Elfshadow

The nobleman nodded and rose to leave. "Good. Well, I might as well see what kind of horses I squandered my father's money upon."

The Amnish merchant had brought the horses to the tavern door, and Danilo was pleased to note that they were indeed fine animals, black and spirited, worth almost half of the amount he had paid for them. As he led his two new mounts toward the stables, Bran fell in behind him. They found an empty stall near Arilyn's mare, and settled down in the hay to await the half-elf's arrival.

Throughout the night and well into the next day, Arilyn's enspelled griffon flew toward Evereska. By late afternoon, the half-elf saw beneath her the misty foothills of the Greycloak Hills. Her heart quickened at the thought of returning to her childhood home. As the hills grew into mountains, she watched eagerly for the verdant fields and deep, soft forests of the Vale of Evereska. The hands that clenched the reins of her griffon steed relaxed somewhat, and she nudged the magical creature into its descent. Enspelled for enhanced speed, the creature was capable of covering large distances. Even without the magic enhancement, it was an extraordinary beast with the strong, tawny body of a lion and the head and wings of a giant eagle.

Arilyn knew better than to try to fly directly into Evereska. The city was so well guarded that she would have little chance of surviving such a flight. Outposts dotted the mountains surrounding Evereska, and sharp-eyed elven watchmen would spot her within five miles of the city. If she should try to fly above the range of their vision, she would likely encounter the patrols of giant eagles who circled in the skies. The elven archers who rode these mounts were known never to miss a target.

So Arilyn steered the griffon clear of the walled city and the surrounding vale, instead swooping low over the western forest. She saw a familiar clearing, dominated by a large stone building and ringed with wooden structures and bustling merchants.

Since a griffon could not land in the middle of the busy merchant town without causing a stir, Arilyn urged her winged mount toward a nearby glen. The beast's enormous wings curled in an arch like that of a giant hawk, and it descended to the earth in a tight spiral. The pads of its lion's paws touched the ground, and with great relief Arilyn dismounted. With a final shriek, the griffon took off for Waterdeep, and Arilyn strode toward the stables of the Halfway I

Her mare was there, sleek and well-conditioned. Arilyn patted the horse with genuine affection. She wished that she had time to seek out and thank Myrin Silverspear, but he would understand that she could not. Arilyn left a small bag of coins in a pre-arranged place in the stall as payment for the horse's care.

The golden light of late afternoon lit the sky as she turned her horse toward the city. After the enspelled griffon, her fleet mare seemed to move far too slowly, and her progress was hampered by the seemingly endless merchant caravans that monopolized the tree-lined road. As she wove her way through the swarm of wagons and riders, she took no note of the two riders on Amnish stallions who followed her through the crowd, tracing her steps toward the elf gate.

An insistent flurry of coos erupted outside the window of Erlan Duirsar's study. The elflord's face betrayed his apprehension as he turned to an aid. "Let the messenger in," he commanded sharply.

The young elf threw open the window sash to admit the messenger. Onto the window sill hopped a gray dove, which tilted its head as if politely requesting admittance. A small scroll was tied to one leg with a bit of silver ribbon.

"Lord Duirsar will see you," the aid told the bird. The tiny messenger flew directly to the elven lord of the Greycloak Hills and perched expectantly before him.

A wave of trepidation swept through Erlan Duirsar. It had been some time since he had received a message from the western outpost. Myrin Silverspear was a proud elven warrior who preferred to take care of most problems himself. A matter had to be grave indeed before the "i

A polite chirp, the avian version of a cleared throat, drew Erlan's attention back to the messenger. The bird awaited his reply, its tiny head cocked at an inquisitive angle.

"No, there will be no response," Erlan told it. "You may go." The bird bowed its head and chirped an unmistakably respectful farewell, then it dissipated into a scattering of tiny lights.

"My lord?" questioned the aid.

"Summon the council immediately. Make it clear that we are to meet at once and in the utmost secrecy."

"Yes, Lord Duirsar." The urgency in the lord's voice was not lost on the aid. He bowed and hurried to the silver globe that would send the silent summons. Each council member wore an earring that was magically attuned to provide transport directly to Lord Duirsar's halls.

Erlan Duirsar gazed out the window to the courtyard below, a vast square ringed by buildings of enspelled pink crystal. Elvencrafted with the whimsical asymmetry and solid practicality that characterized the work of moon elves, the buildings housed most of the lords and ladies who sat on the council. Both the duties and privileges of government were shared by all in Evereska, and the common elves frequently gathered in the square for ritual, festivity, or contentious town meetings. It was his voice, however, that issued the final word on such matters as now confronted the city. Erlan Duirsar kept this thought before him as he strode into the meeting hall to address the council. A powerful and proud group, the elves studied him with varied degrees of curiosity and impatience.

"I know that you all have important business elsewhere, but I must ask that you remain here in counsel this night. Evereska may need the special talents of each elf here."

"What's going on?" demanded the head of the College of Magic.

"Bran Skorlsun has come to the Greycloak Hills," said Erlan Duirsar simply.

It was explanation enough.

The stars were begi

The half-elf drew a small parchment scroll from her pocket and held it aloft. "You told me to meet you at my mother's statue. Let's get this over with."

Arilyn's voice rang out through the empty garden. There was a moment's pause, then Kymil Nimesin stepped out from behind the statue.

"Arilyn. You ca

"Let's see how quickly I can change your opinion on that matter," Arilyn said, as she drew Danilo's sword in challenge.

Before the steel had scraped free of its scabbard, several elven warriors emerged from their hiding places amid the boxwood hedges. Weapons in hand, they formed a semicircle behind Kymil, ready for his signal to attack.

"Need help these days, do you?" Arilyn asked.

Kymil regarded her weapon with dismay. "Where is the moonblade?" he demanded.

"If you're here, the elfgate must be nearby. Surely you didn't think I'd bring the moonblade with me."

Kymil stared at her, not sure whether to believe her or not. His noble plan, his grand design, could not be thwarted by a mere halfbreed. It was impossible. His handsome bronze face gleamed with righteous wrath. "Where is the sword?" he repeated.