The wind howled as Kael and his group trudged north, the cold biting at their exposed skin. The terrain had grown more unforgiving, rocky outcroppings and steep hills making their progress slow and arduous. The sky was a dull gray, heavy with the threat of rain or worse.
Kael's eyes scanned the horizon, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He had felt it for days now, a presence in the distance, watching, waiting. The Iron Circle wasn't far behind them. He knew they would strike again soon, but when and where remained a mystery.
"They're getting restless," Veyron muttered, falling into step beside Kael. His voice was low, his face shadowed with exhaustion.
Kael glanced back at the group. Harlan and the others moved slowly, their faces pale and drawn. They had been marching for days with little rest, and the strain was beginning to show. The doubts and murmurs had grown louder with each passing hour.
"We've come too far to turn back now," Kael replied, his voice firm.
Veyron gave a small nod, though Kael could see the doubt in his eyes. "But how much further can they go?"
Before Kael could respond, a sharp whistle pierced the air, followed by the unmistakable twang of a bowstring. The sound snapped him to attention.
"Ambush!" Kael shouted, diving to the side as an arrow thudded into the ground where he had been standing.
The forest erupted into chaos as figures emerged from the shadows, their weapons gleaming in the fading light. Kael's sword was in his hand in an instant, and he swung toward the nearest attacker, his blade cutting through the air with brutal precision.
The attackers moved with deadly speed, their faces hidden beneath dark hoods. Kael blocked a strike aimed at his chest, spinning and driving his sword into the side of his opponent. Blood sprayed across the ground as the man crumpled, but there was no time to think, more were coming.
Veyron was already engaged, his sword clashing against the blade of a tall, armored warrior. Harlan had been caught off guard, but he quickly recovered, swinging his axe in wide, powerful arcs, forcing two attackers to back off.
Kael's mind raced as he parried blow after blow. These weren't ordinary bandits. Their movements were too coordinated, their strikes too precise. They fought with the discipline of soldiers, mercenaries hired by the Iron Circle, no doubt.
An enemy lunged at Kael from the side, a dagger aimed for his ribs. Kael twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike, and brought his sword down in a powerful arc. The blade connected with the man's shoulder, cleaving through armor and bone.
"Harlan, to your left!" Kael shouted as another attacker closed in.
Harlan spun, blocking just in time, his axe crashing down onto his foe's shield. The sound of metal on metal echoed through the trees as the battle raged on.
But Kael could see it, their enemies were gaining ground. The mercenaries moved with deadly efficiency, forcing Kael and his group back toward the rocky cliffs behind them. They were being corralled, trapped.
"Don't let them box us in!" Kael roared, rallying his men. He charged forward, cutting through two more attackers, but there were too many. The mercenaries were relentless, their strikes coming faster and harder.
A blade grazed Kael's side, the pain sharp and immediate. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the burning sensation as he pressed on, his mind focused solely on survival.
Just when it seemed the group would be overwhelmed, a sudden shout echoed through the forest. The sound was followed by the thunder of hooves and the clash of steel as a new force entered the fray. Kael's heart pounded in his chest as he caught sight of a group of riders, their banners unfamiliar but their arrival timely.
The mounted warriors charged into the battle with deadly precision, cutting through the mercenaries with ruthless efficiency. Kael seized the opportunity, pushing forward with renewed strength.
The battle turned in their favor quickly after that. The remaining mercenaries, realizing they were outmatched, began to retreat, disappearing into the trees as swiftly as they had appeared.
Kael stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving as he scanned the battlefield. The ground was littered with the bodies of fallen enemies, but his own group had taken losses as well.
Veyron wiped the blood from his sword, his face grim. "We lost two more."
Kael's jaw tightened. They couldn't afford to keep losing men at this rate. But his focus quickly shifted to the newcomers, the mounted warriors who had come to their aid. Their leader, a tall figure clad in dark armor, dismounted and approached.
"You've got a talent for finding trouble," the rider said, his voice calm but laced with amusement.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
The rider pulled off his helmet, revealing a sharp-featured man with a cold smile. "Friends, for now. You're heading north, aren't you? We've been following the same path."
Kael's grip tightened on his sword. "What do you know of the Iron Circle?"
The man's smile widened, but his eyes remained hard. "More than you do, it seems. If you want to stay alive, you'll want to listen."
Kael stared at the rider, the weight of the battle still heavy in his chest. Whoever this man was, he knew something, something important. And Kael knew he couldn't afford to ignore it.
As the night settled in around them, the threat of the Iron Circle loomed larger than ever. And Kael's journey north had just grown even more dangerous.