Terry Brooks - Witch Wraith

“Like you have been doing up until now,” Seersha pointed out.

The King was taken aback by her bluntness, but he nodded in agreement nevertheless. “We will follow the steps taken by Eventine Elessedil when he was King and the Forbidding failed all those hundreds of years ago. We will unite the Races and make a stand against our common enemy.”

“The Dwarves will fight,” Seersha said at once.

“I thought you would say as much. But we will need more than that. We will need the men and women of the Borderland Cities, as well. And the Trolls from the deep Northland. Word will be sent at once, asking for their help.” He paused, glancing at his brother. “Ellich and I believe we need to make an immediate effort to save Arishaig. There are hundreds of thousands of people trapped in that city, and if a way to stop the attack of the demonkind isn’t found, they will be overrun and killed. Do you agree?”

“The Federation army is the strongest in the Four Lands,” Seersha pointed out, looking from one to the other. “Their largest garrison is housed in Arishaig. The city won’t be easily taken.”

“Nevertheless,” Ellich said.

She looked at him. “Yes, the city will be taken sooner or later. The creatures of the Straken Lord will keep attacking until it has fallen. Which is why we shouldn’t be sitting around discussing the matter. We have lost time to make up for. If you can assemble an army, I will travel with them to Arishaig at once. Crace Coram will return to the Eastland to inform the Dwarf tribes and rally their fighters to our—”

Emperowen held up one hand to stop her in mid-sentence. “Our course of action is clear, but not yet approved. There is a problem.”

She nodded slowly, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “The Elven High Council?”

“I require their permission before I can declare war and dispatch an army of the size required. It is by no means certain that the Council members will grant this.”

“There are some among them who will never even consider allying the Elves with the Federation,” Ellich interjected. “Our history is a bitter one, and some among our people have long memories. There will be no problem with allying ourselves with the Bordermen or Dwarves or even the Trolls, but those alliances have traditionally been formed against the Federation.”

Seersha sat down slowly. “So the High Council may choose to leave the Federation to its fate rather than swallow their pride? They will abandon our strongest potential ally because of a history that is now more than a hundred years in the past?”

“Sadly, yes.” Ellich left the window and walked over to a sideboard, where he poured three glasses of ale and passed them out. “There are prejudices and resentments that will be difficult to overcome.”

Seersha had heard enough. “What I know of Elven history suggests that Eventine Elessedil did not have this problem. Nor would he have stood still for an entire week of delay while his land and people were threatened with invasion. Where is your conviction in what is right and necessary, High Lord? Where is your courage?”

“Do not speak to my brother like that!” Ellich snapped at her. “Remember your place, Druid!”

“My place?” she snapped back. “My place is to advise you! How am I to do that if I hesitate to be honest in my appraisal of things? An entire week of preparation has been lost! And whose fault is that? How much more time do you intend to waste on a Council that will not act?”

Emperowen Elessedil held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Please! Enough from both of you.” He stood, facing Seersha. “We go before that recalcitrant Council to make a plea for their support. We would like you to accompany us to this meeting and give the members of the High Council a clear picture of what it is we are facing. Word of the massing on Arishaig is already spreading, but you are the only eyewitness available who can speak to what happened in the Westland and therefore pass judgment on what’s likely to happen here. We need your help. Will you give it?”

She took a deep breath. “Of course I will. But whatever happens with the High Council in this meeting, High Lord, I am all done sitting around and waiting on others. I intend to act as I see fit afterward.”

The old King gave her a slow smile. “I would expect nothing less from you, Seersha.”

“That’s enough!”

Phaedon was on his feet, his face red with anger and frustration, his posture combative as he faced Seersha across the table where the Elven High Council was gathered.

“More than enough,” the Druid agreed, meeting his furious gaze squarely.

“Elves don’t need a Dwarf Druid to tell them how to conduct themselves!” he hissed. “We were here long before you, and we have mastered knowledge and skills far beyond anything you ever even thought of. Don’t presume to tell us how we should conduct ourselves toward those who have done so much to destroy us!”

Seersha stayed calm. “Is it presumptuous to suggest that common sense should guide your decision making, Elven Prince? Is it wrong to weigh the consequences of selflessness over selfishness? Does it really need to be explained that a preemptive strike against those who would annihilate you is a better course of action than waiting for annihilation to come knocking on your door?”

The two had been arguing for the better part of the past hour as the discussion of what to do about the demon invasion had gone back and forth between advocates of two points of view—one that favored immediate intervention in the assault on Arishaig and one that favored sticking with known friends and allies to meet the threat when it moved on from the Southland and came north.

Emperowen had made his presentation to the Council and argued that immediate action was essential. With Ellich’s support, he had pointed out the advantages of including the Federation in the alliance—an alliance against an enemy that hated all of the Races equally and would do its very best to see them ground into dust. Deliberately choosing to exclude the ally with the strongest army and most advanced weaponry seemed a dangerous choice. Perhaps in this instance, if no other, sending Elves in support of the Federation was the proper course of action.

But Phaedon was quick to slide past that argument with reminders of the Federation’s history of treachery and unpredictability. These were cities that, for centuries, had sought to subjugate not only the Elves but the other Races, as well. Less than two months ago, a Federation fleet had attempted to seize Paranor and destroy the Druid order. How could they even think of forming an alliance with creatures capable of such behavior?

At that point, without being asked, Seersha had entered the discussion. Taking her cue from Ellich, who glanced her way, she caught the attention of the King and asked permission to speak to the members of the High Council about what had happened to the Druid expedition when they had encountered a break in the Forbidding just a few weeks earlier. Granted that permission in spite of a disapproving look from Phaedon, she had launched into a graphic rendition of the events surrounding the struggle within the Fangs and the Forbidding by those who had gone with her. She described in detail the nature of the creatures they were up against and the savagery these creatures would display if allowed to gain a foothold in the Four Lands. She described the deaths of her friends and companions, and the terrible emotional toll taken on those few who had survived.

She closed with a warning. Aphenglow and Arling Elessedil were in search of the legendary Bloodfire that would quicken the Ellcrys seed and restore the failing wall of the Forbidding, but there was no guarantee how long that quest would take. There was no guarantee that it would succeed. The only sensible approach was to assume the worst and expect that it would fail utterly. Taking control of your own fate was the better choice. Fight now and fight hard, and your chances of survival were immediately improved.