the snow, trying not to look at the red stains that still marked the path behind them.
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