“Luciana.” Her father’s eyes glimmered with tears.
She squeezed his hands. “Together, we will succeed.” Or together, they would die.
Two deaths. The Telling Stones mocked her.
Red as blood. Black as death.
Chapter Three
FIVE DAYS LATER …
Of all the enemies of Eberon, it was the damned elves that didn’t make any sense.
As Lord Protector of the Realm, Leofric of Benwick was accustomed to fighting the three kingdoms that bordered on Eberon. To the northeast, the coastal kingdom of Tourin was easy to understand. The country was full of greedy thieves and pirates. Whether they invaded by land or sea, their aim was always the same: stealing precious metals and jewels.
To the northwest, the mountainous terrain of Norveshka extended far into the frozen north. When Norveshki warriors swept across the border, they stole livestock. Or worse.
Then to the east lay the elfin kingdom of Woodwyn. When the elves attacked, they came with no warning and left with nothing. Leo shook his head. No sense at all. As far as he could tell, the big-eared buggers simply liked to kill.
He was standing on top of a hill, surveying the Woodwyn border. Behind him, the army was making camp for the night. Next to him, a beacon tower rose from the crest of the hill. Over the years, the former Lord Protectors had developed an early warning system to stay informed of any incursions along the border. A long line of beacon towers had been erected, stretching across the thousand-mile border that began at the Great Western Ocean, then extended eastward past Tourin and Norveshka, then turned southward along Woodwyn to finally end at the Southern Sea.
Leo had allowed the army to halt its march early today, for he knew his men were still tired from a battle with the elves two days ago. Leo and his troops had inflicted some damage on the elfin army before they’d retreated across the border. After leaving some soldiers there to keep watch, he’d taken the rest of the army north, traveling close to the Woodwyn border to keep an eye on the elves.
The border was marked with a stone wall. Only waist-high, it was easily breached. It was the forest on the other side that served as more of a deterrent. Thick and impenetrable, dark and deadly, it was the inspiration for many a late-night horror tale around a campfire. Eberoni mothers used threats of the elfin forest to make sure their young ones behaved.
On this side of the border, the Eberoni had cleared away the trees to make farm- and pastureland. The process had taken a few centuries, but now the effect was startling. No trees, just rolling green farmland, then bam! A solid wall of forest.
“Hey!” a voice called behind him.
Leo glanced back to see Nevis charging up the hill.
“See anything?” Nevis yelled.
“No.” Leo shifted his gaze back to the forest. No one ever saw the elves until they crossed the wall.
Nevis caught up with him and eyed the border. “Do you think they’re there? I can’t see anything but trees.”
Leo gave his friend a wry look. “That’s a common problem with forests. You have to wonder about them, though. What do they eat?”
“The trees?”
“No, the elves. If they never clear any of their land, how do they grow crops or raise cattle? What do they eat?”
Nevis shrugged. “Never thought about it. When one of them comes at me, swinging his sword, I’m more worried about my next meal than his.”
Leo eyed his friend’s wide girth. “It wouldn’t hurt you to miss a meal.”
With a huff, Nevis thumped his stomach with a fist. “This is solid muscle.”
Leo snorted. “They’re eating something.”
“Maybe they live on acorns like a bunch of squirrels. Could explain their pointy ears.” Nevis gave the forest a wary look, then raised his voice. “No offense!”
“They can’t hear us. We’re too far away.”
“How can you be sure?” Nevis asked. “They might have super hearing with those big-assed ears. No offense!” He lowered his voice. “Maybe we should back away. Some of them can shoot arrows really far.”
“I think we’re safe for now.” Leo smiled at his friend. Nevis had been watching out for him ever since their first battle at the age of fourteen. When Leo had been named Lord Protector seven years ago at the young age of nineteen, it had been obvious that the king hoped the job would cause his death.
King Frederic had successfully gotten rid of his younger brother, Cedric, by making him Lord Protector. Cedric had died at the age of thirty-five, leaving behind a wife and Leo, his son. When Cedric finally fell in battle, Frederic had quickly enacted a plot to kill Cedric’s son.
Leo had been eight years old when the assassins had arrived on the family estate. He’d survived. His mother hadn’t. His father’s best friend, General Harden, had charged in and killed the assassins. A few minutes too late for his mother. Then the king had acted innocent, claiming to have no knowledge of the affair.
Leo had lived in a daze for a while, traveling and training with the army. General Harden was named the new Lord Protector, which was the king’s way of wishing him dead. With Leo under the general’s protection, the king was forced to delay any plans to murder his nephew.
The general’s son, Nevis, a few months older than Leo, was assigned as his sparring partner. Soon, the two became best friends, with Nevis declaring he would always be there to watch Leo’s back.
Now, years later, Leo glanced at his friend. Beneath the shaggy brown hair that fringed Nevis’s brow, there was a jagged scar that ran from his brow to his left temple. Nevis usually kept it covered, so Leo wouldn’t be reminded that he’d been the cause. Not that Leo could ever forget. He curled his hands into fists, and the leather of his gloves stretched tight against his knuckles.