Elaine Cunningham - Evermeet - Island of Elves

"Zhorntar will not touch an elven ship," the mage said confidently.

"How can you know this?"

In response, Vhoori reached out and plucked an ancient, jeweled dagger from Darthoridan's belt. He murmured a few arcane words, and then hurled the blade into the sea.

Darthoridan squinted out over the water. There paddled the dragon turtle. The knife was embedded deep in the turtle's shell-only the glowing hilt, its gems pulsing with magic, was still visible.

"I will now be able to observe the creature," Vhoori said. "And rest assured, even if my eyes are averted, the blade will sink down and find its way to Zhorntar's heart if ever he gives in to the temptation to hunt elves."

"A fine ornament," the turtle admitted, craning his head around to admire the gems. "But what of my heirs?"

"They can pluck it from your shell upon your death. It is ensorcelled, and will release itself to your chosen successor."

"Well done. It is agreed," the turtle said, and sank down into the ocean.

Darthoridan's eyes flamed as he rounded on the High Mage. "You gave me that dagger as a wedding gift so that you might watch me!"

"And you should be glad of it," the Gold elf retorted. "Had I not, you would be dead and this ship would be in human hands."

That was true enough, but the warrior eyed Vhoori suspiciously. "I cannot believe you gave such a gift because you wished me well."

"I came to your rescue, did I not?" the mage said impatiently.

Darthoridan nodded. "What do you want of me, then?"

"First, your silence. None need know of the Starwing fleet, or of Evermeet's newest protector," Vhoori said, nodding to the now-quiet sea. "Second, your support. I wish to become the next High Councilor."

Darthoridan laughed, briefly and without humor. "You command ships that fly, magic enough to bind one of the sea's most powerful creatures-"

"Two, actually," the mage interjected. "There is already a kraken patrolling the waters north of Sumbrar."

The Moon elf threw up his hands. "Why do you need my support? You could simply take what you desire!"

Vhoori Durothil shook his head. "You still do not understand. I have no wish to conquer, but to serve. The powers I have, I will wield for the good of Evermeet."

"According to your lights," Darthoridan said sarcastically.

"According to my right." The mage's usually calm voice rose with sudden passion. "The Durothil clan is the most ancient and honored of all those on this island. Our ancestors ruled Aryvandaar, and before that, Faerie itself. The Council's time is nearly past. Evermeet must have one ruler, a worthy ruler from a worthy and proven dynasty. And who better than me and mine?"

"You wish to be a king," Darthoridan said, thunderstruck.

Vhoori did not disagree. "I have ruled Sumbrar well. Evermeet is my due. There is more," he said, breaking off the Moon elf's attempted protest. "With my magic, I can look among the stars, below the sea, and to the Circles that gather in every corner of this world. Sometimes, dimly, I catch a glimpse of what will be. And this I tell you in all assurance: Evermeet will have a king."

"And have you also foreseen that you are to be this king?"

The mage shrugged. "Perhaps I presume too much in seeking Evermeet's throne. But more likely, in doing so I only hasten my own destiny. I tell you this because you are a strong voice in the council. Your word will go far. Swear fealty to me now, and in return you will hold your northern lands in the name of the crown. You will have power and honor beyond what most Silver elf clans could hope to achieve."

Before Darthoridan could respond, he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder. He looked down into his wife's face. She nodded, her lovely features set in determination. "If swearing to Durothil will bring honor and position to our house, my lord, do so at once."

The Moon elf was too weary to argue. He could not dispute Vhoori's vision or his wife's desire for a place of power in the court. Did he not wish the same thing? Was this not what he had desired all his life?

"Agreed," he said curtly. "But beware of me, if you do not rule well."

Vhoori's smile was complacent. "There is little chance of that. Evermeet is becoming what she was meant to be The dawn you see before you is that of a new and-you should pardon the expression-golden era."

The forest trees shook as Malar the Beast Lord screamed his rage into the night sky. Snarling and cursing, he paced the forest and set the mountains of Faerun quivering with the reverberating echoes of his wrath.

This deep inland woodland was his haunt now. Not for him the remote islands and the angry waves of the sea. He was done with Umberlee, and she with him.

Twice now had the goddess of the sea fallen short of Malar's expectations. It was not that Umberlee lacked power, but she was simply too capricious. The goddess had none of Malar's single-minded focus. She was just as happy tormenting sailors off the sunny coasts of Chult as she was speeding human pirates on a raid to Evermeet. If one endeavor should fail, the goddess merely shrugged a white-capped shoulder and turned her attention elsewhere. The seas of Aber-toril were broad, and a single elven island could not hold Umberlee's attention for long.

But Malar wondered if he would ever be able to think of anything else. The passing of centuries had done little to cool his hatred for elves or to blunt his desire to see Corellon Larethian bested. It was becoming increasingly clear, however, that an invasion of Evermeet was no easy matter. Finally wearied by his ranting, the Beast Lord flung himself to the ground. Leaning his black-furred head against the trunk of an ancient oak, he sat and stared with malevolent red eyes up into the blackness of a moonless night. The night was as dark as any he had seen. A fine layer of clouds obscured the stars. This pleased Malar, for starlight was a source of joy and magic to the accursed elves. In his current mood he needed no such reminder of his elusive foes.

A faint, rosy pinprick of light in the eastern sky caught the brooding god's attention. He squinted up, trying to remember what about it seemed so familiar. Suddenly the years fell away, and Malar remembered a distant time, a time of terrible destruction at the hands of the mightiest hunters known to this world.

The god sprang to his feet and sprinted through the forest. To the nearest mountain he ran, and he did not pause until he had left the tree line below him. Finally he stood near the mountaintop. The night sky lay open before him, a naked void of darkness bereft of any light but one.

By now the new star had risen high in the sky, huge and bright enough to shine through the mist. It hung over the mountains, glimmering like a single crimson eye. Malar threw up his arms and crowed with triumph. It was as he thought. The King-Killer had returned.

Perhaps some gods understood the rhythm of the stars, and marked the occasional coming of the brilliant red star. Malar was not such a god. But he remembered one thing-one very important thing. For reasons unknown, when the King-Killer shone bright above Faerun, the dragons gathered and took flight.

At last, Malar knew how best to serve vengeance to Evermeet.

The god began to dance in the dim red light of the King-Killer. Tendrils of godly magic wafted off to search for the Beast Lord's followers, and to slip into the dreams of those who listened. To all his priests and shamans Malar sent the same message:

Gather the faithful. The time has come for a Great Hunt.

The orc horde crashed through the forest, making no effort to conceal their presence or to mute the sound of their approach. There didn't seem to be much point. The path of the dragonflight had passed over this land, leaving a broad swath of charred and lifeless forest.