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Seavig
replied. “More of us will die by the dragons’ breath than by the Pandesians’
sword.”
    “Then what would
you have us do? Remain here, hiding in this cave?” Arthfael countered.
    Kavos shook his
head.
    “No,” Kavos
replied. “Yet we cannot return to Andros. Nor can we risk confronting them head
on.”
    “The Pandesians
must be attacked,” Bramthos insisted. “If we wait for them to pursue us—and
pursue us they shall—then we shall be attacked on their terms. Andros now sits in disarray, yet soon those dragons will retreat. Shall we then confront a
million men in the open field?”
    “Who’s to say
the dragons will retreat?” Seavig argued. “Maybe they will burn Andros until there is nothing left.”
    “Why have they
come to begin with?” called out another.
    The cave broke
into heated debate, men talking over each other, arguing, none agreeing and all
agitated.
    Duncan stood in the midst
of it all, his fist on his chin, deep in thought. Aidan could tell from the
familiar look on his face that he was agitated, mulling it all over. He rubbed
his beard, and Aidan knew that to be a sign he was coming close to a decision.
    Suddenly, Anvin
stepped forward.
    “Duncan is our commander,” he yelled above the din of the crowd. “He has always led us
brilliantly. I defer to his opinion.”
    The rowdy group
of men finally fell silent as all eyes turned to Duncan.
    Duncan sighed. He
slowly stepped forward, stood to his full height, and addressed the group of
warriors.
    “First, I cannot
express to you my gratitude,” he said, his deep, authoritative voice echoing
off the walls. “You returned to Andros for me. You saved my life, against every
chance. I owe you my life.”
    They all looked
back at him with respect and appreciation.
    “I had made a
foolish decision,” Duncan continued, “to trust them, to negotiate, and it is a
mistake I shall not make again.”
    “We will follow
you anywhere, Duncan,” Seavig called out, while the others cheered.
    “Just tell us
where to go next,” Arthfael called. “Shall we return to the capital?”
    Aidan felt his
heart pounding as the silence thickened and he wondered what his father might
say.
    “No,” Duncan finally said.
    His single word
was filled with such confidence, it left no room for another choice.
    “We would catch them
off guard, true,” he said. “Yet we would lose too many of us. And we would be
fighting in their territory, against their defenses, and on their terms.
The chaos would serve us, but it could also work against us.”
    He rubbed his
beard.
    “No,” he added. “We
shall lead them to us.”
    They all stared
back, looking surprised.
    “Bring them
here?” Bramthos asked.
    Duncan shook his head.
    “No,” he
replied. “We shall lure them to a place where we will have the advantage, where
they will be sure to lose. A place that takes advantage of our knowledge of our
homeland. A place where we own the land.”
    “And where is
that, my commander?” Arthfael asked.
    Duncan drew his sword,
the sound echoing off the walls. He stepped forward, reached out, and slowly etched
a long line in the sand. At its end, he drew a circle, and he pointed the sword’s
tip right in the center.
    They all crowded
around, close.
    Duncan looked up and
met their eyes with deadly seriousness.
    “Baris,” he finally
said.
    Silence fell
over the room as the men closed in and craned their necks.
    “Baris?” Bramthos
asked, surprised. “Lure them to a canyon? That would give us the low ground.”
    “It is also
hostile ground,” Seavig added. “Teeming with Baris’s men.”
    Duncan grinned for the
first time.
    “Exactly,” he replied.
    The group fell
silent, clearly baffled. Anvin, though, nodded.
    “I see what you
see,” Anvin said. “Vengeance against Baris—and at the same time, a chance to kill
the Pandesians.”
    Duncan nodded back.
    “Bant will not anticipate
our attack,” Duncan replied.
    “But why kill
our countrymen first when