The central sandbar was a desolate, fog-shrouded strip of gray gravel and frozen silt rising from the middle of the roaring Whispering River.
The icy water rushed past its edges with a deafening churn, churning up cold white foam against the jagged rocks.
A small wooden skiff sat anchored at the southern tip of the sandbar, its white truce flag fluttering weakly in the freezing mountain gale.
I stepped off our heavy iron-hulled war barge onto the shifting gravel, my boots making a sharp, crunching sound against the ice.
Robin walked directly beside me, his towering seven-foot frame throwing a massive, dark shadow across the mist.
He didn't draw his broadsword, but his dark shadow aura surged outward in heavy, suffocating waves, completely overpowering the damp chill of the river.
Beh
