Chapter 3 The Eve of War
THE EVE OF WAR
MENSLACH BAY
Renn was hiding in the mountains overlooking where their fleet would land. He’d only narrowly avoided being discovered by a group of yellow-cloaked archers. The Vallennan Council had finally acted. But only because one of his men had been captured. From a scout ship.
Incompetent bastard.
He’d warned them of the Navyrian fleet. Evidently, they hadn’t listened. The man should have died. Gone down with the rest of his crew. But no. He’d been weak. Allowed them to take him. And now their enemy knew they were coming.
And they had prepared well. Too well.
He’d sent a whisper. Their prince knew what was waiting for them in the bay. But the decision had been firm.
Our plan does not change. Their shield will fall. Better to crush them all in one blow.
But he doubted. Not loudly, but he did. He’d seen the Thorne heir, the healer girl at his side. Their glimmer of golden magic. Witnessed the reverence on the faces of so many Vallennans as they passed. He knew what it meant. Had warned Prince Silas himself.
The Arcanth has two chosen.
The voice in his mind was cold, amused, and certain in its reply: Then I’ll kill them myself.