“My Lady, that is not so!” Barsimmon Oridio could keep silent no longer. “The army would have rallied. It would have prevailed. Phaeton took too many chances or he would still be alive!”
“He took those chances to save us!” Ellenroh was stone faced. “Do not speak unkindly of him, Commander. I forbid it.” The big man’s scowl deepened. “Bar.” the queen spoke gently now, the warmth in her voice evident. “I was there. I saw it happen.”
She waited until his fierce eyes lowered, then turned her gaze again to the table at large. “The Keel will not protect us much longer. I have used the Ruhk Staff to strengthen it, but I cannot do so again or we risk losing its power altogether. And that, my friends, I cannot allow. I have called you together then to tell you that I have decided on another course of action.”
She turned to Wren. “This is my granddaughter, Wren, the child of Alleyne, sent to us out of the old world as Eowen Cerise foresaw. She appears, the foretelling promises, in order that the Elves should be saved. I have waited for her to come for many years, not really believing that she would or that if she did she could do anything for us. i did not want her to come, in truth, because I was afraid that I would lose her as I lost Alleyne.”
She reached over and touched Wren’s cheek softly with her fingers. “I am still afraid. But Wren is here despite my fears, having crossed the vast expanse of the Blue Divide and braved the terrors of the demons to sit now with us. I can no longer doubt that she is meant to save us, just as Eowen foretold.” She paused. “Wren neither fully believes nor understands this yet.” Her eyes were warm as they found Wren’s own. “She has come to Arborlon for reasons of her own. The shade of Allanon summoned her and dispatched her to find us. The Four Lands, it seems, are beset by demons of their own, creatures called Shadowen. We are needed, the shade insists, if the Four Lands are to be preserved.”
“What happens in the Four Lands is not our problem, my Lady,” Eton Shart advised calmly.
She turned to face him. “Yes, First Minister, that is exactly what we have said for more than a hundred years, haven’t we? But what if we are wrong? What if our problem is also theirs? What if, contrary to what we have believed, the fates of all are linked together and survival depends on the forging of a common bond? Wren, tell those gathered how you came to find me. Tell them everything that was told to you by the Druid’s shade and the old man. Tell them as well of the Elfstones. It will be all right now. It is time they knew.”
So Wren related once more the story of how she and Garth had come to Arborlon, beginning with the dreams and ending with her discovery of who she was. She spoke hesitantly of the Elfstones, uncertain still that she should reveal their presence. But the queen nodded encouragingly when she began, so she left nothing out. When she was finished, there was silence. Those seated at the table exchanged uncertain glances. Gavilan stared at her as if seeing her for the first time.
“Now do you understand why I think it impossible to ignore any longer what takes place beyond Morrowindl?” the queen asked quietly.
“My Lady, I believe we understand,” the Owl said, “but we need to hear now what you propose to do.”
Ellenroh nodded. “Yes, Aurin Striate, you do.” The room went still once more. “There is nothing left for us here on Morrowindl,” she said finally. “Therefore, it is time for us to leave, to return to the old world, and to become a part of it once again. Our days of disappearance and isolation are finished. It is time to use the Loden.”
Gavilan was on his feet instantly. “Aunt Ell, no! We can’t just give up! How do we know the Loden even works after all this time? It’s just a story! And what about the Keel’s magic? If we leave, it’s lost! We can’t do such a thing!”
Wren heard Barsimmon Oridio growl in agreement.
“Gavilan!” Ellenroh was furious. “We are in council. You will address me properly!”
Gavilan flushed. “I apologize, my Lady.”
“Now sit down!” the queen snapped. Gavilan sat. “It seems to me that we owe our present predicament to indecision. We have failed to act for too long. We have allowed fate to dictate our choices for us. We have struggled with the magic even after it became apparent to all of us that we could no longer depend upon it.”
“My Lady!” a pale-faced Eton Shart cautioned hurriedly.
“Yes, I know,” Ellenroh responded. She did not look directly at Wren, but there was a flicker of movement in her eyes that told the girl that the warning had been given because of her.
“My Lady, you are asking that we give up the magic entirely?”
The queen’s nod was curt. “It no longer serves much purpose to retain it, does it, First Minister?”
“But, as young Gavilan says, we have no way of knowing if the Loden will do as we expect.”
“If it fails, we have lost nothing. Except, perhaps, any chance of escape.”
“But escape, my Lady, is not necessarily the answer we are looking for. Perhaps help from another source...”
“Eton.” The queen cut him short. “Consider what you are suggesting. What other source is there? Do you propose to summon more magic still? Do we use what we have in another way, convert it to some further horror, perhaps? Or are we to seek help from the very people we abandoned to the Federation years ago?”
“We have the army, my Lady,” a glowering Barsimmon Oridio declared.
“Yes, Bar, we do. For the moment. But we cannot regenerate those lives that are lost. That magic we lack. Every new assault takes more of our Hunters. The demons materialize out of the very air, it seems. If we stay, we won’t have an army much longer.”
She shook her head slowly, her smile ironic. “I know what I am asking. If we return Arborlon and the Elves to the world of Men, to the Four Lands and their Races, the magic will be lost. We will be as we were in the old days. But maybe that is enough. Maybe it will have to be.”
Those seated about the table regarded her in silence, their faces a mix of anger, doubt, and wonder.
“I don’t understand about the magic,” Wren said finally, unable just to continue sitting there while the questions piled up inside. “What do you mean when you say the magic will be lost if you leave Morrowindl?”
Ellenroh turned to face her. “I keep forgetting, Wren, that you are not versed in Elven lore and know little yet of the origins of the magic. I will try to make this simple. If I invoke the Loden, as I intend to do, Arborlon and the Elves will be gathered within the Elfstone for the journey back to the Westland. When that happens, the magic that shields the city falls away. The only magic left then is that which comes from the Loden and protects what is carried within. When Arborlon is restored, that magic ceases as well. The Loden, you see, has only one use, and once put to that use, its magic fades.”
Wren shook her head in confusion. “But what about the way it restored the Keel where the demons breached it? What of that?”
“Indeed. I appropriated some of the same magic that the Loden requires to transport the city and its people. In short, I stole some of its power. But using that power to shore up the Keel drains what is needed for the Elfstone’s primary use.” Ellenroh paused. “Wren, you are aware by now that the Elves recaptured some of the magic they had once wielded in the time of faerie. They did so after discovering that the magic had its source in the earth and its elements. Even before we came to Morrowindl, years ago, long before my time, a decision was made to attempt a recovery.” She paused. “That effort was not entirely successful. Eventually it was abandoned completely. What magic was left went into the formation of the Keel. But the magic exists only so long as there is need. Once the city is gone, the need is gone. When that happens, the magic disappears.”