their helmets. None. He whirled toward the
front lines. Perhaps there was a Fae warrior
skilled enough at healing, with enough magic
left—
Aedion halted. Beheld what broke over the
horizon.
Ironteeth witches.
Several dozen mounted on wyverns.
But not airborne. The wyverns walked on
land.
Heaving a mammoth, mobile stone tower
behind them. No ordinary siege tower.
A witch tower.
It rose a hundred feet high, the entire
structure built into a platform whose make he
could not determine with the angle of the
ground and the lines of chained wyverns
dragging it across the plain. A dozen more
witches flew in the air around it, guarding it.
Dark stone—Wyrdstone—had been used to
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