Page 110 of Knight from the Ashes (Crown and Crest 1)

Keeping an eye behind us, we continue until we’re so near the source of the noise, I’m afraid we’ll be spotted. Ahead, the night is lit up as bright as day, but we must pass through a wooded section, where the trees grow all the way to the cliff’s edge, to see the source of the light.

“We’ll go into the forest,” I say. “It should provide adequate cover.”

Utilitarian lampposts come into view first—portable, from the looks of them, with drums of oil piped to the flames. They burn hot and bright, lighting the men who stand near the newly arrived carts.

“Henrik,look.” In her excitement, Clover grasps my arm.

It’s as we suspected. The elves have removed the canvas covers, and raw ore is piled high.

The elves transfer the talvernum to a large bucket near the cliff's edge, which appears to be suspended from a thick cable.

The men have created an aerial lift, using their metal creations to move the great cable and lower the bucket. But to where?

“I need to get closer,” I say. “Stay here—I’ll be back.”

“You can’t go out there!” Clover whispers. “There’s nowhere for you to hide—they’ll see you.”

I turn to face her, acknowledging the real concern in her voice.

It feels as if we’ve come a long way in this short time. When Clover and I first started this journey, we could barely carry on a civil conversation, and now, her eyes are filled with anxiety on my behalf. Her hand is still on my arm, her fingers holding me tightly as if she can keep me here, protected in the shadows of the forest.

“I’ll be careful,” I swear, resisting the urge to pull her close.

The memory of the morning we awoke after the storm lights a fire in my chest. I held back before, but I doubt I could be so chivalrous again.

Even now, I want to kiss Clover—claim her mouth and show her how much I’ve come to care for her in this short time. And, yes, perhaps also prove that I can steal her breath and leave her delirious with desperate longing.

And maybe I would if we were alone—but we’re not, which Bartholomew makes abundantly clear when he clears his throat.

When I realize Clover and I have been staring at each other for too long, I reluctantly pull my gaze away. Bartholomew looks between us, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Look at the way they’ve trampled the grass,” Pranmore says, oblivious to us as he glares at the High Vales. “Have they no respect? And that racket has surely scared more than the aynauths out of the region. Do they not think of the animals they’re displacing from their homes?”

“They’re likely mining the talvernum to create a small legion of war golems,” I say. “I don’t think they’re concerned about the local wildlife.”

“Do you really think so?” Bartholomew asks, temporarily forgetting his jealousy over the moment I shared with Clover. “You think they’re building an army?”

“What else would they need that much ore for?” Clover says. “They’ve obviously been at this for a while. Imagine how much they’ve snuck back to Ferradelle at this point.”

Pranmore shudders, and Bartholomew stands straighter. “We must tell my uncle at once.”

“I plan to do just that,” I say. “But first, I need to see how they’re transporting the ore.”

“Be cautious,” Clover says, her voice softening once more.

“Ready your bow, just in case. Do you think you can shoot?”

She moves her arm, testing it, and then nods solemnly as she pulls the weapon from her back.

Staying low, I leave the wooded area, using the nearby grass for cover. Pranmore’s right—they’ve trampled most of the site. It’s going to be impossible to make it to the cliff’s edge without passing through the open.

There are eight elves—six talking and only two loading ore into one of the buckets attached to the cable. How will I slip past them?

Staying low, I follow the grass farther from the light. The dimmer it is, the more my chances of not being noticed go up.

I breathe easier once I make it to the shadowed area just past their firelight, and it’s a simple task to reach the cliff from here. I pause by the edge to look at the ocean, and dread builds in my gut.

This is no small operation they’ve created.

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