The Eldar steeled his gaze on his accuser. “No, Ryell,” he said firmly, “I shall not leave.”
“You can’t win!” Del blurted desperately, jolted by the sudden, unexpected declaration, a vow that seemed suicidal.
“That may be,” Arien replied, “but if the entire city departs, the pursuit will be swift and unrelenting. My people must survive, and thus a large group of maidens and the younger of our race, and any else who wish, shall flee into the mountains.
“We must leave more than a token group behind to face down the murderous threat of Ungden, and I count myself among that number. This had been my home for many, many years, and I shall not willingly relinquish it to an unlawful king. Perhaps there is parlaying yet to be done, and in that circumstance, who but myself should speak for Illuma?”
“He’ll kill you all,” Del declared flatly.
“Then let him fulfill his rage and be done with it,” Arien declared. “We are not a warring people, yet our skill with sword and bow is great. The Calvans will pay a heavy price for their raid. Our fallen will satisfy their thirst for blood, and it may well be that the numbers of their own dead will dim any further desires they have for war. I perceive this to be the only way any of our people shall live in peace again.”
Arien jumped to his feet, sending his chair skidding behind him, and stood tall and proud above the gathering, set in a grim resolve that could not be questioned. No weakness showed in the Eldar now, no indecision, no burden weighing on his shoulders, and all seated around the table looked on him with respect that bordered on awe.
All except for Del.
He looked away and muttered, “Et tu, Arien,” once more feeling the pain of disappointment as keen as a dagger in his breast.
Arien paid him no attention. “These are my words of counsel,” he declared. “Yet in this matter I feel that each of us must make his own choice-to flee to the mountains or to stay and face the wrath of Ungden.”
Through gritted teeth, Erinel cried out his support. “None shall willingly leave!”
“No,” Sylvia agreed with the same fervor. “The people stand behind you, Father!”
“Then let us not stand idle,” Ryell commanded. “There is much to be done!”
Overcome by a dizzying wave of nausea, fighting back the distaste of bile rising in his throat, Del stumbled out to the corridor.
Del returned to the Throne Room several hours later. The place had become a beehive of activity, with elves coming and going and congregating in small groups to discuss plans. Ryell, just a few feet away, standing with his back to Del, seemed the center of it all. Excited, almost frantic, he called out commands, delegating duties to the younger elves.
“You seem thrilled by all of this, Ryell,” Del stated accusingly as he entered. “Are you that hungry for blood?”
Ryell wheeled on him angrily. “For freedom,” he growled. “I am hungry for freedom. Too long have I hid in fear from men. Too long have I viewed the same mountain walls, the walls of my prison.”
He looked across the room, leading Del’s gaze with his own. Billy and several others stood before a large map that had been hung on the wall.
Ryell turned back to Del, eyeing him slyly. “Your friend has offered his aid unconditionally,” he said loudly, purposely attracting the attention of some of the other nearby elves. “What of you?”
Del knew that he had just been set up, had been put on the spot before witnesses that Ryell might wring the desired responses from him. He recognized the expectant looks turning quickly to impatience. He lowered his head so as not to face their disappointment and remained silent.
For Del could not give his assistance or his approval for the battle the elves had chosen to fight. He had hoped for more in this new land than the commonplace wars, the non-solutions of violence, that were the tainted legacy of his world-hadn’t Calae of the Colonnae spoken specifically of earth’s Jericho and the first steps on that bloody road? And after witnessing that same dark wrath in the woman he had viewed, and loved, as the epitome of peace and beauty, his abhorrence of violence now claimed his emotions absolutely, with no room for excuses or compromise.
“I need time,” he stalled. “I want to talk to Ardaz.”
“That fool is gone,” Ryell retorted. “He fled at the first signs of trouble.”
“Then I’d like to go back to my room,” Del said softly.
“Guard!” Ryell called, and Del was grateful to be able to leave so easily with the elf who appeared at the door.
The war councils stretched long into the night, for though the elves had in the past fought many a skirmish with bands of rogue talons, they were totally unfamiliar with larger-scale battles or defensive preparations. Arien and Ryell listened intently as their people presented various plans of action, and together they tried to devise one of their own. Soon they both realized that their only hope rested with the otherworldly knowledge of Billy and Del. Ryell abhorred the idea of trusting the humans again, but even he had to admit that the elves were mere novices against the trained Calvan army.
Billy felt awkward in a position of leadership, but was more than willing to help. He quickly dismissed what the elves perceived as their most feasible option: retreating to Shaithdun-o-Illume with its one, very defensible entrance. Even Arien, who had never witnessed war, had failed to recognize the gruesome consequences of a siege.
While the setting moon sent its last silvery rays into the Throne Room through a western window, the council agreed upon its final decision that the elves would make their stand on the field of Mountaingate. Billy had offered them two alternatives, a onetime confrontation on the field, or a war of hit-and-run raids, whittling away at Ungden’s troops while ever seeking higher, more defensible ground deeper in the mountains. Billy had strongly opted for the latter, believing that the elves had little hope in a pitched battle with so large a force. But the elves, especially Arien, were thinking along different lines.
They perceived their fate as sealed, the outcome of the battle as preordained, and considered it, rather, as a test of their honor. Arien gave little consideration to the short-term victory or defeat, viewing the fate of those who would stand with him against Ungden as inconsequential. His thoughts focused on the aftereffects of the clash, the safety of the Illumans who would flee into the Crystals. The purpose of opposing the Calvans was to gain the respect of the common soldiery, to show such valor as to dispel Ungden’s depictions of the elves as dangerous, murderous mutants. A guerrilla war, Arien feared, would reinforce the negative misperceptions against the elves. And it would be time-consuming. New recruits swarmed to join Ungden’s army with every passing day. In the end, Arien’s forces would lay dead or hopelessly scattered, and the army celebrating victory on the southern slopes of the Crystals would be ten times the size of the force now approaching. Still believing in its righteousness, a perspective likely reinforced by aggravating guerrilla tactics, the Calvan force would willingly continue its hunt for renegade mutants.
And so, on the next morn, Billy and a group of elves led by Arien and Ryell traveled down to Mountaingate to better organize their battle plans. In studying the area, searching for the most advantageous positions, Billy noticed a long ledge cutting across the sheer face of the cliff that bordered the field on the east, about twenty feet above the grass and nearly invisible from below, due to the coloration and shading of the rocks. Certainly an army charging into battle would pay it no heed.
“Is there any way to get people up there?” Billy, pointing to the ledge, asked Ryell.
Ryell nodded. “There was at one time a low tunnel behind that cliff wall,” he confirmed. “A split in the stone allowed entry to the ledge. It cannot be seen from this angle. But I have not traveled that path for many years; perhaps it no longer exists.”