Category: Fantasy Publisher: Alexandria Publishing Group
Type: Fiction
Pages: 468
Copyright: March 5, 2011
ISBN-13: 9781458148780
Elon of Aerilann, Elven advisor to the High King of Men, helped negotiate the treaty between Elves, Dwarves and men. He suddenly finds that fragile truce threatened from without by an unknown enemy and from within by old hatreds and prejudice. With the aid a few trusted companions he goes in search of the source of the threat.
Ailith, the Heir to Riverford - fights her own silent battle. Her father has changed,something's wrong. That quest to discover what changed puts her life and very soul in danger and leaves her only one direction in which to turn. Elon. However Ailith has a secret that could destroy everything for which they've fought.
Elon of Aerilann, Elven advisor to the High King of Men, helped negotiate the treaty between Elves, Dwarves and men. He suddenly finds that fragile truce threatened from without by an unknown enemy and from within by old hatreds and prejudice. With the aid of his true-friend Colath, the wizard Jareth and the elven archer Jalila, he goes in search of the source of the threat.
Ailith, the Heir to Riverford - fights her own silent battle. Her father has changed,something's wrong. But her quest to discover what has changed puts her life and very soul in danger and leaves her only one direction in which to turn. Elon. To preserve the Alliance, though, Elon may have to choose between his honor and his duty, because Ailith has a secret that could destroy everything for which they've fought.
Excerpt
The mother bear had put up a terrible fight to save her cubs, as such will do when their young were threatened. All around the clearing the dirt was torn up, the underbrush crushed and the trees marked with blood and fur. It had been a valiant but futile effort on the part of the bear. Little remained of her and her offspring except for the blood, the shattered bones and a few traces of offal. They stank but not nearly as much as the reek of something else, something that chilled Elon’s blood.
“Kobold,” he said, quietly into the unnatural silence of the wood, mute testimony to the fact that the predators that had done this still remained somewhere near.
They hadn’t reckoned on kobolds. Although there had been reports of something killing down here, they’d thought it was perhaps a young orc or a boggart. So far from the borderlands, it would’ve been more likely by far to be a rogue bear.
It wasn’t the bear that had gone rogue.
Every sense was alert, his eyes as much on the destruction here as on the least twitch of a branch against the breeze.
Around him, the eyes of the other Hunters scanned everywhere, down in the shadows, up into the branches and all around. Bows were strung and arrows were notched against what they couldn’t see.
“Aye,” Colath said, kneeling in the dirt next to a particularly noxious heap of offal and scat. Looking up, he gave Elon a significant look. “More than one.”
Elon looked closer, not that he had any doubts as to true-friend’s assessment. The signs were unmistakable. The coldness in his belly spread. Colath, his true-friend, paxman and most trusted companion, was vulnerable down there. Especially to kobolds, who ran low to the ground.
“Kobolds don’t travel in packs. Something’s wrong here. Get back in the saddle, Colath, and quickly.”
He didn’t speak loudly but he did speak urgently and then gave a soft, low whistle to call the others in as well.
An answer came from the scouts, who were already turning, quickly and quietly, to close in on the rest of the group. They, too, were vulnerable, so far from the others.
Those closest to them had already heard and were alert, passing the news to those who couldn’t hear. Elf or man, without instruction, responded by pairing up. One looked up into the trees, the other scanned the bushes around them. Men had an atavistic and ancient abhorrence of these creatures and no one of either race would discount instinct. Elon trusted his people enough not to need to remind them. Noise, too, wouldn’t serve them well here.
Colath didn’t need much urging or even the reminder. A cold chill had gone up his spine at the thought. Being on the ground was a bad position with kobolds around. He was exposed there. In one quick move he swung up into the saddle and drew his bow. Not his best weapon―that was the sword―but best against kobolds.
One kobold was bad enough but two were a nightmare.
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