Captain Morvain strode through the camp toward the command center. His jaw was clenched with frustration.
The false Lieutenant Silvara had slipped through his fingers. Someone had penetrated their security and made a fool of him in front of his own guards.
Guards stepped aside as he passed. They recognized his mood. His reputation for violence when angry was well-earned.
The command center doors were guarded by twenty elves.
"Captain," one acknowledged. "Commander Thalorin is expecting you."
Morvain pushed through the doors without responding. Inside, Commander Thalorin stood over a table covered with maps and reports. His usual composed demeanor showed cracks of strain.
"Captain," Thalorin looked up. "We have a more serious problem than your infiltrator."
"More serious than someone walking through our security?"
"Much more serious." Thalorin gestured toward the door. "We need to visit the eastern perimeter. There's something you need to see."
"The dead elves?"
