Aedion doubted Erawan was waiting until
spring. Doubted the quiet had anything to do
with the weather. He’d discussed it with his
men, and with Darrow and the other lords a
few days ago. Erawan was likely waiting until
the dead of winter, when mobility would be
hardest for Terrasen’s army, when Aedion’s
soldiers would be weak from months in the
snow, their bodies stiff with cold. Even the
king’s fortune that Aelin had schemed and
won for them this past spring couldn’t prevent
that.
Yes, food and blankets and clothes could
be purchased, but when the supply lines were
buried under snow, what good were they then?
All the gold in Erilea couldn’t stop the slow,
steady leeching of strength caused by months
in a winter camp, exposed to Terrasen’s
merciless elements.
Darrow and the other lords didn’t believe
his claim that Erawan would strike in deep
winter—or believe Ren, when the Lord of
Allsbrook voiced his agreement. Erawan was
no fool, they claimed. Despite his aerial
legion of witches, even Valg foot soldiers
could not cross snow when it was ten feet
deep. They’d decided that Erawan would wait
until spring.
Yet Aedion was taking no chances. Neither
was Prince Galan, who had remained silent in
that meeting, but sought Aedion afterward to
add his support. They had to keep their troops warm and fed, keep them trained and ready to
march at a moment’s notice.
This scouting mission, if Ren’s
information proved correct, would help their
cause.
Nearby, a bowstring groaned, barely
audible over the wind. Its tip and shaft had
been painted white, and were now barely
visible as it aimed with deadly precision
toward the pass opening.
Aedion caught Ren Allsbrook’s eye from
where the young lord was concealed amongst
the rocks, his arrow ready to fly. Cloaked in
the same white and gray furs as Aedion, a pale
scarf over his mouth, Ren was little more than
a pair of dark eyes and the hint of a slashing
scar.
Aedion motioned to wait. Barely glancing
toward the shape-shifter across the pass,
Aedion conveyed the same order.
warm and fed, keep them trained and ready to
march at a moment’s notice.
This scouting mission, if Ren’s
information proved correct, would help their
cause.
Nearby, a bowstring groaned, barely
audible over the wind. Its tip and shaft had
been painted white, and were now barely
visible as it aimed with deadly precision
toward the pass opening.
Aedion caught Ren Allsbrook’s eye from
where the young lord was concealed amongst
the rocks, his arrow ready to fly. Cloaked in
the same white and gray furs as Aedion, a pale
scarf over his mouth, Ren was little more than
a pair of dark eyes and the hint of a slashing
scar.
Aedion motioned to wait. Barely glancing
toward the shape-shifter across the pass,
Aedion conveyed the same order.
Their enemies moved deeper into the throat
of the pass. Ren’s arrow held steady.
Leave one alive, Aedion had ordered before
they’d taken their positions.
It had been a lucky guess that they’d
choose this pass, a half-forgotten back door
into Terrasen’s low-lying lands. Only wide
enough for two horses to ride abreast, it had
long been ignored by conquering armies and
the merchants seeking to sell their wares in
the hinterlands beyond the Staghorns.
What dwelled out there, who dared make a
living beyond any recognized border, Aedion
didn’t know. Just as he didn’t know why these
soldiers had ventured so far into the
mountains.
But he’d find out soon enough.
The demon company passed beneath them,
and Aedion and Ren shifted to reposition their
bows.
A straight shot down into the skull. He
picked his mark.
Aedion’s nod was the only signal before
his arrow flew.
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