The Hollow Hill~
Dara
Twelvestones
Dara lifted the spyglass and scanned the plains from atop the fortress walls. The stream of refugees had dried to a trickle, then evaporated to dust. Nothing moved on the plains below. Not man. Not nene. Not even a rabbit stirred in the sea of grass.
A sapphire sky hung over fields of green. The cloudless canopy stretched above the woods to silhouette the purple hills beyond. Any day now, General Renault Litchfield would crest those hills with his defectors, militiamen, and murderous r****e.
A day spent bracing for an attack should have ominous thunderclouds to set the mood. At least an ornery wind. What had the gods chosen to send him? Sunshine and a gentle breeze.
Dara resumed walking the ramparts with Ruin, passing expert archers and hastily trai
