Edrick Hawthorne had lived in silence for two years, but this felt different.
He stood at the edge of the yard, eyes fixed on the dark line of trees that bordered his estate. Two years had passed since Violhane rode east with two companions. Two years of waiting for a sign that never came.
Now, at last, rumors had surfaced, fragmented and uncertain but enough to stir hope where none had lived for months.
Edrick had not hesitated.
Within days he sent messages across the fractured alliances of the realm, calling in every favor he still possessed. If Violhane yet walked the eastern wastes, he would not remain there alone. The timing could not have been worse.
The Scourge strained every settlement. Warriors, mages, and clerics were scarce. Faith in O’thon had withered further since Violhane’s departure, leaving temples hollow and their halls quiet. Edrick had expected refusal. Instead, replies came.
The Gray Elves of Verendi pledged aid. The Wood Elves of Evandor answered as well. The Dwarves of Perenty promised warriors, and even the mage guild in Lystran agreed to send help. None spoke of numbers. None promised abundance. Only that they would come.
Edrick prepared for less than he hoped.
He secured provisions, cleared outbuildings, and hired what extra hands he could. As the days passed, his scouts brought troubling reports. Goblin movement along the forest’s edge had changed, no longer scattered but directed. Trails once lightly traveled now showed heavy passage. Fires burned deeper within the woods.
The quiet did not feel like safety. It felt like something waiting.
Preparations shifted. Storehouses were reinforced. Livestock moved closer to the house. Timber was felled and dragged into place. Wagons were positioned to narrow the approach.
Edrick oversaw it all without raising his voice. The men followed his calm. Good men, steady and hardworking, but untested. They had faced broken fences and stubborn animals, not the things that moved in the forest now.
Edrick had not forgotten how to fight. Steel still felt right in his hand. Endurance, less so.
The estate had never needed fortification. Set along the edge of Evandor, it had long relied on elven patrols and quiet borders. What stood now were hurried defenses, practical rather than permanent. They would not withstand a siege, but they might force an attack into a single path. For now, that would have to be enough.
Hope arrived just past midday.
Three riders emerged from the southern road, breaking from the trees and moving steadily toward the farmstead. Edrick stepped forward, brushing dust from his hands, his eyes searching the road behind them for others.
The first rider reined in, a dwarf from Perenty, broad-shouldered and armored, the king’s crest gleaming across his breastplate.
Edrick spoke before greeting. “How far behind is the rest of your company?”
“No more behind,” the dwarf said.
Edrick held his gaze a moment longer, then looked again down the empty road. Nothing.
The second rider was a human in fine robes and a pointed hat, upright despite the long ride. A mage of Lystran.
The third was another dwarf, leaner and lighter, moving with a balance that suggested a different kind of training. A short sword rested at his side.
“I’m Edrick Hawthorne,” Edrick said. “My men will see to your horses. We should speak inside.” He stepped aside, his eyes lingering on the road. “Come. We have little time.”
The first dwarf dismounted heavily, his presence heavy even before he spoke. “Blodger of the Orendon clan,” he said. “Your name carries in Perenty.” His gaze swept the barricades, the timber, the narrowed approach. “These will not hold long. If you’ll permit it, I’ll help your men strengthen them.”
Edrick nodded. “See my foreman. He’ll show you where we’re weakest.”
Blodger was already moving.
Edrick turned to the robed rider. “Eromas?”
The mage straightened. “Eromas Ardnn,” he corrected. “I’m impressed you remember.”
“You were younger when we met,” Edrick said. “Ambitious.”
“There was a barn involved,” Eromas said stiffly.
“And a horse,” Edrick added.
“The horse survived,” Eromas said. “The barn did not.”
Color crept into the mage’s cheeks.
Edrick leaned in slightly. “I would consider it a kindness if mine remained standing.”
“My control has improved,” Eromas said with forced dignity.
“Let’s hope so,” a voice said behind them. “I’m fond of barns.”
The second dwarf stood there, quiet as if he had always been part of the conversation.
Edrick exhaled. “I didn’t hear you approach.”
“Few do,” the dwarf replied.
Eromas smirked. “This is Flendrick. He’s done that for three days.”
“Flendrick,” Edrick said.
The dwarf inclined his head.
Edrick’s eyes moved to the short sword. “You favor the blade.”
“It is quicker,” Flendrick said. “And quieter.”
“You may find less use for quiet soon.”
Flendrick glanced toward the trees, his gaze lingering. “Then we should work.”
And they did.
For two hours Blodger reinforced weak points, shifting timber with practiced efficiency. Flendrick moved where needed, silent and precise, adjusting what others missed. Edrick worked alongside them.
The sun climbed. The quiet held. Too long.
It was nearing midafternoon when two more riders appeared. They were not slowing. Edrick stepped forward as they crossed into the yard.
The first rider dismounted before her horse had fully stopped, a woman in heavy leather, her hand already on the mace at her side.
“We seek Edrick Hawthorne.”
“You have found him.”
“Alyssa,” she said. “Cleric of O’thon. From the temple outside Mendinar.” Her eyes did not waver. “Goblins are less than an hour out.”
Edrick felt the words settle. “My scouts—”
“They’re moving too fast.”
“They will not see them in time,” she said. “The goblins are not hiding.”
“Who else has the temple sent?”
She held his gaze. “No one.”
Edrick studied her, then nodded. The symbol of O’thon at her throat caught the light. Something in him, long strained, eased.
“And your companion?”
“Metsle,” she said. “Mage of Verendi.”
Young. Too young.
The elf struggled slightly with his reins, robe dark and unadorned.
“He is—” Edrick began.
“He stood when others did not,” Alyssa said.
Metsle said nothing, but he did not look away.
“That will do,” Edrick said.
Alyssa glanced toward the forest. “The Gray Elves will hold the road.”
“Then the goblins will keep to the forest,” Edrick said.
He turned, raising his voice across the yard. “We prepare now!”
Men moved. Steel was gathered. Positions taken.
There was no more time.
Edrick looked once more toward the forest, then to the small group gathered in his yard. This was all that had come. This was all he had.
If they failed here, there would be no one left to stand before what followed.
