Evermeet: Island of Elves (single books)

by Elaine Cunningham

  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 startling 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.

  Or unless it was forced.

  Suddenly the Sea elf suspected what mischief the dragon turtle had in mind. She dived deep and frantically called the dolphin back to her side.

  I need to see that ship. We must leap above the waves! she urged him.

  The dolphin was not easily convinced. For many moments they argued in vehement clicks and chattering that transformed the waters around them into a dizzying whorl of vibrating sound. At last the dolphin conceded and allowed Anarzee to take hold of his dorsal fin. Both of the sea folk swam upward with all their strength, and then hurtled themselves up into the final spring.

  As Anarzee clung to the leaping dolphin, she saw her beloved's ship lurch suddenly toward the east. It was as she feared: The dragon turtle was forcibly herding Darthoridan out to sea.

  Without pausing for thought, Anarzee left the dolphin behind and sped toward the doomed ship.

  The night was nearly spent when Vhoori Durothil's skiff touched the docks of Sumbrar. On the main island, the midsummer festival was still in full celebration. All the people of Evermeet, not only the elves of every race but all the other fey creatures who made the island their home, marked the longest day of summer with music and dance, feasting and revelry. Though Vhoori was not adverse to gaiety, he was eager to return to his island, and his tower, and his all-consuming work.

  Vhoori's accomplishments had outstripped most early predictions of his potential. His skill at magical communications, in particular, was uncanny. Many times he had foreseen approaching danger and given warning, and so effective was he at this task that the entire outpost island of Sumbrar had been placed under his rule. A large contingent of warriors were garrisoned there, and a score of fighting ships were kept on alert. But perhaps Sumbrar's most potent defense was the magic wielded by its Circle. Vhoori Durothil's tower had become one of the largest in the elven realm. Many young mages vied for the honor of training with Sumbrar's High Mage.

  Yet there were back on Evermeet many elves who feared Vhoori Durothil's growing power, and who spoke out against the dangers of isolating a tower of High Magi, and the dubious wisdom of placing a considerable fighting force in the hands of a single elf Chief among these dissenting voices was that of Darthoridan Craulnober.

  Vhoori gritted his teeth at the thought of his rival. At the last council meeting, not more than a fortnight past, Darthoridan had spoken long and eloquently about the dangerous divisions growing between the various races of elves. He had even had the nerve to point out that only Gold elves were accepted into Sumbrar Tower, and that only Gold elves fought in the outpost guard.

  This was true enough. In Vhoori's eyes, this practice was merely a matter of preference and convenience, but Darthoridan's words had made it appear a sinister plot. The seeds of suspicion had been planted in many a fertile Moon-elven mind. This, Vhoori could not allow. The mage could ill afford to have attention focused upon his work, and he had no intention in any event of becoming accountable to a Gray elf.

  Nor was this the worst that Darthoridan had done. The Craulnober upstart was gaining ground in the Council, and was even spoken of as a possible High Councilor. Vhoori Durothil fully intended that this honor would be his. He had chosen his wedding gift for Darthoridan accordingly.

  Somewhat cheered by this thought, the mage alighted from his skiff and hastened to the uppermost room of his tower. There he kept the Accumulator, as well as many, many other magical objects he had collected or created. Even now, in the darkest hour of the night, the room would be bright with the combined light of a hundred softly glowing spheres.

  As Vhoori entered the chamber, he noted that he was not alone. Before one such globe sat Mariona Leafbower, her eyes fixed upon the globe and her pale face twisted in an expression of intense longing.

  Vhoori pulled up short, startled by the captain's presence in this, his inner sanctum. His next thought was concern for what the elf woman might have seen. Each magical globe was a window, and some of the sights they revealed were for his eyes alone.

  But predictably enough, the captain gazed into the globe that probed the stars beyond Selune.

  The mage cleared his throat. "If you wished to see the stars, Captain Leafbower, you had only to walk outside the tower. This is my private room. There is no reason for you to be here."

  Mariona glanced up. A wry smiled lifted one corner of her mouth as she took note of her host's consternation. "No reason?" she echoed dryly. "It's midsummer night, Vhoori. Maybe I came here hoping to celebrate with you."

  A startled moment passed before the mage understood this comment for what it was. He could not imagine intimacy of any kind with this tart-tongued elf woman, but he had become well acquainted with her tendency to say things meant to throw him off stride. That had worked, once. These days he merely responded in kind.

  "I am surprised you noted the changing of seasons, much less the coming of the solstice," Vhoori said mildly. "Perhaps you have become more attuned to this world than you like to admit."

  Mariona's lip curled into a sneer. "Not likely! The sooner I shake the sand of this wretched place off my boots, the happier I'll be!" She rose abruptly and stalked over to the mage, her fists planted on her hips. "And speaking of which, when can I leave?"

  "Leave?"

  "Don't play the fool!" she snapped. "The first ship is nearly full-grown. The original helm has been rebuilt and tested beneath the waves. The air envelope held; the ship is fully maneuverable. I can leave this place, and I want to do so at once."

  Vhoori sighed. "We have had this conversation many times, Captain Leafbower. Yes, there is one ship ready for starflight. But tell me, who would crew this ship? Who but you is eager to make this long trip? Shi'larra?"

  Mariona glared at the mage, but she could not refute his words. She had not seen her former navigator for years. Shi'larra had declared herself utterly content with her new home, and had long ago disappeared into the deep forests of Evermeet.

  Nor was the forest elf the only member of Green Monarch's crew to have gone native. One by one, the elves had slipped ashore, armed with papers of introduction from Lord Durothil himself.

  The captain hissed in frustration. The fools had probably spent the night dancing beneath the stars, never giving a thought to the days when they had traveled among them!

  Well, to the Abyss with them. Surely there was another way off this rock.

  "What about your wizards?" she asked grudgingly.

  In the years since she'd made landfall, Vhoori had learned some of the secrets of star travel, mostly by experimentation, and had tau
ght them to several young magi of his Circle. Any one of the Gold elven wizards could get her where she wanted to go. Mariona had seen better helmsmen in her time, but she'd certainly also seen worse. And Sumbrar's warriors were an elite group, well trained and highly skilled in the ways of ships and seas. Surely some of them would be eager to travel the stars. There was glory and adventure, and even treasure aplenty to be had in the service of the Elven Imperial Navy.

  "My people know their roles, and they are content with them," Vhoori said. "And truly, why would any elf want to leave Evermeet, but for Arvandor itself?"

  The mage spoke simply, calmly, as if stating a widely accepted truth. As indeed it was, Mariona reluctantly acknowledged. At that moment, the captain understood at last the futility of her long-cherished dream.

  She let out an oath and backhanded the nearest globe. The priceless, magical crystal flew across the small room and shattered against the wall.

  Anger flared in the High Mage's eyes. Mariona lifted her chin and stared him down, almost daring him to strike. At this moment of anger and loss and utter frustration, she would have welcomed the killing blow.

  But Vhoori's face softened, and he came to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You have not lost the stars. If only you would open your heart, you would experience their wonder again."

  The elf woman spun away from him and threw herself into a chair. Never had she felt so utterly defeated. "All these years on this gods-forsaken rock, and for what? I will never leave-I'll be trapped on Sumbrar until I die!"

  "This world is a wide place, Captain Leafbower. I have come to know you and your nature, and have heard from your former crew the reputation of your adventurous clan. You are not content to remain long in any one place. But the seas of Aber-toril, the scattered lands and ancient cultures, are not these things worth exploring? If you so desire, I will see that you have a ship and crew."

  A tendril of interest worked its way into Mariona's benumbed mind. It was not wildspace, but even so…