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"That is a great loss, and I will join the many who will mourn her passing. But we have need of such allies as this dragon turtle, and ca
The mage walked over to the rail. "One question yet remains, great Zhorntar," he called out. "What did the sea goddess offer, in return for your help? It might be that the People can do as well for you and better."
"Umberlee promised a rich domain to rule as I wish," the dragon turtle said in a deep, sonorous voice. Steam rose from the water with each word. "All passing ships would give tribute, and great would be the sport when I chose to hunt!"
"That you will have, and more," the mage promised. "The seas surrounding Evermeet will be yours to patrol, and every vessel that does not bear elven runes carved onto the bottom of its hull will be your rightful prey. All treasure that you take from would-be invaders is yours. This domain will be yours, and you will pass it down to your heirs. You shall have fame if you wish, or secrecy if that is your preference. Agreed?"
"You are mad," Darthoridan said hotly. "Will you invite the fox to bed down among the hens? The creature will follow its nature, and elven ships will fall prey!"
"Zhorntar will not touch an elven ship," the mage said confidently.
"How can you know this?"
In response, Vhoori reached out and plucked an ancient, jeweled dagger from Darthoridan's belt. He murmured a few arcane words, and then hurled the blade into the sea.
Darthoridan squinted out over the water. There paddled the dragon turtle. The knife was embedded deep in the turtle's shell-only the glowing hilt, its gems pulsing with magic, was still visible.
"I will now be able to observe the creature," Vhoori said. "And rest assured, even if my eyes are averted, the blade will sink down and find its way to Zhorntar's heart if ever he gives in to the temptation to hunt elves."
"A fine ornament," the turtle admitted, craning his head around to admire the gems. "But what of my heirs?"
"They can pluck it from your shell upon your death. It is ensorcelled, and will release itself to your chosen successor."
"Well done. It is agreed," the turtle said, and sank down into the ocean.
Darthoridan's eyes flamed as he rounded on the High Mage. "You gave me that dagger as a wedding gift so that you might watch me!"
"And you should be glad of it," the Gold elf retorted. "Had I not, you would be dead and this ship would be in human hands."
That was true enough, but the warrior eyed Vhoori suspiciously. "I ca
"I came to your rescue, did I not?" the mage said impatiently.
Darthoridan nodded. "What do you want of me, then?"
"First, your silence. None need know of the Starwing fleet, or of Evermeet's newest protector," Vhoori said, nodding to the now-quiet sea. "Second, your support. I wish to become the next High Councilor."
Darthoridan laughed, briefly and without humor. "You command ships that fly, magic enough to bind one of the sea's most powerful creatures-"
"Two, actually," the mage interjected. "There is already a kraken patrolling the waters north of Sumbrar."
The Moon elf threw up his hands. "Why do you need my support? You could simply take what you desire!"
Vhoori Durothil shook his head. "You still do not understand. I have no wish to conquer, but to serve. The powers I have, I will wield for the good of Evermeet."
"According to your lights," Darthoridan said sarcastically.
"According to my right." The mage's usually calm voice rose with sudden passion. "The Durothil clan is the most ancient and honored of all those on this island. Our ancestors ruled Aryvandaar, and before that, Faerie itself. The Council's time is nearly past. Evermeet must have one ruler, a worthy ruler from a worthy and proven dynasty. And who better than me and mine?"
"You wish to be a king," Darthoridan said, thunderstruck.
Vhoori did not disagree. "I have ruled Sumbrar well. Evermeet is my due. There is more," he said, breaking off the Moon elf's attempted protest. "With my magic, I can look among the stars, below the sea, and to the Circles that gather in every corner of this world. Sometimes, dimly, I catch a glimpse of what will be. And this I tell you in all assurance: Evermeet will have a king."
"And have you also foreseen that you are to be this king?"
The mage shrugged. "Perhaps I presume too much in seeking Evermeet's throne. But more likely, in doing so I only hasten my own destiny. I tell you this because you are a strong voice in the council. Your word will go far. Swear fealty to me now, and in return you will hold your northern lands in the name of the crown. You will have power and honor beyond what most Silver elf clans could hope to achieve."
Before Darthoridan could respond, he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder. He looked down into his wife's face. She nodded, her lovely features set in determination. "If swearing to Durothil will bring honor and position to our house, my lord, do so at once."
The Moon elf was too weary to argue. He could not dispute Vhoori's vision or his wife's desire for a place of power in the court. Did he not wish the same thing? Was this not what he had desired all his life?
"Agreed," he said curtly. "But beware of me, if you do not rule well."
Vhoori's smile was complacent. "There is little chance of that. Evermeet is becoming what she was meant to be The dawn you see before you is that of a new and-you should pardon the expression-golden era."
14
The Flight of the Dragons
The forest trees shook as Malar the Beast Lord screamed his rage into the night sky. Snarling and cursing, he paced the forest and set the mountains of Faerun quivering with the reverberating echoes of his wrath.
This deep inland woodland was his haunt now. Not for him the remote islands and the angry waves of the sea. He was done with Umberlee, and she with him.
Twice now had the goddess of the sea fallen short of Malar's expectations. It was not that Umberlee lacked power, but she was simply too capricious. The goddess had none of Malar's single-minded focus. She was just as happy tormenting sailors off the su
But Malar wondered if he would ever be able to think of anything else. The passing of centuries had done little to cool his hatred for elves or to blunt his desire to see Corellon Larethian bested. It was becoming increasingly clear, however, that an invasion of Evermeet was no easy matter. Finally wearied by his ranting, the Beast Lord flung himself to the ground. Leaning his black-furred head against the trunk of an ancient oak, he sat and stared with malevolent red eyes up into the blackness of a moonless night. The night was as dark as any he had seen. A fine layer of clouds obscured the stars. This pleased Malar, for starlight was a source of joy and magic to the accursed elves. In his current mood he needed no such reminder of his elusive foes.
A faint, rosy pinprick of light in the eastern sky caught the brooding god's attention. He squinted up, trying to remember what about it seemed so familiar. Suddenly the years fell away, and Malar remembered a distant time, a time of terrible destruction at the hands of the mightiest hunters known to this world.
The god sprang to his feet and sprinted through the forest. To the nearest mountain he ran, and he did not pause until he had left the tree line below him. Finally he stood near the mountaintop. The night sky lay open before him, a naked void of darkness bereft of any light but one.