Valin (Book 3 of the White Lily Trilogy)- first draft

Chapter 5- A course of Action

 Dakelo had been itching with anticipation and worry for over a day before he was finally summoned back to the gathering chambers. They could not have the meeting back in the King's chamber, as there was no method of Lord Yui being present. However, it did mean that Amithae and some of the Gix had to help in moving the King down to the other chamber, for he was instructed by Pocam to not use his leg for a long while. It was a sight to behold when they caused the ground to move beneath the King's great mass, sliding him along the ground to the required room without him even moving a paw.

All four lords were finally gathered together in record time, and they weren't the only extra ones present. Biloth and the rest of his group, the Gix, all garbed in robes of red were lined up against one wall. Once again, Biloth was the only one of the group with his face visible, his hood pulled back down to reveal the angled features of his face.

The King was sat on his pedestal; his injured leg sprawled out straight, rather than tucked up tight. There was no bandage big enough to cover his leg wound, so the deep gashes were visible, like looking down at a series of gorges from a bird's point of view.

"It's about time we were all finally here, I assume you are all informed of the situation at hand." For someone who had received such news, Dakelo thought the King was behaving rather calmly. The Queen however, wasn't as calm. She was behind Fivikthq, pacing back and forth across the room. Every time she spun around on the spot to march the other way, her tail nearly clipped Fivikthq and, considering it took half a dozen paces to march the length of the chambers, she turned around a lot.

"Let's not bother with unnecessary details. What options do we have?" Dakelo demanded. He knew it was far beyond his place for him to be speaking out in front of such company but, for the moment, he didn't care. He was surprised when he wasn't scolded by anyone in the room afterwards.

"It is a very dangerous and tantalizing situation," Lord Amithae spoke out. "I gather that everyone one of us in this chamber all suspect the humans, however we must be delicate in handling this situation." Dierit, the Lord of the Fire clans, smacked his boulder-like fist against his chest so hard that red hot sparks spurted out of the gaps, along with flakes of rock. It didn't appear to harm him, for he didn't even flinch.

"And just what do you want us to do? Take our time to tip-toe around the humans when they could be doing who-knows-what to our Princess? Where is the logical reasoning behind that, may I ask?" Dakelo nodded in agreement to the golem, his tolerance had run out.

"Like I said, this is a delicate situation. We are unsure of the human's plans and therefore we have nothing to act upon. We have no idea where she is being kept and therefore where to go. We don't want to treat this as an act of war just yet. We don't know if they will try and use any action we now commit as a declaration of war, especially if we don't even know who has taken her."

"It doesn't matter who has taken her," Dierit still responded in his anger. "They are all the same, they are all to blame." Behind Fivikthq, Dillith nodded silently to herself in agreement, although she did not let up in her pacing or speak out. The nod was so short and sudden that Dakelo suspected most of them wouldn't have noticed it at all.

"I agree with Lord Amithae," Biloth spoke from his place. "We do not want to act out on anger without thinking clearly. We could only make the situation worse. From Her Highness' teachings, humans can panic easily, like herd animals. If we send them into panic when we descend upon them, then they may kill our Princess before we could even get close to rescuing her."

Dakelo reached up and rubbed his chest as a jab of pain caused him to twitch. Ever since the meeting began, his chest had been hurting. Not the emotional tightness he would get if upset or nervous, but the dull throbbing had returned, like he had just been bruised and it was being pressed upon, the feeling of being jabbed hard at random intervals. He focused on taking slow, but shallow breaths in an attempt to help. He needed to keep his focus on the conversation. The skin around the area felt hot to the touch once again, but he quickly stuffed his hands behind his back to stop himself from touching it, biting his lip if the urge rose.