Final Gate (36 page)

“We are with you, my queen,” Mardeiym Reithel replied. He struck his fist to his breastplate and bowed his head. The remaining fey’ri lords followed the general’s example, murmuring promises of loyalty and lowering their heads before her.

Sarya did not doubt that some at least harbored doubts much like Alysir Ursequarra’s, but for the moment she chose to accept their words of fealty. If some of them had to be bent to her will through the fear of her wrath, so be it. She did not govern by their consent and she did not care to weaken her power over them by acceding to ultimatums

“Mardeiym, I want you to mount a vigilant guard over the city,” she said. “I have arranged the mythal to severely chastise any of our enemies who set foot in Myth Drannor, but I do not rule out the possibility that clever infiltrators may find a way to worm through the mythal’s defenses. As for the rest of you, remember what you have seen today. I trust I will not have to repeat that lesson. Now leave me.”

The lords and ladies of the fey’ri bowed again to her, and departed. Sarya refrained from pacing anxiously until they left. The audience chamber she had chosen for herself in Castle Cormanthor was too small. She could not stand confinement of any sort.

Her fey’ri were decimated, her enemies were allied against her, the drow had abandoned her cause, her city was beleaguered … but she was not yet beaten. Myth Drannor was an unassailable fortress beneath her mythal weaving.

“I will teach the palebloods the cost of defiance,” she muttered angrily. “They will rue the day they set themselves against me!”

“Ah, now that is the proper spirit.” Malkizid’s golden voice preceded the archdevil as a font of flickering black fire sprang up in one corner of the chamber. The dancing flame took on a roughly manlike shape, roiling and shifting, and it condensed all at once into the familiar form of the Branded King. “Truly, the Dlardrageths are made of stern stuff.”

Sarya turned on the handsome archdevil, cold hate smoldering in her green eyes. “My determination owes nothing to you, Malkizid! You abandoned the field at the height of the battle. We might have won the day if you had not fled!”

Malkizid offered a slight shrug. “I discovered that I had matters to attend to in my own domain, Sarya.” He set one hand on the arm of Sarya’s throne, and smiled to himself as if amused by her anger. “Have you perchance recovered the shard of the Gatekeeper’s Crystal from Nar Kerymhoarth yet?”

Sarya frowned. Malkizid had made no mention of the shard in months. What had brought it to his mind now? “I sent a small company of fey’ri to search for it, but they fell afoul of the serpent folk lairing in the undamaged levels.”

“Send another company immediately,” the archdevil said “Make sure that they do not fail, Sarya. That shard has become important again.”

“Why is that?”

Malkizid narrowed his eyes, perhaps measuring her distinct lack of deference. Sarya hoped that he understood how precarious his hold over her was. But the Branded King set it aside without comment, at least for the moment. “The mage Araevin Teshurr seeks to reassemble the Gatekeeper’s Crystal. That is a weapon we do not wish to see in Seiveril Miritar’s hands.”

“He could destroy this city’s mythal,” Sarya said with a scowl. That was far and away her best deterrent against attack in Myth Drannor. If the mythal fell, the palebloods and their humans could storm the city. The monstrous denizens of the ruins would exact a price, of course, but she did not have sufficient fey’ri warriors or enslaved demons and devils to feel confident of repelling such an attack. “Has he found any shards yet?”

“One at least, possibly two,” Malkizid answered. “I think it wise to make certain that he does not recover the remaining shards.”

“I will put it in Teryani Ealoeth’s hands. She has been most anxious to make amends for her failure to turn the Sembians against Evermeet’s army.” Sarya tapped her chin “Yes, she should do. I will dispatch her tonight.”

“Tell me the moment she finds the shard in Nar Kerymhoarth,” Malkizid said. He offered her a mocking half-bow and slid back down into the shadows again.

Sarya stood still, looking at the place where Malkizid had made his exit. The Gatekeeper’s Crystal was a powerful weapon indeed. Perhaps, if Teryani found the shard for her, she would no longer need Malkizid. Frowning in thought, she strode to the chamber door.

“Erraichal!” she called. “Have your Talons bring Teryani Ealoeth here at once.”

The captain of her guard bowed once. “As you command, my queen,” he said.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Araevin and his companions rode into the Crusade’s new encampment on the outskirts of Myth Drannor late in the afternoon. It was a warm, clear summer day, with a cloudless sky overhead, which had made the hard ride a little easier. It had taken them almost three days to catch up to the army of Evermeet, riding from the sacred forests of Semberholme more than a hundred miles to the south. It was the closest to Myth Drannor that Araevin could manage with his planewalking spell.

He asked the way to Seiveril’s headquarters and was directed to the ruins of an old elven manor, hidden in a deeply forested hollow. Scores of elf knights and archers stood guard over the place, vigilantly scanning the skies and the shadows of the woods. Alongside the elves stood no small number of Dalesfolk—Deepingdalesfolk and a handful of Riders from Mistledale, if Araevin judged the heraldry right. He also saw a few Sembian banners standing next to the Crusade’s own pennants, and shook his head.

I should have known that Ilsevele would succeed at anything she set her mind to, he reflected.

The guards standing watch over Seiveril’s quarters recognized Araevin at once. “Mage Teshurr, you have returned!” one of the Knights of the Golden Star exclaimed. The fellow hurried up to take the horse’s bit, while other elves did the same for Jorin, Nesterin, Donnor, and Maresa. “I think Lord Miritar will be glad to see you.”

Araevin recognized the knight, a passing acquaintance from his days in the Queen’s Guard long ago. “I thank you, Vessen,” he answered. He swung himself down from his horse, while his friends followed suit. None were too proud to knead fists in their backs or wince as they walked off the effects of the long ride. Donnor and Jorin were the best horsemen of them all, but even the Tethyrian and the Aglarondan were saddle-sore. “Can you take me to Lord Miritar?”

“Of course,” the sun elf replied. “This way.”

Araevin and his friends followed Vessen into the old manor. The roof had long ago collapsed, leaving the place open to the sky, but the elves had fashioned a simple canopy of light canvas to serve as a shelter against rain and cleaned the dirt and debris of centuries from the place. The warrior led them to a room that had once been a spacious banquet hall. Seiveril waited there, along with Ilsevele, Starbrow, and Theremen Ulath of Deepingdale.

The silver-haired elflord strode up and gripped Araevin’s arm with a fierce smile “Well met, Araevin! You are exactly the person I was hoping to see.”

“I did not expect to find you on the doorstep of Myth Drannor. Nor did I expect to find the Sembians fighting at your side.” He turned to Ilsevele. “It seems that Ilsevele’s mission must have met with some success.”

Ilsevele dropped her gaze when he looked at her. “Lord Selkirk of the Sembia had the sense to see that the daemonfey were enemies to all of us I had little to do with that.”

Araevin released Seiveril’s hand and moved to embrace his betrothed. She returned the gesture without looking into his face, and gave him a light kiss on his cheek before disentangling herself from his arms. The mage stopped in surprise and frowned. Had they quarreled that badly when they parted in Deepingdale? She did not seem angry, though She seemed … resigned.

A cold ache knotted the center of his chest. “Ilsevele, what is wrong?” he asked softly.

“We will speak later,” she answered, just as softly. “I am glad to see that you have returned safely, though.” Then she moved past him to embrace Maresa, and warmly greeted Donnor, Jorin, and Nesterin. Araevin stared after her, then made himself turn and offer his hand to Starbrow, who stood nearby.

“Welcome back, Araevin.” The moon elf gave him an oddly strained smile. “Did you find what you were after?”

“I did,” Araevin replied. “I have much to tell you—all of you. But first, I’d like to know how you ended up here. When I set out the Crusade was defending Semberholme. Now you are besieging Myth Drannor. I have only been away for a month.”

“Understandable,” Seiveril said. He indicated several lightly built divans that were arranged around a small table to one side of the room. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. We will trade tales.”

They passed some time exchanging news. First Seiveril and Ilsevele told the story of the defense of Semberholme, the embassy to Miklos Selkirk in Tegal’s Mark, the daemonfey plot to turn the Crusade against the Sembians, and the eventual alliance Seiveril went on to describe the Battle of the Vale, and the victory over the fey’ri and their demonic allies.

“It was not without cost, I fear. We lost many warriors, and the Dalesfolk and Sembians lost even more. I am afraid that Ferryl Nimersyl and most of the Moon Knights perished, along with your colleague Jorildyn.”

“Jorildyn is dead?” Araevin sighed. They’d studied together at Tower Reilloch for twenty years or more. He would miss the taciturn half-elf. “How did it happen?”

“He was killed by the archdevil Malkizid.”

“Malkizid?” Maresa interrupted. “He was here?”

Seiveril and Starbrow nodded. “Yes, he took the field against us in the Battle of the Vale. But he suddenly abandoned the daemonfey army.”

“I think that was Araevin’s doing,” Nesterin said. The star elf shook his head. “We wondered where the master of the house was. Now we know.”

“You were in Malkizid’s domain?” Seiveril asked. His brows rose in surprise. “What in the world were you doing there?”

“I suppose that now we should share our story,” Araevin answered. He took a deep breath, and went on to describe their own travels-the expedition to the Nameless Dungeon, the passage to the Waymeet, the long dark quest in the blackness of Lorosfyr, and finally the perilous journey across the Barrens of Doom and Despair. When he finished, he produced the Gatekeeper’s Crystal, complete with all three shards joined to make a three-pointed star. “The daemonfey know that I have at least one shard of this device now. They must suspect that I might have all three … though Sarya and Malkizid may not know how much the Gatekeeper aided us.”

“Please excuse my ignorance, Araevin,” Theremen Ulath said, “but now that you have recovered this device, what is it for?”

“I believe I can dismiss the mythal wards barring you from Myth Drannor.”

Seiveril drew in his breath. “You can breach the daemonfey spells? How long will it take you?”

“Give me a short time to prepare, and I could attempt it this evening,” Araevin said.

“The sooner, the better,” Seiveril answered. “We should-“

“I don’t agree, Seiveril.” Starbrow held up his hand, interrupting the elflord. “We should assault the city the moment the mythal’s defenses fall. Why allow the daemonfey any time at all to improvise other defenses or organize a retreat? Better to wait until we are ready to exploit Araevin’s magic by storming Myth Drannor the instant Sarya’s defenses fall.”

Seiveril frowned with impatience, but he nodded. “I concede the point. The heavier our strike, the fewer will escape. At first light, then?” He looked over to Araevin. “Does that suit you?”

Araevin grimaced. “The longer we wait, the more that can go wrong. But I’ll wait until you are ready.”

“Very well. I must advise Lord Selkirk of our plans. Please excuse me. Araevin, I’m sure that Felael or Vessen can have your horses looked after and find you and your companions a place to rest somewhere nearby.” The elflord stood and took his leave. Vesilde Gaerth and Theremen Ulath departed with him They would have a long night’s work ahead of them.

Starbrow lingered for a moment, but he left too after Ilsevele looked up at him and gave him a nod. Now what was that about? Araevin wondered.

“Mage Teshurr?” The sun elf Vessen appeared in the hall shortly after Seiveril left. “We’ve looked after your horses. I can show you to a place to rest, if you like.”

Araevin faced his companions. “Go on ahead. I’ll find you shortly.”

“I can’t promise that we’ll save you any supper,” Maresa jibed. She poked him once in the ribs then she, Donnor, Jorin, and Nesterin followed Vessen through a different doorway in the old ruin. Araevin watched them leave then turned back to Ilsevele. She still sat on one of the divans, looking down at her hands in her lap. Her hair, a dark copper-red in the shadows of the hall, was gathered in a long braid over her shoulder.

They remained there in silence for some time. Araevin stood gazing on her, and she did not look up at him Finally he decided that he could not stand it any longer. “Ilsevele,” he murmured. “Why—?” And he stopped, unable to ask the questions that were in his heart. Instead he said, “I did not realize you were so angry with me. I am sorry if I have hurt you.”

She sighed and met his eyes when he spoke. “I am not angry with you, Araevin. I am sad, but I’m not angry.”

A sudden cold certainty descended over him “You are breaking our betrothal.”

“I am.”

“I know we have walked different roads in the last few years, Ilsevele, but I still hope to mend that.” He waved his hand at the ruined manor and the darkening woods outside. “This will pass. We will have the rest of our lives to make things right.”

“I do not think so. There is something more I must tell you, Araevin. You are not the only one in my heart.” Ilsevele did not allow herself to look away from him. “I did not mean for it to happen. It has only become clear to me in the last few tendays. But I know that I cannot remain betrothed to you while my thoughts dwell on another.”

“I-I do not understand.” Araevin took two numb steps to the divan and sat down stiffly beside her. “How could your heart turn from me in a single season, Ilsevele? Did you feel this way when we walked together into Sildeyuir? When we passed the days of spring together in Silverymoon?”