Authors: Richard Baker
She reached a boulder-strewn streambed and scrambled up onto a large, flat rock that had been washed clean of snow, her eyes on the band of open sky above the creek. She searched long and carefully before giving a small wave of her hand.
“It’s clear,” she called softly.
at the column beside her. Lady Morgwais stood nearby, speaking words of encouragement to each elf passing by.
“We will halt for a short time on the other side of the stream,” she called out. “Move well under the trees, so that we will be hidden from any foes flying over the riverbed. Take care to build smokeless fires, but build them anyway. We all need a hot meal and a little warmth after this dreary day.”
Morgwais watched the last of the elves cross the stream. Small and sprightly, she had passed up and down the marching band constantly for days, her light laughter an instant cure for fatigue or despondency. The Lady of the Wood seemed indefatigable, and her unwavering confidence had done wonders for keeping the band moving in the face of the waning winter. She gazed after the company, and Gaerradh caught a glimpse of utter exhaustion as the lady’s energetic mask crumbled.
The ranger quickly slid down the boulder to the trail. Sheeril followed, leaping down beside her.
“Lady Morgwais, are you well?” Gaerradh asked. Morgwais rallied with a smile and replied, “As well as any of us.”
“Nonsense. You’ve marched twice as far as anyone, and you’ve kept a song for us all and a laugh on your lips for days now. You must make sure to rest, too.”
“I’ll thank you to keep that thought to yourself. Besides, you and the rest of our scouts have covered far more ground than I have,” Morgwais said. She moved a short distance under the spreading boughs of a blueleaf and found a reasonably dry log to sit on. “Come, you’ve earned a break as well.”
Gaerradh started to decline, but then she realized that Morgwais might need some encouragement of her own. She agreed with a nod, and joined the lady on the stump, Sheeril curled up at her feet. They sat together in silence, listening to the voice of the stream and the rainwater dripping through the branches.
“Do you think they’ll follow us all the way to the Lost Peak strongholds?” Gaerradh said finally. “It’s nearly two hundred miles from Rheitheillaethor to the mountains.” “I don’t know,” Morgwais said with a sigh, “but I fear so. Look around you. What do you see?”
“The forest. A stand of blueleafs here. The Ilthaelrun, there. There’s a nest of snow owls above us in this tree. The female is watching us with no small alarm.”
“It’s a pretty spot. We could raise a camp here and stay a season or two, and we wouldn’t lack for anything,” Morgwais said. “The whole of the High Forest is more or less the same to us, isn’t it? Our people have no need to till a river plain, or trade at a crossroads, or build a town to house our craftsmen and merchants. We could easily settle anywhere in the forest. In fact, there is no reason we couldn’t march another hundred miles farther south and hide among the Starmounts. One place in the forest is much the same as any other, so why not abandon the eastern reaches for a time? Let the orcs and the tainted ones have it.”
“I don’t care for the idea of giving such murderous beasts leave to poison our homeland.”
“Nor do I, but that is not the mark I was shooting at. Nothing in the lands we hold in the eastern reaches of the forest is particularly valuable to us, really, which suggests to me that territory in the forest is not particularly important to the daemonfey, either, at least not for its own sake Oh, there are plenty of old ruins they may have an interest in, but we only guard a handful of those places.” Morgwais met Gaerradh’s gaze and said, “They are here for us, Gaerradh. Not our lands, not our possessions. They intend to break our strength and scatter us, perhaps drive us out of the forest all together. And that means they will follow us wherever we flee.”
Gaerradh drew in a breath. She had been looking forward to the refuges of the Lost Peaks, the secret glens and hidden vales in the heart of the forest, long since prepared as havens and strongholds in times of trouble. But if Lady Morgwais was right…
“We will have to stand and fight, then,” she said quietly. “Not yet, perhaps, and not here. But soon.”
The lady nodded and said, “We are not prepared for an enemy like this. There are a hundred or more bands and companies of our folk scattered over this forest, but only a handful of those can muster even fifty warriors. Until we gather our strength somewhere, we will be harried and hunted. Somehow I must summon all the companies, all the clans and villages, together, and build an army to meet these foes. And I must pray that we have the strength to defeat them.”
“I cannot remember any such gathering of the People in this forest.”
“It hasn’t happened since the days of Eaerlann, and Eaerlann fell almost five hundred years agolong before your time, and even a little before mine.”
“What of our kinfolk in Evereska or Evermeet? Have we heard from them?” Gaerradh asked. “We have no experience in raising armies, but they do.”
Morgwais looked away.
“Evereska is endangered, too,” she said. “I have spoken to Turlang the treant, and he tells me that armies of evil creatures, including more of the demonspawn, are marching south through the Delimbiyr Vale toward the Shaeradim. After the war against the phaerimm, Evereska has no strength to spare for us.”
“Well, what of Evermeet, then?”
“I do not know. I have sent word to Amlaruil’s court, but I have heard no response.”
“Do you think they would refuse us help?” Gaerradh asked with alarm.
“No, I doubt that. But I do think it is entirely possible that Evermeet might take months to decide how to help, and we might not have that much time for the sun elves to think over our situation for us.” Morgwais stood and dusted off her seat, shaking her head. “You know sun elves. Anything worth doing deserves ten years of second-guessing before they’ll agree to it. Sometimes I wonder how they manage to pick out their clothes in the morning.”
Gaerradh looked up at Morgwais and asked, “Were you not married to a sun elf?”
“Yes, long ago. It took him fifty years to propose to me,” Morgwais said with a laugh. “Listen, Gaerradh, there is something I want you to do. Go north to the Silver Marches and tell Alustriel of Silverymoon what is happening here in the forest. I have no doubt that she knows much of it already, but you have followed and fought this new foe for days now. She will want to know what you have seen, and what you think.”
“Do you think she will help us?”
“I don’t know. The cities of the Silver Marches have enemies of their own to guard against. But she and her sisters have always been friends of the People, and she is a Chosen of Mystra.” Morgwais rested a hand on Gaerradh’s shoulder. “And … if we are driven from our refuges, then Silverymoon must know that they could face this peril next. If I cannot contain the daemonfey, it will fall to Alustriel and her confederation to do it.”
*****
The galleries of the Dome of Stars were crowded with elves waiting on the high council. Seiveril studied the spectators with a smile of satisfaction. For the last two days he had spoken to dozens of friends, acquaintances, and allies, asking them to attend the open session and pass the word along to anyone they knew. Many of the onlookers were men and women of the Queen’s Guard, the Spellarchers, the Eagle Knights, and other elite companies of Evermeet’s armies. The clerics of Corellon Larethian and the other deities of the Seldarine were well represented too, and with them many of the temple knights and holy champions of the elven faith. Seiveril also noted no small number of nobles and merchants whose sympathies belonged to Lady Durothil and her faction. Apparently Durothil and Veldann had heard of his call to his adherents and allies, and they had made sure to summon their own supporters to the day’s council meeting.
Surprisingly, he was not at all nervous. He knew what
he intended to say, and he was certain of his course. The low murmur of hundreds of voices filled the chamber. Seiveril could feel the eyes of the other council members on him, but he waited patiently for the queen.
At the appointed hour, Amlaruil swept into the Dome, clad in a formal dress that seemed to cascade from her shoulders like a shower of silver. Her diadem tiara gleamed in the soft starlight of the chamber. With the rest of the council, Seiveril rose as she entered, and bowed respectfully before resuming his seat.
Amlaruil took the golden scepter of her office and rapped it twice on the glassteel table.
“I call the council to order,” she said, her voice carrying through the great chamber. “Lord Miritar has requested the opportunity to address the council before we consider our ongoing deliberations. I hereby yield the floor to Lord Seiveril Miritar.”
Seiveril stood slowly and bowed to the throne. He had half-expected Selsharra Durothil to protest the breach of custom, but evidently she was not quite foolish enough to attempt to keep him from speaking out of order. Amlaruil would allow him to say what he wanted to say whether she protested or not, and the attempt would make her look petty and spiteful. He turned to face the crowded galleries ringing the chamber, and the crowd fell silent, awaiting his words.
“Ten thousand years ago,” he began, “Evermeet was founded by our ancestors as a refuge from the perils and dangers of the rest of the world, a place where the People might exist apart from the savages and barbarians, the monsters and the dragons, who have always been envious of the beauty we bring into the world. Yet Evermeet has rarely been a perfect sanctuary. Early in our history we battled the evil creatures of the sea. Later we fought against enemies who came against us through extraplanar gates and hidden tunnels. And only three years ago we were faced with a terrible alliance of all our enemies, including traitors from within our own land who followed Kymil Nimesin in his war against the throne.
With courage and the favor of the Seldarine, we have triumphed over all of these foes. Evermeet has not been the place of peace our forefathers dreamed of, but it is a place of beauty and strength.
“Yet we are not the only elves who walk in this world. Across the sea lie the realms of our kinfolk, realms such as Evereska and the Yuirwood, the High Forest and the Wealdath. Just as we are one People, bound by one language, one history, one destiny, so are our realms all one. If an elf is slain in the High Forest, then Evermeet has lost a son. If a city is thrown down in ruin in the Graypeaks, than Leuthilspar has been sacked. Some among this council do not recognize this essential truth. While our kinfolk in Evereska and the High Forest face war and devastation, our leaders refuse to aid them. I cannot find it in my heart to go along with this decision.
“I have come before you today to announce my resignation from this council. It is with a heavy heart that I lay aside the duties and responsibilities King Zaor called on me to accept sixty years ago. But from time to time, we are all called to answer our own consciences. For many days now I have sought Corellon Larethian’s counsel, and this is the answer that the Seldarine have shown me: I must go to Faerun.
“I must go to Faerun, and I call on each of you who feels as I do to join me. The council and the throne are unable to ask Evermeet’s People to accept the burden of fighting in the defense of distant lands we have long abandoned. Very well; I ask none but willing volunteers to join me. Our kinfolk in Evereska and the High Forest are threatened by terrible new enemies, and I mean to help them. Our ancient lands have grown wild and dangerous, and I mean to restore them.
“If you believe that the time of our People is done in Faerun, I do not want you. If you fear that your strength will be missed too much here, that your duties are too important to lay aside, then I do not ask you to abandon them. If you simply do not care what becomes of kinfolk who live thousands of miles away, then I despise you! But
if you think, as I do, that it is an act of cowardice and complicity to name something evil, and refuse to oppose it with all your might and will and power, then I call on you to join me in this crusade.
“Make your farewells, sons and daughters of Evermeet. Lay your affairs in order, walk with your children, your lovers, and your parents in the sacred glens of this blessed isle one last time. Then gird yourself in mail, and take up your bows, swords, and lances, and come to me at Elion. There I will gather my host. In ten days’ time we will pass out of Evermeet back to Faerun, and we will show our enemies whether or not we have any strength left to do good in this world. But know this: Whether I lead a mighty host of ten thousand, a legion of a thousand, a brave company of a hundred, or none but myself, I will go.”
“I will go, my friends. This is what Corellon Larethian has put in my heart.” Seiveril paused, and gathered his strength for a mighty cry. “Who is with me?”
The Dome of Stars erupted into chaos, with hundreds of voices calling out at once. From the gallery came a chorus of “I am!” and “I will go!” and “My sword is yours!” But mixed in with the rousing cries of those willing to volunteer came catcalls and other voices shouting “Madness!” and “Treason! Treason!”
At the table, all the rest of the high councilors were on their feet, every bit as agitated as the partisans in the gallery.
“You have no right!” Selsharra Durothil screeched. “You have no right, Miritar. You cannot choose to launch a war because you, and you alone, think it is the right thing to do!”
“I cannot be expected to defend Evermeet if half my soldiers go off to Faerun,” Keryth Blackhelm snapped. “This is reckless, Lord Seiveril!”
“I will go, and I will bring two hundred of my archers and scouts with me!” the wood elf princess Jerreda Starcloak cried. “Our people are fighting for their lives in the High Forest. I will not turn my back on them.”
“Lord Miritar, I cannot allow you to take high mages
away from Evermeet,” Grand Mage Olithir said. His calm manner was belied by his wide eyes and pale face. “We have too few left after Nimesin’s war and the fight against the phaerimm. We dare not risk the loss of any more.”