The elves had devised a deceptively simple defense plan. The valley was shaped like a wineskin; at its narrowest point, the pass acted like a spout. That spout would be defended by a small elite force, which would serve to delay the Soldarans, and at the same time, trick them into believing they faced sparse resistance.
At a specified time, the elves would turn and flee toward the castle. Emboldened by the apparent weakness of their opposition, the humans would rush into the narrow neck of the valley.
Unbeknownst to the Soldarans, the bulk of the elven army, along with most of the mages, would be positioned behind the rocky ridgelines above the valley floor. They would sweep down in a pincer movement, catching the humans by surprise and surrounding them before they realized their mistake. As the final piece of the trap, the remainder of the elven forces, bolstered by their most powerful mages, would sally forth from the castle to meet the charging Soldarans head on.
In theory, the plan should work.
If only we had about ten thousand more troops , Raidan thought.
“The army is ready to move, my lord Prince!” an aide called out. Raidan waved his hand in acknowledgment, then turned his mount’s head toward the steep path that led down off the ridge into the valley.
“Isn’t this exciting, Little Brother?” Raidu crowed, a savage grin twisting his mouth. “Soon we’ll be real warriors, with the blood of dozens of humans on our blades!”
Raidan frowned, disturbed by his eldest son’s eagerness to kill.
“I’ll be glad when all of this is over,” Kaisik murmured in reply.
The prince had convened a final council in the great hall of Tono Castle. All of his war leaders, along with their senior staffs, were present, as well as the contingent of mages, led by a dour-faced old man whose name Raidan couldn’t remember. A generous meal had been laid out, and for the first hour or so, there had been no talk of the coming fight.
“Look after your brother, Prince Raidu,” Sadaiyo Sakehera spoke up. “I made the mistake of not looking after mine, much to my sorrow.”
Raidan’s eyes narrowed as he studied the Heir of Kerala. He heard no genuine sorrow in the younger Sakehera’s voice; rather, Raidan thought he could detect a subtle smugness in the other man’s tone. If Sen Sakehera noticed, he gave no sign.
When the servants had cleared away the last of the dishes, Raidan raised his hand to gain everyone’s attention. “Our scouts report the Soldarans are less than three days’ march south of the pass,” he began. “That should give us enough time to get our forces into position. Everyone here in this hall knows the gravity of our situation. If we fail to turn back the Soldarans here at Tono, they will charge north to take Sendai and there’d be no stopping them. It would mean the end of Alasiri as a free nation.”
Silence hung over the room like a shroud.
“Do we have a contingency plan, in case this one proves unsuccessful?” Odata asked.
The ever-practical mistress of understatement , Raidan thought.
“Fall back with whatever forces we have left and retreat to Sendai, where we’ll make a final stand,” he replied. He scrutinized the faces before him and saw a range of emotions-calm resignation, fierce determination, naked worry. He measured his next words very carefully.
“The king lies ill with the plague, as you all know. When I last saw him, he hovered very close to death. His daughter remains by his side.” Raidan paused to gauge the reaction of the assembly to the mention of Keizo’s hikui daughter. The group remained quiet and attentive, but he could feel a dangerous undercurrent tugging at the edges of his senses. He forged on. “None of us can ignore the possibility that my brother may die, and that I and both my sons may fall in the coming battle. If that happens, the elves will need to put aside their long-held prejudices and embrace the only Onjara who will be capable of leading them…my niece Jelena.”
Angry shouts erupted around the room.
Morio of Ayame stood, his face florid. “Your Highness, I don’t understand this sudden change in attitude! You can’t possibly expect us to elevate a hikui to the throne!” Morio’s eyes blazed with accusation, but he was too clever to let slip anything that would reveal his participation in Raidan’s previous conspiracy.
“My brother-in-law’s right!” Coronji of Tohru shouted. “My lord Prince, it doesn’t matter that she’s Keizo’s daughter. The elven people would never accept her!”
“You’re both fools. Jelena is a true Onjara!” Sen Sakehera retorted. “Would you rather our people have no one to lead them?”
“We can serve as a regents’ council for the prince’s next oldest child,” Morio shot back. “Why put a hikui bastard on the throne when we still have legitimate Onjara heirs?”
Sen Sakehera leapt from his chair. “The prince’s other children are babies! Why elevate a baby when we have the king’s own legitimized daughter, a grown woman, who is fit to be our queen?”
“Of course you would take her side, Sakehera!” Morio snarled. “After all, you allowed her into your family and now your bloodline is sullied…”
“ How dare you!” Sen’s face purpled with fury. Raidan had never seen him in such a state before.
Stung a little himself by Morio’s insults, the prince shouted, “Enough!”
Both men subsided, but by the look on his face, Raidan knew Sen had been deeply offended by Morio’s words.
“My lords, we can’t afford to let dissent divide us like this, not now,” the prince admonished. “It’s clear some of you have strong objections to the inclusion of my niece into the order of succession, but I am telling you all now…put aside your prejudices for the sake of Alasiri!” He paused, but no one spoke up. “It took a long time for me to accept Jelena as a part of my family, but I have,” he stated. “She has shown herself to be intelligent, brave, and worthy of our name. I need to know that all of Alasiri’s great lords will stand behind her if the worst happens.”
“I will stand behind her,” Sen declared.
“As will I,” Odata added, after a pause.
No one else spoke. The silence of the gathering gave clear testimony to the stubbornness of long-held bigotry. The prince understood the ugliness of the emotion all too well. He let his face settle into a mask of calm determination, and waited.
Finally, a voice broke the stillness.
“I, too, will stand behind the daughter of our king,” Kaita of Arrisae pledged. The youngest of Alasiri’s great lords, she had just come into her title upon the death of her mother, less than a year ago. Raidan nodded in acknowledgment.
Kaita’s declaration broke the barrier, and one by one, the other lords stood and offered their support, even Coronji, who had never before broken ranks with his brother-in-law, Morio. Only Morio remained in his seat, silent and stone-faced. When at last all had stood, every face turned toward the Lord of Ayame, who kept his eyes focused on Raidan.
The assembly held its collective breath, waiting for the explosion…
…which never came.
Morio’s eyes remained hard, but his expression softened a little. “I can’t pledge my support to the hikui, Highness, but neither will I openly oppose her. That is the best I can offer. I beg you not to ask any more of me.”
Raidan felt some of the tension in his body drain away. “I will accept that,” he replied, then addressed the entire assembly. “Make no mistake, my lords and ladies,” he intoned. “I have no plans to give up my life or my throne, should it come to me through my brother’s death. My niece has made it clear she has no desire to be queen, and will assume that burden only if forced to by necessity. But know this. I have the utmost faith in her ability to lead the elven people.”