They marched past the enigmatic half-figure, its interior glowing with mystery.
CHAPTER 12
The Great Dale is a long, fertile vale running three hundred miles east from the town of Uth-mere, a port city on the Sea of Fallen Stars. The Great Dale divides the Forest of Lethyr from the dark and deadly Rawlinswood, two of the greatest forests of Faerun. Governed by a council of druids, the independent clanholds of the Great Dale stand amid the ancient ruins of old Narfell, a demon-haunted realm whose dark legacy still threatens the surrounding lands even a thousand years after its destruction.
Near the center of the Great Dale, a great rocky tor rises from Lethyr forest. A pristine lake of clear, cold water stands at the foot of the hill. Carved into the tor is an old wood elf stronghold known as Yeshelmaar.
A hole opened in empty air near the tor. From it issued several travelers and their mounts: Two women (one an elf), two men (one dressed quite barbari-cally), and a child on a pony. They travelers walked their mounts out of the dark into the grass. Horses and people seemed relieved to have reached the end of their journey.
Marrec studied the great fortress of natural stone and fitted blocks that crowned the great tor. “Yeshelmaar?”
The elf woman, Elowen, nodded confirmation. “The Nentyarch’s seat-in-exile, if Briartan was right. Look,” she gestured to the top of the natural fortress, where great green banners cracked and blew in the wind. “The banner on the right signifies the Circle of Leth, the one on the left, the Nentyarch. It is true; he is here.”
“This place looks old. What was it before the Nentyarch took over?” wondered Gunggari.
Elowen responded, “This fortress was built in the days when the Lethyr elves were faced with destruction at the hands of the Empire of Narfell, a sinister force to the north, but such battles are long past. The threat of old Narfell is long gone, but so are the elven-folk of Lethyr. Of the wood elves who once lived nearby, only a few small villages survive. The Circle decided the fortress would make an ideal base. When pressed, I guess the Nentyarch did, too.”
“Where were the Circle and the Nentyarch before?”
“The Nentyarch and his High Druids formerly dwelled together at Dun-Tharos in the Rawlinswood,” said Elowen in a low tone.
Before she could say more, several elves issued from a low gate on the hill and moved forward. They were dressed in the colors of the Circle and wore leathers, bore equipment, and were branded with insignia not dissimilar to Elowen’s. All had bows in hand but refrained from nocking arrows.
Elowen moved forward waving, and called, “Hail, hunters. I’ve returned with important news for the Circle and for the Nentyarch himself.”
The approaching elves stopped short, grins breaking out on many of their faces. One who seemed less pleased continued forward, a man with darker green leather armor and a silver leaf-shaped pin clasping a sea-green cloak on his back. He eyed Elowen and the rest of the group carefully, paying particular attention to Gunggari, before returning his gaze to Elowen.
He said, “So the lone hunter deigns to return to the fold, after an absence of over two years.”
Elowen flushed but said calmly, “You know why, Fallon. I promised the Nentyarch that I would discover the origin of the blighted volodnis and what they sought to the south. I have discovered an answer to both of these questions, though more questions have surfaced. I have come to speak to Nentyarch.”
The other elf frowned, “Reports are customary during the interim of so long an absence, I need not remind you.”
Elowen’s chin jutted forward, “Let us see what the Circle has to say about it; such matters are not for a hunter to determine. As far as I can see, you are still a Nentyar hunter, Fallon.”
Marrec cleared his throat, interrupting what may have been a heated response on Fallon’s part, and said, “We seek an audience with the Nentyarch. We have information that bears directly on his governance of the forest and the movements of his enemy, the Rotting Man.”
The elves all blanched at that name. Fallon said with ill grace, “The Nentyarch does not turn away those who seek him. However, his Spring Court has concluded for the day. He will receive you tomorrow.”
“Hold on,” began Marrec, but Elowen laid a restraining hand on his arm.
She looked at Fallon and said, “Tomorrow is fine.”
Fallon turned, saying, “Then follow me. We can put all of you up tonight in guest quarters. You can freshen up, visit the Yeshelmaar market, small as it is, and restore yourselves before you see the Nentyarch, tomorrow, but,” he paused before forging ahead, “Elowen must come with us. We must take her before the Circle of Leth. It is they whom a hunter must answer to, and it is from the Circle any admonishment shall come.”
Gunggari had moved up to stand abreast of Marrec and Elowen as they spoke with Fallon. He said, “We would not stand here were it not for Elowen. Make sure your Circle knows that.”
“Don’t worry, Gunggari, “said Elowen. “I’ll be fine. After the Circle hears my report, I’ll come find you all. We shall meet the Nentyarch tomorrow.”
They approached the fortress.
The fortress of Yeshelmar was built originally as a simple keep on a hilltop. During the course of the wars with Narfell, it grew, both higher and deeper into the rock of the tor. Stonework piled on brickwork as roofs became balconies for elevated watch posts, as walls became foundations for higher walls, and as basements became the origin for yet deeper halls and armories cut into the earth.
Each addition added new spires and pinnacles, chimneys for fireplaces, and vents for the deepest chambers where golden lamplight was the only hope of illuminaj tion in otherwise tenebrous halls. The congestion of construction thrust aloft a mighty work of stone; it was difficult to pick out where the natural stone of the hillside let off and the handiwork of elves picked up. Slender walkways threaded the tallest spires, while curling stairways provided external access to many of the towers and lower balconies. In many places, actual trees rooted in great earth-filled stone planters rose, providing soothing breaks in the otherwise stern stonework. Green ivy grew over the sides of many of the walls. Despite the clutter and age-worn look, and even despite its military feel, Yeshelmaar yet retained a feeling of an elven holding.
The travelers were led past the great valves of iron and stone that served as the main gates of Yeshelmaar into a wide, square-cut tunnel flagged with granite. The tunnel sloped steeply upward, but the flagged floor provided exceptional footing. Many small side tunnels on either side opened into unguessed chambers, hidden in darkness, but the main passage was lit with great lamps. Ahead and above, the light of day also leaked in. After ascending the slope over the course of a minute, the group of travelers and their escorts left the tunnel, entering a wide courtyard open to the sky but enclosed by the towering walls and spires all around. The travelers’ mounts were stabled at that level, after which they were finally shown to their quarters.
Marrec’s room was high up on the south side of the fortress, and overlooked the lake and road below. His chamber opened onto a rooftop garden, which was filled with greenery and flowers right up to the edge of a sheer plunge down the stony walls of Yeshelmaar, all the way down to the pristine surface of the lake and the hard cobbles of the road. Marrec and his friends had been warned not to venture too close to the garden’s edge.
His friends, all except for Elowen, were given rooms off the same hallway where the elves had put him. In fact, his and Ususi’s rooms shared the same garden. She walked about it, apparently taking a mental inventory of the types of plants and flowers she was unfamiliar with.