A young villager burst into the hall, breathless, water still dripping from his hair. "Ships! Coming fast, from the east side!"
Marek was on his feet at once. "How many."
"Six, maybe more," the boy said. "Big ones, not fishing boats."
Kane grabbed his blade off the floor beside him. "Concord."
"Has to be," Talyn said, already moving toward the door.
Marek shouted orders in a language Kane didn't know, and villagers scattered fast, some running for weapons, others pulling children toward the cliff caves further inland.
"We don't have proper defenses for ships that size," Marek said, grim. "Our people fight well on land, but the water is not ours to control that easily."
"Then we don't let them land," Kane said. "Ottilie, Talyn, with me. We hit the beach before they can put fighters a
