Richard Baker - Farthest Reach

“All right,” he said, “I have heard all I need to hear. If you are confident that Sarya has hidden her army in Myth Drannor, I am as well. We will pursue them without pause, and put an end to the daemonfey once and for all.”

“Are you certain that is a wise idea?” Vesilde Gaerth asked. “You may have trouble persuading Evermeet’s sons and daughters to go a thousand miles farther east and fight another campaign in a place where there are no living elven realms to defend.”

“The daemonfey are our enemies. If we drive them into the middle of peaceful human kingdoms and leave them alone to turn their evil against non-elf neighbors, how will the humans and other folk of Faerun thank us?” Seiveril asked. He paced away from the others to gaze out at the snow-capped mountains, gleaming in the morning light beyond the forests that surrounded the old city. “Besides, Vesilde, consider this: Sarya Dlardrageth has already demonstrated that she can and will attack Evermeet from Faerun. I think the warriors of Evermeet who march under our banner will be willing to fight some more to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Cormanthyr is a long march indeed. It would be many hundreds of miles on foot, and we would have to cross Anauroch as well,” Vesilde said. “I doubt the phaerimm have forgotten their defeat in Evereska. For that matter, the Shadovar might not permit our passage.”

“There are elfgates leading to Cormanthyr from Evermeet, aren’t there?” Ilsevele asked. “Return to Evermeet by means of the gate in Evereska, and go from Evermeet to Cormanthyr.”

“I do not think that will be possible,” Seiveril said. He turned from the window with a small frown, his hands clasped behind his back. “The council will not permit me to launch another crusade from Evermeet’s shores.”

Seiveril fell silent, and no one else spoke for a time. Maresa fidgeted, but for once the genasi kept her opinions to herself. Finally Starbrow looked up and addressed Seiveril.

“Presuming that our warriors are still willing to follow you in sufficient numbers that we can field an army,” Starbrow said, “there is still the question of how to get them from here to there. Is the march across Anauroch possible, or not?”

“I don’t know,” Seiveril replied. He looked to Araevin. “Can we bring an army through the portals you explored?”

“The portal leading to Myth Drannor’s Burial Glen was destroyed when we fled,” Araevin answered. “You cannot bring your warriors to Myth Drannor through that door.”

“It would have been impossible to force our way into the daemonfey stronghold through that portal, anyway,” Starbrow added. “It only worked once every few hours.”

Ilsevele glanced over at Araevin. “What of the portal before the one leading to Myth Drannor? Starbrow said that the mausoleum stands in Semberholme or somewhere in western Cormanthor.”

“Cormanthor is a very large forest,” Starbrow said. “That portal might be a hundred or more miles from Myth Drannor.”

“Still, it would save you the march across Anauroch,” Ilsevele said.

“It won’t go quickly,” Araevin cautioned. “The portal in the mountain fortress requires the casting of a spell, and each casting would only permit a handful of soldiers to pass through. You’ll need a mage to activate the portal for each four or five soldiers, and even a competent mage won’t be able to activate the portal more than a dozen times in a single day. If you have twenty wizards in your army who can cast the proper spell, it would take you at least four or five days to pass your army through the portals.”

“That assumes perfect organization and timing,” Ilsevele added. “Better count on twice that time, to be safe.”

“But there is no enemy waiting for us in the Semberholme portal?” Seiveril asked.

“No, Father. At least, we spent the night in the woods outside the mausoleum two nights ago, and no one troubled us.”

“Then it doesn’t matter if it takes us two days or a tenday. The Semberholme gate is clearly the best choice available to us.” Seiveril fixed his eyes on the unseen dangers ahead, looking away to the east as if he could see the spot where he meant to move his army despite the intervening mountains, deserts, and forests. “Summon the captains, Starbrow. I must explain to them what I propose to do- all of what I propose to do-so that those who choose to come with me can begin to march as quickly as possible.”

24 Mirtul, the Year of Lightning Storms

After resting a night in the company’s improvised quarters, Araevin spent the next two days instructing the half-elf mage Jorildyn and several other high-ranking wizards of the Crusade in the pass phrases and spells necessary to use the old portal network. The mages retraced Araevin’s steps through the mountain fortress and the forest crypt to the woods of Semberholme, and confirmed that the door leading to Myth Drannor was beyond repair.

“A shame,” Jorildyn muttered as they stood in the vault beneath the mausoleum. “It would have been useful to be able to slip spies directly into the city through that door.”

Araevin shook his head. “The daemonfey were waiting for us when we sought to return. If the portal was working, they would guard it heavily with spells and infernal monsters.” He thought for a moment then added, “Also, I would not discount the possibility that Sarya might prepare deadly spell traps in the city’s mythal. When my friends and I entered the city before, there were spells to prevent me from inspecting the mythal. If Sarya could do that, she might be able to weave other spells into the mythal-for example, curses to afflict anyone who isn’t a daemonfey.”

“Lord Miritar means to move on Myth Drannor and attack the daemonfey in their lair, if they don’t come out to fight,” Jorildyn said, frowning. “How will Sarya’s control of the mythal effect a battle in Myth Drannor’s streets?”

“Consider the effect that Evereska’s mythal had against the phaerimm a couple of years ago, once the city’s high mages repaired it. Certainly the daemonfey army didn’t attempt to enter the mythal during their attack two months ago, but they probably just didn’t have the opportunity.”

The battle mage looked at Araevin, his face troubled, and asked, “Does Sarya have sufficient skill and ability to do that with the mythal?”

“I don’t know,” Araevin replied. “I don’t believe she has the ability to sculpt the mythal as she pleases, at least not yet. But a month ago I was able to best her at Myth Glaurach, and three days ago I could not do so at Myth Drannor. Either she was simply careless the first time I attemped to contest her access to a mythal-something that doesn’t really seem to be in her nature-or she has learned something new about mythalcraft in a very short time. That possibility terrifies me.”

“I don’t care for the idea of marching our army into Sarya’s mythal and hoping for the best,” Jorildyn said.

“Nor do I.”

Araevin narrowed his eyes, thinking. The magical might and lore of the Crusade was formidable indeed, but would it be enough if things came to a battle for Myth Drannor?

He set aside the question for a time, as he and Jorildyn charted out the other portals from the mountain fortress. First they blocked the trapped portal and marked it as such, so that there would be no mistakes while moving soldiers through. Then they examined the other two functioning portals. One led to a sunlit glen in a warm, southerly forest, with thick moss hanging from the trees and the humming of countless insects in the air. The other opened into a ruined wood elven watchtower, a great tree that had once been a living fortress. Araevin guessed that that portal likely opened in the forests of the Great Dale, though none of the other wizards assisting in the task knew for certain.