Ghaunadar took shape before him.
He knew the lore. He knew as well as any elf alive that Ghaunadar was summoned by great and audacious evil. Until this moment, Kymil had never perceived his ambitions as anything but right and proper. The arrival of Ghaunadar was a glimpse into a dark mirror, and the shock of confronting his own image was greater than his dread of the terrible Power before him.
It was not as great, however, as the second stunning surprise dealt Kymil. A large, dark bubble formed on the seething surface of the Elemental God's form, somehow seeming to take on evil power as it grew in size. When the thing burst, Kymil felt that his heart would also shatter, for standing before him was the thing that above all others was anathema to the Gold elves: Lloth, the dark goddess of the drow. His horror seemed to amuse the goddess, and the smile on her beautiful face was even more chilling than Ghaunadar's lurking presence.
'Greeting, Lord Kymil,' she said in musical, mocking tones. 'Your summons has been heard, your methods approved. If you are willing to join hands with those who also plot against Evermeet, we will see you freed from this prison.'
Kymil tried to speak and found that he could not. He licked his parchment-dry lips and tried again. The words that emerged, however, were not quite what he'd expected to say.
'You could do this?' he whispered.
Crimson fire flared hot in Lloth's eyes. 'Do not doubt my power,' she hissed at him. 'It would amuse me to see a golden drider-the first! Would you also relish this transformation, Kymil Nimesin?'
Horror clutched at Kymil's heart as he contemplated this threat. Elven sages claimed that Lloth could transform her dark-elven followers into horrific beings that were half-elven, half spider. He did not know, however, which was the more appalling prospect: the transformation itself, or the possibility that he could somehow have fallen within the sphere of Lloth's influence. Never had he contemplated this possibility; nor, apparently, had those who had imprisoned him here. Despite all he had done, there was nothing in Kymil Nimesin's life that so much as suggested the possibility that he might seek any gods but those of the Seldarine. Yet here was Lloth, beautiful beyond telling and filling his room with dark, compelling power.
'I do not doubt you,' he managed.
'Good,' the goddess purred. 'Then listen well. We will set you free of this prison, on the condition that you go where we cannot. The gods of the Seldarine will not suffer us to attack Evermeet directly, but you can gather elves who can and will.'
'But how?' Kymil demanded. 'There are few elves in all the world who would not kill me on sight.'
'There are other worlds, and many are the elves who inhabit them,' the goddess said. She laughed at the stunned expression that fell over Kymil's face.
'You faerie elves are so enamored with yourselves, so determined to think you are the only People alive, that you have forgotten your own history,' she sneered. 'You came to Toril as invaders, more than willing to displace those who came before. Do you think that you are the only elves so minded?'
Kymil struggled with the task of wrapping his mind around this possibility. 'Gold elves?' he asked tentatively. Lloth laughed again, delightedly and derisively. 'Ah, but you are priceless-and predictable. Yes, there are Gold elves upon other worlds. I have prepared some for you. Come and see.'
Almost against his will, Kymil walked toward the goddess. The seething mass that was Ghaunadar parted to allow him to pass. Kymil gingerly walked through, then peered into the globe that Lloth had conjured from the empty air. The scene within stole his breath.
In a sky whose utter darkness rivaled the obsidian skin of the drow goddess, two strange vessels were locked in mortal combat. One, a graceful winged vessel that looked like a titanic butterfly, was crewed by elves who could have passed as Kymil’s near kin. The other was a massive armored ship teaming with well-armed creatures that looked like orcs, but fought with an intelligence and discipline that no orc on Toril could match.
'Scro,' Lloth said by way of explanation. 'They are a race of clever, powerful orcs from another world, and they fight against the Elven Imperial Navy. As you can see, they will soon prevail against this ship.
'Would you like to know the nature of this butterfly ship, and the elves upon it?' she continued in her faintly mocking tone. 'These are survivors of a world in flames. The scro overran their homeland and utterly destroyed it. These elves are desperate for a homeland. They would follow an elven noble who offered them one, and not fret overmuch if they needed to overthrow a kingdom in order to possess it. Thus did your own ancestors, when they fled from a dying world. Thus would you do also, if you were thrust into a new world. Elves such as you believe that rulership is a divine right.'
Kymil's thoughts whirled as he stared intently at the life-and-death struggle playing out within the globe. The scope and complexity of the picture the goddess painted, however strange it might seem at first glimpse, fit within the framework of his mind. It was not so very hard to accept.
'What would you have me do?'
Lloth smiled and made a quick, complex gesture with one hand. A burst of fetid smoke filled the room, and from it stepped a second fearsome deity.
Kymil was no coward, but he shrank back before the evil power that was Malar, the Beastlord.
The avatar was enormous-more than twice Kymil's height, and armed with terrible talons and antlers whose prongs looked long and as sharp as elven swords. Malar was armored with a black-furred hide, and he regarded the elf with a derisive expression in his crimson eyes. Although bearlike in general shape, the god lacked a snout or a visible mount. The furred flesh that draped his single oral cavity fluttered as Malar let out a whuffle of obvious scorn.
But the bestial god, unlike his dark-elven ally, wasted no time either greeting or taunting the elf. Towering over the delicate Lloth, Malar bent down and tapped the floating globe with one taloned finger.
'Look here, elf,' the god said in a harsh, grating voice. 'A second elf ship, taken from Arborianna before it was set aflame. The ship is crewed by a few of my followers-goblins, base born orcs-and powered by a single elven mage. The ship is not big enough or well armed enough to turn the battle, but it has aboard a living weapon that can destroy the scro vessel. A monster that will kill and kill until none remain. You will feed my followers to it, then unleash it upon the scro ship. The elves will hail you as their savior. But be sure to kill the elf mage first, lest he betray you to the others.'
Kymil stared at the god. 'You would betray those who follow you, and bid me betray one of my own people?'
As soon as he'd spoken the rash words, Kymil feared he'd written his own death order. To his astonishment, both gods broke into long and genuine laughter. Even Ghaunadar joined in after a fashion, for the gelatinous mass bubbled and popped in a grim parody of laughter. Finally the horrible chorus ended, and Lloth wiped her streaming eyes and turned to the bemused elf.
'A few goblins and orcs are a small price to pay for what you will give us. Say the word, and we will set you upon this ship. The rest is yours to do.'
'I am to lead an invasion of Evermeet,' Kymil said dazedly.
'Was that not your intent? Is that not your dream? With the added strength of the Gold elves of Arborianna, you should have an easy task of supplanting the Moonflower clan and ruling Evermeet.'
'If such a plan is to succeed, I will need to contact those few of my followers who remain, both on Evermeet and upon Faerun,' Kymil said hesitantly. 'Would this be possible?'
In response, Lloth produced a handful of gems from some hidden pocket in the folds of her silken, ebony gown. These she gave to Kymil. 'You will recognize these-these are gems of communication much like those you yourself have used to good effect. Tell me all those whom you wish to contact, and I will see that gems get into their hands.'
Kymil nodded thoughtfully. It was a good plan, and it could work. He would gather support from many quarters, then slip down to Toril to lead the sea forces upon Evermeet himself. One question remained, however-an enormous question.
'Why do you support my ambitions?' he asked bluntly. 'It seems to me that one elf is much like another in the eyes of Lloth and Malar.'
The goddess shrugged. 'Evermeet has been denied to me and my children; its queen is Corellon's special pet. The joy of seeing Amlaruil of Evermeet destroyed will be payment enough for the ignominy of any alliance I might have to make. I mean no offense, great Malar.'
The bestial god whuffled; Kymil got the impression that Malar was of like mind on the matter.
