At dawn they received a report from the druid Metas. There had been no success with the Gates, and Taliesen’s files had offered no solution. The Gates, he said, were closed for ever.
For a time none of the leaders spoke. Their families gone, their hopes dashed, they sat in the silence of despair. Finally Leofas said, ‘All we have left now is to die – and take as many of the enemy with us as we can. Now is the time for a decision, Maggrig. Axta Glen is out of the question. So where do we make a stand?’
His words hung in the air. Maggrig, forcing his mind from thoughts of Maeg and his grandson, lost in time, glanced at Dunild and Grigor. These men had brought their warriors to fight alongside the other clans – not to throw their lives away. Maggrig saw the concern on their faces, and he knew what other thoughts would be stirring in their cunning minds. The Farlain and the Pallides had lost all their women and children. If, by some chance, they were able to destroy the Aenir they would then be forced to raid for women from other clans.
‘We will find a way to open the Gates,’ he said, surprised at the confidence in his voice. ‘And more than that. I don’t intend to merely lash out like a dying bear. I want to win. By the gods, we’re all clansmen here. Brothers and cousins. Together we will destroy Asbidag and his rag-tag band of killers.’
‘A pretty speech, Maggrig,’ said Dunild softly. ‘But how – and where – will this be achieved?’
That is for us to decide at this meeting,’ answered Maggrig. ‘Who will begin?’
An hour of discussion followed as the clan leaders suggested various possible battle sites, mostly occupying high ground. None of the sites offered even the possibility of a victory. Then Intosh suggested a mountain pass some twenty miles east. It was known as Icairn’s Folly, following a battle there hundreds of years ago when a young chieftain had followed his enemy into the pass and been destroyed.
‘We could man the pass walls with archers and lure the Aenir in upon us,’ said Intosh. ‘The mountain walls narrow in to two hundred and fifty paces apart at the centre, and a small force could hold a larger.’
‘And what when we are pushed back? The pass is blocked and we would be like cattle in a slaughter pen,’ said Maggrig.
‘Let’s not be pushed back,’ said Intosh.
‘But can we win there?’ asked Grigor. ‘I don’t like the idea of hurling my clan to doom on one battle.’
‘Can we win anywhere?’ asked Leofas.
The Folly does have one advantage,’ offered Maggrig. ‘Our archers will wreak a terrible slaughter among the enemy. The Aenir could break and run. They’ve done it before – when the Pallides crushed them.’
‘Even so, is it wise,’ asked Dunild, ‘to choose a battle site with no avenue of retreat?’
‘All other areas are ruled out,’ said Intosh. ‘Although we cannot retreat, they cannot encircle us.’
‘We could continue to hit and run,’ suggested Lennox, who had remained silent for much of the planning.
‘But we can’t win that way,’ said his father. ‘I hate to admit it, but it seems we have run out of choices. I vote for Icairn’s Folly.’
The other leaders nodded, then Grigor spoke. This is your war, Maggrig, not mine. I have come because we are all clan. But I’ll not watch my men cut to pieces. My archers will man the left-hand slope of the pass. If you are crushed, we can still escape.’
‘What more could be expected from the Grigors?’ snapped Dunild.
Patris Grigor started to rise, reaching for his sword, but Maggrig stopped him with a raised hand.
‘Enough!’ he said. ‘Patris is entirely correct. Dunild, you and your Loda warriors will hold the right-hand slopes, Patris the left. The Pallides and the Farlain will stand together at the centre. If we are pushed back or scattered, the rest of you must get away with as many men as you can. Take to your own lands. But for the sake of all clansmen, do not go back to war with one another. For your lands will be next, I think.’