The Senon was a high, barren plateau of exposed rock and scrub bushes with expansive views on all sides. The horses’ hooves clacked loudly on the barefaced granite until Royce brought them to a stop. His cloak fluttered with the morning breeze. To the east, the sunrise peered at them over the mist-covered forests of Dunmore. From this height, the vast wood looked like a hazy blue lake as it fell away below them, racing toward the dazzling sun. Arista knew that beyond it lay the Nidwalden River, the Parthaloren Falls, and the tower of Avempartha. Royce stared east for several minutes, and she wondered if his elven eyes could see that tiny pinnacle of his people in the distance.

In front of them and to the southwest lay the Warric province of Chadwick. Like everything else west of the ridge, it remained submerged in darkness. Down in the deep rolling valley, the predawn sky would only now be separating from the dark horizon. It would have appeared peaceful, a world tucked in bed before the first cock’s crow, except for the hundreds of lights flickering like tiny fireflies.

“Breckton’s camp,” Hadrian said. “The Northern Imperial Army is not making very good time, it seems.”

“We’ll descend before Amber Heights and rejoin the road well past Breckton,” Royce explained. “How long do you figure before they reach Colnora?”

Hadrian rubbed the growing stubble of his beard. “Another three, maybe four, days. An army that size moves at a snail’s pace, and I’m guessing Breckton isn’t pleased with his orders. He’s likely dragging his feet, hoping they’ll be rescinded.”

“You sound as if you know him,” Arista said.

“I never met the man, but I fought under his father’s banner. I’ve also fought against him, when I served in the ranks of King Armand’s army in Alburn.”

“How many armies have you served in?”

Hadrian shrugged. “Too many.”

They pushed on, traversing the crest into the face of a fierce wind, which tugged at her clothes and caused her eyes to water. Arista kept her head down and watched her horse’s hooves pick a path across the cracked slabs of lichen-covered rock. She clutched her cloak tight about her neck as the damp of the previous day’s rain and sweat conspired with the wind to make her shiver. When they plunged back into the trees, the slow descent began. Once more the animals struggled. This time Arista bent backward, nearly to her horse’s flanks, to keep her balance.