‘Your words are empty,’ hissed the Prince. ‘The King has many allies, and many, many soldiers.’ He fumbled his way to his horse and mounted. Turning to face them, laughing as though he had planned this moment himself and now relished it, he said, ‘Before, I had to be satisfied with spitting Faerie women and children. No longer. Now you will all die.’ He turned his mount and left at a gallop, his words hanging heavily in the air long after he left.
Birin, who himself was wearing the King’s livery, took stock of those around him. ‘Any of you who represent the King should depart, now.’
‘You will find no representatives of the King here,’ said one of the Elves who had ridden with the Prince. ‘But we do ask your leave to alert our friends and families. They will be in danger, and should know whether to seek safety or to join with us.
‘But captain Birin, tell us . . . what did his words mean? To what allies does the Prince refer, and to what soldiers? I can speak for most of those in the King’s own guard; most of them will leave His service, and Prince Cir’s and come to our aid. But Prince Cir clearly discounts this occurrence, or I am not a soldier of experience!’