Troy Denning: The Siege

Rivalen felt the weight of the Most High's gaze upon him. He did not bother to look up. There was nothing there to see anyway. He simply swallowed his fear, then addressed his father.

"There is a reason Ruha hides her face behind a veil, Most High," he said. "Of all the races on Toril, the Shadovar have more reason than any to know the power of the hidden." "True, but that explains nothing."

Rivalen swallowed-hard. "Most High, who can explain the will of the Hidden One? The witch is down there; that is all that matters-save my own failure in stopping her in Cormyr."

It was this last that saved him. The weight of the Most High's scrutiny vanished at once, and the air grew still and cold as he came to Rivalen's side.

"You did as you thought best, my son," Telamont said, and Rivalen's shoulder grew numb with cold. "I am sure you will make it up to us." "As am I," Rivalen said.

"Good." The Most High squeezed his shoulder until Rivalen thought it would break. "Now, we must concern ourselves with what to do next."

"The answer is clear, Most High," said Clariburnus. "We must kill the witch." The Most High was silent.

Clariburnus continued, the words spilling out of him like breath. "The magic of the Weave is impure and weak, no match for the Shadow Weave. All we need do is drop a shadow blanket-"

"And that will help us how?" the Most High asked, his voice alarmingly reasonable and calm. "By disposing of your mistake?" "My mistake, Most High?"

"Was she not your guide, brother?" Rivalen asked. "Yours and Brennus's?"

"She was," Brennus answered, "and we controlled her."

"Enough!" the Most High spat "There is no use in blaming each other. I am disappointed in all of you." The Most High remained silent.

Escanor was the first who dared to speak. "What does the witch matter? If she cannot enter the city, what does it matter if she camps below us for a century?"

"It only matters if you are wrong," the Most High responded.

The question hung in the air as heavy as lead. None of the brothers dared answer.

Finally, the Most High said, "You have all failed me. All of you princes." The shadow mists briefly obscured the tents of the Cormyrean camp, and when they cleared again, the princes were looking at a circle of white rocks. "Do you see that circle?" "A teleportation circle," Rivalen said.

His knees nearly buckled under the weight of the Most High's question. "For retreat, I believe," Rivalen said. More silence. "But I could be wrong," Rivalen admitted.

"If he is, there will be an army below us in hours," Clariburnus said. "Laeral required less than three hours to transport her entire relief army to the Sharaedim."

Rivalen glowered into Clariburnus's lead-colored eyes. As the Eleventh Prince-and the youngest still surviving-he was an ambitious one, always eager to raise himself at his brothers' expense.

"Do not blame your brother for your failures, Rivalen," Clariburnus said. "In Cormyr, the Steel Regent bested you handily."

Escanor, always Rivalen's favorite brother, said, "We have all underestimated the enemy." "You certainly have," Clariburnus said.

Escanor took a step toward the junior prince-only to find Hadrhune blocking his way.

"Dear princes, if we allow the enemy to divide us like this, we have lost already." The seneschal-more ambitious than any of the princes and, in his own way, more dangerous-turned toward the Most High. "Mighty Telamont, if I may-" "If you must" Hadrhune continued, nonplussed, "If I may suggest a more conservative strategy, perhaps we should call our armies home and defend the enclave." Telamont remained silent.

"Yes, Most High, I do believe the witch might know a way into the enclave," the seneschal added, glancing in the direction of Clariburnus and Brennus. "We do not know what she learned when she was brought here. You are aware of where I found her."

The Most High whirled away from the rail and stabbed an empty sleeve at Hadrhune's face. "The Faerыnians are not being reasonable!" he stormed. "What do we want, but what was Netheril's to begin with? By what right do they deny us?"

Rivalen breathed easier and settled in for the rant. Having not been born for seven hundred years after Shade left Faerыn, he did not feel the same sense of entitlement as the Most High, but he recognized the power it held over his father. The dream of reclaiming Anauroch and driving out the phaerimm was really all there was of Telamont Tanthul. At times, it made Rivalen wish he had been alive to see the glory that was Netheril, if only so he could understand his own phantom nature.

"Netheril was the most beautiful, the highest and mightiest, the worthiest civilization that Faerыn ever spawned!" Telamont complained. "And the Heartlands balk at a few decades of starvation! I would not hesitate-not hesitate at all, I tell you-to wipe them all from the face of the world if it meant the return of the floating cities. And the elves-I would give Evereska and Ever-meet both to the phaerimm, for just the century of peace we need to restore Anauroch to its glory."

Brennus stepped forward, head bowed and ceremonial fangs displayed. "If it pleases the Most High, I would be happy to go to the Sharaedim to open-" "Negotiations?" The Most High cuffed him-actually struck him-and sent the prince sprawling. "That I ought to allow."

The Most High turned to Rivalen, platinum eyes burning with a question.

"The alliance could have their army here all too soon," Rivalen reported. "Our agents in Tilverton report that it is already many thousands strong, and growing by the hour." The Most High turned to Clariburnus.

"Our army from the Sharaedim is passing south of the Shadow Sea as we speak," Clariburnus said. "It will reach Tilverton by tomorrow evening."

"How soon could it be here?" asked Hadrhune. As usual, the seneschal's impudence was beyond belief. It was as though he believed that because he was not plane-spawned he had nothing to fear from the Most High's wrath. "In time to stop the Cormyreans?" Clariburnus inclined his head. "It is but an hour away."

Hadrhune turned to the Most High. "Perhaps we could split the army. Recall enough to ensure against an assault."

"That way lies defeat in both battles," Rivalen said. "There are more than ten thousand enemy soldiers in Tilverton, many of them war wizards and clerics. If I am to defeat them, I will need our entire army." "Even the army in Myth Drannor?" Escanor asked.

In truth, Rivalen thought it would take that army as well, but he did not dare alienate his closest ally among the princes-and his only older brother.

He inclined his head to Escanor and said, "Any troops you were able to spare would certainly add to the victory."

"Unfortunately, I fear it will be impossible to spare any," Escanor said. "The Myth Drannor phaerimm are proving as obstinate-"

"I am sure you can spare half your troops," the Most High said. "Our victory in Tilverton must be quick. We must return our largest army to the Sharaedim within the month, before the shadowshell fails. The phaerimm are our greatest threat."

Escanor glanced at Rivalen, his coppery eyes burning with anger. "But if our losses are heavy-"

"We will be surrounded on all sides," Hadrhune confirmed. "Surely, a conservative approach is wiser."

The Most High considered this for a moment, then said, "You are half right. I will send princes to treat with polities more sympathetic to our cause. Lamorak, you will go to see the Red Wizards of Thay. Yder, you will seek out the true leaders of the Cult of the Dragon…"

The Most High continued on, outlining a strategy that would envelop the forces currently surrounding the Shadovar.

When he finally finished, Hadrhune tried again to assert his influence. "You have taken every wise precaution that can be taken, Most High… but what of my suggestion? Certainly, it is wisest to defend Shade Enclave first."