Lashing rain obscured Peredhil?s vision as he wearily raised a hand to block as much of it as humanly possible. It had been raining for more than two weeks straight, flooding rivers and turning the saturated soil into a muddy mess that slowed the Elessari army?s eastward push into the Dark One?s strongholds.

He tried to recall how long it had been since he?d left Elessar, his final gaze catching Juliane watching his departure from the palace balcony. Six weeks? It seemed like years. He could have Traveled to Elessar any time he wanted, but had not returned once. Perhaps it was the string of victories and the fear of a loss of focus that might occur if he left the campaign, albeit for the briefest of moments. Or maybe it was an unconscious attempt to accustom Elessar to new leadership. It was probably both, but Peredhil knew that something deeper also restrained him from returning, although he would not voice those sentiments.

They had endured daily skirmishes with the enemy over the past week. In fact, the battles had grown in intensity each day, leading Peredhil to believe that they were closing in on the Dark One?s fortress. Although he did not recognize any of the landscape, his instincts told him that he was nearing the site of the countless horrors that had been inflicted on him during his months of captivity.

His blond hair, cut short during his last visit to Rhydin, now crawled down his neck and covered his ears, curling up just above his stormy grey eyes. Unusually lanky after his long imprisonment, several weeks of intense physical exertion had helped Peredhil regain his muscular build. But the most radical changes he?d undergone were not visible to the eye.

A distant flare caught his attention. Gently kneeing his stallion into motion, Peredhil made his way towards it.