The silver-haired elflord strode up and gripped Araevin’s arm with a fierce smile. “Well met, Araevin! You are exactly the person I was hoping to see.”
“I did not expect to find you on the doorstep of Myth Drannor. Nor did I expect to find the Sembians fighting at your side.” He turned to Ilsevele. “It seems that Ilsevele’s mission must have met with some success.”
Ilsevele dropped her gaze when he looked at her. “Lord Selkirk of the Sembia had the sense to see that the daemonfey were enemies to all of us. I had little to do with that.”
Araevin released Seiveril’s hand and moved to embrace his betrothed. She returned the gesture without looking into his face, and gave him a light kiss on his cheek before disentangling herself from his arms. The mage stopped in surprise and frowned. Had they quarreled that badly when they parted in Deepingdale? She did not seem angry, though. She seemed… resigned.
A cold ache knotted the center of his chest. “Ilsevele, what is wrong?” he asked softly.
“We will speak later,” she answered, just as softly. “I am glad to see that you have returned safely, though.” Then she moved past him to embrace Maresa, and warmly greeted Donnor, Jorin, and Nesterin. Araevin stared after her, then made himself turn and offer his hand to Starbrow, who stood nearby.
“Welcome back, Araevin.” The moon elf gave him an oddly strained smile. “Did you find what you were after?”
“I did,” Araevin replied. “I have much to tell you-all of you. But first, I’d like to know how you ended up here. When I set out the Crusade was defending Semberholme. Now you are besieging Myth Drannor. I have only been away for a month.”
“Understandable,” Seiveril said. He indicated several lightly built divans that were arranged around a small table to one side of the room. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. We will trade tales.”
They passed some time exchanging news. First Seiveril and Ilsevele told the story of the defense of Semberholme, the embassy to Miklos Selkirk in Tegal’s Mark, the daemonfey plot to turn the Crusade against the Sembians, and the eventual alliance. Seiveril went on to describe the Battle of the Vale, and the victory over the fey’ri and their demonic allies.
“It was not without cost, I fear. We lost many warriors, and the Dalesfolk and Sembians lost even more. I am afraid that Ferryl Nimersyl and most of the Moon Knights perished, along with your colleague Jorildyn.”
“Jorildyn is dead?” Araevin sighed. They’d studied together at Tower Reilloch for twenty years or more. He would miss the taciturn half-elf. “How did it happen?”
“He was killed by the archdevil Malkizid.”
“Malkizid?” Maresa interrupted. “He was here?”
Seiveril and Starbrow nodded. “Yes, he took the field against us in the Battle of the Vale. But he suddenly abandoned the daemonfey army.”
“I think that was Araevin’s doing,” Nesterin said. The star elf shook his head. “We wondered where the master of the house was. Now we know.”
“You were in Malkizid’s domain?” Seiveril asked. His brows rose in surprise. “What in the world were you doing there?”
“I suppose that now we should share our story,” Araevin answered. He took a deep breath, and went on to describe their own travels-the expedition to the Nameless Dungeon, the passage to the Waymeet, the long dark quest in the blackness of Lorosfyr, and finally the perilous journey across the Barrens of Doom and Despair. When he finished, he produced the Gatekeeper’s Crystal, complete with all three shards joined to make a three-pointed star. “The daemonfey know that I have at least one shard of this device now. They must suspect that I might have all three… though Sarya and Malkizid may not know how much the Gatekeeper aided us.”
“Please excuse my ignorance, Araevin,” Theremen Ulath said, “but now that you have recovered this device, what is it for?”
“I believe I can dismiss the mythal wards barring you from Myth Drannor.”
Seiveril drew in his breath. “You can breach the daemonfey spells? How long will it take you?”
“Give me a short time to prepare, and I could attempt it this evening,” Araevin said.
“The sooner, the better,” Seiveril answered. “We should-”
“I don’t agree, Seiveril.” Starbrow held up his hand, interrupting the elflord. “We should assault the city the moment the mythal’s defenses fall. Why allow the daemonfey any time at all to improvise other defenses or organize a retreat? Better to wait until we are ready to exploit Araevin’s magic by storming Myth Drannor the instant Sarya’s defenses fall.”
Seiveril frowned with impatience, but he nodded. “I concede the point. The heavier our strike, the fewer will escape. At first light, then?” He looked over to Araevin. “Does that suit you?”
Araevin grimaced. “The longer we wait, the more that can go wrong. But I’ll wait until you are ready.”
“Very well. I must advise Lord Selkirk of our plans. Please excuse me. Araevin, I’m sure that Felael or Vessen can have your horses looked after and find you and your companions a place to rest somewhere nearby.” The elflord stood and took his leave. Vesilde Gaerth and Theremen Ulath departed with him. They would have a long night’s work ahead of them.
Starbrow lingered for a moment, but he left too after Ilsevele looked up at him and gave him a nod. Now what was that about? Araevin wondered.
“Mage Teshurr?” The sun elf Vessen appeared in the hall shortly after Seiveril left. “We’ve looked after your horses. I can show you to a place to rest, if you like.”
Araevin faced his companions. “Go on ahead. I’ll find you shortly.”
“I can’t promise that we’ll save you any supper,” Maresa jibed. She poked him once in the ribs then she, Donnor, Jorin, and Nesterin followed Vessen through a different doorway in the old ruin. Araevin watched them leave then turned back to Ilsevele. She still sat on one of the divans, looking down at her hands in her lap. Her hair, a dark copper-red in the shadows of the hall, was gathered in a long braid over her shoulder.
They remained there in silence for some time. Araevin stood gazing on her, and she did not look up at him. Finally he decided that he could not stand it any longer. “Ilsevele,” he murmured. “Why-?” And he stopped, unable to ask the questions that were in his heart. Instead he said, “I did not realize you were so angry with me. I am sorry if I have hurt you.”
She sighed and met his eyes when he spoke. “I am not angry with you, Araevin. I am sad, but I’m not angry.”
A sudden cold certainty descended over him. “You are breaking our betrothal.”
“I am.”
“I know we have walked different roads in the last few years, Ilsevele, but I still hope to mend that.” He waved his hand at the ruined manor and the darkening woods outside. “This will pass. We will have the rest of our lives to make things right.”
“I do not think so. There is something more I must tell you, Araevin. You are not the only one in my heart.” Ilsevele did not allow herself to look away from him. “I did not mean for it to happen. It has only become clear to me in the last few tendays. But I know that I cannot remain betrothed to you while my thoughts dwell on another.”
“I–I do not understand.” Araevin took two numb steps to the divan and sat down stiffly beside her. “How could your heart turn from me in a single season, Ilsevele? Did you feel this way when we walked together into Sildeyuir? When we passed the days of spring together in Silverymoon?”
“My heart did not turn from you, Araevin, yours turned from me.” She looked away from him, and a tear ran down her cheek. “The passion that moves you now leaves no room for mortal love. You are no longer Tel’Quessir, but something more. When you remade yourself for high magic in the shadows of Sildeyuir, you left behind the communion of the People. I cannot sense your feelings, I cannot speak to you without words. If I close my eyes, I feel your presence as a blazing fire… but your heart is closed to me. And you cannot even see this for yourself.”