As intangible as it was invincible, the mythal was a mantle of living magic woven by the high mages of old. Galaeron did not fully understand its nature-when the masters spoke of it at all, it was only to claim that no elf alive could comprehend a mythal's intricacies-but most elves believed it to be a mesh of mystic energies spun from the life-forces of its ancient casters, the favor of Corellon Larethian, and the fabric of Faerun's magic Weave. What Galaeron did know was that first and foremost, the mythal was Evereska's most potent defense, capable of plaguing foes with a dazzling array of assaults-including the famous gold bolts so often attributed to Corellon's guardianship. The mythal also provided other blessings, such as the ability of the city's inhabitants to climb vertical walls. In return, it required only that the elves maintain the health of its sustaining lands.
As the rest of the column crossed the mythal's perimeter, Galaeron glanced over his shoulder to look for any sign that Melegaunt perceived the magic field. The wizard's eyes remained as dusky and unreadable as ever, exhibiting neither curiosity nor surprise as they scrutinized the meadow's green grass and the butterflies still bobbing along in the breeze. Vala and the other humans were a stark contrast to Melegaunt's nonchalance, gawking about with fallen jaws and craning their necks to stare up Evereska's thousand-foot cliffs.
Satisfied that neither Melegaunt nor any of the humans sensed the mythal, Galaeron led the column across the meadow to the Tomb Guard Livery. A simple three-walled shed with a station for each patrol to store its harness and tack, there were no pens or stalls, nor even any mangers or watering troughs. Galaeron dismounted and made his assignments then unbound the humans' feet and helped them dismount as well.
"Nimieye will unsaddle and curry your mounts." He slung the humans' sword belts over his shoulder, taking care not to let the glassy pommels touch his skin. "But we don't corral our beasts."
"It is no bother," said Melegaunt. His hands remained bound like those of the other humans; unlike the others, he did not seem irritated or particularly worried by it. "Raven will bring our mounts when 1 send for him-though I trust we won't be returning to the Desert Border on horses." "That much we are safe in assuming, yes," said Galaeron.
Vala gave him a dark look, then stepped out from beneath the livery shed and tipped her head back to stare up the cliff. "How do we get up there?" "Dynod will lead the way"
Galaeron nodded to Dynod, who took Takari from Ehamond's arms and entered a small, irregular chamber hewn into the cliff base. He vanished from sight, as did Ehamond when he followed. Galaeron motioned Vala and the other humans to follow, then stepped through himself. There was a golden flash and a brief feeling of falling, and when he put his foot down again, it was onto a marble-paved lane filled with the zesty scent of dusktop blossoms.
Vala and her men stood at the edge of the street, silently gawking at the wondrous forest around them. White-paved paths curved off in every direction, twisting through an eye-boggling tangle of towers and trunks. In the sylvan shade, it was difficult even for Galaeron to tell which was which. The trees were uniformly as large around as castle towers, with cross-striped bark ranging from white to gray, and branches so high overhead it was not unusual for mist to form beneath the leaf canopy. The towers were sometimes smaller than the tree boles and sometimes larger, but most were almost indistinguishable from the mighty bluetops that dominated the outer rim of the city.
With the sun just rising above Eastpeak's craggy shoulder, it was the busiest time of day. Elves were everywhere, gliding along the ground paths, popping out of high doorways to clamber headfirst down the tower exterior, sometimes even soaring from one building to another like flying squirrels. Even with the unpleasantness to come, Galaeron found himself feeling more content and peaceful than even the calmest desert afternoon lounging naked in a pool of cool canyon water. This was Evereska, Lasthaven to all the elves of Faerun, sanctuary to Galaeron and all Tel'Quess who would hold some home for their race against the relentless tide of human expansion.
"I believe we are to follow Dynod and Ehamond," said Melegaunt, nudging Vala and the others up the lane. "Galaeron will inform us when we should turn off."
"Follow them all the way" The long ride had fatigued Galaeron more than he thought. Though he always enjoyed his return to Evereska, he usually did not come so close to slipping into Reverie the instant he entered it. He shook himself alert and started up the lane. "We will see Takari to the Hall of the High Hunt."
Melegaunt stopped, finally seeming to take exception to Galaeron's instructions. "Do you think that wise? We wouldn't want to keep the Hill Elders waiting."
"You will do as I say, human." Galaeron pushed Melegaunt after the others but quickly regretted his tone. His anger had more to do with the danger he had unleashed on the city than anything Melegaunt had done. In a gentler voice, he added, "We'll be speaking with the elders sooner than you think, Melegaunt. In Evereska, we have our own ways of doing things."
The path ascended along the bank of a small stream, passing several waterfalls artfully arranged to spill from the mouths of deep emerald pools. As they walked, elves young and old paused to stare at Galaeron's prisoners in open disgust, in part because some had never before seen a human, in part because they knew by the captives' bound hands and Galaeron's Tomb Guard cape that these were crypt breakers. Vala and her warriors did their best to fulfill expectations by sneering and glowering, but no one seemed to take these threats seriously. Galaeron wondered how that might have changed had they witnessed what he had beneath the tomb of the Vyshaan.
By the time they began to traverse Moondark Hill toward the Hall of the High Hunt, a small band of elderly elves had completely encircled the humans. Though none rose any higher than the chest of Vala's shortest man, they did not hesitate to laugh at the captives and make fun of their barbaric appearance, often in languages they knew the prisoners could understand. Though Galaeron could see the humans chafing under this abuse and would certainly have been insulted by it himself, he did nothing to prevent it. To Vala's great credit, she had only to issue one stern command to rivet the eyes of her men straight ahead and render them unresponsive to the mockery.
Finally, the tallest of the elves pulled back his hood and stepped to Galaeron's side. "Glad homeagain, young Nihmedu," he said in Elvish. "1 see you've brought us some crypt breakers." Galaeron looked over to find himself looking at a moon elf with silver hair and a dignified bearing borne of great age and long service.
He bowed without stopping and answered in Elvish, "Lord Duirsar."
The elf lord nodded to someone behind him, then the tomb master, Kiinyon Colbathin, stepped up on the other side. His expression was far easier to read than High Lord Duirsar's-and Galaeron had good reason to wish it was not.
"We've been given to understand that in addition to losing your patrol, you could not wait to make your excuses," the tomb master said, sneering at Melegaunt's back and speaking in Common. "I hope it took more than these five."
Allowing herself a luxury she denied her men, Vala spun on the elf. "It wouldn't have taken that many, had 1 intended them harm."
"That's enough, child." Melegaunt forced Vala up the path. "Let the fools have their fun. We will make our case to the elders."
Galaeron had to restrain a smile. Whether Melegaunt knew it or not, he and the other humans were already making their case. The elves abusing them were the Hill Elders, and they had already begun the trial that would determine whether the crypt breakers lived or died. Kiinyon Colbathin reached out and shoved Melegaunt hard, causing him to trip and stumble into Vala.