Richard Baker - Farthest Reach

Xhalph glanced around the wooded glade. “Our fey’ri and baatezu have been scouring the area for hours, and the only sign they’ve turned up is a dead gelugon about half a mile from here. He has had ample opportunity to escape by now.”

“My mythal trap drained him of most, if not all, of his magic,” Sarya said. “Without his spells, he must flee on foot or hide somewhere until his magic returns. In either case, we can still catch him.” She looked up at Xhalph, and lightly leaped into the air, snapping her leathery wings until she hovered ten feet above him. “Take charge of the pursuit, Xhalph! Spare no effort to prevent the mage’s escape.”

The daemonfey swordsman bowed his head, and sprang into the air, arrowing off into the woods, calling for the fey’ri who attended him. Sarya wheeled and flew in the opposite direction, back to Castle Cormanthor. While she certainly hoped that Araevin was lying powerless and vulnerable somewhere nearby, it was clearly foolish to simply hope that he would be caught before he carried word of her tampering in Myth Drannor to her enemies. She would have to presume that he had already escaped, and that Seiveril Miritar and all who stood with him would soon learn of her new retreat.

She needed to speak to Malkizid.

Alighting on a high balcony, Sarya passed a pair of fey’ri who stood guard there. The proud daemonfey warriors knelt and spread their wings as she passed, grounding their long-headed spears in salute. She swept by them into the hallway beyond, and quickly made her way to the chamber of the mythal stone.

With the ease of long practice, Sarya whispered the words of a spell and woke the mythal’s magic to her hand.

“Malkizid!” she called out. “Answer me! I would speak with you.”

Her words reverberated in the dense magical fields dancing around the mythal stone. Then she felt Malkizid’s presence in the conduit, as the devil-prince responded to her call.

“I am here, Sarya,” he said in his melodious voice. “What is it you desire?”

“The mage Araevin Teshurr has visited us here,” she said.

“Ah! Did the spell trap I showed you snare him?”

“He triggered it, but he apparently made his escape on foot before my warriors could catch him. But it did empty him of spells, and he was completely unable to tamper with my mythal-weaving here.”

Even though she could not see him, she felt Malkizid nodding in satisfaction on the other side of the conduit.

“Good, good. You see what we can do when we combine my knowledge of these things with your special heritage and talent for sorcery?”

“Do not patronize me, Malkizid,” Sarya snapped. She paced anxiously in front of the stone, her tail twitching from side to side. She had had little use for confined spaces since escaping from her prison beneath old Ascalhorn three years ago, and even though the mythal chamber beneath the castle’s great hall was large and spacious, she still did not care for it. “If Araevin has discovered me here, he will certainly carry word to Evermeet’s army and anyone else who cares to listen.”

The devil-prince fell silent a moment.

“You fear Evermeet’s army will pursue you even here,” he said at last.

“Twice now I have been denied the realm that is mine to rule-once in ancient Siluvanede, and a second time at Myth Glaurach. This city is the seat of my third realm, Malkizid, and here I will raise a mighty kingdom indeed. All I need is time, time to master more of your mythal spells, time to build my armies again.”

“You need not fear that possibility, Sarya,” said the demon-prince. “With the right mythal spells, you could stand a siege of centuries within Myth Drannor’s ruins.”

Sarya stopped her pacing and turned to face the mythal stone through which Malkizid spoke, even though she knew that he was not physically present.

“I have spent ages uncounted buried in traps and prisons! I am not going to simply sit within these crumbling ruins and allow my enemies to contain me here forever.”

“Then you must destroy Evermeet’s army. Since you cannot reach them where they are now, perhaps matters will turn to your advantage if they place themselves within your reach here.” Malkizid paused a moment, then asked, “Are you certain that Evermeet is your only foe? What of the Jaelre or Auzkovyn drow? Or the human lands near this city?”

Sarya barked in bitter laughter. “The drow have not seen fit to show themselves yet, and I doubt they will do so. Vesryn Aelorothi tells me that some demonic nemesis has all but harried them from the old Elven Court entirely. As for the humans… the humans have dreaded these woods for a thousand years or more. Why, the memories alone of old Cormanthyr have been sufficient to keep them from expanding into the forest.”

“A kingdom stands on four pillars, Sarya: magic, steel, coin, and allies. You can do without one pillar, but your realm will not survive long if you lack two or more. Here you have magical power, and soon an army to be reckoned with, when we bring more of my infernal warriors to your banner-under the terms of our existing bargain, of course. What of the other two pillars?”

“Commerce is for humans,” Sarya growled. “But allies… allies could be useful. Unfortunately, the nearest orcs or ogres of any number are in the lands of Thar, across the Moonsea.”

“I was speaking of the human powers that surround this forest. Or even the drow, for that matter.”

Sarya turned slowly to gaze into the aura of dancing golden light.

“I have no use for the drow,” she said. She was inclined to discount the rest of Malkizid’s suggestion, too, yet there was something in the archdevil’s words, wasn’t there? Even if she had no use for the humans, she certainly did not want to see Evermeet’s army ally with any of those powers against her. “But the humans… Sembia or Zhentil Keep have no interest in seeing Evermeet’s army in Cormanthor, do they? Perhaps these enemies could be turned against each other. But what would you gain from such a development, I wonder?”

“Your success is my success, Sarya Dlardrageth. You are the ally I have needed for five thousand years, the missing pillar in my kingdom. And I am the missing pillar in your new realm.” Sarya felt the archdevil’s keen hunger and ambition glinting through the mythal almost as if she were gazing into his eyes. “I have waited a long time for my freedom. You can help me gain it.”

22 Mirtul, the Year of Lightning Storms

Anticipating trouble, Araevin and Filsaelene wove a number of spells, wards, and abjurations over their companions in the safety of the hidden cave. Araevin warded them from blades and talons with his spell of stoneskin, and finished by once again weaving the spell of invisibility over the small band.

“The spells will not last long,” he said. “We should head straight for the portal glade, and avoid any delay.”

He nodded to Starbrow, and the tall moon elf set his shoulder to the hidden door leading out into Sehanine’s shrine, gently opening it a handspan to peer outside.

“No one in sight,” Starbrow said. “Follow me, and stay close.”

One by one they slipped out of the refuge. Daylight had long since faded, and the night was overcast with only a hint of moonshine glowing behind the clouds. Starbrow lingered a moment to slide the door shut behind them and quickly scuff up the signs of their passage.

“No sense letting the daemonfey find it,” he said in a low voice.

They set off at a quick jog along the old forest roads, heading back toward the jagged spires of the city that rose above the trees.

They hurried on through the night-black forest, until Araevin sensed that they were quite close to the portal glade. He started to whisper a warning to Starbrow, but the moon elf slacked his pace and raised one hand in warning before Araevin could speak.