The enemy crested a dune ahead of them, and for a moment both forces froze, taking each other's measure.
The Haelves were exactly as described—nine feet of disturbing perfection, their bodies somewhere between human and elf but belonging fully to neither. They moved with predatory grace, their armor gleaming black in the sunlight, and Jorghan could sense the power radiating from them. These weren't normal soldiers. These were weapons.
And behind them, the commanders.
Caden and Constance stood side by side, their grey eyes assessing Jorghan's force with the cold calculation of professional killers. They showed no surprise at being intercepted, no concern about the warriors arrayed against them.
Caden spoke first, his voice carrying easily across the distance. "Jorghan Sol'vur. The Berserk Lord's descendant. We've been looking forward to meeting you."
"Funny," Jorghan called back. "I've been looking forward to killing you. Saves us both time."
