That night, Laurana held another council of war — and again Mellison was present to record the first part of the discussions.
"We must take up a defensive position!" Sir Patrick urged. "I admit, my general, that your leadership has carried us to victories beyond my wildest dreams. But now — we still don't know where the Emperor's main body is. The clouds mask our entire right flank while we march in the open, day after day! The attack could come with barely an hour's warning. And if it catches us in line of march, we will be smashed and broken in detail!"
"Bah!" Gilthanas — undoubtedly nervous himself — exploded in a rare show of temper. "These dragons are not defensive creatures! If you tie them to one location, you deprive them of their strength. Can't you knights force that fact through your Oath-and-Measure-bound skulls?"
Sir Patrick stiffened, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, but the Golden General stepped smoothly between the two. Laurana did not involve herself in the quarrel. Instead, she turned to Lord Sword. "And you, my lord, do you have thoughts on this topic?"
That white-whiskered veteran sighed and shook his head. "I don't know what to believe any more, general. For a certainty you have shown us the value of speed and movement. But Sir Patrick makes a valid point. Without knowledge of the enemy's location, how can we know where to move?"
The elven princess pondered the lord's words, then turned to Sir Caerscion and Sir Markham, who had remained silent up until this point.
"And you, good sirs?" Laurana asked. "Do you counsel a stand here, on the plain?"
"I do, general," Sir Caerscion replied. "With a few days to prepare entrenchments, and a good scouting effort, we can make a strong position. The Dark Lady will find us and attack, but we will meet her forces well-rested and prepared to fight."
"But if we stop, the Highlord will be able to strike us with every weapon at her disposal. That includes the Red Wing — and we still don't know where the reserve army is. Whereas, if we keep moving we force the enemy to keep pursuing. It is far less likely that they will gather the concentration they could muster if we stopped." Markham's remarks provoked a scowl of angry disapproval from Sir Patrick.
Laurana smiled, pleasantly surprised by the young captain's observations. "Exactly! That's why we resume the march, tomorrow, but with a change in course."
"AGAIN!" cried Patrick in exasperation. "If you must march, let us at least fall back on Palanthas!"
"We will, Sir Patrick. Only not quite that far. Our destination is the final battleground. And that — I mean to ensure — will be our own choosing."
Lord Sword gestured to the flat plains stretching away on all sides. "One patch of the grass is pretty much like another."
"For the most part," Laurana agreed. "But there are exceptions."
The others paused, curious to know what she would tell them next. Markham had a half-smile on his face. Lord Sword and Sir Caerscion waited with obvious apprehension. Gilthanas seemed bored and restless, his eyes drifting over to the great silver dragon resting beyond the fringes of the fire.
Sir Patrick, of course, scowled in preliminary displeasure. Finally he could hold his tongue no longer. "Exceptions?" he grumbled.
"Exactly," announced the Golden General. "Exceptions like rivers. That's why, as soon as we reach the near bank, we will again cross the Vingaard."
The council paused as the captains registered their surprise in raised eyebrows or shrewd squints. For once, however, the knights did not greet their general's plan with a chorus of objections — the advantages of her plan were obvious to all of them. Once they had crossed to the west bank — or the north, actually, for the river had already begun its broad sweep eastward toward Kalaman — they would place the river as barrier between them and the dragonarmies of the Red and Blue Wings.
"But don't we allow them the chance to concentrate their forces? We've labored long to avoid giving them the opportunity until now," ventured Sir Markham perceptively.
Laurana frowned. Her face, in the play of the slowly fad ing fire, took on again that look of age. Lines of strain lingered in shadows around her cheeks and her eyes.
"We do," she admitted. "My hope is that Ariakus and Kitiara will see their quarry slipping back to the safety of the High Clerist's Tower and come after us in a hurry. If the Red Wing reaches the river first, we can goad it into crossing before the reserve army or the Blue Wing can join up."
"And if they don't?" suggested Sir Patrick, belligerently.
"You were right in the observation you made before, Sir Patrick," Laurana said, causing the knight to clamp his mouth shut and blink his eyes in surprise. "The clouds over the Dargaard Range hide our foes from us. If we remain this far east, the entire assembled dragonarmy can strike us before we have time to react. That's why we need the river."
"Will we fly the troops across again?" asked Lord Sword, with a worried look. "That was a slow process, and we couldn't expect to do it uninterrupted a second time."
"We'll have to," Sir Caerscion noted. "There is a ford in the bend of the River — Margaard Ford, I believe it's called — but it's certain to be too dangerous to use at this time of year. The current would carry an armored knight and his warhorse away, not to mention the poor blighters on foot."
"It may be that we can use the ford. I won't know until tomorrow. I am weary, gentlemen. I bid you good night." Laurana turned away, and only Mellison saw the smile that creased the general's lips. By her remark about the ford, it was obvious Laurana's plan was already in her mind, though she did not share it with anyone.
So the army once more broke camp before the dawn, turning back toward the Vingaard. The mighty river, no more than ten miles away, to the northwest, was swollen by the spring melt. By the end of a single day of marching, the entire army reached the bank — but even before then, Laurana had embarked upon the next part of her plan.
As the army marched toward Margaard Ford, the Golden General dispatched her" brass and bronze dragons to the edge of the cloud bank, there to patrol and watch for signs of the emerging dragonarmies. Meanwhile, Laurana, mounted on her gold dragon, flew southward, toward the tightest bottleneck of the Narrows. She took all of the silver dragons with her, including the mighty Silvara with her brother Gilthanas astride.
"We followed her without question," Gilthanas reported to his brother, Porthios, by letter. "By this time, our faith in Laurana was absolute — even the gruff captains of the knightly orders had begun to treat her with a 'measure' of respect!
"I have traveled along the bank of the Narrows, and there can be no doubt as to the site Laurana selected for the work of the silver dragons: gray walls of granite rise a hundred feet on either side of the river, forcing the wide Vingaard through a ravine merely two hundred feet wide. In spring, the swollen river becomes an angry torrent, cascading through a forest of boulders, its waters churned into a chaotic maelstrom.
"Less than half a mile beyond, the gorge walls fall away and the river returns to its wide, deceptively placid flow. It remains thus tamed throughout its course to Margaard Ford, some fifty miles to the north of the Narrows. In the spring, at the time of the battle, the water was at its highest, raging around the crests of the boulders that dot the bed, roaring angrily against anything daring enough to enter this channel.
"But the silver dragons entered, and they landed on these boulders — fighting for purchase on the slick rocks, some of the serpents slipping into the water and splashing back into the air after being swept far downstream. Finally, some perched on the wave-swept crests of stone, others crouched on the rocky banks. Their long necks stretched downward to the water, the great serpents awaited the further commands of their Golden General.