Ruined King (Night Elves Trilogy #2) - C.N. Crawford Page 0,19

wielding six-foot broadswords. As soon as the Winnowing starts, they’ll charge and cut down half of us before we can even touch one of them. We’re going to get slaughtered if we don’t have a brilliant plan.” I sighed, my mind racing as I tried to come up with a solution. “If I were in charge, I’d lay a trap. Having Wyrd on our side doesn’t mean we can’t also seize the initiative tomorrow.”

Thyra exchanged a look with Ilvis. “Can you be more specific?”

“What if we goad Gorm into attacking us? The High Elves will charge our position and we’ll counter-attack. We can use our vergr crystals to flank them.”

Thyra shook her head. “We can’t use crystals. The Winnowing rules strictly forbid the use of magic. Even scribing a simple rune is grounds for disqualification.”

I shrugged. “So a few of us are disqualified. It’s a tactical decision.”

“The rules state that for every disqualified elf, an additional two elves from their side must also die. I will not sacrifice the lives of our people in that way.”

Balls. “Okay. Forget that.” I closed my eyes, working through the possibilities. “What if we armed ourselves with spears?”

She frowned at me like I was a total idiot. “We don’t have any spears. There are no trees in the Shadow Caverns.”

My mind raced. “Are we allowed to used magic to help in our preparations?”

Thyra pulled a bundle of papers from her satchel. She licked the end of her forefinger, then began flipping through them, muttering under her breath.

“What’s that?”

“It’s the contract I signed with the High Elves. It contains the rules of the Winnowing.” She hummed low in her throat as she read it. Then, she looked up at me. “There’s nothing that says we can’t use magic in our preparations.”

“Did you bring any vergr crystals?”

Thyra nodded. “Yes, but we only have five.”

“Can I borrow them and four elves?” I pointed to the shimmering black magic that made up Galin’s wall. “What if I lead a small team across the barrier tonight? There are plenty of dead trees in the Common we can use to construct spears. We’ll hide them in the snow on the battlefield. Then, when the High Elves charge, we snatch them up and the High Elves impale themselves. I know the landscape. I’ve been there just recently, and no one else has. I can do this faster than anyone.”

Thyra’s eyes gleamed in the darkness of the cave. “That could work. However, I will instruct everyone around you to slaughter you if you make an attempt to flee or betray us again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“And so I’m clear on the plan,” said Thyra, “when you’re done, you’ll return to tell me exactly where the spears are hidden? Or you forfeit your life in an excruciating manner?”

“I will send an elf back to show you where to find the spears.”

“You won’t come yourself?”

I bit my lip. “Do the rules say anything about when we can arrive at the battlefield?”

“They do not.”

“What if I and the other three of my team conceal ourselves in the snow? Once the battle is underway, we could attack from the rear.”

“Only four to attack from the rear?”

I leaned forward, speaking in a whisper. “More of an assassination, focused on Galin. He’s the biggest threat among them. His father had him locked up for a thousand years, like a weapon he was waiting to use, instead of killing him. He’s the Sword of the Gods. The prince is the real threat here. If we sneak up from behind when he’s not expecting us, it’s our best chance.”

Thyra continued to sip her soup as she mulled over my words. At last, she answered, “I will choose your team so that I can be certain they are watching you. They will report any deception back to me.”

“Deal.”

“And one more thing.” Thyra reached into her bag. “I believe this is yours.”

As she pulled her hand back out, I gasped, and a smile curled my lips. A blade glistened in her hand. Black as the darkest cavern, sharp enough to slice an elf’s throat to the bone.

This was my blade. My dearest friend. Skalei.

Thyra glared at me. “Now, hold out your forearms so that I may carve the binding runes again.”

Chapter 10

Galin

I stood on a small knoll overlooking Boston Common, the ancient park in the center of the city. In its earliest incarnation, the Common had been a burial ground for the Wampanoag people. In the Puritan era, it had been a cow

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