Too Cold to Bleed by D. M. Murray

Author:D. M. Murray [Murray, D. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dark, Sword & Sorcery, Fantasy, Fiction, Epic
ISBN: 9781719432023
Goodreads: 36580882
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2018-05-26T00:00:00+00:00

The smell on the air had changed since the sun had set. The wind had dropped, and the night was still. The briny scent that had been on the air during the day had given way to the stink of burning whale oil.

“Everyone armed?” Harvind asked as he stepped up to the top of the embankment overlooking the single entrance to the village.

“All armed,” Broden said, turning back from where he stood beside Kalfinar.

“Final number of those who can fight isn’t great,” Kalfinar grumbled, his eyes continuing to scan the blue darkness of the land before the village. The clouds had spent their fury on the day and had passed on, leaving a night sky full of sparkling stars and a thin crescent of moon. Their light enveloped the land at the foot of the mountains in a fine inky light, and the meandering river ran with silver undulations. It was calm, and beautiful. “I wouldn’t attack on a night like this,” Kalfinar said.

“They won’t come at us hot,” Harvind said, stepping up beside Kalfinar, their shoulders almost touching. “They don’t expect resistance. More often than not these days, the Raven Men will come half-drunk, and just walk on through, reaving and taking at will.”

“Gonna be a sore night if that’s the case,” Broden growled. He turned and grinned hungrily at Kalfinar.

“Our troops spread out between the villagers?” Kalfinar asked, his thumb rubbing absently at the cold metal head of his hatchet as it hung from his belt loop.

“Aye,” Broden grunted. “Jukster still thinks he’s going to get stuck from behind by the old shaman, or just about anyone else.”

Harvind snorted a laugh at that, and spat over the embankment.

Kalfinar afforded himself a chuckle alongside his cousin and Harvind. “That man’s a contrary one. Not convinced his mind is wired right.”

“My friend,” Harvind said, leaning his head towards Kalfinar and speaking from the side of his mouth, “I’m not convinced any of us are wired right. We stand here, at the top of the Cullanain, in the dead of winter, waiting to do murder on those whose very god bathes in blood and suffering. We’re just as like to offer a prayer to their demon god than advance our own cause here this night, and yet we do it all the same.”

Harvind’s words tore Kalfinar from his watch, and he met the man's mismatched eyes. “Then let us live what lifetime we may be graced with in a beautiful madness.”

Broden laughed. “You say that as if it’s only now granted to you. You’ve been living a lifetime in madness since you were a boy!”

“Aye, well, you always seemed to find a way to bring a red mist down on me.”

“That’s me,” Broden laughed, “the facilitator of madness.”

Kalfinar turned back with a smile and observed the blue-lit landscape before him once again. There was movement over to his right, along the eastern foot of the mountainside, where the scree tumbled down to the flat, heathery ground. He focused on it, but the shift in the shadow had passed.

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