Forsaken House (9 page)

There was no door before her. In fact, there was no ravine. She blinked in astonishment. Had she somehow got her bearings wrong, and climbed over the wrong shoulder of the hill? She couldn’t have made such a simple-minded mistake as that!

Gaerradh looked again, studying the scene carefully. The landscape seemed right, but there was a huge gouge in the side of the tor, laying bare chambers and tunnels in the hill. The door itself she finally spotted lying almost a hundred yards away, broken in several pieces. Someone had blasted the ancient citadel of Nar Kerymhoarth open to the sky. She could not imagine who would have done it, or why, but clearly powerful magic had been put to use there.

And they slew the watch, she reminded herself. Whoever this is, he’s no friend to the People.

Rheitheillaethor, and the other havens of the People in the High Forest, had to be warned, and right away. Gaerradh pushed herself to her knees, brushed snow from her clothing, and whispered, “Come, Sheeril. We must travel fast and far today.”

Araevin and Ilsevele stood together in the dim light of the coming dawn, listening to the sounds of the forest around them. The first notes of birdsong lilted in the distant trees, and overhead the dark sky was streaked with bright shoals of rose and pearl. The elfgate had transported them to a briar-grown hollow deep in the shadowed woods, and they’d walked through the Ardeep for half the night to reach the ruins of an ancient court, its moss-grown flagstones long broken by the growth of mighty trees hundreds of years old. Before them was an ancient palace of white stone, its walls overgrown by ivy, and large sections open to the sky.

Ilsevele shifted the bow case she wore over her left shoulder and shook her pale copper hair free of her green hood. The air was damp with dew, and beads of cold water clung to her cloak and armor.

“The House of Long Silences is aptly named,” she observed. “This place has been abandoned for many years.”

“In the days of Illefarn, it was a proud manor,” Araevin replied. “But the realm dwindled over the centuries and finally passed away more than seven hundred years ago. Few of our folk live in the Ardeep now, other than Elorfindar.”

“Elorfindar?”

“Lord Elorfindar Floshin. He is a kinsman of mine, the son of my great-great-grandmother’s brother. He has taken it as his duty to guard the magical portals here.”

Araevin took Ilsevele’s hand and led her up a wide flight of cracked stone steps to the gaping doorway of the old palace.

The empty halls seemed a place apart from the thick stands of cedars and blueleafs beyond its facade of pale white stone. The Ardeep Forest chirped and rustled with birdsong and the soft caress of wind in the treetops, but those comforting sounds did not intrude into the ancient elven palace. Even though the empty doorway stood open to the elements behind them, Araevin and Ilsevele heard nothing in the gloomy forehall. Ilsevele turned to speak to Araevin, but the wage simply shook his head.

Measured footfalls echoed in the corridor. A dignified sun elf appeared, dressed in silver mail, with a long sword at his belt. His eyes had the dark wisdom of many years, and in the shadows of the hall he seemed almost to glow with an eldritch light.

“Greetings, Araevin,” the elflord said. “I have not seen you in the House of Long Silences in some years. Come inside. And you, too, fair lady.”

Araevin clasped Elorfindar’s arm firmly and replied, “It’s good to see you, kinsman. How goes your watch?”

“It is hard to say. Many of the old gates to Evermeet have been closed or hidden in recent years, so I have fewer to guard now. But after the invasion launched by Kymil Nimesin three years past, it has become more important than ever to ward the ways leading to the Green Isle.” Elorfindar shrugged. “It is my penance, and I am not finished with it yet. I can only hope that my watch will in some small way atone for those of my fathers who betrayed the trusts they held.” The dignified warrior turned to Ilsevele with a gentle expression. “Araevin, you have neglected to introduce me to your companion, for which you owe me an apology.”

“Elorfindar, this is the Lady Ilsevele Miritar, a captain of the spellarchers in the queen’s service. She is the daughter of Councilor Seiveril Miritar, the lord of Elion. And she is my betrothed.”

Elorfindar’s serious expression lifted, as a genuine smile creased his features.

“Your betrothed? Lady Ilsevele, I am delighted to meet you. And I am even more delighted to learn that you will be a cousin of mine! I was afraid that the Teshurrs would vanish all together, and leave the House of Cedars for the seabirds.” He took Ilsevele’s hand. “Your beauty brightens this gloomy palace, dear lady.”

“As does your gallantry. Thank you, Lord Elorfindar,” Ilsevele replied. She looked around at the ruined palace. “Do you live here by yourself?”

“Oh, no,” the elflord said. “I live a day’s ride south of here, in a much less lonely manor close to the Delimbiyr Vale. I only keep watch over this palace and its doors. My wardings warned me that someone was here, so I came to investigate.”

“I apologize for forcing the journey on you,” Ilsevele said.

“It was nothing. My magic shortens the trip considerably.” Elorfindar gestured to the ruined palace and continued, “There are some rooms that are in better condition, where I have a store of food and drink laid by for just such an occasion as this. Before I set the table, I would like to know what brings you here, Araevin. You are always going somewhere when you pass through this house.”

Araevin dropped his gaze to the floor. He did not like to carry tidings of ill news. “Evermeet has been attacked again, Elorfindar. Not an invasion like Nimesin’s war of three years ago, but a raid to break into the vaults of Tower Reilloch.”

Elorfindar’s expression grew cold and he said, “Go on.” Araevin nodded, and launched into the story of the attack on the Tower.

“When Quastarte and I found Philaerin,” he concluded, “we also discovered evidence suggesting that Philaerin held knowledge of something dangerous in Faerün, something that he chose to conceal from the Tower’s attackers. The demons and their masters escaped with the Gatekeeper’s Crystal. Ilsevele’s father has gone to Leuthilspar to take up that matter with Queen Amlaruil. In the meantime, I am looking into Philaerin’s secret. The Tower’s attackers might have been after the crystal and nothing else, but it seems dangerous to assume that was the case. Our enemies thought their prizes important enough to dare Evermeet’s defenses and attack a Tower of mages.”

“You said that the raiders were demons and demonic

sorcerers. I thought Evermeet’s wards prevented such creatures from attacking the island directly.”

“Demons and yugoloths, to be accurate,” Araevin said. “I recognized creatures of both races. As for their masters, they were like winged elves with demonic blood. They had scarlet skin with fine scales, black hair and eyes, and small horns … and they seemed to be resistant to fire and lightning, like many demons and devils are. But they fought with sword and spell, not the supernatural powers of a demon.”

“My father wondered if they might have been elves of a fallen Cormanthyran House known as Dlardrageth,” Ilsevele added. “He said that they were thought to have been defeated long ago, but the description fit. Since they were elves at least in part, they might have been able to pierce Evermeet’s defensive wards more easily than true demons could.”

“I know of the Dlardrageths,” Elorfindar said. His face was pale and his eyes dark with horror. “They were destroyed or bound long ago, along with the lesser Houses that followed them into darkness. Long ago, they poisoned the realm of Siluvanede and brought down the kingdom of Sharrven before they were halted. The shadow of their crimes stretches across many centuries and distant lands. If they have somehow returned… . ” He looked up at Araevin and asked, “How can I help you?”

“I may need to make use of some of your portals,” Araevin said. “I believe the trail I am following will lead me to some lonely places scattered far across the North. And I mean to gather some help before I set out. Using the old portals of Illefarn could save me a great deal of time.”

“Of course,” said Elorfindar. “The doors are at your disposal.”

“What sort of help are we going to gather?” Ilsevele asked.

“During my previous travels in Forerun, I spent a lot of time seeking out and exploring the ruins of ancient elven realms. They are dangerous places, filled with decaying wards, slumbering guardians, and sinister new occupants. The Company of the White Star assisted me in my explorations. They were courageous and trustworthy comrades.”

“Where will we find these old associates of yours?”

“It’s been quite some time, so I am not entirely sure,” Araevin said. “But when we last parted, we agreed to honor any call from one of the company. I will dispatch a sending to each, asking them to meet us in Daggerford.”

*****

Lord Seiveril Miritar sat at his customary place in the eighth seat of the council table, absently gazing up at the ceiling a hundred feet above as he waited for the queen to call the council to order. The Dome of Stars was the heart of the royal palace in Leuthilspar, a vast round chamber ringed by high galleries. By day the theurglass dome was a wondrous mosaic of stained panels, gleaming with a rainbow of color in the light. By night the magic glass was clear, showing the starry sky overhead. The floor of the chamber was finished in dark, glossy marble that seemed to hold tiny flecks of diamond in its depths, so that on clear nights those lords and ladies who met in the Dome seemed to float in a veritable sea of stars.

It was dusk, and the dome was open to the sullen colors of an overcast sunset.

“The council is assembled, Lord Seiveril,” said Amlaruil, Queen of Evermeet, from her high seat at the head of an elegant table of frosted glassteel.

A moon elf of striking beauty, her hair dark and flawless as a cascade of night, her eyes thoughtful and wise, Amlaruil was one of the oldest elves in Evermeet, but unlike so many who were close to passing to Arvandor, she was untouched by the winds of the LastHome. Instead of ghosting softly away from the world as so many old elves did, Amlaruil’s personal power and force of character fixed her to the firmament of the world, so that it seemed as if all Evermeet was anchored to the spot where she sat.

“Tell the council what you have told me,” Amlaruil continued in her clear, musical voice, “so that we may consider the meaning of these events and decide what action to take.”

Seiveril returned his attention to the table. The great galleries ringing the Dome were empty, having been cleared at his request. He quickly swept the table, eying his fellow councilors. To his right sat the High Admiral Emardin Elsydar, a sun elf of unusually serious demeanor, and at the foot of the table Zaltarish, the aged royal scribe. It was his duty to record the discussions and resolutions of the council. To Seiveril’s left sat the wood elf princess Jerreda Starcloak, who represented Evermeet’s forest-dwelling elves, and the highborn sun elf Selsharra Durothil, matron of the powerful Durothil clan. On the opposite curve of the table sat Grand Mage Breithel Olithir, newly appointed to his position to replace the grand mage slain during the fall of the Tower of the Sun. Beside him sat the moon elf Keryth Blackhelm, the High Marshal of Evermeet, then the wealthy moon elf merchant Lady Meraera Silden, the Speaker of Leuthilspar. Beside her was the Lady Ammisyll Veldann, governor of the city of Nimlith on Evermeet’s southwestern shores.

The membership of the council was not set at nine by any law or tradition. Over time it fluctuated as new members were invited to join, or older ones passed to Arvandor. For eighty years Seiveril had sat on the council, by virtue of his governorship over the northern city of Elion, his high standing among the clerics of Corellon Larethian, and the cachet of the Miritar name.

“I must report that Evermeet has been attacked,” Seiveril began. “Three days ago a raiding party of demons and demonblooded sorcerers teleported into the great hall of Tower Reilloch. They killed more than twenty of Reilloch’s People, including the high mages Philaerin and Aeramma, and wounded many more. They fled with the Gatekeeper’s Crystal, an artifact stolen from Reilloch’s vaults.”

Seiveril heard an audible groan from the high admiral at his right hand. Other councilors winced, or drew in their breath with a soft hiss, or simply looked down at the table. Amlaruil, who had already heard the tale from him, simply waited impassively.

“As far as I can tell, the attackers came for the specific purpose of stealing the artifact,” Seiveril went on. “Since they accomplished that, it is doubtful they will return, but I have dispatched warriors to reinforce the surviving mages of Reilloch Domayr just in case. I suggest that we send word to all other Towers to look to their own defenses.”

“We would have done better to look to our defenses before we were attacked,” Selsharra Durothil growled. Her clan was arguably the noblest and most powerful family of sun elves on the island. It was no secret that some among the Durothils, and the many sun elf Houses allied with them, resented the fact that a moon elf dynasty had been appointed to rule over Evermeet. Seiveril didn’t know if Selsharra privately hungered for Amlaruil’s throne or not, but for fifty years she had been the queen’s most strident critic on the council. “Did no one pay attention when Nimesin invaded three years ago? For that matter, how did demons teleport through Evermeet’s defenses? Haven’t our mages woven wards to prevent this very sort of thing?”

“It should not have been possible—” began Grand Mage Olithir, but Selsharra Durothil simply cut him off with a cold stare.

Despite his accomplishments as a high mage, Breithel Olithir was a novice in the workings of Evermeet’s council, and he knew it. He left his protest unfinished and fell silent.

Seiveril decided to help the grand mage save face.

“Those who fought the creatures at Tower Reilloch reported that the demonic sorcerers resembled winged sun elves, with scarlet skin and black, leathery wings,” he offered. “Supposedly, these creatures appeared first, then created a temporary gate that permitted the passage of the demons. Some of Reilloch’s mages speculated that the demon-sorcerers might have elf blood sufficient to pass unrecognized through Evermeet’s wards.”