He looked at Wren. “What are your thoughts, my lady? I am certain you have assessed the situation on your own.”
Again she was ready. “It seems our choices are these. Either we fortify Arborlon and await the Federation army here or we take our army out to meet them.”
“Go out to meet them?” Barsimmon Oridio was aghast. His heavy frame shifted combatively, and his aged face furrowed. “You have said yourself they have ten times our strength. What point would there be in forcing a battle?”
“It would give us the advantage of not letting them dictate time and place and circumstance,” she replied. She was still standing, keeping her vantage point so that she could continue to look down at them and they up at her. “And I said nothing about forcing a battle.”
Again there was silence. Barsimmon Oridio flushed. “But you said that—”
“She said we could go out and meet them,” Eton Shart interrupted. He was sitting forward now, interested. “She did not say anything about fighting them.” His gaze stayed on Wren “But what would we do once we were out there, my lady?”
“Harass them. Draw them off. Hit and run. Whatever it takes to delay them. Fight them if we get a chance to hurt them badly, but avoid a direct confrontation where we would lose.”
“Delay them,” the first minister repeated thoughtfully. “But sooner or later they will catch up to us—or reach Arborlon. Then what?”
“We would be better off spending the time setting traps, fortifying the city, and gathering in supplies,” Perek Arundel offered. “We withstood the demons when the Ellcrys failed two hundred years ago. We can withstand the Federation as well.”
Barsimmon Oridio grunted and shook his head. “Study your history, Perek. The gates to the city were taken and we were overrun. If the young girl Chosen hadn’t transformed into the Ellcrys anew, it would have been over for us.” He swung his heavy head away. “Besides, we had allies in that fight—not many, but a few, some Dwarves and the Legion Free Corps.”
“Perhaps we shall have allies again,” Wren declared suddenly, bringing all eyes back to her. “There are free-born in the mountains north of Callahorn, a sizable number, the Dwarf Resistance in the Eastland, and the Troll nations north. Some of them might be persuaded to help us.”
“Not likely,” the general of her armies said gruffly, incisively, declaring the matter at an end. “Why should they?”
Wren had brought the discussion to where she wanted it; she had the Council listening to her, looking for an answer to what seemed an unsolvable dilemma.
She straightened. “Because we’ll give them a reason, Bar.” She used his nickname easily, familiarly, the way Ellenroh had. “Because we’ll give them something they didn’t have before. Unity. The Races united against their enemies in a common cause. A chance to destroy the Shadowen.”
Eton Shart smiled faintly. “Words, my lady. What do they mean?”
She faced him. He was her biggest hurdle in this business. She had to have his support. “I’ll tell you what they mean, Eton. They mean that for the first time in three centuries we have a chance to win.” She paused for emphasis. “Do you remember what brought me in search of the Elves, First Minister? Let me tell the story once again.”
And she did, all of it, from the journey to the Hadeshorn and the Shade of Allanon to the search for Morrowindl and Arborlon. She repeated Allanon’s charges to the Ohmsfords. She had shown no one the Elfstones save Triss, but she brought them out now as she finished her tale, dumped them in her hand, and held them out to be seen.
“This is my legacy,” she said, shifting the hand with the Elfstones from face to face. “I did not want it, did not ask for it, and more than once have wished it gone. But I promised my grandmother I would use it on behalf of the Elves and I will. Magic to combat magic. The Shadowen must deal with me and with the others the shade of Allanon has called upon—my kindred in some instances, but whoever is destined to wield the Sword of Shannara and the Druid power. I think all the talismans have been brought back, not just the Elfstones—all the magics that the Shadowen fear. If we can combine their power and unite the men and women of the free-born and the Resistance and perhaps even the Trolls of the Northland, we have the chance we need to win this fight.”
Eton Shart shook his head. “There are a great many conditions attached to all of this, my lady.”
“Life is filled with conditions, First Minister,” she replied. “Nothing is guaranteed. Nothing is assured. Especially for us. But remember this. The Shadowen come from us, and their magic is ours. We created them. We gave them life through our misguided efforts to recapture something that was best left in the past. Like it or not, they are our responsibility. Ellenroh knew this when she decided we must come back into the Four Lands. We are here, First Minister, to set things right. We are here to put an end to what we started.”
“And you will lead us in this, of course?”
He put just enough emphasis on the question to convey his own doubts that she possessed the strength and ability to do so. Wren fought down her anger.
“I am Queen,” she pointed out quietly.
Eton Shart nodded. “But you are very young, my lady. And you have not ruled long. You must expect some hesitation from those of us who have helped govern longer.”
“What I expect is your support, First Minister.”
“Unconditional support for anyone would be foolish.”
“A reluctance to acknowledge that there may be wisdom in youth would be foolish as well. Get to the point.”
Eton Shart’s bland face tightened. There was an uncomfortable shifting about the table. No one was looking at him. He was as alone in this as Wren.
“I am not questioning you...” he began.
“Yes, you are, First Minister,” she snapped.
“You must remember that I was not there when you were named Queen, my lady, and I—”
“Stop right there!” She was furious now, and she did not bother to hide it. “You are right, Eton Shart. You were not there. You were not there to see Ellenroh Elessedil die. Or Gavilan. Or the Owl. Or Eowen Cerise. You were not there to see Garth give his life for ours in our fight against the Wisteron. You did not have to help him die, First Minister, as I did, because to let him live would have condemned him to become one of the Shadowen!”
She steadied herself with an effort. “I gave up everything to save the Elves—my past, my freedom, my friends, everything. I do not begrudge that. I did it because my grandmother asked it of me, and I loved her. I did it because the Elves are my people, and while I have been gone from them a long time I am still one of them. One of you, First Minister. I am finished explaining myself. I have nothing to answer for to you or anyone. Either I am Queen or I am not. Ellenroh believed me so. That was enough for me; it ought to be enough for you. This debate ends here.”
She let her gaze rest heavily on Eton Shart. “We must be friends and allies, First Minister, if we are to have any chance against the Federation and the Shadowen. There must be trust between us, not doubt. It will not always be easy, but we must work to understand each other. We must support and encourage, not belittle and deride. There is no room in our lives for anything less. Though we might wish it otherwise, we must accept what fate has decreed for us.”
She took a deep breath, looking away to the others. “As Ellenroh once did, I ask for your support. I think we must go out to meet the Federation army and deal with it as we determine best. I think we shall discover that there are others who will help us. Hiding will gain us nothing. Isolating ourselves is exactly what the Federation hopes for. We must not give them the satisfaction of finding us frightened and alone. We are the oldest people on the earth, and we must act the part. We must provide leadership for the people of the other, younger Races. We must give them hope.”
She looked at them. “Who stands with me?”