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Elodi let the light breeze brush the hair from her face. She stood on the North Terrace watching Nyomae and the three accompanying knights ride out from Archonholm. While she would have preferred to have gone with her, Elodi accepted her new role as commander meant she could not leave the city until the strategy to secure the Kolossos Pass was complete. And that depended on news from her scouts bravely tracking enemy movements on the borders.

Her eyes wandered along the road skirting the forest. Should she commit equal forces in the east and west? Did the enemy plan to take the rest of Harlyn? Or would they exploit Nordryn’s treachery and strike through Broon and on into Galabrant? Until she knew for certain how far the enemy had advanced, and in what numbers, Elodi was reluctant to make the decision. But she took some satisfaction from their preparations. All the forces at her command were now ready to mobilize. And Amyndra was confident Elodi could rely on many more from Broon’s forces loyal to the realms. But her heart ached. The two people she trusted most in the world had departed. Both on missions vital in the struggles to come, and now she had to deliver on her promise.

Elodi followed Nyomae’s progress as she crossed the Menon Bridge and disappear behind the trees of Foranfae. Nyomae was a fine rider, as good as the First Horse knights at her side. With good speed, they would reach Neverdor in three days. But how long would it take for Nyomae to find what she sought? Elodi’s gaze went as ever to the north. She relaxed and let the farsight come. With each calling it had become easier. Elodi felt as if she flew over the Great Northwest Road as it wove its way between the forest and the Menon Hills. The gentle slopes of Tamarand followed with its fields of barley and wheat that fed many in Farrand. Scattered brown patches appeared where the crops had already been harvested and the fields plowed. But more should have been done by now, and autumn rapidly approached. It pained Elodi to think of the many farmhands and villagers who would have happily gathered in the crops, still lay beneath the rubble in the pass.

Beyond the farms, the road forked. Elodi took the west road that would convey Nyomae to Neverdor. A bridge took shape in the mist. It straddled the River Lor, glistening silver in the late afternoon sun as if a giant snail had wended its patient way home. She followed its path towards its source in the valleys to the north, and Nyomae’s destination. Neverdor’s spire shone, nestling among the hills that shielded the old Seat of Learning from the woes of the outside world. Behind the tower, the haze confirmed she had reached the northern limit of her powers. What secrets lay beneath its gleaming tower? Would they prove to be a boon or a hindrance? Would the—?