Vilan thrust his dinner knife point down into the soft wood of the table and gestured for his sentry to enter.
"What news have you?" He asked. The sentry twitched his jaw.
"No word of any approach from Archenland or Narnia. All quiet."
Vilan fingered one of the emerald rings gracing his finger. "And you are certain we will know if something changes?"
"Most certainly, my lord."
Vilan stood and faced a window. The skies were darkening with the red and brown clouds that were common during a storm over a desert. "If Mekau wasn't dead I would have loved to wring his neck myself." He sneered with his fists clenching.
"Calm yourself, my lord. We have the plans to the citadel, and as such we are aware of every weak point and every way to take over."
"I worry that will not happen soon enough." Vilan braced his hands on the window sill. "Narnia and Archenland are not fools."
"What would you suggest?"
Vilan rubbed his fingers together, a plan slowly forming in his mind. "Perhaps I should learn from past mistakes and not be too hasty. We wait for them to come to us. There is no possibility of Northerners making it across the desert. The moment they get close enough, they will be exhausted and we'll be ready." Vilan turned towards his sentry. "Do you understand?"
"I do. I will carry out my orders, Tisroc Vilan, and may you live forever."
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The Early Chronicles Book Five: By Desert Divided
FanfictionWith the evil in the south raging and preparing to strike, Swanwhite looks for help with King Rynard who rules Narnia's neighboring country Archenland. In order to reach Calormen undetected, they must cross the vast and treacherous desert. As the t...
