27. The Battle for ToreliaTristan waited, his feet cramping as he crouched at the base of a tree. His eyes strained, searching the forest for movement. All was still, silent. Too silent.
He let his gaze travel the northern perimeter. The line of alder trees swayed lightly in the breeze, creating both a physical and a magical boundary, the magic of Fearn in their branches hiding the wooden barricade that had been hastily constructed over the last few days. Men and women of the Torelian Guard were spread along the line, some like him, crouched in the undergrowth, others in platforms in the trees, arrows resting gently on bowstrings, ready to be drawn at the first signs of trouble.
A gust of wind rattled through the trees bringing with it the faint tramp of feet, the snap of twigs, and the
