"One last thing, Malkizid," she rasped. "Tell me-who ruined this mythal for me, and where can I find him?"
EPILOGUE
Seven days after the Battle of the Lonely Moor, Fflar watched Seiveril Miritar raise his banner in the forest-grown ruins of Myth Glaurach. The daemonfey were gone. The crusade's Eagle Knights had cautiously followed the retreating fey'ri legion to their hidden stronghold in the Talons of the Delimbiyr, but a day before the rest of Seiveril's army reached the outskirts of the ancient Eaerlanni city, the fey'ri had vanished without a trace. Having lost their demon allies and abandoned their orc and ogre warriors, the fey'ri seemed disinclined to meet Evermeet's army again.
"It was a handsome city in its day," Seiveril observed.
Along with Araevin, Ilsevele, and Maresa, he had wandered through the ruins with Fflar for a time, studying the stinking forges and warrenlike barracks where Sarya's soldiers had formerly worked and lived, exploring the deep vaults and passages that Araevin had dared in order to rescue Ilsevele, Maresa, and the young cleric Filsaelene.
Fflar followed Seiveril, one hand on Keryvian's hilt in case the daemonfey had left any unpleasant surprises behind.
Myth Drannor must look much like this now, he thought.
As he understood things, Myth Glaurach had fallen only fifty years or so after his own city.
"The ruins remind me of Myth Drannor," he said. "What became of this city, Seiveril? How did it fall?"
"I do not know. A horde of orcs, I believe." Seiveril gazed at the wreckage of the former grand mage's palace, open to the sky. "I wonder what we should do with the place. Now that the daemonfey have abandoned it and Araevin has done so much to secure the mythal, it seems a pity to leave it empty again."
"It won't be empty," Ilsevele replied. "I have spoken to the wood elf emissary, Gaerradh. She told me that the folk of the High Forest and the Silver Marches will keep watch over the place when we leave. They don't intend to allow the daemonfey to come creeping back."
"Where do you think the daemonfey have gone?" asked Thilesin.
"It hardly matters, does it?" Maresa asked. "They're not here, and that's enough for me."
Seiveril glanced at the young genasi and said, "No, I am afraid that is not enough. Once before we allowed the Dlardrageths to vanish from our knowledge. I will not permit that to happen again. Checking the threat to Evereska was important, but I intend to root out the daemonfey wherever they are hiding. And I also intend to make sure that the People in Faerun will have the strength to defend themselves against the next such peril to arise."
"That is not the work of a day," Araevin murmured.
Seiveril offered a small, hard smile, his eyes fierce with determination.
"I did not call for a crusade in the Dome of Stars, my friends," he said. "I called for a Return. Our work is not yet done."
The others fell silent, sensing the sternness in the elflord's voice. Seiveril studied each in turn, and his smile softened.
"For now," he said, "the fey'ri are nowhere to be found. Come, friends; join me for supper in my tent."
Ilsevele took her father's arm, and Araevin fell in close beside her on the other side. But Fflar found himself hanging back. The dead ruins of Myth Glaurach still had more to say to him, and in the melancholy mood stealing over him, he felt more kinship to the ghosts of that place-so like his own lost city-than he did to the elves with whom he lived a second time.
Ilsevele glanced over her shoulder, noticing his absence, and asked, "Lord Starbrow? Aren't you coming?"
"Go on ahead. I'll follow shortly."
Fflar watched the sun elf lord and his entourage descend back to the crusade's camp. The sun was setting, and the lanterns of the elven army surrounded the foot of the hill like a garland of candles amid the trees. The evening was fine and clear, with little of the cold wind that often raked the Delimbiyr Vale in the early spring, but Fflar could tell that it would be quite cold later on. It suited his mood.
The open square before the ruined palace was not unlike the broad plaza that had stood before Castle Cor-manthyr. He remembered a hot, humid day with a brassy sky and the smoke of burning homes thick in the air, and he shuddered.
What is this place? he wondered. What am I doing here? A lifetime ago I fought for the People, and now I live and fight again.
"Did I know peace in Arvandor?" he asked the emptiness, but he found no answer.
He sighed and sank down on the low, jumbled stones of an old stone wall, listening to the silence of the ruins.
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Forsaken House tlm-1 Page 34