“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! Amd 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?