10 December 725
The cool vapor of my breath upon the air, and the crunching of frosted leaves under my feet, affirmed what I already knew. Winter had fallen hard on this part of the world – colder and greyer than any I could call to memory. It seemed a portent of the times we were entering, as the cold shadow of our enemy fell across the land. I feared we would know too many cold winters before we could hope for a lasting spring.
I made my way across the open courtyard, pulling my cloak close against the cold. Ivy and Calliope followed closely, but respectful of my need for focus and concentration. Their deference heightened the sense of isolation I felt; and had felt from the start as I moved to confront the troubles of my People. A voice inside me screamed for help…for a calming touch or a warm voice in counsel. None came, and I knew that this was, for now, a path I must walk alone.
I reached the door of the reception hall, where two Drow warriors stood the watch. Their long silver hair and obsidian skin, bared even in the cold air of this winter day, seemed to mirror the slate-grey skies above us. Both raised their adamantite swords by the hilt, the blades pointed toward the earth, in a formal salute; and then turned to open the oaken doors for my entrance to the hall. They bowed their heads in acknowledgment, a gesture I returned with a nod of my own. I moved inside, and moved along the rough stone floor of the corridor to the reception hall straight ahead.
A great oaken table dominated the room, around which sat a group of at least twenty people. I saw Lord Carandon, rising out of his seat as I entered and gesturing to an open chair to his left. On the other side of it, standing behind his own seat, stood an unusually tall, lean-muscled Drow with watchful, crimson eyes. I knew, at once, that this was Lord Malikith. I moved to my right, circling about the table to take my seat at Council. As I came around, passing the chairs on the right side, I saw my cousin Loren. She stood, beaming at me; to which I responded with my own smile. She wore tanned leather breeches, riding boots, a cloth hunting shirt and vest of leather armor bearing the crest of Durohn, her homeland, whose armies she led. Her left hand rested casually on the hilt of the sword in her scabbard. That was Loren…once and ever a devout warrior maiden. I extended my hand to her, which she took and held briefly as I passed.
Loren is the daughter of my mother’s oldest sister, Lirimaël, who had married the human king, Calaman of Durohn, with whom she had fallen in love on a diplomatic mission long ago. Lirimaël had lived in peace with her king, disguising her elvish heritage, and leaving many to wonder about her unique charms and the source of her gentle magic. Calaman lived for nearly 250 years – a long and happy life for a mortal man – and the union was blessed by the births of Loren and her brother Nathan. Loren was a wild child, ever more taken by the arts of the sword and the bow and arrow than by dancing and needlecraft. She thrived on the martial traditions of the Kingdom of Durohn, which welcomed man and woman warriors alike. Her natural skill – and unnatural zeal for battle – caused her to rise quickly to lead Durohn’s armies.
It was on a journey to Akiran, some years before, that she had met the commanding and charismatic Drow Lord, Malikith of Vil’rath. Their mutual attraction seemed predictable, in retrospect; and so it took little encouragement for Loren to lead the Durohn royal guard to Qu’ellar Vil’rath in support of this alliance. Talk of their love was rife, though it seemed both remained blissfully ignorant of the rumors. I smiled, wondering which would be the greater kindness – to allow them to continue their small ruse, which amused and pleased all; or to advise them of the general knowledge of it and that their union would be well received.
I covered my smile as I continued to my seat, and took those last moments to look at the rest of those assembled. I saw a small but impressive group of warriors – male and female, human, elven and Drow, each arrayed in some form of battle gear. Had I borne doubt until now, all worry that this would be a serious event quickly evaporated. I took my seat next to Lord Carandon, and my eyes caught and held the eye of a tall, dark man seated at the far right end of the table. His face bore the well-bronzed hue of one accustomed to long hours in the out of doors; and his chiseled face was framed by a thick mane of onyx hair and a thin black beard. His directness of manner – the fixed eyes and slight smile as he nodded his greeting – struck me as mildly arrogant. I turned away, with my hands folded in my lap, as Lord Malikith spoke.
“Corm en’ Quessir, Queen of the Northern Sylvans, daughter of noble Eyrturheru and the fair and blessed Linnea, we welcome you to this House. Long have we awaited the heir of our Sylvan brethren to bring forth her People; and too long have we lingered in the hidden places of the world while the evil of the West lays claim to all its reaches. Today, we begin our task in earnest. Here will be born a great alliance that will rise up and take the Shadow by its throat, and throw it down. We will prevail in this fight, lest together we fall into darkness for all eternity.”
A roar went up from the assembly, affirming these strong words. As the din ebbed, I rose from my seat, feeling my heart race but drawing on the will to address the group with confidence. “I thank you, Lord Malikith, for that gracious welcome and for your bold words, which stir and stoke our passions. And I thank all gathered here, that we might pledge our support to the only cause that matters in these times. The Shadow Lord, Nargoroth, has grown strong, and his shadow now touches all good peoples of the world. He will not remit until his cause is done, and the light of life goes out for all of good heart. My beloved Father foresaw this day, this meeting – the start of a time of reckoning. His mantle was been passed to me, perhaps too soon; and in a fashion that gives me great pause about my ability to serve his vision.”
I paused for a moment, waiting as a soft, anxious buzz filled the room. Several looked about in confusion, as if alarmed that the fate of the Sylvans had been left in such fragile hands. I glanced at Loren, who looked back, smiling, as I continued – my voice growing stronger. “Then I was a girl. Now I stand before and with you, the Queen of the Sylvan North; and I pledge to my dying breath that our People will come to the battle; and we will rise up with our friends in this Great Alliance; and the words of our Prophecies will be made full. I swear this by the blood of Eyrturheru and all the Fathers of our line. Gurth gothrim tel’Niasa! Death to the foes of the Alliance!”
On these words, I threw off my cloak, and stood there in the silver and mithril armor of my father. My right hand went to my left side, and I drew forth Eledhwen from its scabbard. The sweet singing sound of the drawing sword filled the room, which exploded in a frenzy. I raised the sword high, its light flashing brilliantly across the chamber. “Gurth gothrim tel’Niasa!”, echoed the shouts of the assembled members. All had leapt to their feet and drawn their own weapons; and the shouting continued for some time before Malikith raised his hand to bring silence. His commanded the attention of all in the room: “Thank you, Queen Comet. It is well to have our ancient brethren restored to us. Now, let us address the task at hand.”
I made my way across the open courtyard, pulling my cloak close against the cold. Ivy and Calliope followed closely, but respectful of my need for focus and concentration. Their deference heightened the sense of isolation I felt; and had felt from the start as I moved to confront the troubles of my People. A voice inside me screamed for help…for a calming touch or a warm voice in counsel. None came, and I knew that this was, for now, a path I must walk alone.
I reached the door of the reception hall, where two Drow warriors stood the watch. Their long silver hair and obsidian skin, bared even in the cold air of this winter day, seemed to mirror the slate-grey skies above us. Both raised their adamantite swords by the hilt, the blades pointed toward the earth, in a formal salute; and then turned to open the oaken doors for my entrance to the hall. They bowed their heads in acknowledgment, a gesture I returned with a nod of my own. I moved inside, and moved along the rough stone floor of the corridor to the reception hall straight ahead.
A great oaken table dominated the room, around which sat a group of at least twenty people. I saw Lord Carandon, rising out of his seat as I entered and gesturing to an open chair to his left. On the other side of it, standing behind his own seat, stood an unusually tall, lean-muscled Drow with watchful, crimson eyes. I knew, at once, that this was Lord Malikith. I moved to my right, circling about the table to take my seat at Council. As I came around, passing the chairs on the right side, I saw my cousin Loren. She stood, beaming at me; to which I responded with my own smile. She wore tanned leather breeches, riding boots, a cloth hunting shirt and vest of leather armor bearing the crest of Durohn, her homeland, whose armies she led. Her left hand rested casually on the hilt of the sword in her scabbard. That was Loren…once and ever a devout warrior maiden. I extended my hand to her, which she took and held briefly as I passed.
Loren is the daughter of my mother’s oldest sister, Lirimaël, who had married the human king, Calaman of Durohn, with whom she had fallen in love on a diplomatic mission long ago. Lirimaël had lived in peace with her king, disguising her elvish heritage, and leaving many to wonder about her unique charms and the source of her gentle magic. Calaman lived for nearly 250 years – a long and happy life for a mortal man – and the union was blessed by the births of Loren and her brother Nathan. Loren was a wild child, ever more taken by the arts of the sword and the bow and arrow than by dancing and needlecraft. She thrived on the martial traditions of the Kingdom of Durohn, which welcomed man and woman warriors alike. Her natural skill – and unnatural zeal for battle – caused her to rise quickly to lead Durohn’s armies.
It was on a journey to Akiran, some years before, that she had met the commanding and charismatic Drow Lord, Malikith of Vil’rath. Their mutual attraction seemed predictable, in retrospect; and so it took little encouragement for Loren to lead the Durohn royal guard to Qu’ellar Vil’rath in support of this alliance. Talk of their love was rife, though it seemed both remained blissfully ignorant of the rumors. I smiled, wondering which would be the greater kindness – to allow them to continue their small ruse, which amused and pleased all; or to advise them of the general knowledge of it and that their union would be well received.
I covered my smile as I continued to my seat, and took those last moments to look at the rest of those assembled. I saw a small but impressive group of warriors – male and female, human, elven and Drow, each arrayed in some form of battle gear. Had I borne doubt until now, all worry that this would be a serious event quickly evaporated. I took my seat next to Lord Carandon, and my eyes caught and held the eye of a tall, dark man seated at the far right end of the table. His face bore the well-bronzed hue of one accustomed to long hours in the out of doors; and his chiseled face was framed by a thick mane of onyx hair and a thin black beard. His directness of manner – the fixed eyes and slight smile as he nodded his greeting – struck me as mildly arrogant. I turned away, with my hands folded in my lap, as Lord Malikith spoke.
“Corm en’ Quessir, Queen of the Northern Sylvans, daughter of noble Eyrturheru and the fair and blessed Linnea, we welcome you to this House. Long have we awaited the heir of our Sylvan brethren to bring forth her People; and too long have we lingered in the hidden places of the world while the evil of the West lays claim to all its reaches. Today, we begin our task in earnest. Here will be born a great alliance that will rise up and take the Shadow by its throat, and throw it down. We will prevail in this fight, lest together we fall into darkness for all eternity.”
A roar went up from the assembly, affirming these strong words. As the din ebbed, I rose from my seat, feeling my heart race but drawing on the will to address the group with confidence. “I thank you, Lord Malikith, for that gracious welcome and for your bold words, which stir and stoke our passions. And I thank all gathered here, that we might pledge our support to the only cause that matters in these times. The Shadow Lord, Nargoroth, has grown strong, and his shadow now touches all good peoples of the world. He will not remit until his cause is done, and the light of life goes out for all of good heart. My beloved Father foresaw this day, this meeting – the start of a time of reckoning. His mantle was been passed to me, perhaps too soon; and in a fashion that gives me great pause about my ability to serve his vision.”
I paused for a moment, waiting as a soft, anxious buzz filled the room. Several looked about in confusion, as if alarmed that the fate of the Sylvans had been left in such fragile hands. I glanced at Loren, who looked back, smiling, as I continued – my voice growing stronger. “Then I was a girl. Now I stand before and with you, the Queen of the Sylvan North; and I pledge to my dying breath that our People will come to the battle; and we will rise up with our friends in this Great Alliance; and the words of our Prophecies will be made full. I swear this by the blood of Eyrturheru and all the Fathers of our line. Gurth gothrim tel’Niasa! Death to the foes of the Alliance!”
On these words, I threw off my cloak, and stood there in the silver and mithril armor of my father. My right hand went to my left side, and I drew forth Eledhwen from its scabbard. The sweet singing sound of the drawing sword filled the room, which exploded in a frenzy. I raised the sword high, its light flashing brilliantly across the chamber. “Gurth gothrim tel’Niasa!”, echoed the shouts of the assembled members. All had leapt to their feet and drawn their own weapons; and the shouting continued for some time before Malikith raised his hand to bring silence. His commanded the attention of all in the room: “Thank you, Queen Comet. It is well to have our ancient brethren restored to us. Now, let us address the task at hand.”
*****************
The Council lasted six hours, and evening had fallen by the time Lord Malikith concluded the proceedings by inviting all present to dine in the Great Hall after a short rest. We had shared all that was known of the Shadow Lord’s movements, actions, plans and ambitions. I had openly shared the points from Myrrdin’s letter about Nargoroth’s armies and alliances – Sananda of Erebos and her Shadow Legions; the Archwizards of Netheril and their hordes of orc, goblin and warg; the Mori’Nandor. But of Eledhwen and the Coialambe, I said nothing; and remained as mute on the topic of the Hoon tel’Orod. These last matters were, I felt, best entrusted to our closest friends and protectors. Until then, I determined to share them with none.
We took stock of what forces we might readily call to our side – men of Durohn, the people of Lumindor, and Malikith’s own Drow armies. Lord Carandon spoke for the armies of the Sylvan Elves; and it was clear to all that our People remained scattered throughout all the wide world. A first priority must be to call them to assembly in service to the House of Eyrturheru. We spoke, as well, of our need to bring the dragons in on our side – and the importance of Darius’s mission there. For not the first time that day, I thought forlornly about my absent Guardian; and said a brief, silent prayer for his well-being.
The Council appointed Loren to see to the ordering of forces for the first army of the Alliance, under a common command known as the United Warriors. She would work closely with Malikith on the plans – a collaboration which, given the unspoken language they shared, seemed a natural one. I smiled, thinking Loren would be quite pleased with the wisdom shown by the Council in this matter.
As we left the conference, I found her lingering near the door – apparently waiting for me. We embraced, and I whispered a greeting in the high speech: “Nae saian luume’, Selen. Cormamin lindua ele lle”; and then apologized for less warmly greeting her upon my arrival. She smiled, saying only “Comet. You are now Queen of the Sylvan Elves; and what decorum must be displayed at Court will never change who we are to one another. You are and will ever be my dearest Cousin.”
We walked together in the cold night air, her arm in mine. I noted that the others had left us alone, allowing us the space to talk privately. I turned to Loren and said: “Thank you, cousin. You know I love you and value your love in return. And thank you for all that you have done and will do for the Alliance.” She looked away, and I understood her discomfort. Like me, Loren had always been more concerned with doing the right things for the right reasons, rather than gaining personal regard from it. I decided to change the subject. “I am dying to see Nathan as well, and understood that he joined you on this journey. And yet, I did not see him in Council. I pray he is not ill?”
Loren looked at me oddly, and then looked away before speaking. “He is not here, Comet. He has gone out, into the wild, as he has so often done so in the past…perhaps on a new architectural commission somewhere in the world. Of this journey, he would say little of the circumstance; or of the party desiring his service. He left nearly two months ago; and as yet, we have no word of him.” I saw a mask of concern fall over her face; and was, of course, alarmed to hear this news after receiving Myrrdin’s cautions about Nathan and his importance to us. We moved on in silence toward the banquet hall, as each of us wandered deep within our own thoughts.
We took stock of what forces we might readily call to our side – men of Durohn, the people of Lumindor, and Malikith’s own Drow armies. Lord Carandon spoke for the armies of the Sylvan Elves; and it was clear to all that our People remained scattered throughout all the wide world. A first priority must be to call them to assembly in service to the House of Eyrturheru. We spoke, as well, of our need to bring the dragons in on our side – and the importance of Darius’s mission there. For not the first time that day, I thought forlornly about my absent Guardian; and said a brief, silent prayer for his well-being.
The Council appointed Loren to see to the ordering of forces for the first army of the Alliance, under a common command known as the United Warriors. She would work closely with Malikith on the plans – a collaboration which, given the unspoken language they shared, seemed a natural one. I smiled, thinking Loren would be quite pleased with the wisdom shown by the Council in this matter.
As we left the conference, I found her lingering near the door – apparently waiting for me. We embraced, and I whispered a greeting in the high speech: “Nae saian luume’, Selen. Cormamin lindua ele lle”; and then apologized for less warmly greeting her upon my arrival. She smiled, saying only “Comet. You are now Queen of the Sylvan Elves; and what decorum must be displayed at Court will never change who we are to one another. You are and will ever be my dearest Cousin.”
We walked together in the cold night air, her arm in mine. I noted that the others had left us alone, allowing us the space to talk privately. I turned to Loren and said: “Thank you, cousin. You know I love you and value your love in return. And thank you for all that you have done and will do for the Alliance.” She looked away, and I understood her discomfort. Like me, Loren had always been more concerned with doing the right things for the right reasons, rather than gaining personal regard from it. I decided to change the subject. “I am dying to see Nathan as well, and understood that he joined you on this journey. And yet, I did not see him in Council. I pray he is not ill?”
Loren looked at me oddly, and then looked away before speaking. “He is not here, Comet. He has gone out, into the wild, as he has so often done so in the past…perhaps on a new architectural commission somewhere in the world. Of this journey, he would say little of the circumstance; or of the party desiring his service. He left nearly two months ago; and as yet, we have no word of him.” I saw a mask of concern fall over her face; and was, of course, alarmed to hear this news after receiving Myrrdin’s cautions about Nathan and his importance to us. We moved on in silence toward the banquet hall, as each of us wandered deep within our own thoughts.
*****************
12 December 725
I heard the footfalls…the crisp echo of boot heels pounding the hard stone of the corridor outside my chambers. The sharp reports told much of the visitor who approached my door. The staccato rhythm reflected confidence, and the steady pace a discipline that kept that confidence in balance. An image filled my mind, of an animal – a white tiger, moving with grace and dignity; yet possessed of a raw, explosive power that lay coiled within its elegant form. I smiled at the image; then turned and moved away from the door in the hope I might appear less eager than I felt.
The hard rap came upon the oaken door, its report filling the void between us. “Come”, I said, hoping my voice sounded assured. The door swung inward, noiselessly, and I watched as the tall, lithe form of Lord Malikith filled the open doorway before entering the room. He wore an outfit of white breeches and matching blouse, over which glistened a silver vest of superb craftsmanship. A long cloak of midnight blue lay draped over his left shoulder, hanging elegantly at his side. He was armed with both sword and dagger; while his face held a neutral veneer that revealed little of his present demeanor. The white tiger, I thought once more.
“Lord Malikith”, I said, extending my hand. “Thank you for coming to see me.” He covered the space between us in three quick strides, bowed modestly, and took my hand, kissing it briskly. I bowed my head in return.
His reply came, brisk and formal: “I am most happy to do so, Corm en’Quessir, Queen and cousin. The bond between our peoples has oft been a fragile one; but perhaps, in these grave times, we may yet build it to its greatest glory.”
I nodded my agreement, and motioned to the two chairs by the window. I walked to the far one, on the left, and sat; and watched as the proud Drow chieftain followed suit. I knew our time was limited, and I began at once. “If it pleases, Lord Malikith, I would ask you to simply call me Comet. With what we must do, there must be no undue formality between us.”
I watched his face, as his expression changed before my eyes. Away went the staid veneer of the serious Drow Lord, replaced by an honest, subtle smile. “I agree, Comet…and please call me Malikith. Let us speak, openly…and trust that all we may say and do here will remain in confidence between us.”
I returned his smile, and continued. “War is upon us, Malikith. And as we saw at Greatwood, none of the once-safe places hold refuge for us any longer. My People have tried, for 135 years, to find such sanctuaries; and are now spread to all the far reaches of the world. That must end. We must gather them to us, to restore the strength of the Sylvan North; of the House of Eyrturheru. The word has gone forth, our couriers carrying the Ode of our People to all points of the compass. They will hear the call of their Queen, and they will come; and the Sylvheru will once more issue forth in battle against the forces of Shadow.”
Malikith remained silent as I struggled to find words; for he understood the difficulty of what I must say next. I fixed my gaze on him and said “Until that day, my friend, my People are exposed…vulnerable. Our power has been dissipated just as Nargoroth had hoped. It must be rebuilt, to fulfill our destiny and the prophecies of old…to play our proper role in the coming war. We may not do so without your help, your protection. We will be lost, falling to the will of the Shadow Lord. I place our Fate in your hands, that I might find the time to draw my People to our great cause.”
Malikith sat for a moment, the silence taking on a weight that seemed to fill the room. I wondered briefly if I had erred with excessive humility in my appeal to him. At last he leaned forward, his hand covering mine in a gentle gesture that belied his fierce image. “Comet”, he said. “I can but imagine the difficulty of this request. You are fervent and proud, the daughter of Eyrturheru. To make such a request, to me or anyone, is a brave choice that reflects your commitment to your people…and to our common cause. I am humbled by your entreaty to me; and I pledge to do all that is within my power to protect you, and your people, until the day the full strength of the North is restored. In this, I can deny you nothing, Mellon tel’ Mori’Quessir and noble cousin.”
I held his hand, grateful for his magnanimity. I fought to find the words. “Malikith, I don’t know what to say. I am overwhelmed by your offer – of both your protection, and your kinship. I know not if it will ever be within my power to repay you; but know that I will ever bear that debt to you, and your people.” At that, we lapsed into a brief and awkward silence, broken only as I resumed.
“There is much we must speak of, Malikith…much you must know. I must tell you what I dared not say in open Council – of the forces that move against us. Only my Guardian, Darius; and the wizard Myrrdin – my two most trusted advisors – know of these things; and yet they are matters of utmost importance to our cause.” I went on to tell him everything I knew. He had heard rumors about my father’s sword; enough to know of the power at work there. Of the Coialambe, he had heard the stories but ascribed them to elven legends – a part of the long oral tradition of the wood elves. And we resolved that the Hoon tel’Orod must be secured within our grasp – a quest that must be attended to as quickly as possible.
We talked on for some time – sharing information about the Alliance that began with a list of those we might call to its banner. Malikith was in contact with his distant cousin, Alizay, of Que’llar Zenith, whose armies had already taken the field. Word would go forth at once to Ravenscraig, Salvation and Bondomia – upon whose regents and armies we might rely to defy the forces of Shadow. Less was known of others – the northern realms of Asgard or the fierce and mysterious warriors of Argent Fang. But both were known to be enemies of Nargoroth; and as such might be considered friends. Such was the nature of our times.
The dragons were vital to us – bringing them to our side would aid us and deprive the Shadow Lord of their strength. But for that, we could only rely on Darius and the success of his mission. We talked of other allies – and especially those who could help counter the dark magic that Nargoroth so ardently sought. His fascination with wizardry, sorcery and the occult arts was well-established – how he had learned from, and ultimately betrayed, Trefelgan the White; the demon-spirit possession of his lieutenant, Tz’Arkan; and now the alliance with this mysterious sorceress, Maluila…if sorceress was, indeed, what she was. I began to muse about Myrrdin and his mission, wondering aloud if it might involve seeking help from wizards and men of magic sympathetic to our cause; but stopped in mid-sentence as I saw the bewildered look on Malikith’s face. “Malikith, what is it?”, I asked.
He spoke slowly, his eyes taking on a distant, thoughtful cast. “Maluila? I do not understand, Comet. Are you saying Nargoroth is in league…with her?” The accent on the last, and his accompanying look of concern, made my blood run cold.
“Yes”, I said. “Myrrdin spoke of her as an ally of some sort, though he knew and could say little of her. He seemed concerned enough to wish to know more; and that may be the nature of the path he has taken. But you must tell me, Malikith; for your look betrays your thoughts. What do you know of this woman?”
He stood and turned away, gazing absently out the window. There was a short, strained silence; and then he spoke – his voice strong, as always, but now in a controlled way that made me wonder about the fear behind it. “Maluila is an old name…found in the most distant legends in all of Terra. It is said she is one of the Neldor – three sisters often regarded as ancient and powerful witches. It has long been held by they who dabble in the dark arts that the sisters were more than figures of legend. There have been too many reports of their appearances and activities; and too much written of their involvement in the affairs of mortal peoples; to think otherwise. They are more than mere witches – viewed by the wise as Goddesses whose loyalties and sentiments belong only to themselves and each other. Badhbha, the eldest, is thought to be a harbinger of war and strife. Cailleach, the middle sister, is known as a bringer of pestilence. And Maluila, the youngest and most capricious, is considered the gatekeeper of the underworld – a patroness of demons. If she is come among us, and has fallen in league with the forces of Shadow, our circumstance is dire indeed.”
He was silent for a moment, as my mind raced to keep up with the implications of his words. With such an ally, Nargoroth could call upon demonic powers beyond imagining. And where others, in their caution, might consider the dangers of enlisting such allies; Nargoroth’s naked lust for power would render him blind to any such concern. I heard Malikith’s words “…our circumstance is dire indeed” ringing in my mind; and wished Myrrdin were here to counsel us.
The Drow Lord turned back to me, his normal, stoic demeanor falling like a shroud about him… though I had no doubt he was gravely concerned. “There is little we can do about this for the moment, Comet. And we have much yet to do, to establish an Alliance that will stand its ground when the Shadow breaks upon us. We must reach to those who will rally to us; and we must secure those among us on whom the envious eye of Nargoroth might fall. You, your sister…the women of your line…must all be kept safe no matter the cost. We must begin our quest to reclaim the Hoon. And while we are occupied so, we must pray for clearer news about whether the Neldor are, indeed, in the camp of our enemy. Our work is great and the time short; so I beg your forgiveness if we end this council to see to the tasks at hand.”
I nodded; and was surprised as the my newfound protector bowed and took my hand to kiss it. “Comet”, he said. “Cousin and Queen. I am pleased to see the bonds of old renewed; and emboldened to have the Sylvan people by our side. May more good Fortune lie on the path ahead, than that which lies in our wake.”
With that, and before I could say a word of thanks, he turned on his heel and quickly departed the chamber…the sound of the closing door sealing me in the isolation of my thoughts.
The hard rap came upon the oaken door, its report filling the void between us. “Come”, I said, hoping my voice sounded assured. The door swung inward, noiselessly, and I watched as the tall, lithe form of Lord Malikith filled the open doorway before entering the room. He wore an outfit of white breeches and matching blouse, over which glistened a silver vest of superb craftsmanship. A long cloak of midnight blue lay draped over his left shoulder, hanging elegantly at his side. He was armed with both sword and dagger; while his face held a neutral veneer that revealed little of his present demeanor. The white tiger, I thought once more.
“Lord Malikith”, I said, extending my hand. “Thank you for coming to see me.” He covered the space between us in three quick strides, bowed modestly, and took my hand, kissing it briskly. I bowed my head in return.
His reply came, brisk and formal: “I am most happy to do so, Corm en’Quessir, Queen and cousin. The bond between our peoples has oft been a fragile one; but perhaps, in these grave times, we may yet build it to its greatest glory.”
I nodded my agreement, and motioned to the two chairs by the window. I walked to the far one, on the left, and sat; and watched as the proud Drow chieftain followed suit. I knew our time was limited, and I began at once. “If it pleases, Lord Malikith, I would ask you to simply call me Comet. With what we must do, there must be no undue formality between us.”
I watched his face, as his expression changed before my eyes. Away went the staid veneer of the serious Drow Lord, replaced by an honest, subtle smile. “I agree, Comet…and please call me Malikith. Let us speak, openly…and trust that all we may say and do here will remain in confidence between us.”
I returned his smile, and continued. “War is upon us, Malikith. And as we saw at Greatwood, none of the once-safe places hold refuge for us any longer. My People have tried, for 135 years, to find such sanctuaries; and are now spread to all the far reaches of the world. That must end. We must gather them to us, to restore the strength of the Sylvan North; of the House of Eyrturheru. The word has gone forth, our couriers carrying the Ode of our People to all points of the compass. They will hear the call of their Queen, and they will come; and the Sylvheru will once more issue forth in battle against the forces of Shadow.”
Malikith remained silent as I struggled to find words; for he understood the difficulty of what I must say next. I fixed my gaze on him and said “Until that day, my friend, my People are exposed…vulnerable. Our power has been dissipated just as Nargoroth had hoped. It must be rebuilt, to fulfill our destiny and the prophecies of old…to play our proper role in the coming war. We may not do so without your help, your protection. We will be lost, falling to the will of the Shadow Lord. I place our Fate in your hands, that I might find the time to draw my People to our great cause.”
Malikith sat for a moment, the silence taking on a weight that seemed to fill the room. I wondered briefly if I had erred with excessive humility in my appeal to him. At last he leaned forward, his hand covering mine in a gentle gesture that belied his fierce image. “Comet”, he said. “I can but imagine the difficulty of this request. You are fervent and proud, the daughter of Eyrturheru. To make such a request, to me or anyone, is a brave choice that reflects your commitment to your people…and to our common cause. I am humbled by your entreaty to me; and I pledge to do all that is within my power to protect you, and your people, until the day the full strength of the North is restored. In this, I can deny you nothing, Mellon tel’ Mori’Quessir and noble cousin.”
I held his hand, grateful for his magnanimity. I fought to find the words. “Malikith, I don’t know what to say. I am overwhelmed by your offer – of both your protection, and your kinship. I know not if it will ever be within my power to repay you; but know that I will ever bear that debt to you, and your people.” At that, we lapsed into a brief and awkward silence, broken only as I resumed.
“There is much we must speak of, Malikith…much you must know. I must tell you what I dared not say in open Council – of the forces that move against us. Only my Guardian, Darius; and the wizard Myrrdin – my two most trusted advisors – know of these things; and yet they are matters of utmost importance to our cause.” I went on to tell him everything I knew. He had heard rumors about my father’s sword; enough to know of the power at work there. Of the Coialambe, he had heard the stories but ascribed them to elven legends – a part of the long oral tradition of the wood elves. And we resolved that the Hoon tel’Orod must be secured within our grasp – a quest that must be attended to as quickly as possible.
We talked on for some time – sharing information about the Alliance that began with a list of those we might call to its banner. Malikith was in contact with his distant cousin, Alizay, of Que’llar Zenith, whose armies had already taken the field. Word would go forth at once to Ravenscraig, Salvation and Bondomia – upon whose regents and armies we might rely to defy the forces of Shadow. Less was known of others – the northern realms of Asgard or the fierce and mysterious warriors of Argent Fang. But both were known to be enemies of Nargoroth; and as such might be considered friends. Such was the nature of our times.
The dragons were vital to us – bringing them to our side would aid us and deprive the Shadow Lord of their strength. But for that, we could only rely on Darius and the success of his mission. We talked of other allies – and especially those who could help counter the dark magic that Nargoroth so ardently sought. His fascination with wizardry, sorcery and the occult arts was well-established – how he had learned from, and ultimately betrayed, Trefelgan the White; the demon-spirit possession of his lieutenant, Tz’Arkan; and now the alliance with this mysterious sorceress, Maluila…if sorceress was, indeed, what she was. I began to muse about Myrrdin and his mission, wondering aloud if it might involve seeking help from wizards and men of magic sympathetic to our cause; but stopped in mid-sentence as I saw the bewildered look on Malikith’s face. “Malikith, what is it?”, I asked.
He spoke slowly, his eyes taking on a distant, thoughtful cast. “Maluila? I do not understand, Comet. Are you saying Nargoroth is in league…with her?” The accent on the last, and his accompanying look of concern, made my blood run cold.
“Yes”, I said. “Myrrdin spoke of her as an ally of some sort, though he knew and could say little of her. He seemed concerned enough to wish to know more; and that may be the nature of the path he has taken. But you must tell me, Malikith; for your look betrays your thoughts. What do you know of this woman?”
He stood and turned away, gazing absently out the window. There was a short, strained silence; and then he spoke – his voice strong, as always, but now in a controlled way that made me wonder about the fear behind it. “Maluila is an old name…found in the most distant legends in all of Terra. It is said she is one of the Neldor – three sisters often regarded as ancient and powerful witches. It has long been held by they who dabble in the dark arts that the sisters were more than figures of legend. There have been too many reports of their appearances and activities; and too much written of their involvement in the affairs of mortal peoples; to think otherwise. They are more than mere witches – viewed by the wise as Goddesses whose loyalties and sentiments belong only to themselves and each other. Badhbha, the eldest, is thought to be a harbinger of war and strife. Cailleach, the middle sister, is known as a bringer of pestilence. And Maluila, the youngest and most capricious, is considered the gatekeeper of the underworld – a patroness of demons. If she is come among us, and has fallen in league with the forces of Shadow, our circumstance is dire indeed.”
He was silent for a moment, as my mind raced to keep up with the implications of his words. With such an ally, Nargoroth could call upon demonic powers beyond imagining. And where others, in their caution, might consider the dangers of enlisting such allies; Nargoroth’s naked lust for power would render him blind to any such concern. I heard Malikith’s words “…our circumstance is dire indeed” ringing in my mind; and wished Myrrdin were here to counsel us.
The Drow Lord turned back to me, his normal, stoic demeanor falling like a shroud about him… though I had no doubt he was gravely concerned. “There is little we can do about this for the moment, Comet. And we have much yet to do, to establish an Alliance that will stand its ground when the Shadow breaks upon us. We must reach to those who will rally to us; and we must secure those among us on whom the envious eye of Nargoroth might fall. You, your sister…the women of your line…must all be kept safe no matter the cost. We must begin our quest to reclaim the Hoon. And while we are occupied so, we must pray for clearer news about whether the Neldor are, indeed, in the camp of our enemy. Our work is great and the time short; so I beg your forgiveness if we end this council to see to the tasks at hand.”
I nodded; and was surprised as the my newfound protector bowed and took my hand to kiss it. “Comet”, he said. “Cousin and Queen. I am pleased to see the bonds of old renewed; and emboldened to have the Sylvan people by our side. May more good Fortune lie on the path ahead, than that which lies in our wake.”
With that, and before I could say a word of thanks, he turned on his heel and quickly departed the chamber…the sound of the closing door sealing me in the isolation of my thoughts.
*****************
19 December 725
I rose from my bed, my mind immediately active after yet another night of fitful sleep. I drew the heavy cloak about me, and crossed to the window to gaze out at the slate grey skies of a winter that held us frozen in its unrelenting grip. Never before had I seen the weather take and hold such an oppressive stature. But perhaps that was but one more emblem of the trying times in which we lived.
Much had happened in the week since my council with Malikith. Scouting parties had been formed to gain better knowledge of our enemy’s movements and designs. Messengers had been sent to the stewards of the realms we would call to the Alliance, with entreaties for them to join us. And not insignificantly, Lord Carandon and a small party of elven horsemen had set out to scour the lands to try to find our cousin, Nathan; and return him safely to our midst.
I opened the doors and, pulling the drawstrings of my cloak more tightly about me, stepped out into the garden that lay just beyond. The shock of cold air assaulted my face; but rather than retreat to the warmth of my chambers, I walked down into the garden – glad for the chill and the bracing effect it had on me. I walked down and to my left, my slippered feet finding the gravel path of the garden walk. I let my feet do the work, happy just to be out of the confines of my room.
I walked for some few minutes; and had only just resolved to return to my room and prepare for the day, invigorated by the impromptu walk in the freshening air. As I turned, I spied a solitary figure standing by the edge of the wood…his dark form nearly concealed by the surrounding shadows. My path took me abreast of him and, as I neared, I saw that it was the man I had spotted at the first Alliance Council…the one who had fixed me with such a bold look. I nodded stiffly, determined to pass on in my return to my chambers. But before I could re-enter my room, I heard him speak in a rich, deep voice.
“Queen Comet…I am sorry to disturb you so. We have not been formally introduced, but I am…”
“Lord Obadiah Paravane, Prince of Eldaron”, I said, finishing his introduction. “Think you that I would not inquire and learn of any who might draw so close to our person?”
He stopped short, momentarily surprised. His face reddened, slightly; but then eased into a warm and comfortable smile. I smiled in turn, dropping the icy veneer I had held until that moment. Perhaps I had been to quick to think him bold, I mused; and there is more to this man than shows at first glance.
He bowed gracefully, and looked up before speaking. “As well you should, my Queen; for the agents of our enemies are numerous and canny. And I, as others, would do much to keep you far from danger’s door. Forgive me for expecting less of you.”
“It is a minor matter, Lord Obadiah…and I am pleased to meet you in any event. I know the air is brisk, but I find I am enjoying it for its very freshness this morning. Would you sit with me for a few moments that we might get more properly acquainted?”
He nodded, smiling; and followed me to the stone bench that sat adjacent to the gravel path leading back to the house. I sat on the far end, extending my left hand to encourage him to join me. He sat, fidgeting oddly for one who had seemed so confident at Council nine days earlier. I hid a smile as I watched him, somewhat bemused by his discomfit in my presence.
“You do not recall me, I think”, he blurted out. “We have met before, though it was some time ago and I was, as yet, still a child.”
I looked at him in surprise, examining his face and piercing silver-blue eyes for some trace of memory of having met before. The image came to me in a rush – of a young man I had met at the Court of Eldaron, about 20 years after my arrival at Greatwood…
My mind raced back to the occasion – my first, awkward attempt at exerting the statesmanship that had come so easily to Father. It is said that learning comes best from our most painful failures; which saying, if true, cast the experience at Eldaron as a comically successful lesson. At the urging of Andelmir and Darius, I had gone to call upon Oremis, King of Eldoran, to enlist his aid. Oremis was the son of Andorian, brother to my father’s father; and Cassandra – his beloved, human beauty who, legend said, stole his heart upon his very first sighting of her. Oremis was a proud man, whose first commitment was to his wife, his sons, and his people. And there, before him, stood a young elven lady beseeching him to lay his sword at her feet in service to a cause that she herself could not yet describe. Suffice it to say, the meeting did not go well.
I found myself smiling now, despite the pained memory of that first pitiable attempt to shape the destiny of my People. That early mission had been badly flawed in both its design and purpose…but my time at Eldaron was not without its charms. I did now recall the youngest of the three sons of Oremis…a striking lad, then not but twelve years of age, who had cantered and sung, galloped and performed wonderful acrobatics for the amusement of his lady visitor. I embraced now the memory: the delight I felt at being the object of a young man’s first affections for a Lady. And here now stood the boy who had, indeed, become a man.
I looked him in the eye, and said “Ai-Heru, they called you…the ‘Little Lord’. Yes, Obadiah, I recall now our meeting, and hold it still warmly in my heart. It is well to be met once again.” He nodded, coloring modestly; and we sat on in silence for some time…a silence that, for the first time in as long as I could recall, seemed a place of quiet and peaceful repose.
Much had happened in the week since my council with Malikith. Scouting parties had been formed to gain better knowledge of our enemy’s movements and designs. Messengers had been sent to the stewards of the realms we would call to the Alliance, with entreaties for them to join us. And not insignificantly, Lord Carandon and a small party of elven horsemen had set out to scour the lands to try to find our cousin, Nathan; and return him safely to our midst.
I opened the doors and, pulling the drawstrings of my cloak more tightly about me, stepped out into the garden that lay just beyond. The shock of cold air assaulted my face; but rather than retreat to the warmth of my chambers, I walked down into the garden – glad for the chill and the bracing effect it had on me. I walked down and to my left, my slippered feet finding the gravel path of the garden walk. I let my feet do the work, happy just to be out of the confines of my room.
I walked for some few minutes; and had only just resolved to return to my room and prepare for the day, invigorated by the impromptu walk in the freshening air. As I turned, I spied a solitary figure standing by the edge of the wood…his dark form nearly concealed by the surrounding shadows. My path took me abreast of him and, as I neared, I saw that it was the man I had spotted at the first Alliance Council…the one who had fixed me with such a bold look. I nodded stiffly, determined to pass on in my return to my chambers. But before I could re-enter my room, I heard him speak in a rich, deep voice.
“Queen Comet…I am sorry to disturb you so. We have not been formally introduced, but I am…”
“Lord Obadiah Paravane, Prince of Eldaron”, I said, finishing his introduction. “Think you that I would not inquire and learn of any who might draw so close to our person?”
He stopped short, momentarily surprised. His face reddened, slightly; but then eased into a warm and comfortable smile. I smiled in turn, dropping the icy veneer I had held until that moment. Perhaps I had been to quick to think him bold, I mused; and there is more to this man than shows at first glance.
He bowed gracefully, and looked up before speaking. “As well you should, my Queen; for the agents of our enemies are numerous and canny. And I, as others, would do much to keep you far from danger’s door. Forgive me for expecting less of you.”
“It is a minor matter, Lord Obadiah…and I am pleased to meet you in any event. I know the air is brisk, but I find I am enjoying it for its very freshness this morning. Would you sit with me for a few moments that we might get more properly acquainted?”
He nodded, smiling; and followed me to the stone bench that sat adjacent to the gravel path leading back to the house. I sat on the far end, extending my left hand to encourage him to join me. He sat, fidgeting oddly for one who had seemed so confident at Council nine days earlier. I hid a smile as I watched him, somewhat bemused by his discomfit in my presence.
“You do not recall me, I think”, he blurted out. “We have met before, though it was some time ago and I was, as yet, still a child.”
I looked at him in surprise, examining his face and piercing silver-blue eyes for some trace of memory of having met before. The image came to me in a rush – of a young man I had met at the Court of Eldaron, about 20 years after my arrival at Greatwood…
My mind raced back to the occasion – my first, awkward attempt at exerting the statesmanship that had come so easily to Father. It is said that learning comes best from our most painful failures; which saying, if true, cast the experience at Eldaron as a comically successful lesson. At the urging of Andelmir and Darius, I had gone to call upon Oremis, King of Eldoran, to enlist his aid. Oremis was the son of Andorian, brother to my father’s father; and Cassandra – his beloved, human beauty who, legend said, stole his heart upon his very first sighting of her. Oremis was a proud man, whose first commitment was to his wife, his sons, and his people. And there, before him, stood a young elven lady beseeching him to lay his sword at her feet in service to a cause that she herself could not yet describe. Suffice it to say, the meeting did not go well.
I found myself smiling now, despite the pained memory of that first pitiable attempt to shape the destiny of my People. That early mission had been badly flawed in both its design and purpose…but my time at Eldaron was not without its charms. I did now recall the youngest of the three sons of Oremis…a striking lad, then not but twelve years of age, who had cantered and sung, galloped and performed wonderful acrobatics for the amusement of his lady visitor. I embraced now the memory: the delight I felt at being the object of a young man’s first affections for a Lady. And here now stood the boy who had, indeed, become a man.
I looked him in the eye, and said “Ai-Heru, they called you…the ‘Little Lord’. Yes, Obadiah, I recall now our meeting, and hold it still warmly in my heart. It is well to be met once again.” He nodded, coloring modestly; and we sat on in silence for some time…a silence that, for the first time in as long as I could recall, seemed a place of quiet and peaceful repose.
> Chapter 7