raise the alarm himself. The commander spent a good while like this, until Zane hurled an acorn at him. Retfiled shot the elf a disapproving glance, but tore his gaze away from the forest and cast a quick look at the village.
They needed the right moment to attack, and for the time being most of the defenders were clustered quite closely together and, should any trouble arise, could easily improvise a defensive formation. The guards stationed in the cottage were also part of this. It was hard to say whether there were only three of them there, or perhaps more. Earlier, Cedric had debated the matter, arguing that, having assigned one squad to keep watch in the guardhouse on the rocky outcrop, there was no point in spreading their forces unevenly; if anything, three units should be stationed in the tower by the lake, and only one here. From the defenders’ point of view, the village itself should have been the safest place, as it lay between the two bases, and access was also hampered by terrain obstacles that were, in theory, insurmountable.
Time passed slowly, and even dragged on. Draco could be patient, but more often than not he had to rely on that patience whilst hiding from Pirce. However, waiting for the right moment to attack himself was a completely different matter. The dragon could feel the tension in the situation, and being separated from the rest of the team did not help at all. He felt like throwing himself into the fray already, not even out of a desire to take up arms, but simply because he was slowly growing tired of the nervous atmosphere.
It was hard for him to say how much time had passed, but at last something began to happen. Three guards emerged from a hut further away, one of whom was dressed in an outfit not quite suited to the nature of the task at hand. He wore a thick leather apron with plenty of side pockets, reinforced gloves reaching up to his elbows, and a helmet with a semi-transparent visor.
