1371DR
The goddess Lloth was well content. In a tunnel far beneath the oceans surrounding Evermeet, she and Malar gazed with dark glee into a large scrying bowl, enjoying their long-awaited vengeance upon the children of Corellon Larethian.
Of course, it would be far more pleasant to observe in person, but this was as near to Evermeet as they could get. The weave Corellon had placed over the island barred all evil gods from entering. But it did not keep the drow from using the gate that Kymil Nimesin had so conveniently arranged, or prevent the passage of the deadly creature of Malar: the elf-eater.
The gate. Many elements had gone into this attack, but it was the gate that dealt the deadliest blow. A wonderful thing, this art of Circle-singing-using spell-song to combine many magical effects into one-especially when one considered the ingenious use Kymil had made of it. Under his direction, the circle-singers had gathered the power of all the gates to Evermeet, combining them into a single gate, effectively cutting the island off from outside magical interference.
It was a masterful plan, and Lloth was quite impressed with Kymil Nimesin. The Gold elf had nurtured his plans for years, gathering and training every talented elven spell-singer he could find. If only there were a way to imbue her drow followers with such patience! How quickly they would rule all of Aber-toril!
Well, they would soon overrun Evermeet, and for the time being she could content herself with that. No doubt Malar thought that his creature would destroy them, as well, thus giving him a victory over his dark-elven ally. Lloth, however, was ever alert to the possibility of treachery. To be on the safe side, she'd tried feeding a few of her faithful drow to the elf-eater, and found the monster had no appetite for them. Malar would disperse his creature soon enough, when there was no more sport to be had on Evermeet.
She glanced over at Malar. Although he kept an eye on the image in the scrying bowl, he paced in a short, restless path. That made Lloth nervous as well. Her drow had done well-they had lured many elven fighters into the tunnels with the coming of day, where they could slaughter them at their leisure-but she needed Malar's elf-eater to truly destroy Evermeet. The god was uncomfortable in these tunnels. If he left and took his fine toy with him, the game would be over before it was finished.
'There is fine hunting down here,' she observed, her crimson eyes gleaming as she watched two drow slowly slice the flesh from the bones of an elven warrior. Wherever they looked, the tunnels were filled with battles.
Malar snorted, unimpressed by the spectacle. 'I am no mole to tunnel through the soil in search of worms!'
Before Lloth could retort, the image in her scrying pool changed. A new fighter, an enormous elf maid thrumming with godly power, had entered the battle. Almost before Lloth could absorb this threat, the warrior maid neatly netted the elf-eater. Before her horrified eyes, elf maid and elf-eater disappeared.
Malar saw this, as well. The Beast Lord's fearsome roar reverberated through the tunnel, shaking rocks loose from the tunnel walls and causing a brief, startled pause in the drow's genocidal fun.
Lloth recovered quickly from the shock, her nimble mind seeing a possibility in even this. 'A new avatar,' she said excitedly. 'But not an avatar of any of the gods I know. This is the spirit of a powerful mortal elf-therefore there is but one place it can go. Surely, the elf maid will bring the creature to Arvandor!'
'And where the elf-eater goes, so we might follow,' Malar said, beginning to understand. 'But we are two against the many of the Seldarine.'
'It matters not,' she said. 'All we need do is watch and enjoy as the elf-eater rampages! I imagine that the spirits of the faithful departed will be as tasty morsels to your monster. If we are lucky, perhaps it will devour a god or two, as well!'
'We go,' the god agreed. He snatched up Lloth's wrist in one enormous paw, dragging her with him as he followed his creature. The gods disappeared from the tunnel, taking the battle to yet another level.
In a chamber of the palace, Maura squirmed in the chair, restless even in her hard-won sleep. She had come to the palace along with the slumbering body of the princess Ilyrana, and she sat at the elf woman's bedside. But the terrible days of battle had taken a toll, and Maura had drifted into troubled slumber.
Even in sleep, the battle followed. In a strange dream, Maura watched as the warrior elf maid strove desperately to stop the monster that had attacked Corellon's Grove. The creature, bits of silvery web still clinging to it, thundered through a forest more beautiful than any Maura had seen and into a city of such wonder that even Leuthilspar paled. On and on the creature went, pausing only to snatch up the gallant elves who stayed behind to fight so that most of their people might flee. She watched as the creature advanced on a tall, blue-haired male elf. His resemblance to Lamruil struck her like an arrow to the heart.
The sleeping woman's palm itched for the feel of her own sword, though she knew there was little she could do against such a monster. Indeed, even the warrior maid did not fare well. She screamed a single word and threw herself between the blue-haired elf and the approaching monster. Maura flinched as the warrior maid went flying, struck aside with devastating force by one of the elf-eater's flailing tentacles. The elf maid got up, but blood dripped from her forehead where she had been cut in her fall.
A terrible, shrieking roar jolted Maura from her sleep. Instinctively she knew that this was not part of her dream, and she dashed to the window and looked out into the sky.
Hundreds, perhaps thousands of terrible creatures winged their way over the city, blocking out the sun with their loathsome bodies. She watched, near despair, as a swarm of them covered an airborne gold dragon. The battle was fierce and terrible, but in the end, the dragon was overcome. It plunged to the ground, its wings utterly gone, eaten away by the unnatural creatures that had attacked it. The dragon hit the island with a force that shook the palace-and no doubt leveled a good part of the city, Maura noted grimly.
She scanned the sky, trying to make some small sense of this strange attack. Here and there groups of the creatures, looking like dark, seething clouds against the sky, suggested that the rest of the dragonriders-even the aged Guardians released to combat the pirate fleet-might soon meet the same fate.
Maura drew a long, shuddering breath and turned away from the window. She fully expected to die this day, and she took comfort in two things: that Lamruil was safely away, and that the terrible slaughter of the elves she had just witnessed was only a dream.
She glanced down at the sleeping princess, and her heart thudded painfully. Ilyrana's white hair, in which usually glistened the pale colors of an opal, was dark and matted with blood, and on her forehead was a gash identical to the one dealt the warrior elf maid.
The single word that the elf maid warrior shouted now made perfect sense, as did the blue-haired male's resemblance to Lamruil. Maura spun on her heel and ran from the chamber. If anyone could do anything about this new horror, it would be the queen.
And even if the queen could not act, she had a right to know.
All over Evermeet, the elves struggled to shake off the terrible lethargy that had fallen over them with the destruction of the Towers. Nearly all the High Magi of Evermeet had gathered in the Towers of the Sun and Moon, or in the Sumbrar Tower in the island east of Leuthilspar. These magi had woven a powerful web of magic that upheld the elven fighters and strengthened the island's legendary defenses. This web had not simply collapsed, though that alone would have been catastrophic. The Towers had been reduced to dust, the magi slain. The resulting blow to the Weave, and thus to all of them, was staggering.
Amlaruil stood in her council chamber, gazing out over the stunned and grieving elves who stood motionless in the city's streets, too stunned even to react to the appearance of the unnatural horrors that suddenly filled the skies.
'Darkenbeasts,' she whispered, for her informants had been her well versed in such magics as the human mages fashioned. This was the work of the worst of them, the terrible Red Wizards who ruled distant Thay. Amlaruil did not need to ask what interest such humans might have in Evermeet. They had tried before to broach the island's defenses; of course they could join in such a devastating attack, hoping to take as their plunder some of the legendary magical wealth of the elven island. The thought of the elven treasures-the wands and swords, the magical art works, even the Tree of Souls-lent her new determination, and new strength.
Turning to Keryth Blackhelm, she asked that he give the report that had been interrupted by the silent magical explosion. The queen's calm demeanor seemed to hearten her advisors; even so, the news that the Silver elf gave was dire.
