Laeroth was waiting for her at the door. As she often did, Amlaruil noted that there was something otherworldly about the young mage. It was not merely his appearance, though that was odd enough. Laeroth looked disturbingly akin to the ancient statues that depicted the Faerie People. Tall and exceedingly thin, he was all sharp angles and eerily precise grace. His eyes were black, and they slanted upward at the corners beneath similarly winged, black brows. Only his mop of wheat-colored hair, which was in its usual state of disarray, seemed to place him rightfully in the mortal world.
The young mage sprang at Amlaruil, seizing her by both shoulders. "Where have you been? I have awaited you this hour and more!"
The intensity in his burning black eyes unnerved the girl, especially considering her recent conversation with Nakiasha.
"As ambushes go, that was rather poorly done," she said with a smile, trying to lighten the tone between them. "It is not common practice to show yourself until the moment of attack."
Laeroth released her and ran a long-fingered hand through his unruly hair. "The moon has risen. It will soon be dark enough to see."
"See?"
The young mage took her arm and led her away from the Tower. "The lights here are too bright-they dampen the stars," he explained. "I think we must go into the forest."
Amlaruil followed without comment, caught up in his urgency. The two elves slipped deep into the trees, into the hidden dale where Amlaruil had met the unicorn-and glimpsed her disturbing, improbable destiny.
Laeroth stopped and pointed up into the night sky. "It should be there between the fourth and fifth of Selune's Tears, and slightly to the north."
The elf maid studied the sky, seeing nothing beyond the lights that were familiar friends. But as her eyes sought deeper, she did indeed notice something new. Faint and distant, more like the ghost of a star than a true light, it crouched amid the glowing tears like a crimson shadow.
"By the gods!" she breathed. "The King-Killer star!"
Laeroth nodded, his narrow face set in grim lines. "You see it, then. I thought so, but I had to be sure. Usually its path arcs over Faerun and as far east as Kara-Tur. Never has it been seen on Evermeet."
"What does this mean?"
"I wish I knew," Laeroth said. "This mystery will tax even the magi."
Amlaruil stared at him. "Will tax? You haven't told anyone?"
"I only just found out this evening. In fact, you saw its light before I did." He hesitated. "It's hard to explain, but I think I felt the star's presence. At the very least, I felt something. All this day I have spent in the library, studying the lore for some clue. It was about time for another appearance of the King-Killer star, so…" his voice trailed off, and he shrugged.
Amlaruil's eyes widened. "The Accumulator! Perhaps the appearance of the King-Killer might help explain the magic surge. Nakiasha will wish to know this at once!"
The pair hurried to the Tower of the Sun and told the sorceress what they had seen. Nakiasha led them to the Chamber of a Thousand Eyes.
Here they found Jannalor Nierde, gazing into a long looking tube. The lens was aimed at the far wall, but Amlaruil doubted he was engaged in a study of the tapestry that hung there. The magical device could see nearly any spot on Faerun.
Jannalor disengaged himself from the looking tube and listened gravely to their tale. "I hope that you are wrong," he said when they were finished speaking. "Nonetheless, let us have a look."
The Grand Mage cast an incantation and then trained the looking tube at a high, arched window. He studied the image for a long moment, then swept the lens back and forth as if scanning distant skies.
Suddenly the mage stopped, stiffened, and swore a low, fervent oath. He straightened and gestured for Amlaruil to look within the tube.
The girl peered into the looking glass, and was greeted by Selune's bright, silvery light. As she gazed, a shape like that of an enormous bat winged across the moon. More followed, so many that they nearly blotted out the light.
Horror clenched her throat like a monstrous hand as Amlaruil realized she was gazing upon the deadliest, most dreaded phenomena known to Aber-toril.
"A flight of dragons," she murmured hoarsely.
This, then, was what she had felt. The magical creatures had a powerful aura, and certain mages could sense their near presence. So, apparently, could the Accumulator, for the artifact was no doubt absorbing some of the dragons' power.
"Where are they?" she asked, moving aside to give Laeroth a turn at the glass.
"Far out to sea, praise the gods," Jannalor replied in a worried tone. "But they are flying straight toward Evermeet. We must get word of the coming attack to every corner of the island!"
"But Evermeet is protected by magical shields, woven by Corellon himself," protested Laeroth.
"Think, boy!" growled the mage. "What creature is more magical than a dragon? Any shield that would keep out the magic of a hundred dragons would also block the flow of the Weave of Magic. If Evermeet were so protected, we could not work magic; indeed, under such a shield, we elves would die as surely as the summer lighting bugs that careless children gather and leave too long under a glass! Mark me: there will be an attack."
Nakiasha took the girl's arm. "Come, child. Let the Gold elf attend to sending messages. We must form the Circle, and lend the warriors what help we can."
The door to Horith Evanara's office flew open, striking a ringing blow against the living rock of the chamber wall.
Captain Horith was not at all surprised when Zaor Moonflower burst into the room. The tall, blue-haired Moon elf had swiftly climbed the ranks of the Leuthilspar guard, and had sought reassignment to the fortress city of Ruith. Already Zaor had made his command into perhaps the finest fighting unit among the many that trained and garrisoned within the walls of Lightspear Keep. Zaor was well liked by the fighters, but he did not always show proper respect for either the rank or the wisdom of the keep's commanders.
"I heard of the approaching flight of dragons. Why have you not called forth the dragonriders?" the young warrior demanded.
The captain fixed a cool stare upon his most promising-and most troublesome-officer. "You mean the squadron commanded by those Durothil crones? I think not. This battle-if indeed there is a battle-belongs to me."
"You cannot be serious! You've never seen the destruction a rampaging dragon can leave behind. I have. This matter goes far beyond clan rivalry, or personal pride!"
"Have a care how you speak," the Gold elf said coldly. "I assure you, the situation is under control. The Durothil dragonriders need not hear of it."
"You have not even sent word?" said Zaor in disbelief.
Angry now, Captain Horith rose-and immediately regretted the act. It was difficult to assert authority over an elf who stood head and shoulders above him. Though, in truth, he suspected that Zaor Moonflower would be formidable even at half his size.
"The situation is under control," the Gold elf repeated in a tight voice. "The dragonriders are not needed, and neither, Captain Zaor, is your presence in my office. You are dismissed."
But the Moon elf stood his ground. "Warriors afoot have little chance against a single dragon, much less a hundred. You know that as well as I. What, then, do you intend to do?"
When Horith hesitated, Zaor slammed the desk with one fist in sudden wrath. "This is as much my affair as yours! I've a hundred elves under my command, and I'll be damned as a drow before I'll march them blindly to their deaths! If you have a plan, speak!"
"The Starwing fleet," Horith said grudgingly. "Star ships, man-o-wars that sail through the clouds as nimbly as common ships do the seas. They are kept in secret in the sea caves of Sumbrar. Beyond the Council members and the ships' crew, few elves know of them."