Forsaken House Page 16

  Sarya trailed a hand over the black shroud and said, “That is not good enough. He might find the second and third telkiira before we find him! You must redouble your efforts, Nurthel. But perhaps I have failed to provide you with the proper implements for the task.”

  Sarya drew aside the silken shroud, and allowed it to fall to the floor, revealing a great crystal orb resting in a heavy iron stand. The device glimmered with a weird emerald light deep in its countless facets.

  “What is it?” Nurthel asked softly.

  “A telthukiilir, a High Seeing Orb—one of the many useful treasures we recovered from the depths of Nar Kerymhoarth when we freed the fey’ri legion. This is an artifact of ancient Aryvandaar itself, buried for thousands of years in that dolorous citadel.”

  “A crystal ball?”

  “Not quite. Crystal balls are useful enough, but they are easily blocked by those who know rudimentary defenses against scrying. The telthukiilir is a much more powerful instrument. You will find it capable of piercing all but the most powerful of barriers your opponent may raise. But you must use it with care, since its most powerful abilities consume its magic at a prodigious rate. The orb will require a long time to restore its power after defeating the defenses of a knowledgeable enemy.” Sarya invited Nurthel with a languid gesture. “Try it now, if you like. I would do so myself, but you have seen this fellow. You will find him more quickly and easily than I would.”

  Nurthel moved up to stand before the orb. He reached out a hand to pass above the great crystal sphere, and he felt the restless surging of its magic beneath his fingertips. He whispered a few arcane words, and called to mind the face of the sun elf mage he sought.

  “Show me the elf who carries the telkiira of Kaeledhin,” he said.

  The orb glimmered, as emerald energy spiraled deep below its surface. It grew transparent in the center, and Nurthel leaned closer, peering into the orb. Sarya watched him, her arms folded. In the orb an image formed of an old vine-covered tower in a great forest. The picture reeled and blurred, as if the orb was moving closer to it, then it steadied again. Nurthel gazed on the bronzed features of his nemesis from Tower Reilloch. Distantly he heard the sounds of battle, and he realized that the mage and his friends were engaged in a fight against some unseen peril.

  “I see him!” he snarled.

  “Good. Study the surroundings, fix them in your mind, then gather your company and summon your demonic allies. But remember, I want him alive. He can lead us to the last of the stones.”

  “He may prove difficult to coerce.”

  Sarya laughed and said, “Do not underestimate my powers of coercion, Lord Floshin! I am certain we will be able to persuade him to help us.”

  The forested hillsides above Elion glittered with the soft light of a thousand lanterns, looking for all the world like fireflies in a summer field. The night was cool but not cold, with a patchy silver overcast through which broad swaths of stars glittered. Seiveril stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing up from Seamist’s green arbor at the growing army encamped about his seat. Each day more elves came, and more elves, so that the scattered camps of a hundred different bands, companies, clans, societies, and orders filled the hills above the Miritar palace.

  “So many,” he murmured. “So many. How can I hope to put them in some kind of order quickly enough to aid Evereska?”

  “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you sent your voice ringing over all of Evermeet, calling us to your banner,” said Vesilde Gaerth.

  Short and wiry, even by elf standards, the sun elf knight seemed like a stern-mannered youth barely out of childhood, not the Knight-Commander of the Golden Star. He waited with Seiveril for the rest of the Council of Captains. Each captain led one of the largest contingents within the gathering crusade. Over the past few days Seiveril had drafted them into service as an impromptu staff and command structure. In the case of Vesilde Gaerth, he commanded the Golden Star, one of the militant orders associated with the temple of Corellon Larethian. Vesilde Gaerth personally led more than five hundred clerics, knights, templars, and temple guards in Seiveril’s crusade.

  “What did you expect from your reckless speech, Lord Seiveril?” Vesilde continued. “You have no idea the trouble you have caused within the faith.”

  Seiveril nodded, silently accepting the rebuke. Vesilde Gaerth was an old friend and ally within the hierarchy of Corellon’s faithful. Seiveril had hoped that the clerics and temple soldiers of his own faith would hear his call, and a great number did. But an equal number, mostly from the southern and western districts where the Durothils and Veldanns were strong, had chosen not to come. In fact, he’d heard just that morning that a Highmeet of the Star-grove had been called, so that the chief elders of Corellon’s temple might consider whether Seiveril’s actions could be sanctioned by the faith. More than a few of Corellon’s priests were sun elves of old and conservative families, and Seiveril suspected that they might seek to remove him from his position in the clergy.

  “Those words were not entirely my own, Lord Gaerth,” Seiveril replied. “Corellon’s hand was on my shoulder.”

  “So you say, old friend, and I believe you. But many who stand high in Corellon’s faith are not so certain. Some openly wonder whether you are indeed speaking as the Seldarine command or simply claiming so in order to realize your own private ambitions.”

  “Ambitions? What ambitions?” Seiveril demanded. “What could I possibly hope to gain by resigning from the council and leaving Evermeet?”

  “Well, for a start, you might succeed and return a hero. Everyone knows that you are high in Amlaruil’s favor. I think that the Durothils fear that you are maneuvering to present House Miritar as a successor to House Moonflower, should Amlaruil pass to Arvandor without leaving a Moonflower heir. The gods know that few indeed of the Moonflower children still live.”

  Seiveril shook his head in disgust and said, “When someone desires one thing above all others, she cannot believe that another person might not want it. Of course Lady Durothil thinks I’m maneuvering for the throne. She is wrong, you know.”

  “We are a passionate race, Seiveril. An elf’s heart knows heights of glory and depths of despair that few other races can understand. You have given the People of Evermeet a great cause, a purpose suited to their longing, You should not be surprised that your words have taken root in many hearts, for good or ill.”

  A soft call came through the cool night air, “Lord Seiveril? The other captains are here.”

  “Excellent, Thilesin,” Seiveril answered. “Please ask them to join us.”

  Seiveril waited while the younger cleric showed the other crusade leaders into the arbor. Thilesin was a priestess of middle rank in Corellon’s Grove, the circle of clergy that Seiveril had led until a few days before. Like many others among the Grove, she had chosen to join Seiveril’s quest. Somber and studious, Thilesin had proven to be indispensable as an aide-de-camp and adjutant. The quiet sun elf accompanied the other commanders into the arbor, and took up a position standing to one side, waiting for orders and decisions to record.

  Seiveril studied his circle of captains. The first was Lord Elvath Muirreste, a tall, strong moon elf with pale skin and hair dark as shadow. He had formerly served as the leader of Elion’s Silver Guard, the legion Seiveril was expected to muster and maintain on Evermeet’s northerly coasts to defend the isle. Each of the high lords of the realm governing the isle’s districts were required to do the same, supplementing the royal army with their own troops. Lord Muirreste served as Seiveril’s marshal and captain, supervising the forces that owed loyalty to the Miritar family. Seiveril could not take the entirety of the Silver Guard with him, of course. He had promised Amlaruil that he would not compromise the safety of the realm. But the Silver Guard contingent comprised a company of knights, two of lighter cavalry, and three of infantry, totaling almost nine hundred uniformed knights and soldiers.

  Jerreda Starcloak, the Green Lady of
the wood elves, had been the first of the captains to arrive in Elion. Her wood elves filled the air with off-color songs and ribald jests as they trotted and gamboled along, roughhousing and boasting to each other. They did not make even the slightest attempt to form any sort of companies or march in any particular order. Each wood elf simply marched at whatever pace he and his friends enjoyed. But Jerreda Starcloak brought not two hundred, as she had promised in the Dome of Stars, but fully five hundred and fifty of the best archers, scouts, and forest-wise folk in Evermeet.

  Mage Jorildyn, the fourth of Seiveril’s captains, was one of the surviving mages of Tower Reilloch. A half-elf with a heavy and powerful build that seemed more suited to a swordsman than a wizard, he was in fact a very talented evoker and battle-mage who had fought alongside elven armies on many previous occasions. His beard was streaked with gray, belying his human blood, and his manner was blunt to a fault, though few dared sneer at his mixed heritage. Jorildyn represented the arcanists of the gathering army, almost a hundred mages, bladesingers, spellsingers, and spellarchers, not a few of whom had followed him from Tower Reilloch. The Circle of Reilloch Domayr needed little urging to consider a counterblow against the daemonfey and their demonic allies.

  “Well, we all seem to be here,” Seiveril began. “Thilesin, how stand our numbers so far?”

  Thilesin consulted a small book she kept with her at all times and said, “The Moon Knights of the Temple of Sehanine Moonbow marched in an hour before sunset. They are only eighty strong, but they are all clerics and skilled swordsmen, and I understand all have some skill at healing magic. Earlier today a flight of Eagle Knights appeared.”

  “Yes, I saw them,” Seiveril said. “I spoke with their captain.”

  The Eagle Knights were only thirty strong, but each was mounted on a giant eagle. They were invaluable as aerial scouts and would serve well against any flying enemies the army met. Seiveril wished dearly for a hundred more, but the Eagle Knights were indispensable to Evermeet’s defenses, and he could not ask for any more to join his cause without straining his promise to Amlaruil.

  “Also, Lord Celeilol Fireheart of Leuthilspar sent word that he will be here tomorrow afternoon. He is leading a company of spearmen in mail.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him,” Seiveril said. He glanced at the others, who shrugged back at him. “How many in his company?”

  “He reports two hundred and fifty. By my best count, that brings us to just over five thousand warriors, plus at least two thousand more in armorers, engineers, drivers, and other such folk.”

  “The Moon Knights are under the command of Ferryl Nimersyl?”

  “Yes, Lord Seiveril.”

  “Please invite him to our captains’ council, then. He has a sound mind and I know he fought well in Nimesin’s war.”Seiveril paused to organize his thoughts. He would have to be careful about asking too many captains to attend his councils, but it would be difficult to limit his invitations without offending any who weren’t asked to come.

  “How about the individuals?” he asked.

  Thilesin grimaced and replied, “It’s very hard to get a count, Lord Seiveril. They show up by ones or twos and simply set up a camp wherever they like. I have arranged for my assistants to establish a station where all who come to join can sign up, and give us a name at least. Based on our rolls, which are incomplete, I’d say we have almost three thousand volunteers who aren’t a part of any company or society.”

  “That could be fifteen companies of infantry,” Elvath Muirreste observed. “How can we equip them all?”

  “More to the point, how do we organize them into companies?” Seiveril asked. “I have no idea what to do with so many.”

  “Best to divide them among the companies we already have, I think,” said Muirreste. “It would seem to be impossible to organize and equip new companies before we march, let alone train them for battle. Any we cannot place with a real company, we should send back home.”

  “Do not turn away anyone whose heart is full of courage, Seiveril,” Jerreda Starcloak said. “Yes, we must do something to put these fellows in order, but they are willing, and they are waiting to be led. Marching and heeding orders can be taught, but determination and courage are harder to teach. If you give them the chance, they will storm a dragon’s lair for you.”

  Seiveril replied, “For many of them, it is simply the passion of youth. They think they are signing on for the adventure of their age, and they can’t stand the thought of missing it.”

  “Yes, for many of our volunteers that is true,” Jerreda said, “but I think you might do well to walk among the camps tonight and see who has answered your call, Lord Seiveril. They come from all over Evermeet. Many are soldiers of the Queen’s Guard who resigned their positions to serve in your army. Others are huntsmen of the Silver Hills. We have dozens of noted swordsmen and archers; bladesingers, spellsingers, and spellarchers; and whole Towers full of mages. They might serve to leaven the rest.”

  “That many?” Seiveril asked. He thought hard. In truth, he wanted to do exactly as Jerreda suggested, and go among the newcomers, greet them, speak with them, find out who might be skilled or experienced enough to serve as a leader for the rest, but he dared not. There were much more dangerous problems demanding his attention. “All right, this is what we will do. Muirreste, Gaerth, I want you to select one third of your officers and sergeants to leave your companies and serve as leadership cadres for five new companies each, to be organized from our unattached volunteers. Make sure you pick some good and capable leaders for this duty. You will be promoting them, after all. Have the cadre commanders figure out how to build their new companies from our volunteers. In the meantime, you may go among the volunteers and see if any of them would serve to replace the captains and officers you will be losing.”

  “Lord Seiveril, I don’t know if I can spare that many good officers,” Knight-Commander Gaerth said.

  “Lord Gaerth, you and Muirreste have the largest, most well organized contingents here. If anyone can spare seasoned commanders, it’s the Silver Guard and the Knights of the Golden Star.” Seiveril offered a stern smile and added, “I don’t want to leave anyone behind who wants to go, and I can’t have them organize their own companies. You will have to help them.”

  “We will do our best,” the sun elf knight capitulated with a grimace.

  “My thanks,” Seiveril replied. He glanced at each of his principal officers again, and offered a rueful smile. “I know it is difficult, but time is pressing. Since we were not permitted to bring Evermeet’s army to aid our kinsfolk in Faerûn, we must build the best force we can in the shortest time. I want to send at least some of our strength through the elfgates to Evereska in two days’ time. Now, do we have any other pressing business?”

  “I fear so,” said the mage Jorildyn. “Tell me, Lord Seiveril, have you decided which elfgates you wish to use to move the army to Faerûn?”

  “There’s a gate to Evereska about ten miles from here,” Seiveril replied. “I understand it can be held open for several hours at a time, long enough for quite a few troops to march through.”

  “I think we should put it under a strong guard.”

  Seiveril looked sharply at the mage and asked, “Why?”

  “It occurs to me that your crusade could be easily defeated or delayed if it proved impossible to move to Faerûn when you would like. If you were forced to use a gate that led to some place hundreds of miles from the fight, you might conclude that you could never get there in time. There are powerful families on the council who feel that you flouted their will by arranging your voluntary crusade. They might be willing to return the favor by denying you the means to leave the isle where and when you wish.”

  “You think matters are that serious?” Seiveril asked with a frown.

  The heavy-shouldered mage replied, “Are you confident they are not, Lord Seiveril?”

  The nobleman studied his chief mage, conscious of the eyes of t
he other captains on him.

  “Lord Gaerth,’ he said, “have your troops provide a guard over the elfgates we intend to use. Mage Jorildyn, assign a few of your spellcasters to assist him. We may have no cause for such measures, but perhaps it would be better to deter any trouble of this sort than to find out we were wrong.”

  CHAPTER 10

  16 Ches, the Year of Lightning Storms

  The floors above the iron golem’s chamber were in dismal condition, damaged by long exposure to rain and rot. The beams supporting the wooden floors sagged noticeably, and the staircase that had once ascended the tower in a circle following the outer wall was unsafe at best, and simply missing in other places. Araevin finally resorted to casting a flying-spell on Grayth so that the heavily armored human would not have to chance a general collapse of the stairs or the floor. Grayth then helped the others ascend to the floors above, simply carrying them up through the gaping holes where the stairs had formerly climbed.

  The second floor above the golem’s chamber seemed to have been the personal chamber of the tower’s builder. The mildewed remnants of an old canopy bed and several large chests of drawers still stood in the room.

  “That’s a human bed,” Ilsevele observed. “Elves don’t use anything like that for Reverie. Are you sure the telkiira is here?”

  “Yes,” said Araevin. He rummaged through one of the old chests, finding nothing but a couple of mildewed blankets. “Who was this fellow, I wonder? And how did an elven loregem come to be in his hands?”

  “He might have stolen it,” Maresa said. She was searching slowly and carefully along the walls for any sign of a hidden door or compartment. “Or maybe he bought it from someone who stole it from its true owner. For that matter, he might have just bought it from an elf or traded for it, with no duplicity or theft at all—though what’s the fun of that? It’s not much of a mystery, and it’s one we can’t solve anyway, so why bother with it?”