there is a design at work here after all, he thought. I was meant to be here at this hour, whatever trials await me, and all who followed me from Evermeet as well.
Starbrow led him back to the large pavilion that served Seiveril as both headquarters and personal quarters, and held the tent flaps aside as the elflord strode in. Two guests waited inside: Storm Silverhand of Shadowdale, dressed in gleaming mail and dark leather with her long, silver hair bound from her brow by a slender circlet, and a tall, stern-looking human lord of middle years with dark silver-streaked hair.
“Ah, there you are,” Storm said. She indicated her companion with a curt nod. “This is Mourngrym Amcathra, the Lord of Shadowdale.”
“I am honored to meet you, Lord Miritar,” said the Lord of Shadowdale. Mourngrym offered his hand to Seiveril, who remembered to take it in a firm clasp.
“And I, you, Lord Amcathra,” Seiveril answered. He glanced at Storm. For all her years, she hasn’t lost the human habit of haste, he noted. Still, if Storm Silverhand was in a hurry, that was good enough for him. “What it is, Lady Silverhand? What has happened?”
“We’ve got trouble,” Storm said. “Zhentilar are marching on Shadowdale. A strong army out of Zhentil Keep started moving south yesterday, making for Voonlar. The companies garrisoning Yulash have joined them, as well as mercenary bands of ogres and orcs from Thar.” Storm’s anger glittered in her eyes. “Better than five thousand soldiers are no more than five days from the Twisted Tower.”
“Aillesel Seldarie,” Seiveril breathed. His stomach ached with cold dread.
Behind him the Sembian army from the south was pressing up Rauthauvyr’s Road and had closed to within twenty miles of his camp, occupying Battledale in the process. Ahead of him, Red Plume soldiers from Hillsfar descended the Moonsea Ride, building their strength on the far side of the Vale of Lost Voices. And the Zhentarim were moving to close him on the west. Two armies he might hope to avoid through maneuver in the green fastness of Cormanthor, but three? Even his elves’ skill and swiftness in woodland marches would not suffice to avoid battle for long.
“Sarya Dlardrageth had a hand in this, I know it,” he murmured. “Why do they aid her? Don’t they understand that if they help the daemonfey to repel Evermeet’s army, she will destroy them in turn?”
“Maalthiir and Fzoul will turn on each other sooner or later, never you fear,” Storm promised. “It’s in their nature. But that doesn’t mean they won’t lay waste to half the Dales before they’re done.”
Starbrow looked to Mourngrym Amcathra and asked, “How much strength do you have in Shadowdale, Lord Amcathra? Can you halt the Zhents?”
“Three hundred men under arms, plus a thousand stout archers when I call out the militia. And I have no small amount of help from friends of the Dale such as Storm, here, or Those Who Harp.” Mourngrym sighed and shook his head. “But this is the strongest Zhentarim army we’ve seen since the Time of Troubles, and I don’t know if I can stop them.”
“It certainly doesn’t help that Sembia and Hillsfar have decided to move at the same time,” Storm added. “If only one threatened the Dales, the Dalesfolk would set aside many of their quarrels and band together against the threat. But Harrowdale won’t do anything with Maalthiir’s army on the march. The folk of Tasseldale, Battledale, and Featherdale might have mustered against the Sembians given a little help, but Mistledale is sorely pressed by the fiends out of Myth Drannor, and Archendale is content to let the rest of the southern Dales hang.” She shook her head. “I’d never realized the extent to which the great powers bordering the Dalelands kept each other in check, but with Cormyr so weak now, the old balance of power is gone. The Dales Compact is dead as the stone it’s carved on.”
Starbrow studied Seiveril, his strong arms folded across his chest. “Like it or not, Seiveril, we are going to have to bring these human armies to battle, or they will certainly bring us to battle at a time and place of their choosing. They simply aren’t giving us any choice. You can’t let them bring all three armies, along with whatever fiends and fey’ri Sarya Dlardrageth can muster, against us at the same time. That is a fight I do not think we can win.”
“I do not want to spend our strength fighting humans instead of Sarya Dlardrageth’s daemonfey,” the elflord answered. “And I do not want to fight humans at all unless we absolutely must. Bloodshed between elf and human will stain these lands for centuries.”
“Abandoning the smaller Dales to foreign occupation won’t win you many friends, either,” Storm pointed out.
“I know.”
Seiveril turned away, staring out into the lanternlit dusk that lay over the elven camp as he considered his path. He wanted nothing more than to take to the forest and simply march directly on Myth Drannor, leaving the Sembians behind him and circling the roadblock Hillsfar had thrown up ahead of him-but he could see at a glance that the Sembian army could turn west and fall on Mistledale behind him as soon as he marched, and he could not abandon Shadowdale to the Zhents. At least the Sembian army had simply marched through Tasseldale, Featherdale, and Battledale without devastating those lands. The Sembians were not so foolish as to provoke the southern Dalesfolk into full resistance against their army and its vulnerable lines of supply. But he had no such hopes for how the Zhentilar would treat Shadowdale, if Lord Amcathra’s warriors failed to stop them.
Storm is right, he realized. Refusing to help Dalesfolk defend their homes against tyrannical powers such as Hillsfar or Zhentil Keep is just as bad as refusing to help Dalesfolk standing against Sarya Dlardrageth and her hell- born marauders. This is the task I shouldered when I called for a Return to Cormanthor.
He sighed and turned back to the others.
“We cannot remain here and allow our enemies to gather against us while they subjugate the free Dales. If we have to fight, then it is clear that we must attempt to defeat our foes in detail. So which enemy do we confront first? Hillsfar, Sembia, Zhentil Keep, or Sarya Dlardrageth?”
“If we attack Hillsfar in the Vale of Lost Voices, we’ll have to deal with Sembia too,” Starbrow said. “They’ll turn west behind us and cut across our lines of communication, which will bring Mistledale under their fist as well.”
Seiveril replied, “The same is true if we try to avoid Hillsfar’s army and march straight against Myth Drannor, except we might be dealing with Sarya Dlardrageth, too. So we have to turn against Sembia’s army in Battledale or Zhentil Keep’s army in Shadowdale.”
“The people of Battledale will fare better with the Sembians than the folk of Shadowdale will with the Zhents,” Storm said.
“There is likely a better chance to negotiate a settlement with the Sembians, too,” Mourngrym added. “Their adventurism might reverse itself if they see that no one else is still in the game.”
“That leaves the Zhents, then,” Seiveril said. He glanced at Starbrow, and smiled crookedly. “For what it’s worth, I think that a fast march to the west is the last thing our enemies expect. We’ll leave Hillsfar and Sembia miles behind us.”
“They’ll certainly join forces by the time you can march back,” Starbrow warned. “And Mistledale will be exposed to attack.”
“We’ll leave at least some strength here, to help the folk of Mistledale repel any attack. As for the combination of our foes, well
… maybe turning west will give us an opportunity to bring more of the Dalesfolk to our banner.”
Storm nodded slowly. “We might be able to talk sense into the Swords of Archendale, once they open their eyes and see the danger that Sembians in Battledale poses for their own independence. And we might raise Tasseldale, as well.”
“Then it is settled,” Seiveril said. He looked back to Mourngrym. “We will march before sunrise, Lord Amcathra. You can expect Evermeet’s soldiers at your side in three days’ time.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
18 Kythorn, the Year of Lightning Storms
The stars of Sildeyuir were brilliant and strange, so bright that the shadows beneath the great old trees were silver and luminous. The land beyond the stone circle’s mystic gate existed in a perpetual twilight, a magical hour of
