Elaine Cunningham - Evermeet - Island of Elves

She looked up at Elanjar. "Come. I must get the two of you to the safety of the Towers. The drow will be back with the coming of night."

"Craulnober Keep is well-nigh impregnable," Elanjar said, a frown of worry deepening the furrows of his forehead. "If the drow gain control of this keep, they will have a stronghold from which to strike at the whole island!"

"They will not set foot on Evermeet," Amlaruil assured him as she helped him to his feet. "If it takes every warrior and every mage on Evermeet to complete the task, we will stop them on Tilrith and seal their tunnels forever!"

Alone and on foot, Zaor walked through the northern gates of Leuthilspar and set a brisk pace for the palace. He had not gone far before Myronthilar Silverspear appeared at his side like a small gray shadow.

"I told you to await me," the king grumbled.

"And so I have," his friend asserted. "This business that took you off alone, that which was so important that none could accompany you-it is completed?"

Zaor's face set into grim lines. "It seems it is just beginning. Is Amlaruil still at the palace?"

The warrior hesitated. "She has been and gone more than once since you left, and since she came bringing news that you were endangered, the queen's brother has been very much in attendance. He eyes the palace maids as if he were selecting his evening's entertainment, and he studies the chests as if contemplating which one would best hold his spare cloaks and boots. I tell you, my lord, I like it not."

"You were always cautious of Montagor Amarillis," Zaor said. "If he wished to lay claim to the throne, he would have done so twenty-five years before."

"Montagor is no king, and he knows it. But perhaps he desires a regency," Myron told him gravely. "His hope for an Amarillis heir is nearly gone, for the Princess Ilyrana nears the age of accountability. She will be crowned as your heir before the year is through."

Zaor stopped dead. "Do you think the princess is in danger?"

"The lady Amlaruil does," Myron said. "She took the princess and sent her and the twins away to safety. And she bid me meet you as soon as I could do so without breaking my word." His face turned grave. "Is it true? There was an attempt upon your life, here on Evermeet itself?"

"Do you doubt the lady mage?" Zaor said dryly.

As he expected, Myronthilar's face took on a look of near reverence. "Not in this or anything," he said quietly.

"Thank you for your faith, my friend," said a feminine voice behind them.

Both warriors jumped, and whirled to face the speaker. Their countenances wore identical expressions of chagrin that they could be taken unaware. Taking pity on the powerful blend of male and elven pride, Amlaruil reached out and touched the ring on Myronthilar's hand.

"The elfrune I gave you enables me to find you when needed," she explained. "Would that I had the sense to give one to Zaor, rather than worry about propriety and appearances! But there are other matters at hand that demand your attention, my lords." In a few terse words she told them about the invasion of Tilrith.

Zaor's face darkened. "All the forces of Evermeet will march north at once. Can you take us to the palace, my lady?"

Amlaruil called the magic that carried all three instantly to Zaor's council chambers. With the brisk efficiency of a seasoned war leader, the king sent forth messengers to all corners of Evermeet to gather the elves for battle.

At last he turned back to Amlaruil, who had stood silently by. "Can you bring a Circle to the northern shore? We will have need of powerful magic to close the tunnels. If Tilrith must be dropped into the sea to ensure Evermeet's security, then so be it."

"It will be done," she assured him. At that moment the doors to the chamber flew open, and Lydi'aleera swept into the room Montagor close on her heels. Her gaze kindled when it fell upon Amlaruil, and her smile turned feline. With deliberate motions, she took up a decanter of wine and poured two cups. She took the vials from her sash, holding them so that Amlaruil could see them and read her intent.

"Welcome back, my lord. Will you drink with me, to celebrate your return?" she purred.

Zaor shook his head. "I cannot stay. Have you not heard the news, or at least suspected that something might be amiss? The palace is in an uproar, and soldiers swarm the streets of the city. This is not a time for celebrations."

The smug expression on the queen's face faltered. "You are not leaving, surely!"

"At once. The northern shores are under threat of invasion-not from sahuagin this time, but from creatures from Below."

"No. It is impossible," Lydi'aleera said, her eyes huge with fear.

"I wish that were so," the king said in a grim tone. "But do not be concerned. You will be quite safe in the palace," he assured her, misunderstanding the true source of her concern. He bowed to the elf women and strode from the room.

Lydi'aleera whirled toward the mage. "This is your doing," she hissed. "You have always taken Zaor from me! And now you conspire against me, even if that means an alliance with the drow!" The queen drew back her arm as if to hurl the goblet at Amlaruil.

"Enough!" the mage said softly.

The chilling fury in that single word froze the queen in place. Amlaruil stepped forward, her eyes blazing in her pale face. "Do not dare to accuse me of crimes that you, and you alone in this room, have committed. Do you wish to speak treason? Then speak of a queen who would not lift her hand to save her husband, until she was assured of getting her will."

"I must give Zaor an heir," the elf woman repeated stubbornly.

"Perhaps you will, but not by my power, not now and never again," Amlaruil swore. "The magic of the fertility potion will not outlive this night; the magic of the love potion also diminishes with time. You might yet be able to lure Zaor to your bed, but you will not find your way into his heart! You have lost your chance, and I will not give you another." She turned away.

"I did not give you leave to go," the queen snapped.

The High Mage whirled back, her blue eyes dark with wrath. "I have more important concerns than your personal vanity and your need to resort to magic-aided seduction! Have you forgotten that the island over which you purport to reign is even now under threat of invasion? I am needed, even if you are not."

"You will fight at Zaor's side, I suppose?" scoffed Lydi'aleera.

Amlaruil's answering smile was cold. "Did you think the Tower magi spent all their time dancing beneath the stars? This will not be the first time I have used my magic in battle. And if the need arises, yes, I will take up a sword."

The High Mage disappeared in a sharp, angry crackle of magic.

After a moment's silence, Montagor came forward, shaking his head in bemused admiration. "Amlaruil in battle! Now that would be a sight worth seeing!"

Lydi'aleera's hand flashed out and cuffed her brother sharply on the side of the head. "Do your thinking with this, brother! You heard everything. Whatever am I to do now?"

Montagor considered her carefully. "You realize the importance of an Amarillis heir, do you not?"

"Yes, yes-of course! Would I go to such lengths to ensure one, otherwise?"

The elf nodded. "Then this is what you must do. You know Adamar Alenuath, of course. Have you ever noticed how closely he resembles Zaor?"

"No," she retorted. "He is nowhere near the king's stature, nor is anyone on this island."

"Perhaps 'closely' is overstating the case." he admitted. "But Adamar is a Moon elf warrior and strongly built, though not nearly of Zaor's height. He has the same odd coloring-the blue hair, the gold flecks in his blue eyes. If you were to seduce Adamar, the resulting offspring should be like enough to the Moonflowers to pass as the king's own."