Элейн Каннингем - Silver Shadows

Ferret looked up and met his gaze. “The battle has been won, and Arilyn lives!”

After the wounded were tended and the dead returned to the forest, the sylvan folk began the northward trek. By common agreement, they would rebuild, forming a settlement at the Swanmay’s Glade that would embrace Elmanesse and Suldusk alike. After the battle, the wisdom of joining together had been clear to them all.

Arilyn and Ganamede walked together. The half-elf was still weak from her ordeal and thinner than ever, yet she was strengthened by the success of her mission and the sweetness of the message Foxfire had given her.

Neither she nor the lythari were much given to talk at any time, and each had a heartful of matters to treasure and contemplate.

Once again, Arilyn found she had to ask her friend for help. This was becoming easier for her to do. In the community that had developed among the forest people, it did not seem intrusive to ask for or to offer assistance. Especially now, when all the fey folk were united as never before.

“Before I take my leave of the forest elves, there is one more thing I must do,” Arilyn said. “You told me once that a time would come when I must walk between my two worlds. For this, I need your help.”

Ganamede stared at her for a moment; then he nodded in understanding and approval. “I will take you to Evermeet,” he agreed.

Queen Amlaruil started as the ring on her small finger emitted a silent alarm. She had worn the ring for many years; it warned her when someone entered the magical gate on the far side of the palace grounds. It also would transport her there, instantly, along with whoever happened to be at hand. But even if she went alone, the elven queen did not fear. She was no fragile figurehead to be cozened and protected; she herself was one of the powerful safeguards that kept Evermeet secure. Amlaruil knew the ancient high magic of the elves and carried the special power of the Seldarine. Few were the forces that could get beyond Evermeet’s formidable queen.

She nodded to her scribe and her honor guard and then touched the ring. The four elves emerged at once in a deep, forested glade. There were two figures waiting there: a large, silver-furred lythari, and a tall and slender moon elven female. As yet, neither had perceived the queen’s arrival.

Arilyn looked with wonder at her ancestral home. A few butterflies fed upon the flowers that dotted the meadow grasses, and the ancient oaks that surrounded the glade were robed in the deep emerald hues of late summer. It was a scene such as might have been found in the virgin forest of many a land, except for an aura of eldritch energy as pervasive as sunlight.

“Evermeet,” Arilyn whispered.

“I will leave you here and return when you are ready for me,” Ganamede said, vanishing from sight almost as soon as the words were spoken.

Arilyn felt the tingle of magic at her side and glanced down at her moonblade. A faint blue mist rose from the blade.

Her eyes followed it, then widened in astonishment. The mist reached out like reverent fingers to touch a shimmering oval gate. Arilyn had seen it only once before, but she knew it well. It was the power that her mother had inadvertently given the moonblade—a link between the worlds of elves and humankind.

“Who are you, who dares trespass upon this place?”

The question might have seemed harsh, but for the sheer beauty of the voice that spoke it. Arilyn’s throat tightened. The voice reached deep into her memory, recalled the lullabies her mother had crooned to her as a child. Liquid starlight—for some reason that was how Arilyn remembered her mother’s voice. This one had the same limpid, shimmering tones.

Arilyn turned to face Amlaruil Moonflower, Queen of Evermeet.

It was the elven ruler’s turn to jolt in astonishment. “Amnestria?” she whispered in a voice filled with longing and awe.

This startled Arilyn, for she did not think she looked much like her mother. Indeed, the queen quickly realized her mistake and composed her features back into the mask of regal serenity. Nor was Amlaruil much like Amnestria, Arilyn noted. The queen’s features were more delicate, her hair like silk and flame. She was tall, taller even than Arilyn, with a pale, otherworldly beauty that reminded Arilyn of the lythari females. And although Amnestria’s inclination had been to be nearly as solitary as her daughter, the queen was accompanied by a pair of gold elven guards and an elderly moon elf male—no doubt an advisor or a scribe.

At least they had one thing in common, Arilyn mused: each had seen Amnestria in the other. She herself would never have believed it possible, and she doubted the elven queen would ever accept the link between them. So be it. She herself had matters to tend.

The Harper drew the moonblade and fell to one knee. She placed the elven sword on the grass at Amlaruil’s feet.

“I am Arilyn Moonblade, daughter and blade heir of Amnestria of Evermeet. As long as the fires of Myth Drannor burn within this sword, it will serve the People and their rightful queen.”

There was a long silence. The elven monarch stood like a statue of marble and moonstone. Arilyn understood. All moonblades were pledged to the People, yet the queen could hardly accept the sword without acknowledging its wielder. With her next words, however, Arilyn gave the proud queen a way out. She took Amlaruil’s commission, given her by the hand of Captain Carreigh Macumail, and placed it beside the sword.

“I have fulfilled my duties as ambassador of Evermeet and have come to give my report.”

“Rise, and speak,” the queen said at last. She waved the guards back and bid the elderly scribe to take a seat on a fallen log.

Arilyn gave a concise but thorough accounting of the events in the Forest of Tethir. When she fell silent, Amlaruil asked her a number of questions. Finally the queen nodded.

“It is not the task I gave you, but nonetheless you have done well.”

“Then permit me to name my fee,” Arilyn said evenly. “Carreigh Macumail indicated that he’d been empowered to approve any request I might make. I certainly have no objection to such generosity, but in the future, you might want to fill in a figure before signing the note.”

This seemed to amuse the queen. “You are definitely Amnestria’s daughter,” she said wryly. “She was ever one to speak her mind. Yet I see that there is much of your father in you, as well.”

“What you see before you is my doing,” Arilyn said in a calm, even tone. “I am not a soup, made by tossing a little of this and that into a pot. As for my father, we met for the first time but three winters past.” She paused and touched the gem in her restored moonblade. “You and yours made certain of that.”

There was no accusation in her voice, just a statement of fact. By the decree of Amlaruil, the moonblade had been dismantled and the sword and stone divided between Arilyn’s mother and father. This had kept the dangerous elfgate from becoming as powerful as it might have been, but it had also robbed Arilyn of her family and the knowledge of the sword’s true power.

The queen’s gaze did not falter. “I suppose you’ve wondered why we never sought you out after Amnestria’s death.”

“No.”

Amlaruil raised one brow. “You’re not going to make this easy, I take it. Very well—nor would I in your position. It is known that those of mixed blood are banned from the island kingdom. You must understand. Evermeet is the last retreat, our only secure refuge from the incursions of humanity. Many of the People, particularly the high elves, fear our culture is giving way to that of the humans. Half-elves may in themselves be no threat, but the symbolism is too powerful. We cannot make exceptions, not even in your case. Perhaps especially in your case.”