by Troy Denning
As intangible as it was invincible, the mythal was a mantle of living magic woven by the high mages of old. Galaeron did not fully understand its nature-when the masters spoke of it at all, it was only to claim that no elf alive could comprehend a mythal's intricacies-but most elves believed it to be a mesh of mystic energies spun from the life-forces of its ancient casters, the favor of Corellon Larethian, and the fabric of Faerun's magic Weave. What Galaeron did know was that first and foremost, the mythal was Evereska's most potent defense, capable of plaguing foes with a dazzling array of assaults-including the famous gold bolts so often attributed to Corellon's guardianship. The mythal also provided other blessings, such as the ability of the city's inhabitants to climb vertical walls. In return, it required only that the elves maintain the health of its sustaining lands.
As the rest of the column crossed the mythal's perimeter, Galaeron glanced over his shoulder to look for any sign that Melegaunt perceived the magic field. The wizard's eyes remained as dusky and unreadable as ever, exhibiting neither curiosity nor surprise as they scrutinized the meadow's green grass and the butterflies still bobbing along in the breeze. Vala and the other humans were a stark contrast to Melegaunt's nonchalance, gawking about with fallen jaws and craning their necks to stare up Evereska's thousand-foot cliffs.
Satisfied that neither Melegaunt nor any of the humans sensed the mythal, Galaeron led the column across the meadow to the Tomb Guard Livery. A simple three-walled shed with a station for each patrol to store its harness and tack, there were no pens or stalls, nor even any mangers or watering troughs. Galaeron dismounted and made his assignments then unbound the humans' feet and helped them dismount as well.
"Nimieye will unsaddle and curry your mounts." He slung the humans' sword belts over his shoulder, taking care not to let the glassy pommels touch his skin. "But we don't corral our beasts."
"It is no bother," said Melegaunt. His hands remained bound like those of the other humans; unlike the others, he did not seem irritated or particularly worried by it. "Raven will bring our mounts when 1 send for him-though I trust we won't be returning to the Desert Border on horses." "That much we are safe in assuming, yes," said Galaeron.
Vala gave him a dark look, then stepped out from beneath the livery shed and tipped her head back to stare up the cliff. "How do we get up there?" "Dynod will lead the way"
Galaeron nodded to Dynod, who took Takari from Ehamond's arms and entered a small, irregular chamber hewn into the cliff base. He vanished from sight, as did Ehamond when he followed. Galaeron motioned Vala and the other humans to follow, then stepped through himself. There was a golden flash and a brief feeling of falling, and when he put his foot down again, it was onto a marble-paved lane filled with the zesty scent of dusktop blossoms.
Vala and her men stood at the edge of the street, silently gawking at the wondrous forest around them. White-paved paths curved off in every direction, twisting through an eye-boggling tangle of towers and trunks. In the sylvan shade, it was difficult even for Galaeron to tell which was which. The trees were uniformly as large around as castle towers, with cross-striped bark ranging from white to gray, and branches so high overhead it was not unusual for mist to form beneath the leaf canopy. The towers were sometimes smaller than the tree boles and sometimes larger, but most were almost indistinguishable from the mighty bluetops that dominated the outer rim of the city.
With the sun just rising above Eastpeak's craggy shoulder, it was the busiest time of day. Elves were everywhere, gliding along the ground paths, popping out of high doorways to clamber headfirst down the tower exterior, sometimes even soaring from one building to another like flying squirrels. Even with the unpleasantness to come, Galaeron found himself feeling more content and peaceful than even the calmest desert afternoon lounging naked in a pool of cool canyon water. This was Evereska, Lasthaven to all the elves of Faerun, sanctuary to Galaeron and all Tel'Quess who would hold some home for their race against the relentless tide of human expansion.
"I believe we are to follow Dynod and Ehamond," said Melegaunt, nudging Vala and the others up the lane. "Galaeron will inform us when we should turn off."
"Follow them all the way" The long ride had fatigued Galaeron more than he thought. Though he always enjoyed his return to Evereska, he usually did not come so close to slipping into Reverie the instant he entered it. He shook himself alert and started up the lane. "We will see Takari to the Hall of the High Hunt."
Melegaunt stopped, finally seeming to take exception to Galaeron's instructions. "Do you think that wise? We wouldn't want to keep the Hill Elders waiting."
"You will do as I say, human." Galaeron pushed Melegaunt after the others but quickly regretted his tone. His anger had more to do with the danger he had unleashed on the city than anything Melegaunt had done. In a gentler voice, he added, "We'll be speaking with the elders sooner than you think, Melegaunt. In Evereska, we have our own ways of doing things."
The path ascended along the bank of a small stream, passing several waterfalls artfully arranged to spill from the mouths of deep emerald pools. As they walked, elves young and old paused to stare at Galaeron's prisoners in open disgust, in part because some had never before seen a human, in part because they knew by the captives' bound hands and Galaeron's Tomb Guard cape that these were crypt breakers. Vala and her warriors did their best to fulfill expectations by sneering and glowering, but no one seemed to take these threats seriously. Galaeron wondered how that might have changed had they witnessed what he had beneath the tomb of the Vyshaan.
By the time they began to traverse Moondark Hill toward the Hall of the High Hunt, a small band of elderly elves had completely encircled the humans. Though none rose any higher than the chest of Vala's shortest man, they did not hesitate to laugh at the captives and make fun of their barbaric appearance, often in languages they knew the prisoners could understand. Though Galaeron could see the humans chafing under this abuse and would certainly have been insulted by it himself, he did nothing to prevent it. To Vala's great credit, she had only to issue one stern command to rivet the eyes of her men straight ahead and render them unresponsive to the mockery.
Finally, the tallest of the elves pulled back his hood and stepped to Galaeron's side. "Glad homeagain, young Nihmedu," he said in Elvish. "1 see you've brought us some crypt breakers." Galaeron looked over to find himself looking at a moon elf with silver hair and a dignified bearing borne of great age and long service.
He bowed without stopping and answered in Elvish, "Lord Duirsar."
The elf lord nodded to someone behind him, then the tomb master, Kiinyon Colbathin, stepped up on the other side. His expression was far easier to read than High Lord Duirsar's-and Galaeron had good reason to wish it was not.
"We've been given to understand that in addition to losing your patrol, you could not wait to make your excuses," the tomb master said, sneering at Melegaunt's back and speaking in Common. "I hope it took more than these five."
Allowing herself a luxury she denied her men, Vala spun on the elf. "It wouldn't have taken that many, had 1 intended them harm."
"That's enough, child." Melegaunt forced Vala up the path. "Let the fools have their fun. We will make our case to the elders."
Galaeron had to restrain a smile. Whether Melegaunt knew it or not, he and the other humans were already making their case. The elves abusing them were the Hill Elders, and they had already begun the trial that would determine whether the crypt breakers lived or died. Kiinyon Colbathin reached out and shoved Melegaunt hard, causing him to trip and stumble into Vala.
Melegaunt merely raised his chin and continued on without speaking, as did Vala. Kiinyon shoved the wizard once more. When Melegaunt made no response except to catch himself before he stumbled into Vala, the tomb master turned his acerbic tongue on Galaeron.
"So, how did the great Galaeron Nihmedu lose his patrol to a band of thieving human murderers? Tell us."
"Be careful who you call thieves and murderers
." Vala did not look back as she spoke. "We took nothing and killed no one." Lord Duirsar cocked a querying brow, and Galaeron nodded.
"That much is true," he said. "We tracked them through an opened tomb, but they left the bodies and treasure untouched."
Galaeron went on to recount how he followed the crypt breakers into the dwarven working beneath the tomb and found them using a beholder to disintegrate a section of wall. Kiinyon Colbathin raised his brow and regarded the humans with newfound respect, for he knew himself how difficult the creatures were to destroy, much less enslave. Galaeron went on to describe how the beholder had killed Aragath and how the humans had refused to surrender but avoided fatal attacks. Vala could not help pointing out here that had she not restrained her men, the matter would have ended with the death of Galaeron's patrol, which would have been a much better outcome for everyone concerned.
Noting the look of condemnation that flashed through Kiinyon's eyes, Galaeron found himself wondering if the woman was trying to get herself killed. He went on to explain how he had heard Melegaunt calling for help then ruptured the Sharn Wall by ordering his patrol to attack the phaerimm with magic missiles.
"You, Galaeron? Puncturing the Sharn Wall?" scoffed Kiinyon. "You've always had a high opinion of your talents, but this is a bit much even for you."
Lord Duirsar was not so quick to dismiss the account. "Kiinyon, if he didn't rupture the Sharn Wall, how do you explain the phaerimm?" The high lord shook his head in despair. "Galaeron, how did you do this thing?"
Melegaunt turned to address them. "Not that Galaeron has any need to explain himself to you, but the fault wasn't his. It was an unfortunate, ah, blending of magic that ruptured the Sharn Wall. If there is any blame, it belongs on my shoulders, not his. I should have foreseen the possibility. Now, if you will excuse us, good lords, we really must be on our way."
Melegaunt grabbed Galaeron by the elbow and pulled him up the trail, and it was only then that Galaeron realized they had reached their destination. The Hall of the High Hunt was a great colonnade of soaring shadowtops that enclosed the Singing Spring of Solonor Thelandira, a gurgling fountain of silver waters whose sacred melodies could cure any wound. Dynod and Ehamond were already disappearing between the trunks of two shadowtops, holding Takari aloft between them and calling for High Huntsman Trueshot.
"I know all elves share a special bond, but we must alert the Hill Elders," Melegaunt said, still unaware of who had been tormenting him. "Remember, we have only until nightfall." "Until nightfall?" echoed Kiinyon. "Why until nightfall?" "In good time," said Melegaunt. "Now, as I said-"
"It is only a guess." Galaeron ignored the wizard's insistent tugging and continued to address the tomb master. "In truth, they may be free already, but this human laid some spells that he hopes will delay them until this evening."
"This evening?" Lord Duirsar cast an uneasy glance at Kiinyon. "That is no time at all."
Melegaunt glanced thoughtfully from Galaeron to Lord Duirsar then finally seemed to realize to whom he was talking and stepped forward to address the elf lord. "Milord, I know the time is but an instant by elven measures, but I assure you that if you can spare me only a small company of wizards and three high mages, I will have the situation under control before then."
Lord Duirsar stared at Melegaunt as though he were mad. "You, human? I should say you have done quite enough." He turned to Kiinyon. "Gather what forces you need, Tomb Master, though I agree with the crypt breaker in this much: a high mage or two may be in order, if their studies can be interrupted."
"If?" Melegaunt growled. "Milord, perhaps I did not explain clearly enough. You will need me and three high mages-" "Do not presume to tell me what I need," said Duirsar. "Evereska was old before your ancestors left their caves. I think us more than capable of cleaning up any mess you can make."
"It is a wonder your head is not as pointed as your ears!" Vala snapped. She stepped toward the elf lord and instantly found herself facing the tips of a dozen sharp swords, Galaeron's among them. She stopped but seemed completely nonplussed. "You have no idea who you-"
"That is enough, my dear." Melegaunt raised his hand to silence her. "If the elves will not accept our help, there are others who will."
"Perhaps so, but they will be difficult to reach from the inside of a bone cage," said Kiinyon. "Evereska is not in the habit of freeing crypt breakers."
Kiinyon glanced around the crowd, and Galaeron realized he was already calling for the Hill Elders' verdict.
"If it pleases the council, I should point out that the tomb they broke was Vyshaan," said Galaeron. While Melegaunt was being both presumptuous and rude in assuming the ancient magic of elves to be less than his own, his only intention was to help, which bound Galaeron in honor to speak on behalf of the humans. "The humans stole nothing. They meant no harm, and in truth the only harm they did was to a clan reviled of gods and elves alike."
Kiinyon Colbathin regarded Galaeron coldly. "And what of the lives lost? The lives of your patrol?"
"That was fate's doing," said Galaeron. "And if not fate's, then my own."
This drew a soft whistle from Vala, who said softly, "The worm grows a spine…"
Galaeron ignored her and gestured at Melegaunt. "All the humans save this one were our captives when the phaerimm attacked, and I owe it to him that any of us survived."
"So you say the humans committed no crime?" asked Duirsar. "The council should not rush to judgment." As a tomb guard, Galaeron could hardly contend that crypt breaking was not a crime. "There is much to consider here."
Lord Duirsar studied those around him. Though no human could have read the indecision in their expressions, it was plain enough to Galaeron. Elves were neither cruel nor hasty, and they would not sentence even a human to death without all due consideration.
At length, Duirsar turned to Galaeron. "Until the Hill Elders come to a decision, we will leave our guests in the care of your family." He turned to Kiinyon Colbathin and added, "Unless the Tomb Guard has more pressing duties for him?"
"Nothing that will interfere." The tomb master glared at Galaeron and tipped his slender chin toward the Hall of the High Hunt. "See to Takari and Ehamond. We'll talk about the lost ones when I return."
Kiinyon turned and the other Hill Elders left without another word, leaving the humans to look after them in puzzlement. The captives' expressions grew even more bewildered when Galaeron began to undo their bindings. They have freed us?" Melegaunt asked. Galaeron shook his head. "You are my guests." "But the phaerimm…"
"Are Evereska's concern," said Galaeron. "You have warned the Hill Elders, and now you must await their decision on the matter of the crypt breaking."
The humans looked at their unbound hands and seemed more confused than ever.
"My family does not treat its guests as prisoners," Galaeron clarified. "And if we leave?" asked Melegaunt.
"You must not," Galaeron said. "My family has guaranteed your conduct." "It has?" Vala asked. "When did you do that?"
"7 didn't." Galaeron returned her sword. "You did, when you reacted to the Taunting with both honor and restraint. Those are virtues held in much esteem by the Hill Elders."
Vala's eyes lit with sudden understanding. "But you spoke for us." She gave him a rugged smile. "You surprise me, elf. 1 take back half the bad things I've ever said about you."
CHAPTER FOUR
21 Nightal, the Year of the Unstrung Harp
By the time Galaeron slipped into the leaf-shadowed Hall of the High Hunt, Takari lay naked in the Singing Spring, her complexion returned to its normal bronze and her eyes lucid for the first time since being wounded. Behind her stood an aged moon elf wearing no more clothes than she, his arms hooked beneath hers to hold her above the shimmering surface. The air smelled of moss and sweet water, and the song of the silver fountain trilled through the woody pavilion in gay melodies. Ehamond sat beneath the lilting spray as naked as the others, his cuts and bruises already fading. Dynod stood on the
bank with two minor priests, describing the destruction of the patrol-As Galaeron entered the grove, one of the priests nodded in his direction. There was no hint of embarrassment as Dynod turned toward him. Elves seldom relished the failures of others and therefore had few misgivings about discussing them. Having suffered more than his share of pitying looks and sympathetic encouragement, it was one of the few traits Galaeron wished he could change about the Fair Folk.
Dynod's eyes slid past Galaeron toward the edge of the pavilion, where the humans stood waiting, Melegaunt looking tentative and the others even more awestruck than usual. Knowing the glade of Solonor Thelandira to be the one temple in Evereska where humans would not be an intrusion, Galaeron motioned them forward and turned back to Dynod. "Then the humans were absolved?" asked Dynod. "Closer to it than I," answered Galaeron.
Dynod and the priests exchanged knowing looks, then one of the priests offered one of those compassionate little comments Galaeron had learned to loathe early in his studies at the Academy of Magic. "You mustn't worry. Tomb Master Colbathin is a stern commander, but a fair one."
Dynod rolled his eyes and looked away, and Galaeron said, "Had we spent the last two decades in the Greycloaks instead of the Desert Border South, I'd be more inclined to believe that." Ignoring the surprise on the faces of the two priests, he kneeled beside the water and called to Takari. "How do you feel?"
"Like a moth with a fang hole in its back." Her voice was cheerful, if rather weak. "Sick, but happy to be alive."
"I have healed the wound," said Pleufan Trueshot, the aged huntsman holding her. He rolled the scout over to display a inflamed lump where the hole once was. "But I can't rid her of the pestilence."
"It may not be an infection," said Melegaunt, stepping to the bank beside Galaeron. "May I have a look?" Pleufan nodded. "You are welcome in the Singing Spring."
