The wind moved cold across the high ridges above the High Road.
Torren lay flat against the stone, his body pressed low between two jagged rocks overlooking the narrow mountain pass below. From this height the road looked like a pale scar cutting through the dark slopes of the Mountains of the Moon, winding between cliffs and narrow turns where travelers had little space to maneuver.
Perfect ground for mountain clans.
Fifteen Painted Dogs warriors were spread across the ridge behind him.
Some crouched behind boulders with bows ready. Others waited further down the slope where the path narrowed into a sharp bend. A few larger stones had already been dragged to the edge of the cliff, positioned carefully where a single push would send them crashing down onto the road below.
No one spoke.
The mountains carried sound easily.
Torren breathed slowly and closed his eyes.
Inside his mind the familiar voice stirred.
Distance: two hundred heartbeats.
Torren reached outward.
The shift came instantly.
His sight lifted from the ridge as his mind slipped into the golden eagle circling far above the pass. The world expanded beneath him as the bird rode a rising current of wind between the cliffs.
The High Road stretched beneath the eagle's wings.
And there they were.
Eight riders.
Two of them wore polished armor that flashed faintly in the sun, their cloaks moving in the wind as their horses climbed slowly along the rocky path. Behind them rode six guards dressed in lighter armor with spears and shields strapped to their saddles.
Packhorses followed.
Torren focused.
Iron crates.
Bundles wrapped in thick leather.
Weapons.
The eagle tilted its wings and circled higher.
Torren returned to his body.
His eyes opened.
"Horses," he whispered.
Harrag crouched beside him immediately.
"How many?"
"Eight men," Torren said quietly. "Two knights."
Harrag frowned slightly.
"From where?"
Torren shook his head.
"Iron with them."
Harrag's eyes narrowed.
Iron mattered.
More than silver.
More than cloth.
Iron meant stronger spears, better arrowheads, and axes that would not shatter against a knight's shield.
Behind them one of the younger warriors shifted nervously.
"Knights are trouble."
Harrag glanced back at him.
"So are we."
The older warrior rose slightly and looked down the road.
"Positions," he said quietly.
The Painted Dogs moved quickly.
Two archers climbed higher among the rocks for a clearer shot. Others slipped down the slope toward the bend where the road narrowed against the cliff wall. Torren followed Harrag to a ledge halfway down the slope where the attackers would strike once the ambush began.
The wind carried the sound of hooves.
Closer now.
Torren rested his hands on the handles of his axes.
Below them the riders appeared around the curve of the road.
The lead knight rode a large grey horse, his armor polished bright and marked with a bronze rune of House Royce etched across his chestplate. A dark cloak hung behind his shoulders as he guided the horse carefully along the narrow mountain path.
Behind him rode another knight and the six guards.
None of them looked up.
Lowlanders rarely did.
The first knight reached the narrowest part of the pass.
Harrag lifted his hand.
Wait.
The packhorses moved forward behind the guards.
Wait.
The final rider entered the kill zone.
Harrag dropped his hand.
The first stone fell.
It struck the road with a thunderous crack, shattering against the cliff and sending shards of rock exploding across the narrow path. The lead knight jerked his horse sideways just as a second boulder slammed into the ground behind him, crushing one of the packhorses instantly.
Chaos erupted.
"Ambush!" someone shouted.
Arrows fell from above.
Two guards dropped from their saddles almost immediately as the Painted Dogs archers loosed a second volley. Horses screamed and reared as stones continued crashing down from the cliffs above.
The knights reacted quickly.
"Shields!"
The Royce knight pulled his shield free and raised it just as another arrow struck the metal with a sharp clang.
Harrag moved.
The Painted Dogs warriors surged down the slope.
Torren followed.
His boots slid across loose stone as he rushed toward the road with the others. One guard managed to dismount just in time to raise his spear before the first mountain warrior crashed into him with a roar.
Steel rang.
Axes struck shields.
Torren jumped from the slope and landed hard on the road beside one of the fallen packhorses.
A guard turned toward him immediately.
The man looked surprised.
Torren was younger than the others.
Smaller.
Easier prey.
The guard lunged forward with his spear.
Torren moved.
He twisted sideways, letting the spear slide past his shoulder as his right-hand axe slammed downward into the wooden shaft. The iron blade split the spear in half.
The guard stared in shock.
Torren stepped forward.
His second axe struck the man's neck.
The blow was not clean.
Blood sprayed across the road as the guard collapsed backward against the rocks.
Torren breathed once.
Then turned.
Across the road Harrag fought one of the knights.
The Royce warrior swung his longsword in a wide arc that forced Harrag backward across the stone. The knight moved well despite the rough ground, his armor absorbing the blows from Harrag's axe as the two men circled one another.
Torren saw an opening.
He moved.
The knight stepped forward to strike again just as Torren lunged from behind.
His axe slammed into the back of the knight's leg where the armor joined.
The blade bit deep.
The knight shouted in pain as his knee buckled.
Harrag did not hesitate.
His axe crashed downward onto the knight's helmet with crushing force.
The Royce warrior collapsed instantly.
Harrag looked at Torren.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Harrag nodded once.
Another guard screamed behind them.
Torren turned.
The second knight had managed to break free from the melee and was pulling himself onto his horse.
"Stop him!" someone shouted.
But the knight spurred the horse hard.
One guard leapt onto another mount and followed him down the road.
Torren watched them disappear around the bend.
Inside his mind the calm voice spoke quietly.
One survivor.