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moment. The king had blasted ilken from the
sky, had snapped their necks without touching
them. He’d bow before the man if it saved
them.
It was midday when Morath’s army
reached them once more, their mass spilling
over the horizon. A storm sweeping across the
fields.
He’d warned the people of Perranth to flee
into Oakwald, if they could. Locking
themselves in the castle would be of little use.
It had no supplies to outlast a siege. He’d
debated using it for this battle, but their
advantage lay in the frozen river, not in letting
themselves be cornered to endure a slow
death.
No one was coming to save them. There
had been no word from Rolfe, Galan’s forces
were depleted, his ships spread thin on the
coast, and no whisper of the remainder of