Douglas Niles - Circle at center

“I’ve tried to explain to you about these Delvers,” he declared. “They’d be delighted to hear you talk like this, because before you make up your minds they would destroy you! I have no doubt that Zystyl, their captain, would personally eat the hearts of a dozen elves in celebration of his victory!”

That graphic suggestion, at least, caused the blood to drain from many an elven face. And Karkald didn’t seem inclined to let up. “Can you imagine what it would be like, a hundred faceless dwarves, protected in black steel from head to toe, each carrying two wicked knives. They whirl them, and advance shoulder to shoulder. Some of you might try to stand and fight-and you’d be cut to pieces. The rest, those who run, would have to keep running, and hiding. And even then the Delvers would smell you, and they’d come for you, and your children, and your world!”

“Enough!” shrieked Rallaphan, his face taut, veins bulging on forehead and neck. “You have no voice here-you are an outsider, and you have no right to defile our chambers!”

“You think this is defilement?” the dwarf replied with a snort. “Just wait-I know you can do that. I can see you’re damned good at doing nothing. As for me, I’ll stand with the gnomes and anyone else who wants to be a warrior. I will fight, in this world, against the enemy of my own homeland.”

“Then you must go to the Blue Swan Inn,” Belynda said to Karkald and the gnomes. The elven delegates hissed and murmured in soft objection, but even Rallaphan refrained from raising his voice. The sage-ambassador raised her voice, sweeping her eyes across the chamber to include everyone present in her response.

“And pray to the Goddess Worldweaver that we are not too late!”

“Good sir, can I speak with you, please?”

This humble elf was the innkeeper, Natac knew-the fellow had been pointed out by Tamarwind as soon as the company had reached the Blue Swan Inn. Jared Innkeeper was his name, and despite his nondescript appearance and slight size, the scout had identified him as a very influential citizen of Nayve.

“I have only a minute-what do you want?” the warrior asked ungraciously. He begrudged even this tiny shift of his focus, but in truth he knew there was little else he could do now. His warriors were deployed, and they could only wait for the enemy to appear.

“We hear that there’s an army on the way-coming here!” stated the elf, his words tumbling out in a rush.

“Yes… it was my order that you be told. Have you evacuated the inn?”

“Well, no. It’s just that… you see, we’ve never done anything like this before.” The frail elf strove to stand straight, to meet Natac’s eyes. “And, well… there are many families living here, the elves who maintain the inn. Not to mention guests. And we really don’t want to leave.”

Natac looked toward the ridge crest, the horizon where the highway came over the hill. There was still no sign of the Crusaders, nor of the scouts he had placed up there to bring early warning. He tried to contain his exasperation, reminding himself that war was an utterly foreign concept to the people of Nayve.

“I understand how you feel. In fact, neither myself nor these elves and giants who are with me would choose to be here now, if given a choice. But the matter has been taken out of our hands by the actions of an enemy, one who comes here with the intent to destroy and to kill.”

“I am trying to grasp this,” said the elf with obvious sincerity. Natac felt a flash of sympathy. Naturally, the fellow’s age wasn’t apparent, but the warrior assumed he was the patriarch of a sizable clan. Perhaps they had operated this inn for a thousand years, or more. “And you are here to resist that enemy, correct?”

“Yes… we will fight them if they try to come onto the causeway.”

“Then… can you not fight them before they come into the Blue Swan?”

Natac drew a deep breath. How could he briefly explain about tactics? About hanging flanks and untenable positions? Before he spoke, Deltan Columbine came up.

“I think Jared Innkeeper makes a strong point,” said the elven poet. “We intend to fight. Why don’t we fight for this inn? It’s beautiful… it has a history that goes back further than two generations of elves. And it is visible from Circle at Center-a very symbol of Nayve.”

“If we put our warriors in the inn, then the Crusaders can simply go around us and get on the causeway,” Natac argued. “The whole city is open to them.”

“What if we try to hold the bridge and the inn?” Deltan suggested. “Owen and the giants can stand at the bridge, and the elves can hold the inn.”

Natac shook his head. “The giants are not enough to hold the bridge-not if the enemy comes through the stream.”

“Perhaps we can prevent that.”

Miradel’s voice from behind him sent a jolt of happiness through Natac. He turned to embrace his teacher, saw that she had come across the causeway with Juliay and several other druids. “How can you prevent a crossing of the stream?” asked the warrior. Beyond the druids, another column of recruits-short, bearded figures bearing a variety of implements as weapons-marched resolutely toward the bridge.

“It is the same magic that raises the Snakesea raft,” explained a tall male human, a man with a flowing beard and long, bronze-colored hair. “We can fill the stream with so much water that anyone trying to cross will be swept out to the lake.”

“Oh, brave warrior-is it possible?” asked Jared Innkeeper. “Can you block the causeway, and save the inn?”

With a scowl, Natac glowered at his companions. “What if Sir Christopher sends some of his men through the tunnel? They’ll come out right between the inn and the bridge. We’ll be trapped.”

“Not with us to watch your back.”

Natac saw that the dwarf Karkald had arrived with the next group of reinforcements. Karkald and his wife had led a column of gnomes, a hundred or more strong, across the causeway from the city. The stubby little people were armed with big knives, pitchforks, staffs, and clubs. A few of them had crossbows and quivers of small, metal-tipped darts.

“Can you position yourselves across the gap?” asked the Tlaxcalan, knowing that the dwarf-out of everyone present-had some grasp of combat tactics.

“Yes-we’ll keep an eye on the tunnel,” declared Karkald, while Nistel nodded eagerly at his side.

Natac looked for Belynda and didn’t see her. “Any hope of more reinforcements, some elves from the city, perhaps?”

Karkald growled and spat. It was Nistel who answered. “They… I think they’re too frightened. Anyway, it didn’t seem like any of them were in a hurry to help.”

Natac looked at the ridge again… no sign of alarm there. He looked at the inn, trying to see its defensive strengths, if any. There was a high balcony encircling the upper stories. From there, the archers could shoot unimpeded in every direction. But there were too many doors, and the building was made entirely of wood. If Sir Christopher attacked with fire, the results could be disastrous.

Yet Natac knew the value of a strong symbol, and suspected that value would only be enhanced in the eyes of young, untested warriors. And the inn stood visible even from Circle at Center… Perhaps it might prove a rallying point, if they could just withstand the first onslaught. Critically he eyed the ground. The archers could do some damage from the inn, harassing any Crusaders who tried to bypass the position to attack the bridge. If they were forced out, they could possibly fall back to the boats in the harbor, or else try and battle their way to the causeway. It was worth a try.

“Very well,” he said. “Deltan, move your archers onto the balcony up there. The rest should take up positions inside, behind the doors and windows.” He looked at Jared Innkeeper. “Get your strongest elves. Grab weapons-knives, garden tools, axes. And get ready to defend your home.”