Chapter 5 - Ancient Brethren

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5 November 725

Our passage to the Drow lands began at daybreak.  For most of the day, we had raced along in the light elven coach – more than once marveling at the craftsmanship that had made the travel so remarkably comfortable.   The coach seemed to glide, rocking modestly as we traveled along the smooth forest roads.  I was thankful for the heavy dew and light rain of the early morning, which had dampened things just enough to keep the dust to a minimum without mudding the road.

Lord Carandon and his mounted warriors moved swiftly ahead of and just behind the carriage.  Inside the coach sat Ivy, our handmaiden Calliope, and our dear Aunt, Elëanil.  Carandon and Myrrdin had agreed that we should ride in the coach, for reasons of concealment and safety.  On most occasions, I would have been happier to ride on horseback, but I had to admit this was a much more comfortable mode of travel.  More importantly, it afforded me the opportunity to look through the documents Myrrdin had passed to me just before our departure.

I thought back to my exchange with him, at the breakfast fire just before dawn.  He was already dressed to travel, in his tanned leathers and grey cloak.  His face was masked by a serious demeanor as he approached me, his furled brow in perfect complement to the sword dangling from his waist and the heavy, clublike staff in his right hand.  In his left, he carried the letters.  Despite his serious air, he was as genial as ever – and equally enigmatic.  In fact, I do not recall a meeting when he seemed anything other than the perfect combination of the two.

“My Queen”, he said, bowing elegantly and tossing his unruly mane of golden hair as he did so.  He looked up, his brilliant eyes smiling even though his face did not.  “I must be away quickly, on matters requiring my attention in other reaches of the world.  I fear that more than the Sylvan Elves, though their role is large, must be roused to the danger confronting us.  We have had precious little time to talk – a circumstance that will not be remedied this day.  We shall have to plan for more leisurely conversation on our next meeting.”

“May it come sooner, last longer and bear more pleasant news than this last, Master Myrrdin”, I said softly, and with a smile.  “I would welcome that opportunity to learn more of what you might teach me.”

He smiled generously, and bowed again saying “Would that I were half the Master you deem me to be, my Queen.  But I take the compliment kindly, and will seek just such an occasion in the near future.  For now, I have written out much – though certainly not all – of what I wish you might know.  The first is a letter, by my own erratic hand, that will tell you what little I and others can say about Nargoroth and his intentions; and what must be done to counter them.  I am afraid it is not much to go by, but it is what it is.  The other documents tell something of the Drow and their histories, from notes I have taken in the libraries at Qu’ellar Vil’rath.  I trust they will be useful in understanding them and what moves them – to aid you in achieving your manifold purposes.  You will find that Lord Malikith is a fierce and proud warrior king; but that he is also a brilliant student of people and politics.  He will be a worthy and valuable partner in your plans for the Alliance.  But I must advise you that, though the Forest Elves and the Elves of the Underdark are ancient brethren, many differences have grown up over the eons; and enmity and rivalry may be strong between your peoples.  You will do well to study, learn and observe what you may about these one-time adversaries, and future friends.”

Soon after that brief discussion, Myrrdin was gone – on his own to the best of my knowledge, and to a destination not known to me.  I lamented his leaving; his presence brought me a comfort that only my Guardian could match.  And now, here I was, Queen of the Northern Sylvan Elves…and yet feeling detached and adrift without my two most valued counselors.  I folded my hands over the letters in my lap, and looked out the open portal of the carriage – my eyes idly scanning the forest that sped by. But in reality, I sought for things that stood far beyond my view.  After a minute or two, I sighed (prompting the usual concerned look from Ivy) and turned to the read the documents I bore.

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“Dearest Comet, Queen of the Sylvan People:

By now, you have taken the first broad step to your destiny, and stand Queen of the Northern Sylvans, the heir to Eyrturheru.  You have likely begun your mission to the Drow, and I have left what guidance I may in these pages, while I by needs attend to business of my own.  I will offer what counsel I may as you make this momentous journey.  There is much you must know.

This letter concerns Nargoroth, to offer what little I know of his devices and purposes.  The Shadow Lord has been industrious, busily setting the board for a game to be played in a time and manner most suiting his wishes.  The latest is yet to be made widely known, though it will soon be fodder for anxious gossip about all the eastern lands.  Erebos has answered his call – important arrows in his quiver and a staggering loss to your planned Alliance.  Their Queen rules the Shadow Legions, whose very name strikes fear into every noble heart in the civilized world.  They are a savage people, whose thirst for power falls short of only Nargoroth himself.  They bow to him as Shadow Lord – and their Blood Queen, Sananda, is the most fiercely loyal at all.  She will be a most formidable foe, possessed of an almost mystical zeal to serve Nargoroth to the limit of her own life, and the lives of those she would willingly sacrifice to know his favor.  To understate the effect that she may have on rousing the forces of Nargoroth to a fever pitch would be the purest folly.  Her Shadow Legions will greatly extend and strengthen their new Master’s reach; and they will fight without quarter to see his ends achieved – for only through him will their own power reach its zenith.

Others now fall in behind them, and the Shadow Alliance grows stronger with each passing day.  Orcs, goblins, wargs, the mountain trolls and all of their ilk will, by their very essence, work without hesitation to bring down the races of elves and men.  They are a ragged band at best, and may not be counted upon to prevail alone in the hot pitch of battle.  But now they are led by the remaining six Archwizards of Netheril, the brothers of Nargoroth whom he holds in swain.  Their presence will make those forces infinitely more dangerous on the fields of war. 

Many of the children of the Underdark will follow him, save for the followers of Vil’rath and Eilistraee, who will reunite with their ancient cousins in the elf community to fight this war.  In the vanguard of the Drow will come the Mori’Nandor.  Little is known of them.  They are thought to be related to the Drow, and have been spoken of in legend as a dark elven horde of mysterious origin.  They fight as if possessed, and without fatigue or mercy.  No force they have encountered to date has been able to repulse their terror; and the Alliance must find a way before all is lost.  That must be the work of Malikith.

The dragons are split in their loyalties, and may fall in overwhelming numbers under the Shadow Lord’s hand if Darius fails to find a way to turn the tide.  And the races of men will, in general, align by how their own selfish purposes might best be served.  And while they can be volatile and unpredictable, your ability to swing them to the side of the Alliance will be crucial.

There is one other, of whom we know least of all.  She is called Maluila, and the tales told by frightened men around evening campfires speak of her as a witch or sorceress.  She moves in many guises, often taking the form of the fae or a lone elf-woman.  She possesses deep black art – of that I am certain.   In my own travels, I will consult my brethren and friends – in the hope we may learn more of her, the loyalties she holds, and what powers she can capably wield.  Until then, it is best to exercise the greatest care – withhold trust from those about you until they have earned it well.  You must assume she could be anywhere.

These are the forces of the Shadow Lord of which we know – though the ink would stay fresh were we to update the changes each time they occurred.  His strength grows, and quickly; and it grows to a daunting scale while we yet determine what moves to make.  I urge you to move swiftly in your mission, dear Queen, for our peril grows with each second we delay. 

Nargoroth’s mind is closed to us, so we may not well divine his exact purposes and his tactics to achieve them.  But there are some elements that have become clear over the passage of time.  We do know that he is driven by his lust for power, and his hatred of the Elves.  Your father, Eyrturheru, was a bane to him; and Nargoroth showed he would stop at nothing to be free of him.  He will take the same tack with you, dear Queen; for he knows the blood of the fathers flows in the daughter’s veins. 

Were that not enough, he also knows about Eledhwen and the ancient magic resident in that blade.  You have felt it yourself – in the battle with the wargs at the clearing.  The life force of the Sylvan People is in that blade, and as long as it is held by one descended of the royal line, the strength and long years of the People will persist.  The stewardship of that life force was passed to you, quite prematurely and quite by accident, when you took the sword against Grindemor in defense of your father’s life.  The Shadow Lord understands its power.  He hates and fears it – and lusts for it at the same time.  He is compelled to claim the sword, or destroy it; and with it all traces of the People.  Eledhwen is the first great talisman of the Sylvans.

The second talisman you know about.  Nargoroth seeks to control the Coialambe, the gift of the living tongue that is passed down the matriarchal line of your family.  What some see as an small and amusing talent is, in truth, one of the most powerful of the Elder Magicks that exists in the world.  Unlike the women of your family, who see this gift as a means to comprehend and join the harmony of life, Nargoroth would create disharmony through his will to use it to control all living things.  The prophecies have long been said to speak of a “Golden Child”, “Mal-Hin” in high elven speech, who could control the Coialambe.  That is an improper translation.  In the original texts, which I have viewed in the works of Galaralith, in the Hall of the Ancients, the precise phrase reads “hini tel’mal-teema”, which means “a child of the Golden Line”.  Nargaroth takes that to mean one of the women to whom the gift has been passed…you, Ivy, your Aunt Elëanil or any of your mother’s sisters or their daughters.  He will stop at nothing to capture one of the women of the Golden Line, to take her to his bed and to sire an heir who might possess the gift.  This is, perhaps, his most important purpose.

There is a third talisman available to you and the Alliance, and it is one that the Shadow Lord does not yet suspect.  He is blinded by his own arrogance, for he thinks he controls this power already, to the envy and exclusion of all.  Your father knew of it, and controlled it in his own subtle fashion – to help keep balance and to delay the fulfillment of Nargoroth’s quest for dominance.  It is another element of the Elder Magick, and involves the ability to draw on the power of the earth itself, to give strength and power to its possessor – drawn from the very stone that forms the bones of the earth.  Beneath Taur-na-Sylvhara, there was – and is – a large and perfect red crystal known as the Hoon tel’Orod, or “heart of the mountain”.  It is a resonance keystone, which draws and channels the energy from deep within the earth.  It has a perfect twin that lies beneath the fortress of Tal Nargor, Nargoroth’s stronghold.  The energy drawn from the stone gives strength to his walls, and will lend power and protection to the warriors who bask in its emanations.  That alone is important to know, but there is another dimension equally or more vital.  The two stones “speak” to each other, as if portals connected by sound traversing the great distances.  You father knew of this, and had at his court an Ondo Tura, a Master of the Stone, who could understand and interpret what the stones communicated – or, rather, what sounds were transmitted, one to the other, by the resonance between the stones.

The Ondo Tura are rare, and often reclusive.  And he who served your father died in the attack that left Taur-na-Sylvhara in ruins.  It seemed, ironically, that he would not leave the stones…and so went to his death.  But, to the best of my knowledge, the stone remains there amidst the rubble; and there is one close to you who knows how to master them.  It is Nathan, brother to Loren and son of your Aunt, Lirimaël.  Nathan was trained by Trefelleth, son of Trefelgan the wizard, who was slain by Nargoroth after divulging his secrets.  Nathan has learned the skills of masonry and architecture well, and will be invaluable to you in the foundation of the new kingdom of Sylvhara.  You are the only one who knows of this, and that secret must pass to no one.  The Hoon must be retrieved from the ruins, and sited under the foundation of the new kingdom.

There is much more that you must know, or learn, my Queen.  My time, however, is short and I must finish this and gather the other documents for you before I take the road.  I am sorry that I cannot be a better servant to you in this, your moment of great need.  But you are strong, and resourceful…and have enough of your father’s willfulness to find your way through the riddles in the days ahead.  I will return to you when I might, though there are others in this world to whom I am bound in service.  My heart and my hope go with you, dearest Comet.  Lissenen ar’ maska’lalaith tenna’ lye omentuva.

Your faithful servant and friend,

M

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I finished reading the last sheet and slipped it under those that had preceded it.  My mind tripped over a thousand disconnected thoughts as I tried to make sense of all that I had read.  The task seemed…impossible.  Nargoroth…his forces…their power reaching its peak while the forces that might oppose him remained spread to all corners of the world.  I stared out the window of the coach, as if the answers might leap from the woods and reveal themselves.  Of course, they did not; and after a few minutes I returned to my focus on the papers.  As I did so, I glanced at Ivy who was staring at me intently, as if to ask “Are you okay?”  I smiled and nodded, and made an exaggerated kissing motion with my lips, knowing only she could see it.  She stifled a laugh and looked away as I returned to my reading.

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The Followers of Eilistraee

In the first millennium of the Second Age, the dark elves (or Drow) were seduced by the dark power in the East; and so went to war against their elven brothers.  The Elven Wars lasted over 300 years, and the Drow were ultimately pushed back and driven to the Underdark – a vast system of caves and tunnels that lay under much of the known world.  In the eons that followed, the race grew more powerful – led along matriarchic lines by the high priestesses of Lloth, the evil spider Goddess.  But they could not bear the light, and their ability to wage war against the hated surface dwellers was limited to battles in the Underdark or raids conducted at night. As the ages passed, the Drow culture became ever more violent – built upon the tenets of intrigue, cunning, murder and deception; and lived by the credo that “those who survive are strong”.  To the present day, they have served the course of evil against men and elves and the other races – sometimes in allegiance to the evil intent of Nargoroth and others before him; but mostly in pursuit of their own, seemingly mindless violence.

Many of the Drow came to reject the unwavering hatred of their race, and began to seek a different path.  Chief among these were the followers of the Goddess Eilistraee, the Dark Maiden, who sought to redeem the fallen dark elves and lead them back to the great forests of the surface world that their ancestors forsook many millennia ago.  Eilistraee reintroduced her followers to other pursuits beyond violence and murder – and they came to favor beauty, the dance, songs sung and tales told in the moonlight, craft work, swordsmanship and hunting in the forests.  They made the adaptation to surface life, and came to understand that each must find their own path to redemption.  They have walked that path from that day to the present.

The clergy of Eilistraee are the Dark Ladies, priestesses required to lead, practice, teach and promote the traditions brought to them by Eilistraee.  The male Drow is still precluded from membership in the clergy; but more involved in leadership roles than in the evil Drow societies.  All in the communities of Eilistraee follow common beliefs – kindness (except in battle against evil, where they remain fierce and ruthless), the skills of the sword, promoting harmony among the races, befriending strangers and sheltering the homeless traveler.  They are ever swift, at the same time, to respond violently to violence – dealing with it surely and firmly, so as to effectively oppose it.  They have become a noble clan, but have lived in continued defensive vigilance against others – due to the nearly constant assaults by their estranged cousins of the Underdark.  They are, therefore, wary of strong, standing alliances – preferring those of convenience that will allow them the uninterrupted promotion and growth of their own culture.

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Malikith and Malice

There lives a tribe, among the followers of Eilistraee, that differs from the others.  It is the House of Qu’ellar Vil’rath, and is led by Malikith, the living God-son of the Goddess Lloth.  Malikith and his twin sister, Malice, were birthed by Lloth in the early years of the Second Age; and were spirited away by a renegade cleric, Maleya, before the Spider Goddess could sacrifice and consume her offspring in her normal fashion.  Maleya sought refuge, knowing that she would face the unbridled wrath of Lloth once discovered; and that the three would be hunted to the ends of the world.  She found her sanctuary in Eilistraee who, alone of the lesser Gods and Goddesses, had escaped the jealous vengeance of Lloth.  Eilistraee hid the children among the sparse human population in Terra, a world where none of elf or Drow descent had ever come.

For over a thousand years, Malice and Malikith lived in Terra – taught by Maleya and her wizard consort the arts of architecture, art, economics, society and religion.  Of the last, Maleya taught them of the origins of the Drow – brought into the world by the Web Mistress, Valtheya, and protected by the Wolf Guardian, Amarath.  They learned how Lloth had perverted the intentions of Valtheya and Amarath – perversions that had led to the race’s betrayal of all other living beings.  They learned of the divine magic, and how power might be channeled from one individual to another; and Tosirian, the Wizard, who was now Maleya’s husband, taught them the arcane arts – including how to harness natural forces to achieve their ends.  And each day, they were schooled in the arts of warfare – of knife and sword, bow and staff, sling and spear; for Maleya knew well that those skills would one day be put to the test to confront Lloth.  In truth, Eilistraee had foretold it; and instructed that Malice, with Malikith’s aid, would one day drive her mother from the throne and assume her place among the Gods.

As the centuries passed, the Great Veil that separated Terra from other worlds was parted, most likely by Eilistraee.  More of her followers came, having been restored to the surface by following her path.  And so grew the House of Malice, Qu’ellar Vil’rath, made by Malikith principally to protect his sister until the inevitable day of reckoning.  As that time drew near, Eilistraee reappeared with many more of her loyal followers in her train.  All was made ready – and in the nick of time – for Lloth had become aware of the happenings in Terra and would soon make war.  Eilistraee knew that the day had come when the Debt must be repaid; and she delivered Malice and Malikith to the tomb that was home to Lloth.  A terrible battle ensued, and Lloth was slain.  Malice lay near death as well, and Malikith was also badly wounded.  In a last desperate attempt at salvation, Malikith cut out his mother’s heart and crushed it in his fist, above his sister’s gaping mouth, in the hope that the blood and shredded flesh might strengthen her.  Malice died soon thereafter, only to be reborn as the Goddess; and thence assumed the throne of her mother.

Malikith eventually established the House of Malice in the Shadowpine Forest, vowing to live out his long life in the world restoring the original faith of Valtheya and Amarath; and perfecting the life practices prescribed by Eilistraee.  He is sworn to the tenets of kindness and protection to those lying at the mercy of evil; and so has an enduring hatred of Nargoroth and all who swear fealty to him in pursuit of his evil intentions.  He pursues these ends with an abundant zeal…and will support and protect all those who share that burden in the world.  But he is a strong and proud demi-God on earth among his people; and he does not suffer fools gladly.  The approach by the heir to Eyrturheru must be one of strength, with humility; wisdom and purpose.  He will listen to your words, Corm en’Quessir; but he will read your eyes to see what conviction lies there.  Your first, and most important, battle in creating an Alliance to oppose Nargoroth will be won or lost in those early moments…so your mind must be clear and sharp, or all that you have pledged may be irreparably impaired.  I cannot urge this upon you more strongly.

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I put down the letters, and returned my attentions to the forests now whizzing by.  It had changed…deeper, darker…more forbidding.  The shadows of the trees seemed to be contrived to keep the secrets of the forest hidden.  It seemed a more oppressive place than any I had yet seen – certainly far removed from the softly lit birch groves of my youth.  I wondered if this would be the look of the Shadowpine Forest…would the environment be dark and foreign to my eyes?  Or was this merely a reflection of the evil that crept inexorably across the world?  I had so many questions and, yes, my own fears and doubts.  I turned to look at Ivy, hoping to see the support and understanding in her brilliant, smiling eyes; but she slumbered on the bench across from me, her head cradled on the lap of the dozing Calliope.  Elëanil slept as well, slumping in the corner beside me.  I returned to looking at the forest, feeling more alone and isolated than I could ever recall.  Father…Darius…Myrrdin…all of my counselors and guides.  Where were they now, and how could I do this without them?

I closed my eyes, seeing their faces…imagining their voices…wondering at what they would advise me.  My thoughts ran on in a jumble of disconnected thought…and stayed so, with no real solution, until I fell into the cool, dark embrace of sleep.

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