black mane streaming in the wind.
The dam had to hold. It would hold. Until
she brought him back to the keep.
So Elide did not stop, did not look toward
the doom that lurked, waiting to be unleashed.
She rode, and rode, and rode.
Atop the battlement, Chaol didn’t know what
to watch: the dam, the people fleeing its
oncoming destruction, or the young Lady of
Perranth, racing across the battlefield atop his
horse.
A warm hand settled on his shoulder, and
he knew it was Yrene without turning. “I just
heard about the dam. I’d sent Elide to see if
you were ...” His wife’s words trailed off as
she beheld the lone rider charging away from
the masses thundering for the keep.
“Silba save her,” Yrene whispered.
“Lorcan’s down there,” was all Chaol said