The sun was setting with vibrant colors as if it were a painting. Nieriel walked close to Maethorion. They were a day’s journey ahead of the the Army. Lithônion ordered them to go ahead and prepare the City for their arrival.
“What will become of the Southern Falls?” She asked. “With forces such as there will be, they stand no chance of survival during the War.”
Maethorion looked at the green grass blowing softly beneath their feet. His hands suddenly tightened. “I am not certain of their fate. If we can get there fast enough we will tell all the women and children to run as far as possible. As soon as Lithônion arrives it will begin. We have a short time before they arrive.”
Nieriel shivered despite the sun.
“Tomorrow we arrive, but what shall we say? Who is the sacrifice?”
“They need not know such things as it has nothing to do with the Southern Falls. But we must make sure that innocent blood is not shed. There are many in the City who are unaware of the grave danger that awaits them.”
The next morning they saw in the distance the flags of the Southern Falls waving in the distance, a beacon of hope within the land.
“At least their flag is still waving,” Aidan shouted. “I will be glad to sleep on a bed tonight, although nature has not been too hard on us.” He picked some daisies and put them in Nieriel’s hair.
“Beautiful!” he stood back to admire the work of art.
When the townspeople saw the return of Maethorion they shouted great thanks to the Maker and went to greet them. Alastair went also to meet those whom he had heard so much of. Calmar knew there was no time to prepare a feast for the battle would soon start and there was little time.
That night the men gathered round the ale and began talking within themselves. Nieriel took Alastair to her room and read to him a beautiful book she had brought from her home far away North. He loved the book and asked her to read it over and over to him. But even from her room she could hear the worried tones of the men in the hall and she knew the gravity of the situation.
“We have only tomorrow before Lithônion arrives. We must send the women, children, and older people of the town South to Bluehaven. It will take many days but by tomorrow eve they will be far enough from here,” Maethorion began.
“But we have lost contact with the Black Wind and have no way to know from which direction they come. We are vulnerable for far too long and they have used that time to their advantage. When the fighting begins the people will run in all directions, praying to the Maker to save their souls. They will be frightened more than anything and there will be no hope for them. If we can avoid that, we will be able to save many more,” Calmar answered.
Aidan, Cedric, Calanon, and Rainion sat near listening to the conversation.
“But if we do not know where the enemy comes from how will we protect our people?” Maethorion replied.
The answer came in short, “There isn’t a way.” Calmar looked at the doubtful faces. “But Maethorion’s suggestion was the best and will perhaps save lives.”
They decided that the next day they would pack up and send the women and children South with some of Maethorion’s men.
The night wore on as they prepared their weapons and began the restless wait for the next day.
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Tarole smiled slyly at the city. The next day the heavens would break open with a flood of fighting. Nothing would stop them now. Adrian had returned from their journey South and had brought valuable captives from Nightsedge. His bloodthirsty army were ready. Adrian stood by Tarole’s side.
“The Dark One has worked well. He is prepared and we will begin.” And so they sat in wait watching the city from the East.
The Spell of the Winterwolf 