They had just crossed a stone bridge over a narrow river when Kaelen heard the hooves. At first, the sound was faint. Barely distinguishable from the steady crunch of boots against gravel. Then it grew louder. Dozens of hooves struck the road in a relentless rhythm. Accompanied by the clatter of armor. The occasional snort of a horse.
Kaelen turned.
A column of riders emerged around the bend behind them. Twelve men. All mounted. Their armor polished beneath the morning sun. Red cloaks hung from their shoulders. Each carried a sword at his hip. Their banners bore the image of a black hawk spreading its wings against a red field.
Kaelen didn't recognize the sigil but Aliar and his brothers did.
The easy expression vanished from his face. The hand swinging at his side curled into a fist.
"Problem?" Kaelen asked.
"Maybe."
Aliar's voice had lost its usual warmth.
Kaelen glanced at the approaching riders. "You know them?"
"Unfortunately."
"Who are they?"
