Evermeet: Island of Elves

"I was talking," he said grimly, "to you."

Lady Mylaerla Durothil, the formidable matriarch who headed the city's most powerful Gold elf clan, regarded her visitor with interest.

She was not a young elf, and had left the midpoint of her mortal life behind many summers past. But she was not too old to appreciate so handsome an elf as the one who sat before her. If the young captain of the guard had charm enough to waste on an old elf woman, why not give him the chance to use it? More, his plan intrigued her.

"You are certain that Ahskahala Durothil is of my kindred?" Mylaerla asked.

"Beyond a doubt," Zaor said stoutly. "I have made a study of the Durothil linage, and can assure you that she, like you, is a direct descendant of the Rolim Durothil who first settled Evermeet. Her ancestors fought against the dragonflight in the year of Malar's Great Hunt. She is a worthy descendant of all these illustrious elves; moreover, she is the finest, fiercest dragonrider I have ever seen."

"Is it so? Then how is it that she survived Myth Dra

It was a hard question, but an important one. Nearly as important was the ma

"Hmm. How would we contact this dragonrider?"

Zaor inclined his head in a gesture of respect. "The abilities of House Durothil in matters of communication are legendary. I do not think this task would pose much challenge to your magi."

"Well said. But what makes you think she would come to Evermeet now?" the elf woman asked shrewdly. "What gain would she hope to find here? Power? Honor? Wealth?"

"Ahskahala has seen one elven culture fall. She would not wish the same on another."

Mylaerla blinked, startled by the young warrior's bluntness. "You think it possible that Evermeet could share Myth Dra

"Don't you?"

For a long moment, the elves regarded each other keenly. Then Mylaerla leaned back in her chair, and a mask seemed to drop from her face.

"You are more right than you know about many things, Zaor Moonflower," she said bitterly. "I ca

Not waiting for an answer, she hissed out an earthy curse and shook her head in frustration. "My clan are descendants of Durothil, and what have we become? Effete, tower-bound layabouts, content to waste our brief centuries of life using magic to exchange gossip and to peek into distant bedchambers! Bah!"

Zaor leaned forward. "There are yet dragons on Evermeet, are there not?"

Mylaerla considered this. "I believe so, yes. I've heard talk of fairly recent sightings of a gold and a mated pair of silvers flying above the Eagle Hills." She lifted an inquiring eyebrow. "If Ahskahala is all you say, I doubt she would have much difficulty in training the dragons to this task. My concern is this: How would she deal with the Durothils of Evermeet and their ilk?"

"Your kindred will not have an easy time of it," Zaor admitted.

The elf woman nodded. "Good," she said with grim satisfaction. "In that case, we will send for her at once."

Hearing the dismissal in her words, Zaor rose to leave.

Mylaerla sighed heavily. Something in the sound froze Zaor in the midst of his polite bow of leave-taking. He straightened and met her eyes, nodding encouragement for her to continue.

"This visit has reminded me of many things I should not have forgotten. For one, I have been too long in this city. It has been many years since I climbed the slopes of Eagle Hills. I do not even know for certain whether there still are dragons upon Evermeet!" She looked up at Zaor, and her smile was strangely tentative. "Tell me something, youngling, do you think that even such as I could ride a dragon?"

As she spoke, a wistful expression crept into her eyes and softened her aging face. But her poignant longing did not in the least blunt the steel in her voice or the forceful impact of her presence.

Zaor could not keep the smile from his face. "My lady, I don't think there's a dragon alive who could keep you from it."

The elf woman burst into surprised and delighted laughter. Still smiling warmly, she rose and extended her hand to the young warrior as one adventurer to another. "Then it is settled. The dragonriders will become Evermeet's guardians. Her shores will be kept inviolate."

"As the gods will," Zaor responded fervently.

Mylaerla cocked her head. "I meant what I said, you know, about learning the craft myself. But what of you? Will you be joining those who ride the winds?"

"Regretfully, no. My responsibility lies elsewhere."

Lady Durothil regarded him for a long moment. Then she nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. Yes, it may indeed be so."

17

Heirs of Destiny

So many of Evermeet's elves, the Towers of the Sun and Moon represented the epitome of elven culture.

Fashioned of white stone that had been raised by magic from the heart of the elven land, the Towers were surrounded by wondrous gardens and hidden in the heart of a deep forest. Here were housed some of the most powerful magical artifacts known to elvenkind. Here gathered wizards and High Magi for study and contemplation, for the casting of the Circles, and for the instruction of promising students.

Of all the Tower's students, none showed more promise than Amlaruil Moonflower. Magic seemed to flow through the girl as naturally as rain from a summer cloud. Secretly, the magi believed that she could become the most powerful mage since the legendary Vhoori Durothil. Already she was being groomed to take the place of Ja

Yet there were some in the Towers who doubted that the elf maid's destiny was all that certain. Among these was Nakiasha, a Green elf sorceress of considerable ability who had taken upon herself the role of Amlaruil's mentor and confidante.

As was their custom, the two elf women, their day's work completed, walked the paths that curved through the Tower grounds. They walked in silence, to better enjoy the beauty of the evening. Birdsong filled the cooling air, and the chirp of crickets and other forest creatures heralded the coming night.

It was the time of day that they both preferred to all others, when the last, long rays of sunlight bathed everything in a golden haze. But it seemed to Nakiasha that her young friend seemed distracted, and quite removed from their small, self-contained world of magic and scholarship.

"Where are you today, child?" the sorceress asked.

Amlaruil dropped her eyes to the gravel path, and not because she wished to contemplate the exquisite walkway. It was a wondrous thing, to be sure, for the gravel was actually bits of marble in shades that represented all the goodly races of elves: gold, silver, green for the wild elves, and blue for the sea folk. Some whimsical bit of magic kept the colors shifting in an ever-changing mosaic. At the moment, however, Amlaruil wanted merely to escape her teacher's searching gaze.

"I am sorry, Nakiasha," she murmured. "Please forgive my inattention."

"The day's lessons are over. I only wondered if all is well with you," the sorceress said. As she spoke, she peered up into the girl's face-no easy task, for Amlaruil was exceedingly tall. Nakiasha's shrewd eyes took note of the flush on the girl's face.