The ridge overlooking Whisperfield was quiet.
Serelis, the elven captain who met Quinlan right after he overtook the undead vehicle and proposed joining the Elvaridan invasion, crouched at its edge with her bare feet pressed into the moss, feeling the pulse of the earth beneath her toes. Below, the settlement sat against a wall of dark stone, its gates shut, its battlements lined with the glint of armor moving in organized patterns. Smoke rose from chimneys. Ballista emplacements tracked the tree line.
Dwarven siege engines were being assembled in the southern forest. Covenant tunnel activity had been confirmed beneath the merchant quarter. The pieces were in place. They were waiting for the signal.
Behind Serelis, her elite squad waited in loose formation among the trees. Twelve rangers, handpicked, each one capable of dropping a running target from four hundred meters in crosswind.
"Commander," one of them spoke up, younger than the rest. "How long until the assault begins?"
