Konnal’s eyes widened momentarily, but he was too shrewd to reveal much of his alarm at this prospect. Instead, he merely shrugged. “If that is your wish, I shall make my preparations at once.”
“It’s not my wish, and you know it! My men need some time—a fortnight, at least—with their wives and their families. Time to let the nightmares settle, to remember why we embark on these battles.”
“Two weeks, then?” Konnal suggested. “Then you will move against the delta?”
“Two weeks, and then the last battle begins. Now go away, General Konnal.” Porthios had lost all pretense of politeness; this conversation had left a foul taste in his mouth. “I am suddenly reminded that I need a bath.”
“I admit, through it all, that Porthios was a worthy foe,” the dragon said pensively. “Much more capable than that imbecile he replaced, Konnal.”
“Yet you promised to kill him!” accused the younger elf.
The wyrm sniffed. “He was a foe, after all.”
“And the traitor?” asked the elder elf, still holding the lance pressed firmly against the dragon’s scaly breast. “He carried through with his promises?”
“He was as good as his word,” admitted the green dragon.
Chapter Three
A Council in Silvanost
“And so I place the matter before you, esteemed nobles, honored lords, and all Silvanesti who take an interest in the future: The island in the Thon-Thalas delta is the last remaining outpost of Lorac’s nightmare. It is a broad place, flat and festering, but it is surrounded by water and thus isolated from the rest of the land.”
Porthios looked across the ranks of gowned and robed elves gathered in the great chamber at the base of the Tower of Stars. This was the Sinthal-Elish, the ruling body of Silvanesti. He had their attention, and he knew what he needed to say.
“Isolated though it is, it cannot be allowed to stand. The island morass blocks trade, barring all seafaring traffic between us and other realms. Too, it stands as a symbol of the nightmare that has been our legacy for too long. I ask you now, the elven citizens who are the true rulers of this hallowed land, to authorize one more campaign. The Kirath, our bold scouts, have reconnoitered the place. The leader of the Kirath, Aleaha Takmarin, has reported to me personally.
“The delta, like all the rest of the realm that had languished under corruption and evil, is vulnerable to a combined operation. We will use troops and wizards and the healers of House Woodshaper, employing the three-pronged approach that has served us so well throughout the past three decades. We will root out the corruption at its very foundation and use the skills and artistry of our greatest minds to restore the fen to the pastoral grove that it once was.”
“Hear, hear!” The stamping of feet came from all around, and other elves whistled softly to indicate their approval. The clamor, as was the way with elven outbursts, quickly faded as a young, handsome elf clad in a robe and the silver sandals of an ancient noble house stepped forward.
Porthios bowed toward the proud Silvanesti. “I recognize you, Dolphius. Please share your words with the Sinthal-Elish.”
Dolphius returned the bow with serene dignity and turned on the steps just below the dais where Porthios stood. The lord looked at the gathered elves, waiting with the patience of a born speaker until the room had grown absolutely still.
“I offer a resolution of commendation for our esteemed marshal, Porthios of House Solostaran. Not only has he selflessly devoted his life toward the restoration of a land that is not his native realm, but he has also done so in a manner that we can only label as impeccably proper and selflessly devoted. Therefore, good lords and ladies, all elves of Silvanesti, I suggest we declare that upon his return from this last campaign, we declare a holiday and that our greatest artists and musicians prepare an homage to an elf who must be regarded as a great hero of our people.”
Again came the foot-shuffling applause, this time maintained for a surprisingly—and, to Porthios, embarrassingly—long time. As Dolphius returned to his stool and the sounds again faded, the marshal found himself compelled to speak.
“You do me great honor, people of my wife’s homeland. And I shall be grateful for the acknowledgment—after our campaign is successful. But I beg you not to forget that the restoration of Silvanesti has been a task faced by countless numbers of Silvanesti as well. Indeed, without the use of the dedicated and capable army that the nation has raised and supported, none of these campaigns would have even been possible.”
“And it is worth noting—” General Konnal’s voice came from his seat high on the side of the chamber; he rose from his stool and stood straight and tall, allowing all eyes in the chamber to locate him—“that this final campaign has yet to be fought and the results determined. It is on this matter that I have a proposal to make.”
“Speak, General, please,” Porthios declared, his own dignity highlighting the other elf’s lack of manners in his interruption.
“I join my esteemed colleague, the lord Dolphius, in expressing our gratitude toward the royal elf of Qualinesti who has devoted so much of his time to our problems,” Konnal began. His tone was free from irony, but somehow he still managed to state the name of the western realm as if it were a distasteful word.
“At the same time, we have reached a point where we can begin to assess the end of the long war of reclamation that has so long been the focus of our populace, our army... and, not least, our treasury.”
Konnal sighed, an exaggerated gesture that emphasized the weariness brought about by the long years of war. “Naturally we must insure the success of this last venture, the expedition to annihilate the final, lingering corner of the nightmare from our realm. With the esteemed Marshal Porthios leading the way, we can be all but certain of success.”
“Get on with it, Konnal,” called Dolphius, gently mocking. “Where do you want to pinch pennies this time?”
“My honored colleague, the lord, has brought us to the heart of the matter, as usual, without wasting time on the niceties of formal debate. Naturally I am grateful.” Konnal bestowed a dazzling smile on Dolphius, who frowned and gestured in irritation.
“My proposal is this: Since the impending mission is, for once, directed against a part of the realm that is, by our marshal’s own admission, water-bound and isolated from the rest of Silvanesti, we suggest that the campaign function with the use of but ten companies of the Wildrunners, instead of the twenty that have generally formed the backbone of Porthios Solostaran’s army. The savings in steel coin will be significant, not to mention that it will begin to allow many of our brave warriors, those who have given so much over the last three decades, to commence a return to the routines of normal life.”
Inevitably there were murmurs of protest and several outright shouts of derision. Porthios himself kept his expression bland. He was grateful for the support of so many of these elves, and he knew that it was politic for him to allow them to make his objections for him. Not surprisingly, it was Dolphius who rose, waited for Porthios to acknowledge him, and then turned to address the council in stentorian tones.
“The esteemed general, scion of an ancient house, proud bearer of Silvanesti standards handed down through long generations, has, as usual, failed to grasp the necessary prerequisites of modern day operations. His logic, where it is not utterly flawed, is so misguided as to represent a significant departure from rational thought. Perhaps, as is not inconceivable, he spoke without any such cogitation and would even now like to retract his remarks, remove his proposal from the table?”