Umberlee’s minions, the fearful creatures of the Coral Kingdom who were supposed to bring the sea-faring elves to heel, had been, if not bested, at least contained. Magic had returned to the Sea elves of Evermeet. And this, through the intervention of an elven god! Long and bitter had been Umberlee’s jealousy of Deep Sashales, and terrible was her fury against this perceived insult.
“There are other creatures in the sea that you can command, are there not?” inquired Malar when at last his rumbling voice could be heard over the roar and crash of the waves.
Umberlee stopped in mid-wail. She subsided, sinking down into the crest of the wave she rode as she pondered this suggestion. Her countenance softened a little as she considered the possibilities. “There are many,” she agreed. “There are terrible creatures in the depths which will surely come to my bidding. I will send them at once!”
“And storms,” Malar added as he broke off a daggerlike icicle that hung from his furred chin, and that gave proof of the icy potency of the goddess’s fury. “You cannot overwhelm the island itself, but surely you can disrupt sea traffic. Many elves will flee the troubles on the mainland to sail for Evermeet.” His red eyes glowed with intense, evil light. “I see no reason why they should reach the island.”
“Nor do I,” agreed the sea goddess delightedly. She surged forward suddenly and flung her arms around the bestial god, drenching him with frigid sea water. Then she was gone, leaving behind a sea that was as calm as a wood nymph’s pool.
Malar let out a grating, whuffling chuckle. The sea goddess’s chilly embrace was a minor discomfort, a minor indignity. In his estimation, things were going well.
The centuries-long devastation of the Crown Wars had been deeply satisfying to the Great Hunter. He was not entirely disappointed by the defeat of the dark elves—or drow, as they were now called. Despite his ties with the goddess Lloth, Malar was not fond of any elves, fair or dark. He was willing enough to enjoy the drow’s warfare against Corellon’s faithful children, but the deaths of dark raiders pleased him equally as well as the slaughter of peaceful forest elves. In fact, he thought it a delightful turn of events that brought the elves to be pitted against each other in this manner. Not only did such inner strife serve his purpose, but it was also most entertaining to observe.
The elves on Faerûn had been dealt a series of devastating blows. His followers—ores and goblins, for the most part—would continue to harry the settlements that were scattered through the forests. The time was right to turn his enmity once again upon the elven island. He would let Umberlee do what she could, and what she could for him. Also, there were humans who called themselves the Wolves of the Waves, and who showed considerable promise as raiders. They would be a fine foil to the sea goddess’s wrath. And though these humans were not strictly followers of Malar, the god felt certain he could find ways to entice them into joining the hunt for elves. These actions would suffice for now.
Yet Malar, the Great Hunter, knew full well that he would not be forever content to concede to others the challenge of the hunt, or the pleasure of the kill.
Anarzee Sea-elven, once a daughter and a matron of the noble Moon elf families of Evermeet, swam south with all possible speed toward the city of Leuthilspar.
Years had passed since the peculiar shipwreck off the eastern coast of Sumbrar. There had not been a single day since that Anarzee had not pondered the strange events of that day. Not that shipwrecks were rare occurrences—far from it. The storms that raged beyond Evermeet’s protective bounds sent many an elven vessel into the depths. The Sea elves of the great city Iumathiashae were kept busy rescuing those elves they could, and bearing grim tidings concerning the fate of those they could not aid. But there had been something very odd about that long-ago wreck. The incredible force with which the small craft had been sundered suggested that some new and powerful force was at work.
It had taken Anarzee a long time to piece together an answer to her lingering questions. But when at last she had found her way to this answer, she’d been at a loss to know what to do.
As she swam southward, Anarzee batted aside a bit of floating seaweed with a hand that was long-fingered and delicately webbed. The sight of her own Sea-elven hands no longer seemed strange to her. She was now a Sea elf in thought and impulse as well as in physical appearance. Even so, her sense of allegiance to her land-dwelling clans was still strong. Right or wrong, Vhoori Durothil was kin to her, the son’s son of her own brother. It ran against everything that she had once held dear to speak against him.
And yet, how could she not?
The Sea elf’s decision was made all the more difficult in that she had no idea what use Vhoori planned to make of his new-found power. Elven magic was nearly endless in variety, and it was no uncommon thing for elves to use magic to give flight to common objects. But the sort of magic that could empower an entire ship to fly, that could surround it with air so that it could travel beneath the waves or among the stars, this was more power than any one elf should possess.
And what concerned Anarzee most was the secrecy with which the Gold elven wizard had gone about his work. It was unnatural for any elf—especially a High Mage—to hold himself apart from his brothers and sisters as did Vhoori. And it was dangerous for the mages of a powerful Tower to keep so much of their work secret from the larger community. For all Anarzee knew, Vhoori Durothil might be plotting to overtake Evermeet itself. But there was only so much she could learn, and very little that she could do, from her home in the sea.
After much private deliberation, she decided to lay the matter at Darthoridan’s feet. He would know what must be done. Though he was no longer her husband, Anarzee still sought him out when she could and found that his wisdom had more than kept pace with the passing of years.
In the decades since Anarzee’s self-imposed exile, Darthoridan had become as skilled a diplomat as he was a warrior. Under his leadership, the Craulnober family had gained in power and honor. They now merited seats on the Council of Elders; in fact, Darthoridan’s was among the names spoken when the elves of Leuthilspar speculated upon who might succeed Tammson Amarillis as High Councilor. Accordingly, Darthoridan spent more and more of his time in Leuthilspar, tending to matters of governance.
He was there now, or so Anarzee’s daughter—the second and last child she had borne to Darthoridan—had curtly informed her. The Sea elf had not lingered at Craulnober Keep. She had turned toward the south at once, and not just for the urgency of the message she carried.
The memory of that meeting stabbed Anarzee’s heart anew with pain sharper than a manta’s sting. She had given birth to a daughter two years after her transformation into a Sea elf. But children born of parents from two different elven races did not inherit from both: there was no blending of the moon and the sea in Darthoridan and Anarzee’s daughter. The Sea elf had given birth to a perfect Moon elf maiden—and had given the babe into the hands of a land-dwelling nurse to love and to raise.
Abandoning yet another child had nearly broken Anarzee’s heart. Upon her insistence, her marriage to Darthoridan had been dissolved, for she could not bear another such loss.
As for Darthoridan, though Anarzee saw him with ever diminishing frequency, her love for him had not been altered by her change of form. It had not been dimmed by the passage of time, or by the grief she carried over the loss of her children. He was her lover only occasionally—and that, not for quite some time—but he would always be her love. She would trust Darthoridan to make good use of her knowledge of Vhoori Durothil, as she trusted him in all things.
The sun rose and set more than once during Anarzee’s journey from Craulnober Keep to the southern city. But she pressed on, scarcely pausing for rest or food. When at last the weary Sea elf passed the outpost island Sumbrar and broke the surface, she beheld a harbor ablaze with lights. Though it was near to midnight, the docks and streets of Leuthilspar were bright with festive lanterns, globes of magical fire, and the flickering, darting pinpricks
of light that bespoke the presence of tiny fey creatures—sprites, most likely, and perhaps even a faerie dragon or two.
None of these lights were fairer than those that festooned a ship moored just off the docks. An ever-shifting pattern of colored lights played against the rippling sails, and the crystal hull glittered like a dragon’s hoard in the reflected light.
A wistful smile curved the Sea elf’s lips as she gazed at the wondrous sight. It occurred to her that it must be near to midsummer, the time when elves made merry and celebrated alliances of all kinds. Weddings were usually made at midsummer. It was likely that this ship was bedecked to carry a newly wedded couple to the home they would share. It had been so when Darthoridan had first taken her from Leuthilspar to his keep upon the wild northern shores they both had loved.
Anarzee’s smile faded as another, less joyous memory edged into her mind. There was something disturbingly familiar about the ship. The Sea elf swam into the harbor and circled around the ship to read the name engraved onto the crystal prow. Her heart thudded painfully as her eyes fell upon the bold runes.
The ship’s name was Sea-Riven.
Anarzee dove beneath the water and swam quickly toward the city’s docks, her thoughts whirling. Surely it was a coincidence that this ship should bear the same name as Darthoridan’s sword! Yet she could not deny that the ship was much like the first vessel they had fashioned together for their fight against the sea trolls, the ship that Anarzee had sailed on her last day as a Moon elf. The ship that had nearly been her tomb was reborn and bedecked for a wedding.
Perhaps Seanchai had taken a bride. He was nearly of age, Anarzee pondered as she climbed a ladder that led from the sea up onto the docks. Even as her mind formed the thought, her ears caught the sound of faint and distant music. It was not so faint that she could not immediately discern the rare beauty of the singing. This made perfect sense. Her son was already a noted bard—his wedding would draw the finest musicians in all of Evermeet to pay tribute.
But if this were so, why had she not been told? Her land-dwelling daughter shunned her, but Seanchai was truly the child of her heart! He would not marry without somehow sending word to his mother.
From her perch on the ladder, Anarzee scanned the bustling dock for an unfamiliar face. She did not want to hear of her son’s wedding from someone who had known her as the Moon elf she once had been. Anarzee’s shoulders had carried many burdens, but pity was a load too heavy for the proud elf woman to bear.
Her searching gaze fell upon a Gold elf youth. He seemed a likely choice. His simple garb proclaimed him a commoner. He was barefoot and stripped to the waist, displaying the lean strength of one who made a living through hard labor. His clean-shaven head and the large gold hoops in one pointed ear gave him a raffish, almost piratical air, but neither that affectation nor the large goblet in his hand could disguise the fact that he was very young—barely into adulthood. This elf had not yet been born when she was Anarzee Moonflower, daughter of the High Councilor Rolim Durothil and wife to Darthoridan Craulnober. Nor would he have frequented her circle, in any case. The lad might had heard the story of her transformation, but he would have no reason to make any connection between the heroic priestess extolled in song and story, and the weary, aging Sea elf before him.
Anarzee climbed onto the deck and softly hailed the youth. His eyes lit up when they fell upon her, and he made his way toward her with an unsteady gait. To Anarzee’s surprise, the dock worker promptly enfolded her in an exuberant hug.
“Welcome, pretty maid,” he said with great enthusiasm—and exceedingly fuzzy diction. “Come from the sea to celebrate midsummer with me, are you? Sea and celebrate … sea shellebration,” he improvised, grinning with pride over a jest that apparently struck him as quite clever—and proclaimed him to be very tipsy indeed.
Anarzee wrinkled her nose against the heavy scent of feywine on the lad’s breath. “If you take me for a maid, you have drunk far more than that single goblet could hold,” she said dryly as she tried to wriggle away.
The young elf leaned back a bit and endeavored to focus his bleary eyes on her face. “Not young,” he conceded. “But so very pretty. And blue hair,” he marveled, easing his hold long enough to finger one of Anarzee’s damp, curling locks.
The Sea elf twisted away and then nimbly sidestepped the lad’s attempt to reclaim her. With one hand, she caught his wrist, and with the other she snatched a strand of rosy pearls from her bag and dangled it before his eyes.
“Enough of this foolishness! These are yours, in exchange for some information. A fine midsummer gift for a pretty maid,” she suggested, hoping to banish the crestfallen look from the young elf’s face. “And surely you will have need of such a trinket! The night is yet young.”
He brightened considerably at this thought. “Ask anything, and I will answer as best I can.”
“Whose wedding procession is that?” she demanded, raising her voice to be heard over the approaching musicians.
“A northern lord. Clan Craulnober. I drink to his health!” So saying, the young elf raised his goblet for a sip. He looked puzzled for a moment, then made a face when he realized anew that the cup was empty.
“So it is Seanchai,” she murmured sadly.
“No, not the bard,” the lad corrected her. “The councilor. Darthoridan. Have you not heard of him? He’s a famed warrior. Ran the scrags back into the sea, he did, and gave the sahuagin reason to fear the People of Evermeet! Some say he’ll be the next High Councilor,” he continued importantly, clearly pleased to be imparting such information.
But Anarzee no longer heard him. It seemed to her that a vise had clamped around her heart. Her fingers clenched in sympathetic agony around the necklace she held. The delicate thread broke, spilling pearls like falling petals.
“Hey, now!” protested the lad, seeing his reward slipping away. He dived for the dock and began to gather up the rolling pearls.
Anarzee whirled and ran for the far side of the dock. The joyous throng was almost to the dock. She did not want to look upon the face of the elf woman who had taken her place in Darthoridan’s heart.
The Sea elf dived into the water of the harbor and plunged deep. She swam frantically, as if she could outrace the full realization of all she had lost.
When she was certain that her heart would burst from mingled pain and exhaustion, she stopped and clung to a thick stand of sea grass until she could again draw breath. As soon as she could, she sent out the clicking, whistling call that would summon any dolphin who might be nearby.
Before long a sleek gray form sped toward her. Dolphins were friends to the Sea elves, and this one was known to her. He circled the Sea elf playfully, bumping gently against her in a manner that recalled the behavior of the cats she used to keep for companionship and comfort. For once, however, the creature’s permanent, impish grin failed to elicit an answering smile from Anarzee.
The dolphin seemed to sense her mood, for he bobbed his head rapidly then cocked it to one side in an oddly inquisitive gesture.
Take me far from this place, she pleaded in his language.
In response, the dolphin rolled a bit to present her with his top fin. Anarzee grasped the offered hold and clung as the dolphin sped off for the open sea.
The stunned and grieving Sea elf gave little thought to the passing of time or to the distance they traveled. But it seemed to her that not much of either had elapsed before the dolphin drew up short. The creature looked up toward the distant sky, chattering in surprise and alarm.
Anarzee followed the line of his gaze. Through the deep curtain of water, the full moon was clearly visible. But as she looked, a huge, circular form passed overhead, eclipsing the light so rapidly that it appeared as if some massive creature had simply swallowed the moon. Then, just as suddenly, the light was back, shimmering through the troubled water in a way that brought to Anarzee’s fear-struck mind the image of a trembling child.
The apparition had passed over with st
artling speed, but not so fast that Anarzee didn’t get to catch a glimpse of the four massive, churning legs and the lashing tail that had propelled the creature with such speed.
Dragon turtle? she asked the dolphin. The creature nodded rapidly, nervously. After a moment’s hesitation, he indicated in clicks and squeals that he needed to rise to the surface to breathe.
Though Anarzee had no such need herself, she went with the dolphin. The creature did not ask this of her, but she sensed that he had no desire to go anywhere near the place where the dragon turtle had passed. Dolphins feared them, and with good reason. Such creatures were seldom seen, but all who lived in the sea knew of their power. Dragon turtles possessed a keen, if somewhat unfathomable, intelligence. It was not pleasant to ponder what this one might have in mind, what might bring it so close to Evermeet’s shores. Indeed, the dragon turtle had been swimming straight for the elven island.
As they neared the surface, Anarzee noticed an unusual turbulence sweeping the surface of the water—far too much to be explained by the dragon turtle’s passage. She came up into the air to be greeted by a chill blast of wind from the north, and buffeted by the surging, restless waves. Yet the sky was clear and cloudless, and the stars shone almost as brightly as Leuthilspar’s festival lights. Whatever troubled the sea was no natural storm.
A large wave caught Anarzee and tossed her high. Just before she was slapped back into the sea, she caught sight of a distant, brightly lit ship, gliding northward on calm waters.
Anarzee’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized Darthoridan’s ship. But her pain was immediately overtaken by a surge of relief. The waters surrounding Evermeet were protected from storms by Aerdrie Faenya herself. Her beloved was safe in the hands of a powerful elven goddess. His wedding ship could not be swept away by this storm unless it deliberately ventured out into the troubled sea.
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