all—but this is your destiny! You are fated to be the downfall of the dread elves of Rhonas!”
Drakis shook his head. “No.”
“No?” Jugar gaped.
“I will not have one more person die in my name or for this insane prophecy,” Drakis said firmly. “We’re going to lead the pilgrims to a place where they can make a home…a place where they can settle in peace.”
“Drakis, I don’t see how that is possible,” Urulani said though not without compassion. “Where could they go that the Empire would not hunt them as they have always done? Where could they settle beyond the reach of the Rhonas Legions?”
“To Drakosia,” Drakis said, looking Urulani in the eyes as he spoke. “Across the Straits of Erebus.”
“You think the sea will protect them?” Ethis shook his head. “It did not stop the elven Empire from destroying Drakosia once before.”
“Drakosia fell because one dragon betrayed humanity and his own kind,” Drakis answered. “We could go back…start again…”
“How?” Urulani demanded. “How do we cross the sea with the entire encampment? It would take nearly two thousand ships to carry them all!”
“Then we make as many crossings as required with whatever ships we have,” Drakis responded, the volume of his own voice increasing. This was taking too long. “Your task will be to gather as many ships to our cause as you can from the ports along the Shadow Coast. Tell them that Drakis and his army are coming and need their ships for transport. Find out from the ship captains where a suitable anchorage could be found as far north up the shoreline as possible and have them all sail there to meet us. Then return and let us know where we are to meet this fleet of transport ships. The farther north the better, preferably on the east coast of Gorganta Bay. Then we’ll sail around Nordesia past Cape Caldron just as we did before and north into Drakosia. Once there, we’ll be beyond the reach of the elves.”
“They will have heard of you in the port cities,” Urulani argued. “They will think you are raising a fleet of ships to sail your army against the Empire!”
“They may think what they want,” Drakis shouted. “Soen believes we are moving the army and the pilgrims into Vestasia to fight theEmpire on their western frontier. Let him think that, too, as well as whoever he serves.”
“This is insane!” Jugar seethed.
“The Rhonas will not leave us to be free,” Ethis stated, his expressionless face shaking back and forth for emphasis. “It does not matter where you lead them, Drakis; so long as the Empire exists they cannot let us live.”
“I will lead this people but not into war,” Drakis asserted in tones that defied contradiction. “These people don’t need a cause or a crusade. They are already full enough of that. What they need is a home where they can forget all about me, revenge and this prophecy. If we can do that, then perhaps we will have saved lives, and everything that we’ve done–that we’ve lost and sacrificed—will have meant something after all.”
“These pilgrims are hungry for war.” Ethis said. “And you mean to avoid it?”
“You may have no choice,” Jugar interjected with vehemence. “The Legions are on the march as we speak.”
“Which is precisely why you must hurry,” Drakis asserted. “We have to move the pilgrims out of the path of the Rhonas Legions while we still can. The Lyric will fly to Willow Vale and convey to the council my order to get everyone there ready to move. I will return to Willow Vale with the army. But the day I arrive with the army, the encampment must be ready to depart. We will have little time to reach the sea before all of us are trapped in the Nordesian Peninsula.”
“And just how long do you believe we have to accomplish this madness?” Jugar asked incredulously.
“No more than ten days, I believe,” Ethis replied. “It will take that long even with a forced march to move the army
Drakis shook his head. “No.”
“No?” Jugar gaped.
“I will not have one more person die in my name or for this insane prophecy,” Drakis said firmly. “We’re going to lead the pilgrims to a place where they can make a home…a place where they can settle in peace.”
“Drakis, I don’t see how that is possible,” Urulani said though not without compassion. “Where could they go that the Empire would not hunt them as they have always done? Where could they settle beyond the reach of the Rhonas Legions?”
“To Drakosia,” Drakis said, looking Urulani in the eyes as he spoke. “Across the Straits of Erebus.”
“You think the sea will protect them?” Ethis shook his head. “It did not stop the elven Empire from destroying Drakosia once before.”
“Drakosia fell because one dragon betrayed humanity and his own kind,” Drakis answered. “We could go back…start again…”
“How?” Urulani demanded. “How do we cross the sea with the entire encampment? It would take nearly two thousand ships to carry them all!”
“Then we make as many crossings as required with whatever ships we have,” Drakis responded, the volume of his own voice increasing. This was taking too long. “Your task will be to gather as many ships to our cause as you can from the ports along the Shadow Coast. Tell them that Drakis and his army are coming and need their ships for transport. Find out from the ship captains where a suitable anchorage could be found as far north up the shoreline as possible and have them all sail there to meet us. Then return and let us know where we are to meet this fleet of transport ships. The farther north the better, preferably on the east coast of Gorganta Bay. Then we’ll sail around Nordesia past Cape Caldron just as we did before and north into Drakosia. Once there, we’ll be beyond the reach of the elves.”
“They will have heard of you in the port cities,” Urulani argued. “They will think you are raising a fleet of ships to sail your army against the Empire!”
“They may think what they want,” Drakis shouted. “Soen believes we are moving the army and the pilgrims into Vestasia to fight theEmpire on their western frontier. Let him think that, too, as well as whoever he serves.”
“This is insane!” Jugar seethed.
“The Rhonas will not leave us to be free,” Ethis stated, his expressionless face shaking back and forth for emphasis. “It does not matter where you lead them, Drakis; so long as the Empire exists they cannot let us live.”
“I will lead this people but not into war,” Drakis asserted in tones that defied contradiction. “These people don’t need a cause or a crusade. They are already full enough of that. What they need is a home where they can forget all about me, revenge and this prophecy. If we can do that, then perhaps we will have saved lives, and everything that we’ve done–that we’ve lost and sacrificed—will have meant something after all.”
“These pilgrims are hungry for war.” Ethis said. “And you mean to avoid it?”
“You may have no choice,” Jugar interjected with vehemence. “The Legions are on the march as we speak.”
“Which is precisely why you must hurry,” Drakis asserted. “We have to move the pilgrims out of the path of the Rhonas Legions while we still can. The Lyric will fly to Willow Vale and convey to the council my order to get everyone there ready to move. I will return to Willow Vale with the army. But the day I arrive with the army, the encampment must be ready to depart. We will have little time to reach the sea before all of us are trapped in the Nordesian Peninsula.”
“And just how long do you believe we have to accomplish this madness?” Jugar asked incredulously.
“No more than ten days, I believe,” Ethis replied. “It will take that long even with a forced march to move the army
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