Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [142]
"An elf maid, a drow!" wailed the wretched creature. "Let me go to her, i beg you, that i might plead for my shawl's return."
You see? Vestress asked Rethnor. It is time to test the ~ extent of Liriel Baenre's wizardly skill. A truly powerful wizard could compel a nereid to take her anywhere, even to the elemental plane where the water creatures make their homes. You, however; will bring her here, the illithid commanded the nymph.
"i cannot, unless she commands it of me/ She knows nothing of this place."
Then tell her enough to whet her interest. Go now, bring your mistress to me, and i will see that you get back your shawl!
The nymph turned and splashed eagerly into the water. "i will leave you, as well," Rethnor said. "My ship is docked at Trisk; we sail for Ruathym at once. There is little time if we are to attack at moondark."
The sea battle is yours to command, conceded the illithid. Attack at the arranged time, and the armies of Ascarle will await the Luskan forces on the island.
They would await them, the illithid amended silently, if the drow wizard praved equal to the task before her.
As soon as Rethnor left the room, Vestress leaned over the pool of water that linked her to Ascarle's watery portal. Deep beneath the surface lurked the skeletal face of her ancient adversary, eyes blazing crimson and mouth stretched open in the horrid, keening cry of a banshee.
Liriel was amazed at the speed with which news swept the island. When she and Fyodor returned to Ruathym village the next morning, they found that a ceremony-and the usual feast-awaited them. As the new First Axe of Holgerstead, Fyodor was required to pledge fealty to Aumark Lithyl, First Axe of all Ruathym.
From allover the island people came to give honor to the new battle chieftain and to gaze with curiosity upon the foreign-born berserker who could wield the shapeshifting magic of their ancestors. Many of Holgerstead's berserkers came for the ceremony, along with some of their womenfolk. Liriel was not surprised to see Dagmar among them. The young Northwoman seemed pleased to have an excuse to return to her father's household and, judging from the way Dagmars blue eyes followed Fyodor's every move, Liriel suspected the woman intended to pursue her chosen plan to remain there.
After the ceremony, Fyodor presented each of his sworn berserker warriors to Liriel in turn, as if she were a ruling matron. What was meant to honor the drow, however, merely filled her with exasperation. His mien was taken directly from the ancient tales he loved to tell: that of a berserker knight pledged to some great lady. Liriel found herself wishing for a way to peel them both off that particular dusty tapestry and return them to the foot ofYggsdrasil's Child.
Liriel noticed, also, that after the initial awkwardness of their greeting, Fyodor seemed glad of Dagmais presence. And why should he not? mused the drow with a touch of bitterness. Dagmar was a woman, no more, and therefore a welcome respite from the task of keeping a wychlaran atop her pedestal.
To the restive drow, the ceremony and the festivities that followed seemed interminable. The feasting lasted for much of the day, accompanied by long songs that told of Northmen valor and conquest. When the afternoon shadows grew long, the Ruathen were far more drunk on memories of ancient glory than they were on the ale and mead. The lesson of Holgerstead had apparently gone home. It amazed Liriel, however, that no one seemed to give much credence to Fyodor's suggestion that the mead drunk at Holgerstead might have been tainted. The possibility that one of their own might turn traitor lay too far off the paths their thoughts were accustomed to treading.
Liriel, of course, thought otherwise and had since the moment Fyodor mentioned that news of Hrolf's death had come to him from ibn. She had ample reason to know of the first mate's treachery, and she