Everyone took in what had been said. Whill suddenly saw the scope of their dilemma. The scale of battle would be huge, with Eadon having all the advantages. Eadon had successfully cut off the allies and would bring war to each of their lands, making a collective effort virtually impossible.
Mathus gazed at the map as if in a trance. Finally he said, “Then what are we to do? We cannot send our troops to Isladon if invasion of our own lands is imminent.”
Avriel rose. “That is just what Eadon hopes we will think. He hopes that now that we see the grand scheme, we will lose heart and hunker down in a defensive stand, one that will not hold. Perhaps his grip on Isladon is not so strong.”
“I doubt that it is,” Mathus agreed. “Isladon has been under siege for not three weeks. They will not be taken so easily.”
“Then we send a force to help Isladon, to take up the fight and try to gain back those lands. Roakore, I suggest sending word to Elgar Mountain to fortify their doors and ready their army, the greatest army ever to gather within those great halls. Together, Elladrindellia and the Elgar should take and secure the eastern shore of Uther-Arden. We will take Fendora Island and its Arden navy ships there.”
“Aye!” said Roakore. “An’ the Ky’dren forces, along with the Eldalon army, will gather a great force at the Ky’dren Pass, as we’ve done many times before. Never before has an enemy taken the pass, not when dwarves and men stood side by side.”
Mathus smiled wide. “Very true, friend. At the same time, I will unleash the Eldalon navy and send reinforcements to Eldon Island.”
Avriel pointed to Elladrindellia. “From here we can send a force of at least two thousand by sea to aid in the battle for Isladon. We would send more, but we must secure our borders as well.”
“Aye, and Ky’dren can send a land force of at least two thousand to meet with yer people in Isladon.”
“I will send fifty warships, and a force of five thousand soldiers to Isladon,” Mathus said.
Zerafin rose. “Then it is agreed. We have our plan. All of this must happen at the same time, and as soon as possible.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
That night the companions shared a dinner with the king, the last time they would all be together. It was decided that Tarren would remain in Eldalon and would begin the training he sought within the academy. Roakore was to leave the next day upon a naval vessel that would bring him to Sherna, and from there he would travel to Ky’Dren. It was determined that the road was too unsafe for Whill, Abram, and the elves to travel, so the discussion began on the safest way to get Whill to Elladrindellia.
“I do not doubt that Travvikonis is watching the roads leading from Kell-Torey,” said Abram. “No doubt the Eagle Riders are keeping an unseen eye upon those roads.” The meal was done, and Abram’s ever-present after-dinner pipe hung lazily from his mouth. If he was worried about the events about to unfold, it was not evident. Roakore, on the other hand, appeared as tense as a bowstring.
“Gimme a pint o’ Eldalonian brew, lass,” he said to one of the many servants clearing the table. “Now, as ye all be knowing, I got over two thousand dwarves o’ me own mountain within Ky’Dren. Tougher than stone they are, an’ eager as all hell to take back our mountain. I think that meself and me boys should lead the charge into the mountain. With my two thousand and the two thousand Ky’Dren, we should be able to rout the beasts from the tunnels.”
“Hold, good dwarf!” said Mathus. “I admire your bravery, and that of your kin….”
“But?” asked Roakore.
“But we have discussed the liberation of Isladon. We cannot split our forces between the mountain and the battleground.”
“Aye, but you have forgotten Whill’s vision. He saw a vast black army o’ Draggard emptying from within the mountain, a slaughter o’ the forces we be set to gather. Whatever our strategy be, it cannot be one that allows that vision to become reality.” He looked around the room. “Am I alone in me reckoning?”
“That is true,” Avriel said, “but neither can we hope to rout the estimated one hundred thousand Draggard from within the mountain.”
“Bah!” spat Roakore. “Speak fer yerself.”
“One thing we can count on,” Zerafin said, “is that the battle will take place at the foot of the mountain. Whill has seen it. Also, it makes strategic sense for Addakon and Eadon to make it so. Therefore we must devise a way to storm the beaches east of the mountain, perhaps Sentary. We should group up there within that coast town and make the march to Drindale, where I do not doubt the mass of Arden forces are stationed.”
Abram blew a smoke-ring and nodded. “But the problem still remains: how to avoid the imminent slaughter that will come from the very mountain we march on?”
Roakore slammed the table, startling Whill. “I got it! Haha, we’ll blast the main entrance outta the tunnel! The eastern door is the route they will likely be takin-there ain’t another one for fifteen miles north er south. They’ll have to make a roundabout trip to get to the battle that’ll take ’em hours. All we’ll need is ’bout two thousand pounds o’ blastin’ powder. The eastern door has a huge overhang above it, a slab o’ rock big as one o’ these castle towers. If we can drop that on ’em, they won’t be fer comin’ out too soon.”
Whill spoke up excitedly. “Yes, and if Eadon and Addakon have been waiting to unleash the Draggard during the battle, they will not have bolstered the Arden forces stationed at the foot of the mountain. They will be weaker than we may have thought.”
“Or,” Avriel said, and waited a moment for the excitement to pass. “Or they have prepared for such a thing and have built other exit tunnels.”
“Bah!” Roakore spat once again. “I seen the tunnel I speak o’, me lady. That pass is tunneled through a mile and a half o’ thick stone. It took me ancestors two years to build that tunnel.”
“Yes, good dwarf, but the Draggard have had twenty years.”
“Aye, but they ain’t dwarves, is they, good elf?”
“It is no matter,” Mathus said. “They would have had to plan the creation of another exit tunnel years ago to have it done, and you are correct, Roakore, they are not dwarves. The Draggard are animals and nothing more. They could not accomplish such a task.”
“No, they could not,” Zerafin agreed. “But a very powerful Dark elf could create such a tunnel in a short amount of time.”
Roakore scoffed at that. “Yer saying that elves are better diggers then me kin, that such a task is but a small thing to accomplish?”
“No, no, that is not it at all. I speak only the truth. The Dark elves have power beyond reckoning, and they have no morals to stop them from attaining their power. To them, all is there for them to take. Nothing is safe, nothing is sacred. Imagine if you will a Dark elf with no respect for any other living thing. His only purpose in life is to gain power beyond comprehension. Now imagine that he has a vessel to store that gained power, and a hundred years to collect it. He has the power to melt the very stone you speak of with only a thought, and the resources to see it through. I do not boast of the Dark elves’ power, Roakore. I only speak the truth so we may all realize what we face.”
Roakore looked as though he would speak but then lowered his head, eyes fixed up his calloused hands.