Realms of War

'That's impossible. Zoastria was the fourth moonfighter in her line. She lived and died long before you were born.'

'The first time, yes,' Ferret agreed, unperturbed by the moon elf's ire. 'But every moonfighter adds another magic to the sword, is that not true? The elf who passed the sword to Zoastria ensured that as long as her moonblade's magic endures, a hero will return when the need is great. Arilyn is of this line. When she placed the sword in her ancestor's uncor shy;rupted hands, Zoastria became a living elf.'

Deathless sleep… the first of her line… a hero will return… her line… will return… a living elf.

Ferret's words tumbled through Elaith's mind, staggering in their implications.

Amnestria was the seventh in Zoastria's line.

It was possible. Somehow he'd always known it. When he'd caught his first glimpse of Arilyn nearly six years ago, for a moment he'd thought her Amnestria reborn. Such things were not unknown in Faerыn, even among the elves. But except for that one scalding moment of hope, Elaith had never really expected Amnestria to return.

But what if she could? What if she did?

'This place troubles you?' asked Ferret.

'Perhaps we should reconsider the plan.'

That was not what Elaith had expected to say, but the words seemed right to him. He'd been so busy arranging the usual web of primary, secondary, and contingency plans that he'd neglected to weigh these arrangements on any sort of moral scale. In all candor, he was not in the habit of doing so. But if he'd been spared by Amnestria's moonblade to play some part in her return, he'd damn well better get into the habit!

The forest elf's face fell slack with astonishment. 'Abandon the plan? Whatever for? It is a good plan.'

'But not an honorable one.'

'And for that, all gods be thanked,' she said tartly. 'Any honorable course would bring reprisals against my people.'

She brushed a lock of hair off her forehead with a quick, impatient hand. 'Why these doubts? You are a fine battle leader. Foxfire has been singing your praises since he returned from Waterdeep.'

'Foxfire is a competent battle leader himself-more than competent, and he knows this forest far better than I do. Perhaps he could devise-'

'No.' Ferret cut him off abruptly and decisively. 'Foxfire is too pure of heart to do what must be done. Why else would I have come for you?'

Her words stung Elaith more than they should have. 'These are strange words to speak over Zoastria's tomb.'

'If I'd known how you would respond to this place, I would have spoken them elsewhere.'

'Then why did you bring me here?'

'It is traditional for the sy Tel'Quessir to honor ancestors before a battle.' Ferret pointed to the Craulnober moonblade on Elaith's hip, sheathed and peacebound. Bringing it had been an act of impulse. The symbolism was important to Elaith, even though he could not wield the sword.

'I do not know the places sacred to your line,' Ferret went on, 'so I brought you here to honor another moonfighter's legacy.'

Something in Elaith's face made her falter. 'Did I do wrong?'

'No,' he said in a dull, soft tone. 'You did not do wrong.'

You did not, he repeated silently, but it appears that I must.

And just like that, his decision was made.

Some men called Elaith impulsive, though usually not to his face. That wasn't quite true. Elaith believed in destiny.

There was a reason the Craulnober moonblade rejected him, a reason Amnestria's moonblade had spared his ill-spent life. There was a reason he was thrice-pledged to the Moonflower family: raised by the elf queen, trained by her warrior king and made captain of the royal guard, betrothed to the youngest princess. And the reason for a life entwined with the royal family seemed suddenly, bleakly evident.

He could do things they could not.

Amnestria had been pledged to the service of the forest elves. It was strangely fitting that Elaith take her legacy upon himself. There was a great need in the Wealdath, but this time, the forest people did not need a hero.

They needed him.

Thanks to Ganemede's magic, five elves stepped into the shadows of the Mytharan Woods, a place that was old and strange even by the standards of this ancient forest. The small band included the lythari and two recruits Ferret had brought back from the elven settlement Suldanessellar. One was Kivessin Sultaasar, an elf of the Suldusk tribe. The other, to Elaith's astonishment, was Captain Uevareth Korianthil, a moon elf from Evermeet. Apparently Queen Amlaruil had sent representatives to the Wealdath four years ago, after the forest elves fought off an incursion of human mercenaries. She'd made it known to Tethyr's humans that another such attempt against her forest kin would not go unanswered.

That raised the stakes considerably.

Elaith turned to Captain Korianthil. 'Are you certain you wish to be a part of this?'

The moon elf nodded, his face grim. 'The Lady Shalana is right; the humans who followed her into the forest cannot carry tales of an elven assassin. There would be reprisals, and Queen Amlaruil would honor her promise. I will not see Evermeet dragged into Tethyr's so-called Reclamation War.

'And I have other reasons,' Korianthil continued softly. 'You were my first commanding officer. It is an honor to serve under your command once again.'

Elaith's brows rose. 'Even in such a task?'

'Even so.'

'We all have our reasons for killing humans,' growled the Suldusk elf. 'Should we hire a bard to set them all to music, or should we just get on with it?'

Elaith found himself liking the gruff warrior. 'You're the expert on the Wealdath's ogres,' he told Kivessin. 'We'll follow you.'

The elf headed off into a deep stand of ferns. Soon they heard the murmur of running water. A small creek wound its way through the forest floor. As they followed it north, the ground became rockier and the creek deeper and swifter. They walked without talking, keeping close watch on the forest around them.

Elaith could smell the ogre camp long before it came into sight. The humid forest air held the scent of campfire, seared meat, and the sharp, musky odor of the creatures themselves.

He raised one hand to indicate a halt. He took an amulet from his bag and looped it around his wrist. The world shifted weirdly, and suddenly he was looking down at his companions from a great height. The four elves staring up at him wore identical expressions of astonishment and revulsion.

'Green, I take it, is not a good color for me?' He spoke lightly, but his voice came out as a deep-throated growl.

'I'm serving under an ogre,' Captain Korianthil muttered. 'This just keeps getting better and better.'

Elaith sent him a tusk-filled grin and turned toward the camp.

Three ogres left to guard the camp; the others were out hunting. The guards were busily arguing over a game of dice, so Elaith had no problem creeping into the younglings' den.

There were a half-score of the creatures, some huddled together like a pile of hideous puppies, others scattered around the small cave. A scrawny runt off to the side looked to be about Ferret's height and size. Elaith quickly cast a charm spell over the young ogre. The creature twitched as if trying to brush off the magical disturbance, but after a moment it rose, yawning. Elaith beckoned for the ogre to follow. The creature absently lifted its loincloth-his loincloth, Elaith could not help but note-and scratched himself rudely. He yawned again before following Elaith out of the cave.

The ogre guards glanced up and went back to their game. So far, so good, Elaith noted with relief. He'd feared such spells might not function well so close to the twisted remnants of an ancient elven mythal.

Suddenly the young ogre's heavy-lidded eyes widened. He looked around frantically, like a sleepwalker who'd