Элейн Каннингем - Evermeet - Island of Elves

She glanced down at the sleeping princess, and her heart thudded painfully. Ilyrana’s white hair, in which usually glistened the pale colors of an opal, was dark and matted with blood, and on her forehead was a gash identical to the one dealt the warrior elf maid.

The single word that the elf maid warrior shouted now made perfect sense, as did the blue-haired male’s resemblance to Lamruil. Maura spun on her heel and ran from the chamber. If anyone could do anything about this new horror, it would be the queen.

And even if the queen could not act, she had a right to know.

All over Evermeet, the elves struggled to shake off the terrible lethargy that had fallen over them with the destruction of the Towers. Nearly all the High Magi of Evermeet had gathered in the Towers of the Sun and Moon, or in the Sumbrar Tower in the island east of Leuthilspar. These magi had woven a powerful web of magic that upheld the elven fighters and strengthened the island’s legendary defenses. This web had not simply collapsed, though that alone would have been catastrophic. The Towers had been reduced to dust, the magi slain. The resulting blow to the Weave, and thus to all of them, was staggering.

Amlaruil stood in her council chamber, gazing out over the stunned and grieving elves who stood motionless in the city’s streets, too stunned even to react to the appearance of the unnatural horrors that suddenly filled the skies.

“Darkenbeasts,” she whispered, for her informants had been her well versed in such magics as the human mages fashioned. This was the work of the worst of them, the terrible Red Wizards who ruled distant Thay. Amlaruil did not need to ask what interest such humans might have in Evermeet. They had tried before to broach the island’s defenses; of course they could join in such a devastating attack, hoping to take as their plunder some of the legendary magical wealth of the elven island. The thought of the elven treasures—the wands and swords, the magical art works, even the Tree of Souls—lent her new determination, and new strength.

Turning to Keryth Blackhelm, she asked that he give the report that had been interrupted by the silent magical explosion. The queen’s calm demeanor seemed to hearten her advisors; even so, the news that the Silver elf gave was dire.

The northern shore had fallen to creatures from Below. The dragonriders of the Eagle Hills were making some headway against the sahuagin and scrags that swarmed up the Ardulith, but most of the centaurs and other forest creatures had fallen in battle. A mixed force of humans and elves had landed on Siiluth and were marching westward to Drelagara.

“Elves?” she asked sharply. “There were elves among the pirates? And they broke through our defenses?”

Keryth grimaced. “Yes, my lady, but not in any manner that we anticipated. The elven ships with elven crews, those that we thought were fleeing the invading force, were part of it. The holds of these boats were stacked with warriors and spellcasters, eager for battle. Even with the help of the Iythari and the moon-horses, the people of Drelagara are having a hard time of it.”

The queen took this in. “And the other ships? There were six, I believe.”

“We do not know,” he admitted. “Apparently the ships split up after what was left of our navy helped them through the magical defenses. Our ships are still offshore, fighting what remains of the pirate fleet. The decoy fleet,” he added in deep self-disgust.

“You could not have known, my friend,” Amlaruil said. “None of us expected such treachery from our own. We should have.”

“There is more,” the war leader said. “Three of these ships are approaching Leuthilspar. The leader is close enough to send messages through flag speech.”

Amlaruil frowned. “The Starwing fleet could not stop them?”

“We did not send the Starwing ships against them,” Keryth said softly. “I did not think you would wish it. The ship has sent word: Prince Lamruil himself is on board.”

Kymil Nimesin turned an impatient stare upon the young human sailor. The youth was nearly dancing with ill-contained excitement. This annoyed Kymil. He had endured young Kaymid’s enthusiasms for about as long he intended to. Once the battle for Evermeet was over, this wretched boy would be the first human to fall to Kymil’s blade.

“You have something to say?” he asked coldly.

“The elf prince is asking to see you,” Kaymid said importantly.

This interested Kymil. Young Lamruil had not spoken so much as two words to his former swordmaster since the day that he had stumbled into Kymil’s trap. Glum and resentful, he had been the very picture of the spoiled, thwarted boy-prince.

The Gold elf followed Kaymid down to the hold, where Lamruil sat on the floor of his cell. For a moment Kymil gazed at the young elf, taking pleasure in Lamruil’s wasted appearance. During the ocean voyage, they had given him just enough food and water to keep him alive. But even though the young elf was far thinner and less hale than he had been at the beginning of the voyage, he still outmassed most elves that Kymil could name.

“Well?” he inquired. “What do you want?”

Lamruil looked up, and the grim intensity in his blue eyes set Kymil back on his heels. “My life,” the prince said coldly. “And I am willing to pay any price to have it.”

Kymil was inclined to believe him. “What have you to offer? You are still a useful pawn to me—a pawn that if properly played, might be traded for a queen.”

“You underestimate Amlaruil,” the prince said flatly. “There is nothing she would not sacrifice for Evermeet’s sake. Since she and I do not see eye to eye on many matters, I doubt she would shed many tears over me.” He cast a derisive smile at Kymil. “Simple kidnapping, Lord Kymil? Expecting the queen to ransom me at the expense of her kingdom? I must say, that is by far the weakest part of your otherwise excellent plan.”

There was some truth in that, and it galled Kymil. “And what would you have me do?”

“Free me,” Lamruil said. “We will stage a mock battle on the deck of this ship, in full view of those who watch from Leuthilspar’s docks. Then I, the victorious prince, will escape ashore, valiantly bringing with me the only other elf who survived the fight.”

“Me, I suppose,” Kymil said coldly, though in fact he rather approved of the prince’s line of thought. “And then?”

“Then I will demand the queen’s abdication. I have that right,” he said calmly, holding up a hand to still Kymil’s sarcastic laughter. “I am the heir, I am of age. All I need do is draw the sword of Zaor, and it is done.”

“Oh, is that all?”

Lamruil smiled coldly. “You think I cannot draw the sword and live? Very well—say that I don’t live. You have still accomplished what you set out to do. Every member of the royal family on Evermeet will be dead.”

“But for Amlaruil herself.”

“Ah. I forgot to tell you that part,” the prince said. “I will kill her myself, before I draw the king sword.”

“You would never get close enough,” Kymil sneered.

“Who said I intended to use a weapon?” retorted the prince. “I know my mother, and I know her absolute devotion to Evermeet. If we present her with a task, a dangerous spell that only she could cast, she would do it. Even if it meant her death.”

“Such as?”

“The other ships,” Lamruil said bluntly. “We tell her where they are bound. Amlaruil has the power to cast a spell that can teleport a single ship away from Evermeet. She might be able to manage to send two away, and live. But more?” The prince shook his head. “She will try, all the same.”

“And I lose my ships.”

“And gain a kingdom,” the prince said. “How many of the elven survivors of Evermeet would follow you if your hand was raised against their beloved queen? Zaor might forgive you. But never Amlaruil. No, we go in playing the part of heroes. Amlaruil dies defending her people. I am no king,” he said negligently, “nor do I wish to be. Nor, for that matter, will the people of Evermeet embrace me. I’ll happily set aside the sword of Zaor—and take myself off to the mainland for a life filled with soft women and hard cider. It would suit me far better than a crown. Then you, in whatever guise you choose, will be free to restore the Council of Elders. We both get what we want.”