CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Erec sat at the long banquet table, Alistair on one side, Strom on the other, and his hundreds of men of the Southern Isles filling the benches, facing, on the opposite side of the tables, Krov and his hundreds of Bouldermen. It had been a long day of feasting and it had morphed into a rowdy banquet hall here inside Krov’s castle, perched high up on this cliff at the edge of the sea. One entire wall was carved out with tall, arched windows, facing the ocean, light streaming in, flooding the hall with fresh ocean air, and the sound of waves crashing far below. It was unlike any other castle Erec had ever been in, all other castles usually built with few or no windows for fear of attack. But here, on Boulder Isle, there was no fear of attack: perched high up on insurmountab
