Elaine Cunningham - Evermeet - Island of Elves

The girl and I, in our youthful exuberance, were ill content to wait for the coming of night-after all, midsummer is the longest day of the year! She was older than I, and wise in the ways of midsummer revels. Gifted with her soft smiles and sweet words of promise, I found myself in scant supply of that supposedly elven virtue: patience.

Before the dew was off the grass, we stole away and found a place for our private revels. I blush to admit that this place was her father's hay barns. At the time, however, we felt gloriously unburdened by this singular lack of originality and imagination.

Later, as we were picking bits of straw from each other's hair and laughing together at small things that would not, under any other circumstances, have seemed half as witty or clever, we were interrupted by her father. Yes. So far, this has all the makings of a second-rate minstrel's ballad, does it not?

The elf stood over us, grimly dignified and nearly shaking with controlled wrath. "By your leave, Prince Lamruil, I would like to have private speech with my daughter," he said in a tight, clipped manner.

I gathered up my clothes and fled from the barn. What else was I to do? Yet I did not go far, for though I respected the elf's right to rule his family as he wished, I would not allow the girl to come to any harm at his hands.

And so, as I hurriedly donned my festival garments just outside the barn door, I shamelessly eavesdropped upon the small drama played out within.

"You have shamed yourself and your family, Elora," the farmer told her in that same grimly controlled tone.

I could envision the pert, defiant toss of her golden head. "How so? It is midsummer. I am of age and promised to no male. I can do as I will-not even my respected father can gainsay me in such matters."

"That is not what I mean, and you know it well!" he thundered, his control suddenly spent. "How could you lie with a Gray elf? How could you?"

There was a moment of heavy silence-to which, I might add, I added the weight of my own surprise. Then my lass responded, "Lamruil is a prince of Evermeet. Who in your mind is an elf worthy for me to bed-the king himself?"

"Do not even speak of such treachery against the crown and the queen! With my own hands would I kill any elf woman who so betrayed Evermeet's Amlaruil, even my own daughter!"

"Then how can you object to Prince Lamruil?" she retorted, reasonably enough-or so it seemed to me. "He is his mother's son."

"What of it?"

Another puzzled silence, as the lass and I struggled to comprehend her father's logic.

"Well, Queen Amlaruil is a Gray elf too," she pointed out.

A ringing slap echoed through the morning air. "Have a care how you speak of Evermeet's Queen!" he snarled.

I was about to dash in to protect the girl from further mistreatment, but my intervention was not needed. The farmer stormed out of the barn, too consumed with wrath at his daughter's sacrilege to notice me standing there in my undergarments, wearing one unlaced boot and brandishing a ready and avenging sword. Admittedly, I doubt he would have been overly impressed by the spectacle.

And thus it is. Whatever enmities exist between Silver and Gold, Amlaruil the queen is truly Queen of All Elves. The efforts of a few stray zealots such as Kymil Nimesin have done great harm-to which my family can attest with sorrow-but I do not believe they will succeed in bringing down what Amlaruil has built.

But in all honesty, I must admit that I have been known to be wrong before.

By the sun and stars! What a dismal sentiment to add at letter's end! Let me then end by thanking you again for the gift of Maura's song, which I fondly trust will add sweetness and heat to my midsummer night. Give my regards to Ardyn and the little one. I look forward to seeing you all again soon.

Your uncle and friend, Lamruil

1371DR

Shanyrria Alenuath was among the first to see the approaching sky caravan. The bladesinger was drilling a new batch of potential students on a hillside not far from the Towers of the Sun and Moon. This was a particularly promising group, for perhaps half of them had the right combination of talent in music, magic, and swordcraft needed to become a true bladesinger. Of those, two or three might qualify for the specialized training offered by Sunrise Tower. There, skilled bladesingers honed their musical talents into a spellcasting art. The goal was nothing less than the revival of the ancient, nearly forgotten art of spell-song. This was but one of the efforts that sprang up in response to the challenge issued by Amlaruil, back when she was the Lady of the Towers. As queen she had continued to foster and support the elven arts, and Shanyrria was proud to have a part in this effort. She herself would never be a spell-singer, but she had made it her life's work to seek out promising students and direct them to Sunrise Tower.

But there was one loyalty even nearer to Shanyrria's heart. The sight of the pale blue rose emblazoned on the banner of the sky caravan was enough to make her drop her sword and forget her students. She stared in horror and consternation at the white-draped litter that was bourn southward by a team of four white pegasi. It looked like a funeral procession. The blue rose was the standard of the Moonflower family, and the pegasi were in the service of the Queen herself.

Shanyrria dismissed the students at once and sprinted down the hill toward the Tower of the Sun. Laeroth Runemaster, who had succeeded Amlaruil as Grand Mage of the Towers, would know if… Shanyrria's thoughts slammed to a stop, unwilling even to form the words. Yet she had to know the meaning of the white-draped litter. Laeroth would know what there was to be known.

She found all the High Magi gathered in the large spellcasting chamber awaiting the Grand Mage. Too impatient to wait, Shanyrria pushed through them and went in search of Laeroth. She found the aged elf in the upper tower, in the act of removing the Accumulator from its protective wrapping. Apprehension clutched at her throat with icy fingers as she contemplated a danger that would necessitate bringing out one of the greatest of Evermeet's defenses. An ancient artifact, it stored the power of the spells around it. Shanyrria's trained senses sang in harmony with the magic-the unique magic of Evermeet-which emanated from the artifact in silent song.

Laeroth turned to the bladesinger. "I am to take this to the palace," he said simply. "The queen is in need of all of Evermeet's defenders."

Relief flooded Shanyrria. "The queen lives! Praise the gods! But the royal litter?"

"The Princess Ilyrana," the runemaster said sadly. "She lives, but her spirit has flown-carried away to do battle in another place. They take her body to her mother the queen."

"How-"

"Ityak-Ortheel," Laeroth interrupted, his usually gentle voice dark with hatred. "The creature of Malar, unleashed upon Evermeet itself. Ilyrana carried it away-to Arvandor, I believe-but most of the elven clerics were slain during the battle I fear." He gazed down at the Accumulator. "There is much yet to come. Every child of Evermeet must rally to meet this threat, or we will all perish. We stand alone, for all the magical gates of Evermeet have been blocked. The High Magi have gathered to see if this can be countered."

He looked up at her. "You are friends of the centaurs. Alert them, tell them to hurry to the river and hold back the sahuagin and scrags that have invaded the heartland. Then hasten to Sunrise Tower, prepare the spell-singers to defend the valley. A huge invading fleet approaches, and if any of the raiders manage to come ashore, you can imagine what prizes they might take."

Shanyrria nodded. Sunrise Tower stood in Drelagara, a Gold elf town in the midst of the lush measures that were home to the moon-horses. The wondrous beasts often played in the sea and the white-sand beaches east of the meadows; if raiders were to catch sight of such creatures, they would surely pursue them into the valley. A single moon-horse was worth more than a red dragon's hoard.