"But they might choose to avoid fighting you at all," Grayth pointed out.
"Not without abandoning their ground forces. If they assail Evereska directly and leave their orcs and goblins to fight through on foot, we'll destroy a large portion of their army seven miles from the city walls." Starbrow shrugged. "In that case, the best move for our enemies is to concentrate all their efforts on destroying the army that meets them in the Cwm by surrounding us through the air, knowing that we dare not leave Evereska itself with too little strength to defend against a direct attack." "How can we help?" asked Ilsevele. Seiveril looked up sharply.
"I didn't ask you to fight, Ilsevele. There is no need-"
"Nonsense," she said. "If you called for all of Evermeet to take up arms in the defense of the LastHome, then you called for me as well. I am a captain in the queen's spellarchers, and I have just as much reason to be on this battlefield as you do."
"I don't know how tomorrow will turn out, Ilsevele. If you were to be hurt, I could not stand it."
"I will be exactly as careful as you are, Father," Ilsevele retorted. "Now, I'll ask again: How can we help?"
Starbrow cut off Seiveril's protest with a motion of his hand.
"Stay close by our command group," the mysterious elf said. "We have no time to find a different place for you, and to be honest, I think we will need all the skilled fighters we can get around the standard. In my experience, demons like to use their teleporting ability to butcher the opposing commander when the fight grows heavy. There will be a point in the battle when several dozen appear at once to tear down the standard and kill any leaders they can sink their claws into."
"How can you fight an enemy that can be anywhere he wants with a mere thought?" Araevin wondered aloud.
"Simple," said Starbrow. "You set a trap and wait for him to stick his foot in it. We'll create a false standard to lure in any demon rush, and prepare an ambush around it to make sure we punish the fiends for the attempt." He looked over to Seiveril. "Lord Miritar, we need to get up to the Sunset Gate and oversee the disposition of the troops. I think our foes will wait until they get their main body over the pass, but if they have spied out the movements of our army, they may push their vanguard ahead to seize the cwm before we can get our forces there."
Seiveril said, "You go ahead. I'll be there as soon as I speak with Lord Duirsar again. I also have to send word to Muirreste to bring the rest of the expedition through in whatever order he deems best." He turned to Araevin and his companions. "None of you are bound by any oath or promise to fight here. You do not have to stay."
Ilsevele gave her father a level look and said, "I stand by what I said before."
"I suspect you have a need for capable mages," said Araevin. "I will help, too."
"Lathander opposes the forces of darkness, wherever they appear," Grayth said. "I wish I had time to summon the Order of the Aster here to join in this battle, but since I am the only one of my order here, I will stand for my fellows and do what I can."
The tent fell silent before Maresa shrugged and said, "It's not my fight. But I agreed to aid Araevin, so if he stays, I'll stay too." She jabbed a finger at the mage. "Running headlong into battles was not part of our agreement, but someone has to watch your back."
Thin, freezing mists clung to the mountainsides in the dark of the night, gathering and pouring downslope like rivers of wicked moonlight. Sarya Dlardrageth stood on an ancient Vyshaanti battle-platform recovered from the depths of Nar Kerymhoarth, admiring the masterful workmanship of a war machine crafted almost ten thousand years past. Shaped like a brazen disk forty feet in diameter, the battle-platform hovered in the air, suspended by levitation magic. Its armored sides could shelter twenty skilled archers or mages, but Sarya had no intention of exposing the platform to harm. Instead, she used it as a flying dais for her throne, a mobile tower from which she could survey the progress of her army and issue whatever orders seemed needful.
"Ascend a little higher," she directed the fey'ri who operated the platform's control orb. "I desire a better view of the fight at the top of the pass."
She paced along the metal crenellations at the platform's edge, dressed in black robes enchanted to the hardness of steel. In her hand she gripped a sinister staff of zalanthar wood decorated with bright gold wire, a potent weapon indeed in her hands. She longed to join the fray herself, hungering for the heady wine of triumph over her enemies, but she restrained herself. She had a legion of fey'ri, hundreds of demons, and great tribes of orcs and ogres marching under her banner. She needed to watch how they fought together and judge how best they might be employed against a serious obstacle.
A spearcast below her brazen platform, the orcs, ogres, and goblins of her army surged up the last half-mile of the Rillvale's winding trail, pressing up against the weak line of elf archers who fought to hold the saddle of the pass. Above the archers, fey'ri and winged demons wheeled and stooped, scouring the Evereskans with gouts of hellfire and hurling iron darts down from above at the foolhardy warriors trying to bar the passage of Sarya's horde. A few of the archers found the opportunity to shoot down at the climbing ogres and orcs, but most of the Evereskans were busy with keeping their aerial enemies at bay with archery and spells.
"Not much of a fight," observed Mardeiym Reithel. The fey'ri lord, a leader of the ancient fey'ri she had freed from Nar Kerymhoarth, served as Sarya's general. His battle armor was striking, a black mithral breastplate embossed with the likeness of a snarling dragon, and his face was distinguished by an exceptionally large pair of ram's horns that curled out from under his war helm. "They are simply trying to slow us down, and perhaps exact a small price for seizing the Sentinel's pass."
"How many hold the pass against us?" Sarya asked.
Mardeiym studied the ridge top from the platform's edge.
"Two companies of archers," the fey'ri lord said, "with a handful of mages. They've certainly hurt the orcs in the vanguard. Most likely they'll disengage and fall back when the orcs crest the pass."
"I see no reason to allow them to escape," Sarya said. "Land a strong company of fey'ri and a warband of demons on the far side of the pass, behind the defenders. We will crush them between our two forces and slaughter them to the last warrior."
"As you wish, my lady," Mardeiym answered.
He barked out a set of orders to the winged imps who fluttered nearby, awaiting messages to carry. The foul little creatures streaked off to find the fey'ri captains and demons Mardeiym named.
Sarya and her general watched as two ranks of the fey'ri waiting behind the orcs and other rabble abruptly launched themselves into the air, scarlet wings beating furiously as they climbed up into the dark sky and passed over the defender's positions. From somewhere on the rocky slopes a bright bolt of lightning stabbed up into the air, bringing down a pair of the daemonfey warriors. Several of the fey'ri replied with a rapid succession of fireballs that scoured across the ridgeline in a string of lurid explosions.
"That's better," Sarya said.
Even from a distance, she could hear the screams of the wounded and the frightened calls of the elf warriors as a cloud of vrocks and other winged demons descended on the defenders.
She was so absorbed in the carnage that she did not even notice the arrival of a vrock scout until the creature alighted on the platform and spread its shabby wings, bowing before her.
"Lady S- Sarya," it hissed through its vulturelike beak. "I have flown to the edge of the mythal-1 and back, as you commanded-d. There are many elves-s marching out of the city."
Sarya frowned. "Are they fleeing?"
"No, these are warriors-s. They march to meet you."