Eleanon led the Lealfast fighters into the FarReach Mountains two days after Axis’ contemptuous dismissal of them. They flew into the mountains half a day’s journey west of the Salamaan Pass where, forewarned by message, the entire Lealfast Nation was grouped waiting for him.
“Eleanon,” said one of the elders, a man named Falayal. “What has happened? There have been rumors, and then your message.” He looked about at the Lealfast fighters materializing on the walls of the deep canyon in which the Lealfast Nation had gathered. “Why so many injured? What has happened?”
Eleanon was exhausted, but he needed to speak without delay with Falayal, and then with the rest of the Lealfast. He wanted the Nation to hear of the “debacle” at the hands of Armat, and the reasons for it, from his mouth before they heard of it from any other.
“Matters have changed,” he said. “In a way we could not have anticipated. The Lord of Elcho Falling might not be our only, or even best, hope of salvation after all, Falayal, my friend.”
Falayal regarded Eleanon with concern. “Eleanon?”
His hand still on Falayal’s shoulder, Eleanon turned to look over the mass of Lealfast below him.
“There is a new path open to us!” Eleanon shouted. He took a deep breath. “Listen,” he said, his tone now lower but still perfectly audible, and spoke without pause for over an hour of the way of the One.
Much later that day, after he had rested and eaten, Eleanon lifted off once more, and flew further south.
Directly into Isembaard.