When he was certain that he would soon burst from the strain of waiting for his mother's verbal assault to begin, the elven matriarch finally spoke her mind.

"They will come again, these sea trolls. All our strength of arms will avail us nothing."

Her quiet, thoughtful tone surprised Darthoridan. "Fire will destroy them," he reminded her.

"But if they come in great numbers? Unless we are willing to risk burning down the keep and laying waste the forest and moorlands, we could not raise fire enough to hold back a large assault."

The elven warrior squared her shoulders and met her son's troubled gaze. "Go to Leuthilspar with the coming of dawn, and stay long enough to learn all those things that you long to know, the things that you try so hard to pretend mean little to you. And when you seek a wife, consider the wisdom of bringing north someone who can teach magic to the Craulnober young," she said. "It is time we learned new ways."

Allannia smiled faintly at the thunderstruck expression on her son's face. "Close your mouth, my son. A good warrior sees much-and knows when the time has come to share the field of battle."

In the years to come, attacks upon the elves by the scrags and their sahuagin allies grew more frequent and vicious. But leaders emerged among the people of Evermeet, including Darthoridan Craulnober and his wife Anarzee Moonflower, the daughter of High Counselor Rolim Durothil.

Although Anarzee was not a High Mage but a priestess of Deep Sashales, she possessed a considerable grasp of magic. She also had a keen knowledge of the ways of the sea, and the creatures who made their home beneath the waves. The priestess and warrior combined their skills to raise and train an army of elves to protect the shores with swords and magic.

But as time passed, Anarzee felt that this was not enough. If the elves were ever to prevail over the Coral Kingdom, they must take the battle to the seas. This burden fell to her, for there was no elf on all of Evermeet who could bear it as well.

All her life, Anarzee had felt a special affinity for the sea. She felt its rhythms as surely as most elves responded to the cycles of moonlight. Even her appearance echoed the sea, for her hair was a rare shade of deep blue, and her eyes a changeful blue-green. As a child, her favorite playground had been the white sands of Siiluth, and her playmates had been the sea birds, selkie pups, and the Sea elf children who lived near its shores.

But now most of those children were dead. Even Anarzee's mentor, an ancient Sea-elven priest of Deep Sashales, had been slain in the endless battles with the sea trolls. The selkies, too, had disappeared, seeking the islands to the distant north where they might raise their young in safety. Thus it was that Anarzee, though she was born into a large and vibrant clan, and though the wonders of Leuthilspar surrounded her, was at a young age left very much alone.

The coming of the young warrior Darthoridan Craulnober to Leuthilspar had changed all that. He and Anarzee had fallen in love nearly at first sight. She went with him gladly to the northern coast, and together they fought the creatures who had destroyed her world, and who threatened his. With the birth of Seanchai, their firstborn son, the two worlds became one and the same for Anarzee. She would do whatever was needed to ensure her child's future.

Anarzee's eyes clung to the towers of Craulnober Keep as her ship left the safety of the docks. It was bitterly difficult to leave Seanchai, although he was weaned now and just starting to toddle. If the choice was entirely hers to make, she would spend every moment of his too-brief childhood delighting in her babe, singing him the songs he loved and telling the tales that kindled dreams in his eyes. After all, in just a few short decades, he would be a child no more!

The elf woman sighed, taking some comfort from the knowledge that Darthoridan remained behind in command of the shore's army. Anarzee had insisted that he remain. If this first strike should fail, the clan-and especially their son-must be protected from the certain retaliation meted out by the Coral Kingdom.

Even if her mission were to fail, it would not be the last. The ship upon which Anarzee stood was the first of many. Specially designed to resist scrag attack, armed with powerful elven magic and over a hundred fighters, it would strike a decisive blow against the sea trolls and begin the process of reclaiming the waves. Anarzee ran her hand along the thin, translucent tube that ran the length of the ship's rail. The scrags might notice that this ship was different, but they would never suspect what lay in store for them. And how could they know? Never before had an elven ship deliberately set itself aflame.

The ship was still within sight of the coast when the first of the scrags struck. The vessel jolted to a stop, then began to pitch and rock as powerful, unseen hands scrambled at its underside.

Anarzee knew all too well what the creatures were doing. Scrags would board when necessary, but they preferred to scuttle a ship by tearing holes in its hull, thereby forcing the elves into the water. But the outside of this ship was perfectly smooth and very hard-it had been grown from crystal and provided no handholds for the scrags to grasp. Nor could the creatures break through it with their teeth or talons. They would be forced to fight, and on elven terms.

A small, grim smile tightened Anarzees lips, and she nodded first to the small Circle of High Magi, then to the archers who stood waiting by blazing fireboxes. "It won't be long," she murmured. "Begin chanting the spell. Light the arrows… now!”

Even as she spoke, several pairs of scaly hands clutched at the rail. The archers dipped their arrows into the fire and took aim. Anarzee lifted one hand, her eyes intent upon the swarming scrags. Timing was crucial-if the archers fired too soon, the creatures would simply fall back into the water, where the flames would die and the creatures' arrow-torn flesh regenerate.

The sea trolls moved fast, and they often moved together like enormous, schooling fish. In the span of two heartbeats, all the scrags had swarmed aboard. It was a large hunting party-over a score of full-grown trolls.

Anarzee dropped her hand and shrieked, "Now!"

Flaming arrows streaked toward the scrags, sending them staggering back toward the side of the ship. Some of the creatures began to climb the rail, instinctively heading for the safety of the waves.

But at that moment the magi's spell was unleashed. With a sound that suggested a hundred goblets shattering against a wall, the crystal vials embedded in the rail exploded and released the fluid that bubbled within. A wall of flame leapt up all along the ship's rail, barring the scrags' escape and setting alight many of those that had escaped the archers flaming arrows.

Shrieking and flailing, the burning trolls instinctively darted away from the eldritch flame behind them. Elven warriors rushed forward to meet them, armed with protective spells against the heat and flame. They fought with grim fury, determined that no scrag would break through their line. Slowly, inexorably, they pressed the dying trolls back into the flames.

It seemed to Anarzee that the fire and the battle raged for hours, but she knew it could not truly be so. Trolls burned quickly. Behind the warrior elves, the Circle continued chanting the magic that sustained both the fighters and the flame-and that kept the fire from breaking past the wall of elven warriors. Sooner than Anarzee had dared to hope possible, the battle neared its end.

It was then that the sahuagin came. The first one to board the ship did so not of its own will or power. Shrieking and thrashing, a sahuagin tumbled through the wall of flame-no doubt having been picked up bodily by its comrades and thrown through the magic fire. Like a living bombard, the sahuagin hurtled toward the elven defenders.