Authors: Richard Baker
“They know of the attack. In fact, we’ve seen the demon-elves again and fought them. You can speak openly.”
Quastarte nodded, and switched back to Common.
“We have learned a great deal about our attackers since you departed the Tower,” he said. “My colleagues and I have pored through all of our most ancient texts and cast many divinations in order to gain a glimpse of our enemy, and our efforts have not been entirely in vain. Tell me, have you ever heard of House Dlardrageth?”
“My father mentioned that name,” Ilsevele replied, “when we spoke to him before leaving Evermeet.”
“That makes sense,” Quastarte said. “Your father’s family came out of Cormanthor. Naturally, he might have heard the old tales of House Dlardrageth. They were a powerful sun elf House in ancient Arcorar, one of the elven realms that later united into the great kingdom of Cormanthyr, whose capital was Myth Drannor. As the legend tells, they did indeed breed with demons, seeking the strength to re-forge the long-fallen empire of Aryvandaar and reclaim the dark glory of the Vyshaanti lords.”
“They are that old?” Araevin asked. “Why have we never heard of them before?”
Quastarte steepled his fingers in front of his chin and said, “The very question I asked myself once I read the old accounts of the Dlardrageths, but I will get to that soon. The dealings of House Dlardrageth were eventually uncovered in ancient Arcorar, and the powers of that realm moved against these evil elves, sealing them within their own keep behind impenetrable wards. Their House was forsaken by all other elves, their dealings renounced, their titles and lands taken from them.
“The Coronals of ancient Arcorar presumed that the Dlardrageths had been dealt with, and most of our records of the House end there. But, as it turns out, some of the Dlardrageths escaped this fate. They fled west, to the rising sun elf realm of Siluvanede in the High Forest. There they remained hidden for several hundred years, slowly corrupting and poisoning several of the influential houses of the younger kingdom; Reithel, Yesve, and others.
“Through their minions in Siluvanede, the Dlardrageths provoked the Seven Citadels’ War, a conflict between the sun elf realm in the southern High Forest, the moon elf realm of Sharrven in the north, and the wood elf realm of Eaerlann in the east. However, they did not see their evil plans to fruition, because early in the war the Dlardrageths were found out and imprisoned beneath the crag known as Ascalhorn. Siluvanede, and the Dlardrageth-sworn Houses
of Reithel and the rest, were eventually defeated in this war. A great number of Siluvanedan nobles and soldiers, born of unholy elf-demon heritage, were subsequently imprisoned as well, bound in the ancient citadel of Nar Kerymhoarth. Yet in the confusion of the war, and the collapse of the realms that had fought in it, these timeless prisons were forgotten. No one remembered that the daemonfey of House Dlardrageth, and the fey’ri of Reithel and the other Siluvanedan houses, had actually been imprisoned as the consequence of their defeat.”
“In that case, how did you discover their existence at all?” Maresa asked.
“I found an account from Arcorar, centuries after the original confrontation with the daemonfey, that explained how several Dlardrageths were found to be missing when the wards around their keep in Cormanthor were finally lowered hundreds of years after the keep had been walled off with magic. The Coronal of Arcorar immediately commenced a search for the missing daemonfey, located them in Siluvanede, and dispatched an expedition to deal with them there.” Quastarte spread his hands and added, “My sources suggest that this incident may even have sparked the Seven Citadels’ War.”
“So the reason that the Dlardrageths vanished from our history is that we imprisoned them, and forgot we had done so,” Araevin mused. “How were they freed, then?”
“I am not sure. I believe some of the Siluvanedans who followed Dlardrageth avoided detection and imprisonment. They survived for thousands of years as a secret enemy of Eaerlann, concealing their demonic heritage and evil ambitions.” Quastarte shrugged and continued, “As for those who were imprisoned … well, as you know, Ascalhorn eventually became the site of a mighty human city in the centuries following the fall of Netheril. In the Year of the Curse, almost five hundred years ago, Ascalhorn was overrun by a swarm of demons and devils. It became known as Hellgate Keep. If the daemonfey were imprisoned beneath it, perhaps the demons infesting the place found their prison and let them out.”
“Or perhaps, when Hellgate Keep was razed five years ago, their prison was finally breached,” Araevin said slowly. “The raiders who attacked Tower Reilloch might have been the descendants of these ancient, evil Siluvanedan houses, or they may have actually been the ancient prisoners, finally freed.”
“You referred to some of these demon-elves as daemonfey, and others as fey’ri,” Grayth asked Quastarte. “What is the difference?”
“That is a little confusing, isn’t it? The scions of House Dlardrageth were the daemonfey. They seem to have possessed higher, more powerful demonic bloodlines. The Siluvanedan Houses who owed allegiance to Dlardrageth are the fey’ri, tainted and dangerous, but not the spawn of demon princes. Many of my sources use the term daemonfey to refer to both the daemonfeythe elves of House Dlardragethand the fey’ri, the elves of the other Houses.”
Grayth nodded and sat back in his chair, silent.
Quastarte cleared his throat and said, “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I must speak to Mage Araevin in confidence.”
“Please excuse us,” Araevin said, “My workroom, Loremaster?”
The two mages withdrew from the sitting room and left Araevin’s chambers. The workroom was close by, only one floor down and a short distance through the tower’s echoing halls. Araevin spoke the passwords needed to pass the magical defenses of his workroom door, and stood aside to allow Quastarte in first.
The loremaster waited for Araevin to close and seal the door before he asked, “Have you learned anything about Philaerin’s telkiira?”
“Little other than the fact that the daemonfey are searching for it,” Araevin replied. He went on to relate his success in accessing the lorestone, the story of his search for the second stone, and his encounters with the daemonfey sorcerer who seemed to be his appointed nemesis. “I have just succeeded in opening the second telkiira,” he concluded. “It contains more spells-two I have never heard of before,
the others much as you might find in any wizard’s spellbookand directions toward the third stone.”
“So this moon elf wizard Ithraides created this set of telkiira, and gave one each to three other wizards,” Quastarte said. “And you have hints of another wizard, a sun elf, and another lorestone, a selukiira. That would be quite a find. High loregems are not scribed on a lark.”
“Do those names mean anything to you, Loremaster? Ithraides, Morthil, and the others?”
“No, but I will inquire after them at once.” Quastarte frowned and said, “This puzzle grows less clear with each day. Given the fact that you found the second stone in a secret cache in a tower obviously abandoned for many years, I wonder when the story of the telkiira meets the story of the daemonfey. Do these lorestones date all the way back to the days of Siluvanede, or possibly even Arcorar? Or are they a more recent development?”
“I suspect I’ll know when I find the third stone,” Araevin replied with a shrug.
“I wonder if it is wise to seek it out? Perhaps it would be better to leave it where it lies.”
“Nothing hidden can remain so forever. The third stone will be found, so I might as well be the one to find it.” Araevin swept the two lorestones from the table and replaced them in his pouch. “I don’t suppose you learned anything more about these?”
“Nothing in Philaerin’s journals or notes so much as hints at such a telkiira
“That does not surprise me. Thank you for your help, Loremaster,” Araevin said.
“It was nothing. Besides, Lord Miritar may have need of what we have learned about the daemonfey.”
Araevin paused, then asked, “Why is that?”
“Knowing the history of the Dlardrageths may suggest a way to defeat them, of course.” Quastarte looked at Araevin, and sudden comprehension dawned in his eyes. “You don’t know!” he gasped.
“Don’t know what?” Araevin said.
An army of the daemonfey has arisen in the Delimbiyr
Vale, and is marching against both Evereska and the High Forest.”
“What did you say?”
“Lord Miritar is gathering a host to fight them in Faerun. Both the wood elves and the Evereskans requested Evermeet’s help. The council felt that it would be unwise to risk more of Evermeet’s soldiers and mages in a campaign in Faerun, not after the terrible losses in Nimesin’s war and our expedition against the phaerimm, but Lord Miritar felt differently. He resigned from the council and called for volunteers to accompany him in a crusade against this new enemy.”
“I had no idea!” Araevin said. “Where is he now?” “Still in Elion, though I have heard they will march soon.”
“In that case, Ilsevele and I must leave at once,” Araevin said as he walked Quastarte to the door. “If you learn anything important, do not hesitate to perform a sending for me. I will return if I can. Sweet water and light laughter until we meet again, Quastarte!”
“And to you, my friend,” the older elf replied.
He watched as Araevin hurried away.
23 Ches, the Year of Lightning Storms
I was wondering where all the elves were,” Maresa said. “Apparently, they’re here.”
The genasi reined in her horse on the broad track that wound past the gates of Seamist down to the city of Elion below.
Araevin, Grayth, and Ilsevele stared alongside her. Beneath the evergreens, on either side of the road, lay the encampments of elf warriors. Proud banners and standards stood by each one, identifying the contingent camped there. Hundreds of elves dressed in hauberks of chain mail or byrnies of ring-sewn leather filled the forest, all engaged in different tasks. Some mended arms and armor, some prepared food, and quite a few seemed to be engaged in striking their simple shelters and collecting their gear into manageable packs. In one meadow nearby a company of nearly two hundred archers practiced their marching and maneuvering.
“By the bow of Shevarash, will you look at that?” Ilsevele murmured.
The small company had left Tower Reilloch within an hour of Araevin’s meeting with Quastarte, after Araevin and Ilsevele had gleaned most of the story of the council’s debates and Seiveril’s call to arms from the loremaster. Even though the evidence was right in front of Araevin’s eyes, he still couldn’t believe it.
“We leave for two tendays, and Evermeet decides to stand on its head,” said Araevin. “What next, I wonder?”
After asking several orderlies and messengers hurrying past about Seiveril’s whereabouts, they were directed to a broad hilltop glade a mile above the palace. Whole companies of elves-archers, knights, elite guards, and spearmenwaited in orderly ranks at the edge of the glade. In the center of the clearing stood a trio of weathered old stone markers. Six drummers beat an easy rhythm in the damp air as the companies formed themselves into three columns each and queued up, facing the stone markers. On the first stroke, three elves advanced to the markers, on the second, each of the three touched a stone; on the third stroke, they vanished in a golden sparkle; and on the fourth stroke the waiting columns advanced one step.
“That’s astonishing,” said Grayth. “They must be moving a whole company through in ten minutes or less. How long can they keep that up?”
“As long as necessary,” Araevin said. “The elfgates were designed for the swift movement of armies.” He looked at Grayth and Maresa. “Please, do not tell anyone else what you have seen here. This is something we would rather keep to ourselves.”
The Lathanderite looked over to Araevin and simply nodded. Maresa narrowed her eyes. “I won’t speak of it,” she said. “It’s your business, and no one else’s.”
“Look, there is Muirreste,” Ilsevele said. “He will ;know where my father is.” She rode over to a small party of officers who stood near the elfgates, supervising the movement of the soldiers. “Lord Muirreste! Is my father anywhere near?”
The knight turned at the sound of her voice and answered, “Lady Ilsevele! And Mage Araevin. This is a surprise. I thought you two were off in Faerun somewhere.”
“We returned yesterday,” replied Ilsevele before she introduced Grayth and Maresa.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Muirreste said politely, bowing, but his face betrayed his concern at finding n’tel-quessir at such a sensitive spot. “Lady Ilsevele, your father already passed the elfgate. He is on the other side overseeing the army’s movements, while I am trying to keep some measure of order here.”
“Will he return?”
“No, he does not expect to. However, you could certainly go to him, if you wish. If you’ll wait until the company there clears the elfgates, you can join him. We’ve been leaving a few minutes between formations in order to give gating soldiers the opportunity to clear the arrival area.”
Ilsevele looked at Araevin and asked, “What do you think?”
“Seiveril will want to know what we found in the Forest of Wyrms. And I promised Quastarte I would carry his tale of the daemonfey to him, too. We should find your father at once.”
“I agree,” said Ilsevele. She glanced back to Muirreste. “Thank you, Elvath. We will take advantage of your generous offer. Where exactly will we find ourselves on the other side of the gate?”
Muirreste looked at Grayth and Maresa, and said in Elvish, “It might be better not to say. The People of the LastHome are even more careful in guarding their secrets from n’tel-quessir than we are.”
“Grayth and Maresa have my trust, Elvath, and through me my father’s confidence as well. They have fought valiantly and endured great danger already in our cause.”
“Then I will not bar their passage, though Lord Seiveril may have to answer for them in Evereska. I hope your trust is well placed.” He switched back to Common. “Fall in at the end of the company moving through now. When your turn comes, simply touch the stone marker. The magic of the gate will do the rest.”