R. Salvatore - Echoes of the Fourth Magic

Arien glanced around, well aware that this speech wasn’t for his benefit-Ryell knew well that he would never sway him on this matter-it was for the ears of the other second-born, who were as fed up as Ryell with hiding in fear. Lochsilinilume was no dictatorship; the will of the council could force concessions from the Eldar.

Several conversations began all at once and it quickly became apparent that the council would be hopelessly divided by Mitchell’s hinted proposal. Arien looked to Ardaz for advice, and the wizard returned a stare, resolute and uncompromising, confirming Arien’s instinctive feelings and fears.

“No!” Arien declared flatly. “And I’ll hear no more of this. I shall not start a war. Nor shall I bring back the ways of man before e-Belvin Fehte! Have you forgotten the tales of horror? We are morally bound by the simple fact of our existence, by all that Aielle is supposed to be, never to repeat those errors.”

“If we are found,” offered one of the second-born.

“Then we will do what we must!” Arien snapped.

“Then it will be too late,” Ryell muttered.

Mitchell backed away from Arien’s anger and rejoined his companions.

“Captain,” Del gnashed through gritted teeth, trembling with a rage of his own. “We weren’t brought here to start a war.”

“No,” Reinheiser interjected, “but have you considered that perhaps we were guided to this place to ensure that the right side emerges victorious? The conflict seems unavoidable.”

Though honestly concerned that Reinheiser might be correct in his observations, Del was even more worried about which side Mitchell would consider “the right side.” The captain’s goal, he knew in his heart, would be personal gain, and not the welfare of Ynis Aielle.

And, despite his reservations, Del remained convinced that they could find a better way. He detested war and all the evil and pain it wrought, and understood at that moment, the greatest moment of crisis in his entire life, that if he couldn’t stick by his principles and ideals in this dangerous time, then they were nothing more than useless rhetoric. Del believed-after witnessing the devastation beyond the golden sheet, he had to believe-that reason, and not violence, was the only useful step toward resolving a conflict.

“There must be some other way,” Del said to the council. “An envoy to show Ungden that we pose no threat to him and are willing to live in peace with Calva.”

“Not a chance, my boy.” Ardaz replied. “No, no, that would never work. I knew Ungden’s ancestor, and he was just as unbending as this stubborn fool. The Usurper’s mind cannot be changed. I was in Caer-hu, Pallendara the night Ungden stole the throne. I bear witness to the blood of his methods and the evil of his heart. Believe me in this, there is no chance for peace as long as Ungden rules in the city.”

“Indeed, Ungden has proven himself a serpent with every act,” Arien agreed.

“And there may be an even greater evil behind his throne, I fear,” Ardaz mumbled under his breath.

The uncomfortable silence that followed remained unbroken for a long, long while. Arien weighed his thoughts carefully, for he knew that all of Illuma would depend on him for guidance.

“Sylvia, and Erinel,” he said finally, “lead our guests back to the city. Quarter them in my house, and there,” he instructed the men, “you shall remain. The debate before us is for the ears of the council alone. We may not return before dawn.”

The six stood up to leave. They all had questions or suggestions on their minds, but Arien had made it clear from the tone of his voice that it was not their place to speak. They all bowed, except Mitchell, and turned toward the tunnel.

“There’s a torch for you within the tunnel,” Ardaz said. Sylvia nodded.

Perplexed, Reinheiser stopped and studied the wizard. The physicist knew his own prowess in observation, and he knew there had been no torch in the tunnel other than the Staff of Light. That staff had gone back to the city with the line of elves, and no one had been near the entrance since they all arrived on the shelf.

Yet when they entered the tunnel, a torch was indeed lying on the ground in front of them. And when Erinel picked it up, its tip magically burst into flame.

Del wasn’t surprised.

The private council began as soon as the group departed, with much talking and bickering, for there remained two very different viewpoints on what course of action to take. Ryell and his supporters wanted to listen to Mitchell’s plans and waylay Calva’s forces quickly, defeating Ungden before he could truly organize against Illuma. The other view, championed by Arien, held to the hopes of avoiding war for as long as possible at any cost, hoping for relief from within Calva; perhaps an uprising against Ungden. A heated and angry debate ensued, but in the end very little was resolved. Finally, as the sky brightened with the approaching dawn, Arien called an end to the discussions.

“It seems we are divided,” he said. “Hopelessly divided, for the present, at least. Therefore, as the Eldar, it is my decision that we shall stay hidden and wait until we know more of the situation before us.” This brought grumbles from Ryell’s group. “And none,” Arien continued above the murmur, “save those sent out on missions for this council, shall leave the city.”

“And what of our guests?” Ryell prodded. “They are men, after all, and I do not trust them.”

Ardaz shifted uneasily and stroked Desdemona, who had transformed into a black cat again.

“Yet you would trust the one called Mitchell to lead us against Calva,” Arien replied sharply.

“I wanted only his plans to defeat Calva,” Ryell retorted, “that we could study and learn from them. I would not entrust him with leadership.”

Arien closed his eyes and sought the feelings within his heart. He felt that he must bide his time and react to things as they happened, for he simply did not know enough yet to act boldly, and a rash decision certainly could destroy them all.

“Of our guests,” he commanded, “they shall be given all the comforts we can provide.” The grumbling began again. “But,” Arien added to quiet the complaints, “they shall not be allowed to leave their rooms, and guards shall be set outside their doors.”

He looked around the council, his eyes alone showing him to be set in his decision, and at the same time begging approval, relief from the tremendous pressures of leadership.

“Agreed,” the others answered.

“It is a wise decision,” Ryell added.

Ardaz thought so, too, except that he knew a voice from a wood called out to the one named Del. The wizard feared the voice, for he did not understand why it beckoned so, and he knew, too, that its call would not go unheeded.

“Then, as we are agreed, let us end this council and return to the city,” Arien said. “And let us hope,” he added grimly, “that the Usurper’s eyes remain blind to our home.”

DEL WASN’T TERRIBLY upset when he awakened at mid-morning and found that he would not be permitted to leave the room. His sleep had been filled with dreams of Avalon, and now a fantasy of dancing with the fair Brielle in a moonlit field haunted his every thought. His surroundings, inasmuch as they were not Avalon, seemed irrelevant, and one room would do as well as the whole city.

Billy, though, took the news hard. From the outset of this adventure, he had adopted a stoic attitude. Even when they had first emerged from the depths of the sea and found their world apparently destroyed, Billy had shrugged it off with grim resolve, wearing grudging acceptance as his shield, though he realized that the fine edge of discipline necessary to maintain stability could cut both ways. He could defend against depression, but to do so in a situation as unpredictable and uncontrollable as this, he had to also avoid the emotional highs, false plateaus ringed by sheer drops. Up till now he had kept that edge, even in the face of Avalon’s magical allure.