Elaine Cunningham - Evermeet - Island of Elves

"I name you, Lydi'aleera Amarillis, false queen of Evermeet, to be a coward, a liar, a whore, and the murderer of my father Adamar Alenuath-and of my half-brother Rhenalyrr."

The queen stared up at the fierce bladesinger like a mouse awaiting the claws of a striking owl. "I did not know-"

"You knew," Shanyrria said vehemently. "You knew that Rhenalyrr was not of Zaor's blood, yet you remained silent while he took the trial of the moonblade! Surely you knew that he would not survive."

"He was a fine, noble young elf," she persisted. "There was a chance that he might succeed. And if the moonblades are to be held as sole measure, Amarillis is as worthy of royalty as Moonflower!"

Shanyrria stared at the queen through narrowed eyes. "It is said that only those truly worthy of ruling can bear the sword of Zaor. Very well then. Come."

She put away her sword with a quick thrust and snatched a small knife from her belt. With one hand she grasped a handful of Lydi'aleera's hair and jerked her to her feet. She put one arm firmly around the queen's shoulder, and pressed the knife hard into the elf woman's ribs.

"I will support you in your grief, my queen," the bladesinger said with heavy irony, "and take you where you must go."

The elf woman struggled to pull away, but Shanyrria was strong and held her fast. "What are you going to do?" Lydi'aleera demanded.

"No more than what you did to my brother. You will draw the sword of Zaor and test your worthiness to rule Evermeet. You are Amarillis born, so your chances are as good as Rhenalyrr's!"

"I will not do it!" gasped Lydi'aleera.

"You will," Shanyrria asserted. "If you do not, I will proclaim before all of Evermeet what you have done. Zaor will put you away, and you and all your clan will be shamed. Or, if you prefer, I will kill you now, and then speak."

The queen stared at her, all hope draining from her eyes. "And if I draw, and succeed? Will you keep silent concerning all of this?"

"Whether you live or die is for the moonblade to decide. I will content myself with that. Either way, you will win: a kingdom or an honorable death. It is more than you deserve."

Since she had no recourse, the queen walked with Shanyrria toward the place where Zaor's sword lay, gleaming still with faint blue magic, upon the ceremonial pedestal. Before any could divine her intent, Lydi'aleera stepped forward and grasped the sword in her two hands and began to slide it from the scabbard.

A flash of terrible blue light lit the plain. When it faded, the elf woman was gone, but for a pile of pale, drifting ash.

Shanyrria nodded in grim agreement to the sentence that the moonblade had pronounced. The bladesinger felt no guilt over her part in the queen's death. She considered Lydi'aleera guilty, not only of her brother's death and her father's, but also of treason against the crown. It felt right to her that Lydi'aleera's fate was one that she had chosen, though her pride, ambition, and cowardly silence, for her own son.

Many were the witnesses to Lydi'aleera's death. In the stunned murmurs that swept the group, the elves surmised the queen had been maddened by grief, or determined to prove the worth of Amarillis after her son's failure. Shanyrria did not care what they thought, as long as they accepted one very important truth: Lydi'aleera Amarillis was not fit to rule. She was not and never had been Evermeet's queen.

The bladesinger turned to face the gathering crowd. Her eyes sought out Amlaruil, who stood pale and stunned among the Tower magi. Shanyrria bowed deeply, then pulled her blade and raised it to her forehead in a gesture of respect.

"The queen is dead," she said, and her words seemed to echo in the stunned silence. Then she strode forward and lay her blade in a gesture of fealty at Amlaruil's feet.

"The queen is dead," Shanyrria repeated. "Long live the queen."

Zaor understood at once the importance of this moment. He strode to the alter and drew the sword. Holding it high overhead with one hand, he held out the other to Amlaruil.

The mage hesitated only for a moment. She walked to Zaor's side and entwined her fingers in his. Then with her other hand, she reached up to grasp the hilt of the king sword.

Fey blue light poured through the moonblade and enveloped them both. They stood together, in full sight of all of Evermeet, joined by the ancient magic.

One by one, the somber elves went down on their knees to acknowledge what no one could deny.

Evermeet had a true queen, at last.

20 Flamerule, 1368 DR

To Lord Danilo Thann does Lamruil, Prince of Evermeet, send fond greetings.

Thank you for your latest letter, my friend, and for the lovely ballad that you sent for my Maura. Today is midsummer, and I have saved your song to sing for her as a midsummer gift. I have but little skill at the harp, but I have been practicing the simple accompaniment you fashioned for me and hope to do it credit. Maura is no critic where music is concerned. She is about as placid as a squirrel in autumn, and I have seldom seen her sit still the length of time needed to hear any piece of music from end to end. But few are the women who will not linger to hear their charm and beauty praised, and I feel confident that she will find enjoyment in this tribute.

It sounds as if you are progressing well in your endeavor. I can readily understand the frustrations you expressed, for the history of Evermeet's elves is so long and complex that no single work can do more than touch the corner of its shadow. But it is a worthy effort, for all that.

You asked me to speak of the queen. To do so is very much akin to the task you have undertaken: Anything and everything that can be said will fall far short of the possibilities. Amlaruil of Evermeet is revered and loved by the elves of the island and widely respected abroad. Even many of those who do not owe her political allegiance acknowledge that in a mystical sense she is indeed Queen of All Elves. The queen epitomizes all that the elven people value: beauty, grace, magic, wisdom, power. That is just the beginning. Just as your friend Laeral is Chosen of her goddess Mystra, Amlaruil is something more than mortal. She stands alone in a special place between elf woman and goddess. She is also my mother, and as such she often drives me to near madness in the time-honored manner of any mother and son. And in all candor, I must admit that I return the favor.

One of Queen Amlaruil's most remarkable accomplishments is that she has transcended many of the petty divisions between the elven races. Gold elves join with Moon elves to sing her praises. Green elves would set fire to their ancient forests if such could serve and protect her. The Sea elves adore her, and it is rumored that the Sea elven monarch of the Coral Kingdom has repeatedly asked for her hand in marriage. I can attest to this, as I was eavesdropping during one such appeal. Even some of the drow recognize Amlaruil as their rightful queen. Not many years ago, the queen secretly received a representative of the goddess Eilistraee. Though drow will never be permitted on Evermeet, the Moonflower family now has alliances with some of the goodly followers of the Dark Maiden.

Permit me to tell you a personal tale that I believe will illustrate the unique color-blind reverence that elves hold for Amlaruil.

Long before you were born, when I was a mere sapling and just beginning to feel my sap rising, I celebrated the summer solstice in the time-honored manner of my people-with feasting and song, revelry and dance. By custom, the royal Moonflower family attends revels in various parts of the island: that year, we celebrated amid the lush meadows of the Horse Fields that cover much of the northwestern part of Evermeet.

The morn of midsummer day was fine and bright, and I felt myself blessed by the bright attention of one of the spring maids who danced in the morning rituals. She was a Gold elf, a girl of good if not noble family. Before long it was clear to me that this year, I would join in the evening revels in a manner I had not before.